#yes i’m aware they are not the exact same

[romainlettusdinnerparty]

just boyfriends sharing shirts (!!!!!!!!)

[appreciatingtokrev]

every day i think abt this tumblr post in which a us-american was incredibly fascinated by two girls they saw who were speaking english & japanese interchangably. because, like, i speak three languages interchangably on the daily. that’s normal to me. i’m not even fluent in french (been learning it at school for 10 years now tho lmao) but there’s enough french words & phrases i use on the daily. if i can’t remember a (swiss) german word/saying/etc while talking in german i just substitude with english because most people i talk to are fluent in both anyways. i greet my little brother in french and then go on to ask if he wants to go and by ramunae with me sometime, in swiss german, in the same breath, and i answer overmorrow when he asks me when because i think it’s a funkier word than übermorn.

i think about that post every day and i genuinly wonder how someone can grow up and never learn another language. how do you live without this? without the pressure to speak at least two of your country’s four official languages? without the pressure of learning the world’s language as a second/third? without ever seeing all the beauty in knowing more than one language, and being able to understand so much more of the world?

[peachesofteal]

Dead Disco / Chapter Fifteen Dead Disco masterlist

AO3 Warnings: Angst. The storm.

“You’re here.”

“I’m here.” Your heart breaks on it, on two little words. Breaks apart again at him standing in your door. The silence between the two of you is a scream, and though your tears have dried, there’s still an ache stretching infinitely before you. You peek over his shoulder, hoping Johnny is here too. Wanting to fix the mess you just made, but he’s not.

Simon is alone.

He pulls it wide. His face is twisted. His eyes are red. He’s been crying. The realization nearly brings you to your knees. “Can I come in?”

You didn’t clean the kitchen up, and neither did Johnny. He stood there for too long, kissing you over and over on your cheek, your forehead, your mouth and profusely apologizing, tugging his jeans up over his hips. Frozen afterwards, the two of you, fire and fuel once burning in your veins now ice cold, slithering under your skin like a disease.

That’s what you are. Who you are, who you were. An illness. A plague.

A slowly healing thing.

You always thought they made you better.

“I’ll stay, I should-“ 

“He’ll wonder.” You stared at the floor. “And he’ll worry, you know he will. He’ll be scared something happened to you.” 

“Darling, I dinnae want to leave ye right now-“ 

“I’m fine. Go.” 

Simon doesn’t try to touch you. He takes inventory of the mess, the caramel puddle of coffee spilled over the edge of the counter to the floor, the knocked over stagnant water and paintbrushes.

You become starkly aware, too aware of the state you’re in. The state of your apartment. The state of your brain.

You wish Johnny was with him. You want it to feel like before.

You can see his face so perfectly in your mind, the slope of his nose, the plush of his lips. Anxiety twists your stomach, worry about how he’s doing, what he’s doing weighing you down.

Still. Simon is steadfast. He’s the ship in a storm and you’re the sailor, clinging to a mast, praying to god you’ll survive.

“Are you-“

“I’m sorry I was so emotional on the phone.” You rush out, cutting him off. His brows knit together, prodigious sympathy in his eyes, golden brown refracting.

“I’m sorry for calling.”

“I’m… I’m glad you did.” He steps closer, and then away, opting to stand to the side, still taking stock of the kitchen, studying the orange pill bottles on the counter. “New meds?”

“Yeah.” The conversation is stilted, a dam preventing a flood.

“Are they working out?” You shrug.

“The one makes me really forgetful, but it’s not so bad.”

“That’s good.” You’re nodding and can’t stop. There’s a part of you wanting so badly, so desperately, to go to him, to bury your face in his chest and let it all go.

And there’s another part that doesn’t know what to do. Doesn’t know how to reconcile any of this.

“Will you tell me how you’re feeling?”

“Confused. Sad.”

“That’s okay.”

“Is it?”

“Yes, darling. Whatever you’re feeling is okay.” Your stomach rumbles at the exact same time, and his lips quirk to the side. “Are you hungry?”

“A little.”

“Have you eaten today?” You can’t force your mouth to give the answer, the obvious no, so you shake your head. “Do you have groceries?”

“Some.”

“Can I make you something to eat?” You suck in a sharp breath. Can he? Will you let him? Will the two of you revert to these roles, like no time has passed? Have you not made progress, have you not grown? 

You pack the shame of it away, burying it deep. You’ll try to unpack it later, on the couch, in front of the doctor. You’ll talk through every second, pick it apart and try to put it back together again. You’ll rip yourself open, expose your soft spots, the ones that bleed more than any other.

She’ll tell you it’s okay.

She’ll ask you how you feel about the decision.

You’ll say you don’t know, as you always do, and she’ll say that’s okay too. You don’t have to know right now. She’ll tell you there is nothing wrong with the way you feel, just like Simon does.

There’s been intensive therapy, to get you to this place. To drag you across the finish line. Sessions after sessions, four days a week.

It was a bargain. She promised not to have you sent involuntarily, and you promised to be in her office every other day.

Still, she doesn’t know Johnny, doesn’t know Simon. She doesn’t see how they love, how they exist.

You take a deep breath. “Yes.”

You watch him from the couch. Curled over the armrest, your chin on your elbow. His shoulders, chest, flex under his t shirt, opening cabinets, searching for things in an unfamiliar place.

You’ve never felt more loved by him than you do in this moment.

A man willing to push everything away to take care of you, to disregard himself in favor of you, to put himself aside every time he steps through the door to focus on you.

A man who knows what's coming. Who's always been able to see inside you, and yet, still makes you dinner. Still cares for you in the way he knows how. 

All you ever wanted, was to feel loved by them. Separately and together.

Now you feel it more than ever.

You tried to force a circle into a square. 

You think about Johnny again. About how he’s at home, penitent, destroyed. You think about how he must feel, knowing Simon is here, and he’s there. You ache for him. Wish you were settled between them in bed, his body against yours, the steadfast pace of his breathing evening your own out. You want him to hold you. 

You wish he was here.

You ache without your pieces.

But you know it’s not supposed to be this way.

“Darling?” The cadence of your moniker pulls you away from yourself, and you look up.

He’s crouched in front of the couch, nearly eye level with you. “You’re crying.” You tap your face, surprised. You are, the realization abrupt, the onset of them too acute.

“’m sorry.” You choke, and he murmurs softly.

“It’s alright. You’re okay.” His thumb finds your cheek, carefully sweeping them away.

“I’m not.” The truth is agony. You’re not okay. You weren’t okay when you fucked Johnny, and you’re not okay now. You haven’t ever been okay, and it hurts so badly. It stings deep down in your heart, your belly.

Your tears rush out of you, and Simon moves, comes around the side of the couch.

He pulls you into his arms, and you bury your face in his chest.

Hiding. Relying. Letting him carry you through. 

“Simon…” You sob, and he rocks you, arms tight, resolute in their hold.

“Shhh, I know. I know, it’s okay.”

“I d-didn’t mean for this to happen.” You’re talking about Johnny, but you’re talking about everything. The struggle, the agony. Everything.

“I know you didn’t. I don’t want you to worry about that.” The feeling inside you is more than pain, it’s death, it’s excruciating. There’s a piece of you dying, crumbling, turning to ash. You’re trying so hard to hold onto it, to keep it inside, but it comes out with these wretched sobs, the ones that split your ribs open and bleed you dry.

He holds you through it. Holds you tight enough the pressure eventually calms you, and there’s nothing left except the soaked circle on his t shirt and your tired, wet eyes.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper.

“You have nothing to be sorry about.” He takes a deep breath, still clinging. “Let me feed you.”

“Okay.”

He sits next to you at the little table where you usually try to eat alone. Where you drink your coffee, alone. Where you pick at your food, where you swallow a handful of pastel-colored pills with a glass of juice every morning like clockwork. Like a robot.

You manage more than a few bites. Breakfast for dinner, one of your favorites. You know he picked it because you love it, and he wants to make you happy.

It only makes you lachrymose. “I’m sorry about Johnny.”

“It’s not your fault, darling.”

“Don’t be mad at him.”

“Let me worry about that.”

“It wasn’t… he didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the one who put him in that position. I kissed him and-“

“He knew better. I don’t want you to dwell on… that.”

“I love him.” Your voice cracks.

“I know.”

“I love you.”

“I know you do, darling. I know.” You’re going to cry again; you can feel it. The acid starts up behind your eyes, and though you’re not sure you have anything left, they pool along your lower lids. “None of that.” He soothes. “C’mon. stay here, stay with me.” You shake your head.

“I l-love you both, so much. It hurts.” He blinks furiously, and then through your own blurry vision, you see his tears. The ones that slip reluctantly through his lashes, down his cheeks.

“We never wanted to hurt you.”

“I know, and you d-didn’t. It… it hurts Simon. It hurts and I don’t know why.” He tugs you from your chair and into his lap, hauling you up onto his thighs. “P-please-“

“Just… let me- let me hold you, darling. I don’t want- I want to feel you.” He cheek rests on the top of your head, and you cling to him, a child lost, a sailor scared in a storm.

He knows.

You know he knows. You feel it in the rapid pace of his heart, the shudder of his shoulders.

He knows. He knows it better than you do.

And maybe he always has.

“You were right.” After a while, he whispers in your hair. “And so was I, even though I didn’t want to see it. It was never fair.”

“We wanted it… too much.” That much is more than true. You wanted it so desperately, and so did they, you know it. You don’t doubt their love for you, though the scales have always been imbalanced. Imperfect puzzles, trying and failing to click together.

“I’m sorry, I… we, were so selfish.”

“I wanted you to be.”

“It still wasn’t right.”

You sit there for hours, curled up on his lap, listening to him breath, memorizing his heartbeat.

You think of Johnny for the hundredth time. You want him to be here. You want him to hold you too. You close your eyes and try to remember how he feels, your love for him overflowing into a mountain of more and more agony. For both of them. 

“I should go.” Simon finally says, shattering the moment, and you nod.

It’s a death march to the door.

“Will you come by, to see us? I mean… to… talk to us. Together.”

“Yeah, I… I will.” The guillotine waits in the wings, a final chorus cut off by a symphony.

“Tomorrow?”

“Okay.” He leans in, presses his lips to your forehead.

“I love you, darling. We always will.” You nod, but say nothing, cheeks wet again.

He turns away, rolling his shoulders, heading down the hall.

There’s something building in your heart, an explosion, fear compounding.

“Simon! Wait.” He stops. You close the gap, tugging him down until your lips crash together, warm and salt soaked and full of torment, suffering. “I love you.”

This time, he says nothing. Only kisses you again, long and slow, before taking you by the shoulders and intentionally stepping away.

“I know.”

You stand in front of their door for too long.

You wish there was something you could take, something you could do, to release you from this. To build a barrier around your heart so you don’t have to feel it. Any of it.

There’s not, and you know that.

You know you must succumb to the water, dip your head below and hope you come up for air on the other side.

There’s nothing left to do except this.

You lift your fist to knock.

“This is my fault.” Johnny cries, and you squeeze his hand.

“It’s not. It’s… it’s all of us. We did it together.” Simon kisses his temple, rubs his back, and he leans into him, face buried in his shoulder. The guilt eats you alive, knowing that the last time you truly spent with him was when he was inside of you. You wish you talked to him more, made him feel loved, told him how much you cared.

But you were selfish.

And so was he.

“It’s not your fault, sweet boy. I promise.” Simon tries to soothe him, but  Johnny slams a fist into his knee, so hard you wince, and Simon grabs it, fingers firm around his wrist. “Stop. Stop now.” He strokes a hand through his mohawk. You struggle to breathe. 

“I love you so much. That’s… that’s never going to change.” Johnny shakes his head as Simon closes his eyes, nose dipping down into his hair.

“Ye cannae leave us, darling. We need- I need ye. I love ye… p-please.” The three of you are crying, sliced open, surgically diced into cross sections for an autopsy.

The death of a relationship.

The death of three parts to a whole.

“Johnny.” You say his name, over and over, until he pulls away from Simon and tugs you close. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, breathing him in, committing his scent to memory.

Simon wraps his arms around you both.

You feel whole. A puzzle complete. A sunrise after a storm.

And that’s why. 

“I love you.” You kiss the shell of his ear, soaking him with your tears. They’re everywhere, dripping down your face, your neck, your shirt. You can barely keep your breathing steady, despair restricting your lungs. “I’ll always love you, Johnny. Always.”

“Please.” He sobs, shakes, holding onto you so tight. “Dinnae leave me. Please.” Your heart is shredding to pieces. Ribbons of blood and muscle trying to contain too much, unable to cling together. His pleas are enough to make you second guess yourself, to make you nausea enough to nearly throw up.

It’s beginning to become overwhelming, and in the throes of your building panic, you glance wildly at Simon.

He stares back. Nods. Wraps his hands around Johnny’s shoulders and tucks him back into his chest. “No!” Johnny hisses, but Simon holds him steady.

“I’ve got him.” He says, voice broken.

You sit frozen like a deer in headlights.

“I love you.” You cry, and hope they know it’s meant for both of them.

It’s always meant for both of them.

Simon takes one last long look at you and closes his eyes. “I’m proud of you.” He whispers, hoarsely, and the final piece of your heart breaks. “Go.”

Can you? 

Do you have the strength? 

The sun is bright on your face.

It’s warm, and beautiful, the promise of something new, something different. You stand on the sidewalk, devastated but-

Unafraid. Imperfect pieces, slowly stitching together to make you whole, all on your own.

Without Simon. Without Johnny.

Just yourself.

It’s terrifying. Heartbreaking. And it’s only you now.

You, figuring out how to exist in a world too harsh for your heart. You, without the protection and promise of your other pieces, the ones who came home to you every time, the ones who put you back together. You, learning how to take care of yourself, to truly do it, for the first time.

You, who is not broken.

You, who is stepping forward without darling.

You who is just… you.

[arellas]

what is very annoying about the vast majority of batfam fans is the very surface level approach they take towards calling out racism in dc canon and fandom. yes, you want damian to be brown in the comics but do you care about how his mother’s character was butchered due to post 9/11 anti-arab racism? yes, you want cass and duke to be featured more prominently in comics but would you be okay with them displacing your own faves in order to do so? do you even read the comics they ARE featured in, or are you content with just reblogging their one panel cameos from your fave’s solos, extolling how much you “love” them (so long as they are second fiddle, that is)? you want jason or dick (whichever you prefer) to co-parent lian, all the while sidelining jade - you are content relegating jade and talia and shado and shiva to a joking “assassin moms” punchline when you talk about their kids while not realising the implications of their race and how it plays into their portrayal by dc.

you can’t just reblog a vague post about colouring damian correctly and wanting representation and then uncritically reblog another post about how evil his mother is - you’re playing into the exact same racism you claim to denounce, while feeling like you’re being so very progressive while doing it. it’s not like i’m expressing a particularly novel sentiment either, and i’m aware i probably sound like a broken record right now but it’s just so irritating

[carmenberzattosgf]

the long awaited spanking fic

Content warnings: dom/sub dynamics, heavy spanking

I cannot get the brain rot for this out of my head. I was going to write a full fic for it first that includeded subspace but imma just do a spanking blurb for now to free myself from the thoughts… so basically stay tuned for this to be expanded

You did the thing that pisses off Carmy the most. You talked back to him during service in front of everyone. It was over something stupid, really, but your stubbornness got the best of you. As soon as the words left your mouth, you regretted them. The look on Carmen’s face was enough to shut you up for the rest of the night.

The car ride home is silent, dead silent. Carmy hasn’t said a word to you at all, and you don’t dare try and talk to him. You’re well aware you screwed up. You just aren’t sure what he’s going to do with you.

Carmy remains wordless as he parks the car in front of his apartment and heads to his door. You follow quickly behind him, watching as he digs in his pocket for his keys. Once he gets the door open, he walks straight to the couch to sit down, expecting you to close the door and lock up for him.

As soon as Carmy hears the lock click, he speaks in a firm, unwavering tone from where he sits on the couch. “Take off your clothes.”

His tone sends chills down your spine. He’s really fucking pissed. You walk towards him, standing right in front of the couch. “Carm, I’m—“ you begin to apologize, but Carmen doesn’t let you finish talking.

“I’m not going to repeat myself. Take them off. Now.”

“Y-yes, sir.” You remove your clothes as fast as you possibly can, not wanting to make him wait. You watch as Carmy sits up straight on the couch, slightly parting his knees.

“Bend over my lap,” he commands. Your legs move quickly as you bend over on his lap with your eyes facing the ground. His left hand hooks around your waist to steady you. His right hand rests right above your ass, lightly soothing the skin. “You were bad today. Talked back to me in front of everyone.”

“I’m sorry, Carmy. I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s fucking obvious you weren’t thinking. How can I expect those people to listen to me when my own girlfriend won’t do what I ask of her? You know better than that. I’ve taught you better.”

“It’ll never happen again. I promise.”

“Oh, I’ll make sure of that. You’re going to learn your lesson. I’m giving you fifteen spanks.”

“Fifteen?” you audibly gasp at the number. He has never punished you with so many spanks. The max before had always been less than ten.

“And you’re going to count every single one of them. If you mess up, I’ll add another one. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir. I understand.” Not even wasting a second, Carmy’s hand strikes your ass. He’s not starting off easy. “Shit! O-one.” The next two spanks come one after another, hitting at different spots. Your body jolts in his grasp from the impact of each hit. “Two. Three.”

Carmy doesn’t give you time to think in between the strikes of his hand. Each one comes down harder than the one before it. The only sounds in the room are your strangled whines and the sound of his hand against your ass. You manage to count pretty well at first, but it gets harder as the heat between your legs increases.

“Are you getting wet right now?” He says before spanking you once more.

“t-ten.” It’s all you can say. Stringing together a sentence seems impossible.

“Are you already so stupid you can’t count and answer my question?” Carmy’s hand grips your raw skin as he spreads your legs to see for himself. He scoffs when he sees the wetness pooling between your legs, starting to make a wet spot on his pants. “You’re fucking dripping. You’re a desperate little thing, aren’t you? Even my hands spanking you turns you on.”

He hits your ass twice in quick succession in the exact same spot. You cry out from the impact. Your skin is throbbing. “Eleven— Carm, please.” You beg, not quite sure what you’re asking.

“That was twelve. I guess you can’t even count right anymore. Now, I’m going up to sixteen.”

You tremble in his lap, holding onto his legs with a death grip. At this point, he’s lightened up on the force behind his hand. Carmy also directs some of the strikes on your upper thigh to give your ass a break. It’s completely raw from the spankings, red and pulsing with heat. You’re barely holding on when he delivers the last strike.

“S-s-sixteen—“ you gasp. Tears run down your cheeks as Carmy rubs the skin of your upper back.

“You did good, baby. You took that so well. Such a good girl. You just needed a little punishment to remind you who you listen to, didn’t you?”

“Yes, sir. I’m so s-sorry Carm. I didn’t mean to make you so mad,” you speak through sobs. “I-I shouldn’t have done that I’m so sorry—“

“Shhh—baby. Calm down. I’m not mad at you anymore. You made a mistake and got punished for it. It’s all okay now. You don’t have to apologize again. I know you didn’t mean to upset me. Let me help you sit up, yeah? Need to see your face.”

With Carmy’s help, you sit up in his lap to face him. His hands cup your face, wiping the tears away with this thumbs. You get emotional in times like this, especially when Carmy looks at you with such adoration like he is right now. “I love you, Carm.”

“I love you too, sweetheart. Can I take care of you now? I wanna make it all feel better.”

“Please. P-please. Need it,” you beg, feeling the his hard cock underneath you.

“I’ve gotcha. I’ll take care of you.”

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

Yeah im sorry for leaving this here but i gotta have room to expand on this idea later. Hehehe so expect a more full length one shot with all of this once again and more soon!!

[nerdallwritey]

Awfully Fond of You

Request: i was wondering if you’d be willing to write a little something for act 1, during the tiefling party for an autistic tav who has a crush on astarion but also has body insecurities + SA trauma, maybe instead of the usual scene that goes down they request to bathe with astarion instead? a tav with poor interoception (sense of awareness with one’s body) who loves to help and touch others but doesn’t quite register others touching them or how they feel about it but still craving intimacy with astarion is something i’m obsessed with (*^^*)*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･* i love your writing style and NEVER request so im super nervous!!  - 🪴 (Link to original request here).

Pairing: Astarion x gn!reader Rating: 18+ - no smut, but mature themes Word Count: 7.7k CW: Very vague alludes to SA trauma, reader is a sweetie pie, Astarion is an idiot as always - No explicit smut this time; this one's mostly fluff! Spoilers: Minor spoilers for Act 1 (in-game dialogue, plot points, etc.), as well as Astarion's plotline Also posted to: AO3

a/n: Hello folks! I come bearing my very first request fulfillment! As you can tell from the ask, 🪴 anon wanted something very personal and sweet, and I'm incredibly honored that they chose me to see their vision come to life. I did my best to hit every beat they requested, while also staying true to my writing style, which, of course, means there's plenty of banter to be had. Yes, it is a bit similar to An Evening To Ourselves and Perfect Every Time (I swear I was in the middle of writing that one when I received this request), but I'm pleased with how this new remix of Astarion's Act 1 romance scene turned out! And yes, the title IS based on a lyric from everyone's favorite Sesame Street bath time song, "Rubber Duckie." HIT IT, BOYS! (Thank you, as always, to @kermitwazowski for beta reading!) NOTE: This Tav is completely separate from bard!Tav and does not take place in the same universe as Beauty and the Bard. Part 5 of that coming soon! And my request box is open!

Without further ado, 🪴 anon, I hope you like it!

The air in camp was abuzz with laughter and cheer. Booze flowed into goblets and down throats, and smiles graced the faces of nearly every guest currently in attendance of the last minute celebration thrown together by you and your companions.

With the goblins and their leaders defeated in what turned out to be a rather difficult encounter, Halsin and Zevlor had insisted on celebrating with you and your party at your campsite before the tieflings made their way to Baldur’s Gate within the next few days. 

Alfira supplied the evening with a somewhat constant stream of joyful songs, only stopping every so often to enjoy a drink with Lakrissa, while other tieflings danced and mingled with each other, relief and excitement making their shoulders relax as they reached for more goblets of wine. 

You were in the process of making your rounds through the party; you’d shared a drink with Shadowheart, some jokes with Gale and Karlach, a quiet moment with Wyll, and a confusing conversation with Lae’zel about limbs being torn from a neogi? You weren’t entirely sure what those even were, but you had to assume they were a fearsome creature if Lae’zel was bringing it up. 

That only left Astarion.

To be honest, you’d been avoiding him all night. Try as he might to catch your eye whenever you passed by, whether it be with a pointed clearing of his throat or a blatant call of your name, you would zero in on something else, and focus all your attention on that. Even if it meant sitting through an extended conversation with Volo. 

But now, there was nowhere left to go. Unless you opted to avoid him completely. And that would only lead to questions from your companions that you wouldn’t know how to answer.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like him. No. In fact, it was the exact opposite. You liked him a lot. And you weren’t sure what to do about it. 

Astarion was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen and you were… you. You’d been you, your whole life, and knew for a fact that the pair of you were an odd couple. Where he was crass, you were kind. Where he was violent, you opted to talk things through. 

And yet, you couldn’t help but enjoy spending time with him. His bloodlust was fascinating to watch, and you loved sparring both physically and verbally with him. More than once, you’d both saved the other’s ass in a sticky situation during battle. More than once, you’d allowed him to drink from you to ease his sanguine hunger. 

You were pretty sure that at the very least, he considered you a friend, though you weren’t sure he’d ever directly admit that to you. Unlike Gale and Wyll, who often reminded you how much they appreciated your friendship, Astarion was much tougher to read. Yet despite his somewhat malicious name calling and disapproval towards your actions, you couldn’t help but feel that he had a soft spot for you. Even when you were telling him he couldn’t kill a man in cold blood, it seemed like he legitimately enjoyed your company. The thought made you smile softly.

Taking in a deep breath and straightening your posture, you finally willed yourself to approach the vampire.

His eyes lit up in that way they often did when he was preparing to tease you.

“There you are, darling,” he said, dramatically. “I was worried I’d never see you again.”

“Worried I’d leave you, huh?” you teased with a smirk. 

Astarion tsked. “Perish the thought. But I recognize someone avoiding me when I see it.”

“Ah,” you clasped your hands in front of yourself, looking down at the ground, “you noticed that.”

“When I usually have to pry you away from me, yes, I noticed.” He took a swig of the wine he was holding.

You nodded and bobbed back and forth on your toes. “Best for last, I guess?” you shrugged your shoulders and smiled at him, hoping he’d drop the subject.

He hummed lamely. 

“So,” you perked up, “are you enjoying the party? I see you’ve been indulging in the spirits.”

“Watching me, were you?” Astarion smirked and you held up your hands, caught.

“Guilty.”

“You know,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “I never pictured myself as a hero.”

You reached out to squeeze his arm. “Don’t say that.”

His eyes met yours, and he gently pulled his arm out of your grasp. He cleared his throat before continuing.

“Never thought I’d be the one they toast for saving so many lives. And now that I’m here…” He closed his eyes and took another swig of his wine. When he brought the bottle away and opened his eyes, he met you with a scowl. “I hate it. This is awful.”

You laughed. “Really? Saving lives is awful?” 

Astarion rolled his eyes. “We killed some goblins to save some tieflings. The tally of lives didn’t change much.”

“You’re awful,” you shook your head affectionately. 

He looked smug before puffing his chest. “And what do I get for all my hard work?”

“I have a feeling you’re going to tell me.”

“Nothing but a pat on the head, and vinegar for wine.” 

You pursed your lips and reached for the bottle, brushing your fingers against his own. 

“Let me try,” you said, lifting the bottle to your lips and taking a sip. Your tongue was flooded with the bitter taste of fermented grapes and something else you couldn’t place. Your face scrunched at the flavor and Astarion snorted.

“See what I mean? Awful.”

You handed the bottle back to him, smacking your tongue to get rid of the aftertaste. He took the opportunity to continue speaking.

“All I want is a little fun. Is that so much to ask?”

You let out an amused scoff. “Knowing you, it probably is.”

Astarion lifted a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Oh, don’t be so sour. I like a good time as much as anyone.”

“‘Sour,’” you repeated, pointing at his wine bottle. “Good one.”

He smirked. “You know, we could always make our own entertainment, darling.”

“Oh, really?” You lifted an eyebrow. “And what does that entail?”

“We could get a little closer, so to speak.”

You were suddenly very aware of how close you were standing to Astarion. You took a considerable step backwards and crossed your arms. 

“Sorry, I was really close to you just now, wasn’t I?” You rubbed up and down your bicep awkwardly.

Astarion blinked before his face settled into a seductive smirk. He reached his free hand out to rest on your hip. “On the contrary, my dear. I rather like it when you’re close.”

“Oh, good,” you sighed in relief. You brought your hand down to where Astarion’s rested on your hip. “Sometimes I can’t tell.”

He chuckled, squeezing your hip slightly. “So what do you say?”

“To us getting closer? I don’t mind!” To emphasize your point, you took a step forward and rested your other hand on his shoulder.

Astarion furrowed his brow. Then he chuckled again, gently removing both of your hands from his body. “While I appreciate your enthusiasm, let’s wait until things quieten down. Once the others are asleep, we’ll find each other.”

“Okay, now I’m really interested in what kind of entertainment you have planned.” You smirked at him, sensing a shift in his tone, but unsure of what it meant. “Don’t tell me you’re a master of shadow puppets or something.”

He smiled skeptically. “Very funny,” he said slowly. “But I trust you’ll meet me?”

You giggled. “Yes, I’ll see you later, Astarion.” 

“Indeed you will, my love. Indeed you will.” Rather than bid you a proper goodbye, Astarion brought the wine bottle to his lips once more and turned away from you. 

You spun on your heel and made your way back to the party. 

This was fine. Good, even! Spending time one-on-one with Astarion was probably exactly what you needed if you wanted to navigate this silly crush you’d developed. Sure, he’d just called you “my love,” and that was a new one, but it wasn’t that much different from the other pet names he threw at you and your companions. You didn’t need this foolish infatuation distracting you on your journey or, gods forbid, diverting your attention during battle. No, this would be the perfect time to remind yourself and your fluttering heart that Astarion was, first and foremost, your friend, and a person. It didn’t need to be anything more than that. 

Your feet carried you not too far from Astarion’s tent and landed you at Karlach’s tent, the tiefling in question currently lying on her back, looking up at the stars.

“Hey, Hot Stuff,” you said, standing over her. 

“Soldier!” she grinned, her eyes a bit fuzzy from the wine. 

“This seat taken?” You kicked your foot over some dirt to her left. 

“All yours,” she said, sitting up to join you. 

You settled down next to her and watched the party still taking place at the center of camp. It sounded like Gale and Lae’zel were having some sort of heated argument over which main courses were best to prepare for battle, while Halsin awkwardly weaved between them to gather a plate of food for himself.

“Saw you chatting up Fangs just now,” Karlach playfully air-elbowed you, careful not to accidentally touch and scorch you. “Did he have anything good to say?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” you shrugged. “He was an ass to me, I was an ass to him, the usual.”

Karlach nodded. “Sounds about right.”

You both sat in pleasant silence for a moment before you laughed a little. “It’s funny, he actually asked me to spend time with him tonight, after the party.”

Karlach furrowed her brow. “After the party? What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” you shook your head, “he said we could ‘make our own entertainment.’” You made air quotes when you repeated his words. “I figure he wants to read together or something. It was just weird how he phrased it.”

She sat up a little straighter, her expression growing more serious. “Hang on, what were his words, exactly?”

You leaned back a little, confused by her sudden interest in your mundane conversation with the vampire. “Um… I don’t know. He said he didn’t like being a hero, I told him not to say that, he said he wanted more than a pat on the head and bad wine, I tried the wine and it was bad, he said he wanted a little fun, ‘is that so much to ask?’ and I said ‘knowing you, it probably is,’ and then he said we could make our own entertainment. Or something like that.”

“Huh.” Karlach thought for a moment. “I think he means to bone you, Soldier.”

You sputtered out a laugh. “What?! No he doesn’t!”

“He sooooo does!” Karlach barked out a laugh. “And good for you! I know I’d ride him to the Feywild and back if I had the chance.”

“He does not,” you said again, trying to convince yourself as much as you were trying to convince Karlach. 

But you faltered. 

“Does he?”

“Soldier,” Karlach lowered her head at you, giving you an incredulous look, “he was absolutely asking you to get nasty with him.” 

“Are you serious?”

“Yes!” she threw her hands up in the air. “We all see the way you look at each other! You practically undress one another with your eyes every time you see each other!”

“No we don’t!” you argued, but shrank back when Karlach raised an eyebrow at you. 

“You do. You know you do.” 

“Am I that obvious?” you asked, lifting your hands to your cheeks as you felt them heating up. 

Karlach started counting on her fingers. “He’s always the first one you check on after a battle, you’re always walking next to him when we’re traveling, AND you let him drink your blood. Weirdly often. Which is gross.”

“I like helping him,” you countered weakly. “And I always check on you guys, too!”

“Of course you do, Soldier, but we can all see how you two treat each other differently.”

You peered over at Astarion’s tent. He lounged comfortably amongst his pillows, a book propped open in his lap and his bottle of wine was not too far off. 

How could he be so casual and relaxed about all of this? The thought of talking to him later tonight made your stomach drop.

“What if I turn him down?” you asked softly, leaning forward to hug your knees.

Karlach’s expression softened. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” She reached out a hand, but retracted it. “If I could, I’d rub your back like my mum used to do when I was a kid.”

You smiled over at her. “Thanks.”

She nodded. “If you don’t want to sleep with the leech, that’s your choice. Don’t let him talk you into it if it’s not what you want.”

“I’m not entirely sure what I want,” you admitted, looking up at the familiar stars above.

Karlach sighed. “Well, you don’t have to decide anything tonight.” She nodded her head towards his tent. “In fact, I could go beat the shit out of him, if you’d like.”

You laughed. “Not necessary. But I appreciate the offer.”

“I’ll do it.”

“I know you will,” you smiled and settled your cheek on top of your knee. “I do really like him,” you confessed.

Karlach thought for a moment. “So, if you don’t mind me asking, what’s the problem?” She cocked her head curiously.

You sighed. “Sex isn’t really something… I have a great relationship with.”

“Ah,” Karlach nodded. “Same,” she joked, flaring her flames a little for good measure.

You snickered quietly. “I won’t get into it, but… yeah. No thanks. For now, at least.”

“Say no more,” she held up her hand and turned to observe Astarion at his tent. “You could always just see what he has to say? Maybe he just wants to show you he’s a master at shadow puppets or something.”

“That’s what I said!” you laughed, and Karlach joined in.

When you’d both settled, she spoke again. “But seriously, Soldier. Astarion may be a freaky vampiric bastard, but I don’t think he’d hurt you.”

“I don’t think he would either.”

“He knows we’d kill him.”

“I’m sure you’d all take turns sending him to the hells.”

“You bet your sweet ass we would,” she brought her fist to her hand as if preparing to punch this hypothetical Astarion. 

After another quiet moment, she spoke again. “You don’t have to go with him tonight. Or, I could come with you, if you want. As backup.”

“Thanks,” you said, “but I think I need to have this conversation with him alone.”

“Of course.”

You looked back over at Astarion’s tent. He was now standing and stretching his arms over his head. When he caught you watching him, he smirked and threw a wink in your direction. You quickly snapped your head forward, back towards the center of the party. Groaning, you brought your hands up to cover your face.

“What am I gonna do?”

~~~~~

Staring into the trees ahead of you, you remained frozen in place. 

The party had died down and dispersed about an hour ago, giving you and your companions plenty of time to perform a quick cleanup and head to bed. And just as Astarion had said, once a peaceful quiet had enveloped the camp, he’d come to your tent and wordlessly motioned for you to follow him. 

Now you were wringing your hands, trying to convince yourself to follow after him into the forest.

Karlach was right: you didn’t have to do anything you didn’t want to do. And Astarion was a reasonable guy. 

To a degree.

Okay, no he wasn’t. 

He was always prepared to kill someone who wronged him in an instant. But surely he’d be reasonable in this department. Your gut told you that that was true. And if it wasn’t, you’d sicc Karlach and the others on him. 

You knew it wouldn’t come to that, though. You felt strongly that he was the type who wouldn’t react rashly to a rejection. 

Before you’d even made up your mind to do so, you found yourself walking into the trees, following the general direction you’d seen Astarion head off towards. The least you could do was hear him out. And who knew, maybe this would be a funny anecdote in your friendship later on down the line. Only time would tell.

It took a few minutes of mindless wandering before you reached a clearing. You kept going, prepared to keep walking until you eventually found Astarion, when you spotted him emerging from behind a tree in your peripheral. 

You screeched to a halt and turned to face him, growing stiff with nerves when you realized he was shirtless. 

“There you are,” he said, his hand lingering on the tree behind him. “I’ve been waiting.” 

He approached you slowly. 

Seductively. 

You stood completely still.

He continued, “Waiting since the moment I set eyes on you.”

You swallowed thickly.

He moved even closer. “Waiting to have you.”

“About that,” you said, struggling to keep your voice steady, “what exactly do you mean?”

Astarion’s sensual expression morphed into one of confusion. Then he laughed a little. “Isn’t it obvious? Tonight is about pleasure.”

“I was afraid you’d say that,” you muttered.

While you were pretty sure he heard you, Astarion pressed on anyway. 

“Yours. Mine. Our collective ecstasy.”

“Astarion,” you said quickly, surging forward to grab his hands in yours, “please.”

He looked surprised, but quickly recovered with an alluring smirk. “Please what, darling?”

“We don’t have to.”

Astarion narrowed his eyes skeptically. “Don’t have to what?”

You groaned and leaned your head forward to rest on his bare shoulder. After a second you lifted your face back up to look at him. “We don’t have to sleep together.”

This time, Astarion looked stunned. “Then… what are you doing here?” 

You shrugged. “I thought we could talk.”

Astarion pulled away from you and took a step back. “‘Talk?’ I thought we had an understanding?”

“See, that’s the thing,” you said, “I did not understand.”

“Hmm,” he hummed and tilted his head in disbelief.

“I’m serious,” you said, stepping closer to him again. “I thought you wanted to spend time together.”

“Oh, but I do,” his lips quirked up mischievously. “I mean to spend the entire night with you, my dear.”

“And while that sounds great, I think you and I are having different thoughts about how to spend that time.” You held his gaze, willing him to hear you.

He humphed. “So you don’t want to have sex with me?”

“Not right now, no.”

He sputtered his lips together and threw his arms up. “And what does that mean?”

“It means… It means I don’t want to have sex right now. At all.” You watched his face scrunch in incredulity. “It has nothing to do with you!” you clarified, grabbing one of his hands again. “Believe me, this is all me.”

Astarion looked you up and down, scanning your body language. You still held his hand and leaned into him ever so slightly. 

“What’s this then?” he asked, placing his free hand over the hand holding his.

You pulled away from him completely. “Sorry,” you said, “I end up touching the people I like. I don’t realize I’m doing it.”

He narrowed his eyes, putting the pieces together in his head. 

“You like me.”

“Yes.”

“And you don’t want to sleep with me.”

“Yes.”

“So… what? You want to be friends or something?” He made a sour expression.

You laughed softly. “I’d like to think we’re already friends, actually.”

“And why would you think that?” Astarion asked, but you saw in his eyes that he was teasing.

You smiled lightly. “Maybe because you won’t stop following me around Faerûn?”

“Well, it’s not like I-”

“Or maybe because you’ve had a taste of my blood and now you can’t get enough?”

“Okay, that’s-”

“Or maybe because Karlach said you treat me differently than you treat everyone else.”

“She did not!” Astarion sounded genuinely scandalized and you laughed.

“Face it, pretty boy, you like me, too.”

Astarion groaned and rolled his eyes. “This is not at all going how I planned.”

You pursed your lips and wrapped your arms around yourself again. “Sorry.”

He glanced back at you and saw you staring at the ground. He sighed. 

“No, I’m sorry, darling.”

You met his eyes. He stepped closer and placed his hands on your cheeks. Instinctively, you leaned into his touch. 

“I assumed you wanted the same thing as me, and I was wrong.”

“It’s okay,” you assured. “You couldn’t have known.”

“Still,” he said, his thumb caressing the apple of your cheek, “I misread your touches as advances rather than…” He searched for the proper words. “One of your quirks.”

You exhaled, amused. “You didn’t entirely misread me.”

“Pardon?”

“I do like you. A lot. And if things were different, maybe I would sleep with you, but…”

Astarion pulled away from you and held up a hand. “No explanation needed, darling.” He smirked. “But it's good to know how you feel.”

You felt your cheeks go red. “Yeah,” you said, suddenly shy.

Astarion clicked his tongue. “You’re so adorable when you’re thinking of what to say.”

You shook your head and patted your cheeks. “I have another idea,” you said.

He nodded for you to continue and crossed his arms.

“Um… if it’s alright with you, I…” You paused, not exactly sure how he’d react. 

“What is it, darling?”

“I’d like to… bathe you.”

Astarion uncrossed his arms and looked rather dumbfounded.

“What?”

Your words came out clumsily and a little too fast: “Or not! I don’t know, I just like you so much, and I’d like to be closer to you but I don’t want to have sex with you so I thought maybe we could get closer another way, or maybe-”

“Okay,” Astarion interrupted.

“Huh?”

He moved closer to you and brushed some hair out of your face.

“Okay,” he repeated softly. “Let’s bathe together.”

“Oh,” you said, disbelief painting your features. 

Astarion laughed. “Did you assume I’d say no?”

You shrugged as a smile grew on your face. “I don’t know what I expected,” you reached for his hand, “but I’m really glad you said yes.”

~~~~~

The walk back to camp was pleasantly silent, save for the crickets singing their nightly aria. Astarion kept pace with you, the back of your hands brushing every so often, each time sending a tiny shock wave through your body. 

This was happening. You were going to have a private, intimate moment with Astarion. Even if it hadn’t been what he originally intended, you were happy to think of a compromise that still allowed you to get close to him in a way that you knew the others in camp hadn’t, and probably wouldn’t. It made you feel special.

Happy.

And nervous. 

Nervous as all hells, to be honest. You felt your heart speeding up with every step you took, bringing you closer to camp.

“Something wrong, darling?” Astarion asked, giving you a sideways glance.

You jumped a little when his voice broke the silence. “Huh?”

“Your heart, love. It’s pounding.” He waggled his eyebrows teasingly. “Nervous?”

“Oh, that.” You held a hand to your chest and focused on slowing your breathing. When you turned to look at him, you asked, “Is that weird?”

“Seeing as how this was your suggestion, maybe a little.” He smiled and nudged his shoulder into yours.

You groaned. “If this is too weird, let’s just not.”

Astarion halted and grabbed your wrist to stop you. He spun you to look into his eyes. “Whatever’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, darling, cut it out.”

“Oh, okay great. Done.”

“Really?”

“No, not really!” You narrowed your eyes at him.

He sighed. “Never is that easy, is it?”

It was a rhetorical question, but you shook your head anyway. 

“Well, whatever’s making you nervous, I’ll strive to steer clear of it.”

He looked at you expectantly, as if he wanted some sort of explanation. You avoided his eyes and moved to continue walking towards camp. He followed close behind.

“It’s just that…” you paused, trying to collect your thoughts. “I haven’t been… naked in front of someone. For a while.”

Astarion bit his lip, mirth in his eyes.

“Don’t laugh!” you exclaimed, mortified.

“No, no, darling!” His tone was gleeful. “Apologies. It’s just that that’s what’s making you nervous? I’ll have you know that you’re one of the more beautiful creatures who I’ve attempted to bed. You have nothing to fear. I’ve seen all manner of bodies and I can assure you, yours will be nothing short of exquisite. In fact, your shyness is rather endearing.” He smiled at you, looking like he might still be withholding a laugh.

You flattened your lips into a line. “Don’t say things you don’t mean.” You began walking ahead of him but stopped when you heard him call your name.

“I may be a rake and a thief, but I’m no liar.”

You blinked at him. “Yes you are! You lie all the time!”

“Okay, yes, sure, but I don’t lie about things that matter! Things like this!” He motioned up and down, indicating your body.

Just as he did so, the two of you emerged from the trees and into camp. You held a finger to your lips and indicated for him to be quiet. He nodded and padded after you as you crept quietly towards the shore of the lake that lapped quietly next to your sleeping campsite. You bent to pick up towels, along with the bucket that held soap and other washing supplies that you and your companions shared in an effort to stay clean on the road. You held them up and motioned for Astarion to follow you again, away from where Withers stoically kept watch, and more towards where you’d spoken with Wyll earlier in the evening. When you turned to face Astarion, his eyes were full of questions.

“Are you sure you still want to do this?” you asked.

He perked up and grinned. “My love, there is nothing I’d like more.”

You searched his eyes one more time to make sure he was serious. When you were satisfied with what you saw, you motioned for him to step into the lake. 

“Ladies first,” you teased, looking anywhere but at Astarion.

He, in turn, looked down his nose at you. “I know what this is,” he said, pointing a lazy finger at you.

“What’s what?”

“You’re stalling, darling.”

“I am not!”

Astarion crossed his arms and tilted his head towards you, unimpressed.

Your posture fell into a slouch. “Okay fine, maybe I am stalling.”

“Really?” Astarion said dramatically before dropping his arms to his sides again. He approached you, close enough to where you could feel his cool breath on your face. 

He placed both of his hands on your hips. You looked down to watch as his fingers drummed a calming rhythm into your sides. He whistled quietly, gaining your attention. 

“Let’s start here,” he suggested, now fingering the hem of your shirt. He refused to let you look away. 

You nodded.

“Good,” he purred as you raised your arms and helped him take off your shirt. 

The cool air of the evening immediately sent goosebumps down your arms, and you unconsciously crossed them over your chest for warmth.

Astarion tsked. “Come now,” he protested and placed two gentle hands on your wrists, guiding them to your sides. “Lovely,” he praised once he was able to look at you. 

You made an uncomfortable sound before placing your hands on your waistband. 

“These probably need to come off next, right?”

“Typically that’s how one bathes themself, yes.”

“Right,” you agreed, watching as Astarion mirrored you and reached for his own waistband. You looked down at your legs as you removed your pants, leaving you in only your underwear. 

“Goodness, love,” Astarion said quietly and you looked at him shyly. He himself was now only in his underwear. “You have nothing to be shy about. You’re magnificent.”

“Would you shush and get into the water please?” you half teased, half begged. Anything  to end this weird tension you were feeling. 

“Alright,” he laughed softly before reaching for the waistband of his underwear. He looked at you for approval. When you nodded, he removed them in one fluid motion as if he’d done this a million times. Maybe he had.

Regardless, you couldn’t help but stare at the space between his legs.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Eyes up here.”

“Sorry,” you said, immediately flicking your eyes up to his face. “I didn’t- It’s just-”

Astarion chuckled. “I understand.”

“Thank you,” you said, breathing a sigh of relief. 

“Your turn,” he said, lifting his eyebrows.

You bit your lip and slowly reached for your underwear. When you pulled them off, Astarion watched you without a hint of judgment in his eyes. You ran a hand through your hair and shifted nervously on your feet. 

He held out a hand to you and you stared at it before looking up at his face. He rolled his eyes.

“I’m not going in this frigid water alone, are you mad?”

You laughed and took his hand. He instantly pulled your body to his, holding you so that you were chest to chest. He gave you a seductive smirk before leaning in. You leaned away, avoiding his advances. You shook your head ever so slightly before stepping into the gentle water. Astarion remained standing on the shore before following after you. 

Braving the cold of the water, you sunk down until you were sitting in neck deep water. You let the bucket you’d brought with you float next to you as Astarion crept through the water, clearly freezing. 

“Why did I let you convince me to bathe at night? There’s no sun out to warm this wretched lake.”

You ducked your mouth below the surface to blow some bubbles in his direction. “You should know by now that dunking your whole body helps you warm up faster.”

He gave you a dirty look before slowly sinking down in front of you, yelping and contorting his face the entire time. You couldn’t help but squawk out a laugh. 

When he was fully seated, he pulled you towards him, making you sit in his lap. He gave you a sensual look that had you frowning and pulling back. He raised a quizzical eyebrow.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

“When I said I wanted to bathe you, that’s all I meant.”

“Ah.” His tone was confused. Then he shook his head. “Right, sorry. This is - well… you know.” He smiled, looking like he was admitting defeat and that he wasn’t pleased about it. “I have no idea what to do with you.”

You swam behind him, pulling the bucket of soap towards you and laying your hands on both of his shoulders. “You don’t have to do anything.”

He spun to face you. “Nothing?”

You nodded and he huffed out a laugh. “No sex, no fooling around…I’m sorry, darling. It’s just - having to slow down, it’s… I’m just not used to it.” 

“That’s okay,” you rested your hands on his shoulders again. “We’re in no rush.”

He hummed. “Can you… I don’t know. Help? Show me what to do?”

Laughing, you took his hand. “I’ll try.”

You led your weightless bodies into shallower water and had Astarion sit facing away from you, towards the shore. Reaching for the bucket again, you pulled out a bar of soap and a sponge. 

“Relax,” you cooed, seeing how tensely he held his shoulders close to his ears. 

He let loose a breath and you watched as he relaxed his muscles. Your eyes traveled lower, suddenly catching a glimpse of a complicated and gruesome scar on his back. Your eyes widened, taking in how the water and moonlight reflected off of it. Calmly, you dipped the sponge in the water and added soap before gently rubbing his right shoulder. Astarion melted further, allowing his neck to tilt forward, which, in turn, gave you a better view of his scarred flesh.

“Um… Is it okay for me to wash your back?” you hesitated in bringing the sponge across his shoulder and over his back to his other shoulder.

“Why wouldn’t - oh. I suppose you’re talking about the poem.” He barely looked over his shoulder at you.

“I’ve never seen a poem like this,” you said quietly, a hint of anger in your voice.

He chuckled darkly in response. “It’s a gift from my old master, Cazador. He considered himself quite the artist and used his slaves as a canvas. Do you like it, darling?” He shimmied his shoulders, mockingly preening over the evidence of his own torment.

“Not at all,” you said evenly, continuing to wash his shoulders. 

“Ouch, love, you’d hurt his feelings if he heard that.” Not a hint of joy reached his eyes.

“I don’t much care about the feelings of this old master of yours.”

“Oh, be still, my undead heart,” he held a hand to his chest sarcastically. Then he sighed. “You’re allowed to wash it. It doesn’t hurt anymore.” His voice was quiet when he said, “Thank you for asking.”

Wordlessly, you moved the sponge from the back of his neck to his shoulder blades. 

“I’m not going to break,” he laughed softly, “you don’t have to be so gentle.”

You increased the pressure you were applying to his skin before adding more soap to the sponge. “Move up a little,” you instructed, tapping him to move closer to the shore. “Lean forward.”

Now you had a better angle to wash away the grime of the road from his back, and an even better view of the scar. You clicked your tongue and set to work. 

Perhaps uncomfortable by your silence, Astarion began to speak again. “He, Cazador, composed and carved that poem over the course of a night.” There was a venom to his words. Maybe a deep regret, or a weighing sadness. “He made a lot of revisions as he went.”

Your hand paused over a particularly brutal ridge. You leaned forward and wrapped your arms around his torso, resting your cheek against the raised tissue. “You’re brave for enduring that.”

“What are you doing?” Astarion straightened, making you push your cheek further into his skin. 

You pulled back immediately. “Sorry, I wanted to hug you. I should have asked. I just… wanted you to know that I care.”

Astarion looked over his shoulder at you blankly. “You ‘care?’”

You nodded. “Turn back around, let me keep washing you.”

He gave you a slight nod before facing forward again and leaning over. 

After another silent moment of gliding the sponge across his back, you asked, “Any idea what it means? Or is it just some pattern?”

Astarion let out an unamused laugh. “Hells if I know. Not sure how much you know about vampires, darling, but typically, we can’t see our reflections.” He spoke as if talking to a child. 

You splashed his back with a small wave from your hand. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“You’re lashing out at me when I was just asking a question.”

“I-” He paused. Then he fell silent.

“I’m sorry if I overstepped but… I’m not your enemy,” you said gently. “We don’t have to keep talking about this. We don’t have to talk at all.”

Astarion groaned. “Silence is dreadful, darling.”

“Is that why you never stop talking?” you teased, trying to lighten the mood again.

“Good one,” he said flatly, but you could hear the smile in his voice. “I only talk because you lot never have anything interesting to say.”

You scoffed with a smile. “I have plenty of interesting things to say!”

“Oh, really? Like what?”

“Like-” you thought for a moment. “Like the other day! When I was talking with you about your embroidery!” By now you’d moved on to washing over Astarion’s arms. You spun him to face you so you could wash and massage his hands. 

Astarion clicked his tongue. “Unfortunately, darling, that’s not an entirely interesting topic, seeing as how I was in the middle of mending a shirt and you just wanted an excuse to talk to me.”

“I did not!” you denied, massaging between his fingers. Unconsciously, his fingers curled around yours before retracting and flexing. 

“Deny all you want, you still didn’t say anything interesting.”

“Hmm,” you narrowed your eyes at him. “If I’m so uninteresting, why did you want to spend the evening with me of all people?” You were massaging his other hand. 

“You-” He paused again.

“I?”

“You’re… I’m still trying to figure you out.” His voice grew softer when you pulled yourself closer to wash across his chest. You sensed the shift and looked up at his face to make sure he was okay with your actions. When he nodded minutely, you continued. 

“If you’re trying to figure me out… one might say that you’re interested in me.”

He groaned. “Say whatever you want to help you sleep better tonight, darling.”

“Uh huh,” you said pleasantly to yourself, feeling like you’d won. You looked away to add more soap to the sponge and when you looked back, you realized how close you were to his face. His pupils were blown wider than usual and you could see yourself reflected in his eyes against the moonlight. His breath tickled your face. 

He watched you with an intensity that had you hesitating. Why was he so-?

“Look up,” you said, looking up yourself to demonstrate what you wanted. “Please.”

He held your gaze for as long as he could before looking up at the sky. 

You carefully brushed the sponge along his throat, pausing briefly when you got to the twin wounds on his throat from the night he was turned. You circled them gently with the sponge before rinsing the suds with water cupped in your hand. A shiver ran through Astarion’s body.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

“Yes,” he said looking back down at you once you’d finished rinsing the suds away. “But I’d very much like to kiss you.”

You blinked a few times before resting your forehead against his. When you pulled back, you asked, “Is it okay for me to wash your hair?”

Astarion looked at you for a moment, his eyes flicking to your lips for a second before meeting your eyes again. “I suppose so,” he said.

“I don’t have to. Your legs are still-”

“I can handle my own lower half, thank you.” He winked at you.

You smiled and handed him the sponge before bringing yourself to rest behind him again. You gathered the bucket that was still floating nearby and submerged it until it was filled about halfway with water.

“You can either dunk yourself, or I can pour this over your head,” you held the bucket for Astarion to see.

“I’m actually quite enjoying you taking care of me, darling. I trust you won’t drown me.”

“A mistake,” you said, pretending to dump the bucket over his head all at once. “Can vampires even drown? It’s not like you need to breathe.”

“I’d rather not find out, if it’s all the same to you,” he smirked. 

Instead of dumping the entire bucket on his head like you threatened, you poured a gentle stream along the back of his skull before moving forward to evenly wet the rest of his hair. 

“Bloody hells, that is cold,” he pushed some flattened curls out of his face.

“For being a fearsome vampire, you sure are a wimp,” you teased. 

“I could rip your throat out.”

“And I might be able to drown you.” You placed firm hands on both his shoulders and pushed gently, as if you wanted to test your theory. 

“Terrifying,” he smirked, running the sponge along his legs underwater.

“You should see what I did to those goblins who were holding Halsin hostage.”

Astarion laughed. “I know, darling, I was there. Who knew you could be so hellbent on vengeance?”

You laughed softly, coating your hands in soap before running them through his curls. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“Like?” he prompted.

“Astarion!” you exclaimed sarcastically. “You want to know more about me?”

“Well if I knew you’d make a fuss, I wouldn’t have said anything.” Despite his tone, his eyes were closed in pleasure as you continued to massage his scalp. 

You chuckled quietly, trying to think of something to share with him. 

“I’ve lived in Baldur’s Gate my whole life,” you started.

“A shame we never crossed paths.”

“I’m not entirely sure you’d spare me a passing glance.”

Astarion opened his eyes. “Don’t say that.”

You shrugged. “I read a lot, growing up, and liked being indoors. But I also liked the outdoors. I helped my dad tend our garden, and helped my mom cook dinner–”

“How quaint.”

“We’d visit my aunt in the Upper City every Midwinter, and I wanted to be a teacher when I grew up.” 

“Pity, you have such a promising career as a spa keeper.”

You examined Astarion’s head to make sure you hadn’t missed a spot. When you were pleased with your own work, you continued: “This is the first big adventure I’ve ever been on.”

“First brain worm?” Astarion opened one eye and pointed to his temple.

You laughed and nodded. 

He smiled. “Mine, too.”

You filled the bucket with more water and held a hand over his forehead to keep soapy water from splashing into his eyes when you poured the fresh water over his foamy locks. 

Astarion sighed as the soap began to wash away. You filled the bucket again to repeat the process. 

“Did you ever foresee yourself bathing a beautiful vampire, when you were a child?”

You pursed your lips. “I mean, I had my hopes.” You smiled as he let out a laugh. 

“Tonight definitely didn’t go how I expected,” he admitted.

“You didn’t foresee yourself getting bathed by your incredibly interesting leader?”

He let out an amused breath from his nose. “No I did not.”

You finished rinsing out the last of the soap from his hair, but continued raking your fingers through it. “Are you disappointed?” Your voice was small.

He turned to face you, making your hands disconnect from his curls. “Not at all,” he said, sounding genuine. “Pleasantly surprised, actually.” He thought for a moment. “And cleaner than I’ve been in weeks. Probably.”

You laughed. “Happy to have provided my services.”

He smiled at you, his eyes softer than you’d ever seen them. “This was nice.” He lifted his hand to swipe through his hair. “Let’s hope you didn’t ruin my hair.”

“With soap and water?”

“You might have done it wrong,” he teased.

“How? It’s soap and water!”

“Not so loud,” he chuckled, nodding his head towards camp. You could vaguely hear Gale snoring in the distance. 

“I’m leaving,” you joked, moving to get up, but Astarion grabbed your wrist and pulled you back into the water.

“Am I not to return the favor?”

You looked back at him and half smiled, patting his cheek. “I’m not convinced you’d do a thorough enough job.” With that, you pushed away from him and got up, gathering the bathing materials and walking back to shore where towels awaited. 

Astarion sputtered behind you. “How dare you! I could give you a massage, the likes of which you’ve never experienced before!”

“You know, sometimes, Astarion, people do things for other people, and don’t want anything in return.” You threw the towel over your head to start drying your hair before wrapping it around your body. 

Astarion did the same before bending to pick up your discarded clothes. “I- Well… You-” He sighed heavily. “You’re a tricky one, aren’t you?”

“I’m not trying to be,” you shrugged.

“And yet,” he sidled up next to you, offering you his arm, “you are.” 

You took his arm in one hand and the bucket of washing supplies in the other and followed him as he led you back into camp. You placed the materials back where you found them and brought your newly freed hand up to wrap around Astarion’s arm. You leaned your head onto his shoulder. 

When you arrived at your tent, he handed you your clothes. 

“I suppose this is where we end our evening,” he said quietly so as not to wake the others.

“I suppose so,” you agreed, your eyes shining as you looked at him.

“What?” he asked.

“Thank you for letting me do that,” you said, still holding his arm. “I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.”

“I did,” he said. “Very much, actually.” When he saw the excited look on your face, he amended, “Don’t be weird.”

“I’m not weird,” you said, weirdly.

“Uh huh,” Astarion said, pulling his arm out of your grip, not unkindly.

“We can do it again,” you bobbed on your feet, “if you want.”

“I… could be persuaded,” he nodded.

“Good,” you said. Then you surged forward to kiss his cheek. “Thank you. Goodnight Astarion.” You turned and ducked down into your tent.

“Pleasant dreams, darling,” he said softly. 

You didn’t see how his hand lingered on his cheek where your lips had made contact, didn’t see the small smile that crept onto his face or the mask beginning to slip. 

Instead, you had pleasant dreams filled with laughs and curls and a flash of fangs accompanied by a smile of delight. 

[a-pute11as]

so you're jealous? - leila ouahabi

r gets jealous after seeing a leila x patri ship edit.

warnings - MDNI 18+ for a couple suggestive smut sentences

words - 655

“mi amor” leila called out as she entered our shared apartment. 

“mhm” i replied bluntly, sitting on the sofa as i scrolled through my phone. 

“i thought we were going to get coffee after my media stuff, jess told me you left as soon as training ended, why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, planting a kiss on my forehead before heading into our bedroom. 

“yeah, i forgot” i continued scrolling on my phone, not taking a minute to look up at her, which took a lot of restraint considering she’d just got back from the training and she looked sweaty which was incredible sight. 

it didn’t take her long to walk back out the room with just a sports bra and her shorts. as she stood in front of me, it took all the restraint in me to not look up at her and start drooling.

“querida” she said, her arms now crossed in front of her.. 

“yes leila” i replied, still not looking up. 

“i’m talking to you” her foot now tapping against the floor, something she knew that annoyed me. 

“can you stop that” i mumbled, still not giving her the satisfaction of looking up. 

she grabbed my phone out of my hands, throwing it on the other sofa so i couldn’t easily get it back. i looked up at her, slightly cocking my head to the side. 

“can i help you?” i asked, my eyebrows raised.  

“you can start by telling me why you haven’t even looked at me when i’m standing here half naked” she knew me far too well. 

“seen it all before” i rolled my eyes, knowing it would wind her up. i watched as her eyes widened in disbelief at what i had said.

“you did not just say that” she huffed, i could tell she was holding back an actual reaction, but all i did was shrug in response, “cariño, what has gotten into you?”. 

i stood up and walked over to my phone, taking a few seconds to find what i was previously looking at before passing my phone to leila. 

she watched intently as i showed her a ‘ship’ edit of her and patri. 

“so you’re jealous?” she said, looking up at me with a raised eyebrow. 

“yes obviously, how could i not be jealous when i’m seeing a video of my girlfriend and a close friend looking at each other like they’re in love” i said, crossing my arms in front of me. 

all she responded with was a laugh. 

“leila, do not laugh at me, i’m mad at you right now” causing me to roll my eyes yet again. 

“i can’t help it, you look so adorable standing there with your arms crossed” she replied, reaching out to pinch my cheeks before i swatted her hand away. “but honestly, the jealousy is really hot” she added, running her tongue along her bottom lip slightly.

“don’t do that right now, you know i can’t stop myself when you get like that” at that point i purposefully turned my back to her, this had become a common act in our relationship, if she started playing her tricks, then i’d do the exact same. 

her hands were quick to wrap around my waist, pressing her bare abs against my back “mi amor, you know it’ll always be you” she whispered into my ear, causing me to melt in her touch. 

“so you aren’t secretly in love with patri?” i asked. 

i felt her laugh against my neck as she left a small peck behind my ear, “as far as i’m aware, no”. 

with that i spun myself around in her arms, cupped her jaw in my hands and gave her a quick peck, “as much as i love sweaty leila, you need to shower”. 

“join me?” she raised her eyebrows suggestively as a smirk grew on her face. 

how could i say no to that. 

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can you write a part 2 for the gambit scenario? Where they're restored by the tva per Wade's request and they'll go back to their respective timelines and gambit wants the reader to come to his? Thank youuu!

Part 1 here

When Wade told you that he would find a way to set things right back at the TVA for you, Remy, Laura, Electra and Blade, you didn’t bother to believe that he could. He was only making and educated wish on something he wasn’t fully aware on how it worked, and only did so to appease people, people who had long since had all semblance of hope drained from them the longer they stayed in the Void with little to no chance of escape.

And even if you were faced with the opportunity to go home, you were then forced to face another issue; would you have the heart to part from Remy? Would you be able to and go back to a home where he didn’t know you and was instead completely enraptured by a southern belle, knowing that at one point you and another version of him had something that words couldn’t barely describe?

You honestly didn’t think you could leave Remy, for you’d mourn the life where he would make you something to eat on whatever he could find, giving you sweet affection as he held you from behind and whispered sweet nothings in his native Cajun against your lips. Remy has become a vital part of your soul that you don’t want to taken away, and you’d assumed Remy felt the exact same with how much more affectionate he had became after Wade made his promise before leaving with Logan; It was almost as if the poor man thought you were going to disappear if he were to ever let go of your hand as you slept.

‘Remy?’ You asked.

‘Yes mon Cher.’ He replied, moving to his side to look at you.

‘What if Wade manages to find us a way out, a way home? Do you think you’d take it?’ Remy made a face of thought, going home was all anyone in your group wanted and he was no exception to this, however whenever he looked into your eyes he found himself already at home. ‘That depends.’ He replied.

‘Depends on what?’ You asked, shifting to your side to look at him better.

Remy grabs your hand and intertwines your fingers with his own. ‘Depends on whether I can take you home with me without consequences.’ You gasped softly. ‘You’d want me to come with you? Remy I don’t think the TVA-‘

‘Screw what the TVA think Cherie.’ Remy interrupted as he leaned in close to press his forehead against your own, making you look into his eyes. ‘I’m not leaving this here void without you nor do I want to return to my timeline without you either. So they have to abide by my terms if they don’t want ol’ Gambit stepping a toe out of line.’ He adds with a charming smirk and you couldn’t help but press a kiss to his lips,

‘I don’t want to go back to my timeline without you either.’ You whispered to him as you shuffled closer to him until you were practically tucked under his chin before falling asleep.

However the day Wade promised would come did came when an orange doorway like portals appeared before you and Remy, along with a TVA agent who told you that the portal would take you both to your respective timelines.

‘On whose orders are you acting upon?’ You asked the agent.

‘A one Wade Wilson.’ The agent replied before disappearing into the portal, leaving you and Remy to realise that Wade wasn’t full of shit and was being legit about his promise.

‘We can go home.’ You said but even after you said the words, the pit in your stomach only grew larger as your fear of having to depart from Remy grew stronger. ‘He wasn’t lying, he said he got us home and he has.’ You looked to Remy who had a conflicted expression across his face. ‘No wonder we didn’t see Blade, Electra nor Laura today because they must’ve already gone home.’ Remy says as he looks at the organ he doorway like portal before looking back at you and smiling. ‘Well mom Cher I think it’s about time we leave also. It is time to go home.’ He adds as he stands up, offering you his hand to take as you started at it then him.

‘Home.’ You echoed as you took his hand, allowing him to pull you out to your feet as you both walk closer to the portal, that was until you stopped completely and blurred. ‘I can’t go home! You are my home Remy and I don’t want to leave you and-‘ Remy stops your rambling by grabbing your chin and gently encouraging you to look at him, only to see him smiling sweetly at you as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. ‘And I promised last night that I wouldn’t leave you either mon Cher. I do not intend to break that promise as my offer for you to come home to my timeline still stands waiting for a response.’ He tells you.

You on the other hand couldn’t help but feel as though this was all some dream and that you were still asleep. ‘Wouldn’t we get in trouble?’ You asked knowing that the you in his timeline was dead. So you could clearly see how this wouldn’t go down too well with the higher ups at the TVA, bringing you home to your timelines was one favour, but letting you live out your life in a different timeline was another thing that they’d probably won’t tolerate as well.

Remy shrugs as he pulls you in close to him, smiling reassuringly. ‘Then we shall meet the consequences head on if we must, but I have made it known that there is no Remy without you mom cher. My heart lies with you as it has since the day we first met and I have no intentions of living out a life without you to complete it.’

You smiled at him as you stole a kiss from his lips, still scared of what was to come but finding yourself more and more convinced to leave with Remy. ‘You wanted my answer? Well here it is.’ You took a deep breath as did he as he watched you with a slight nervousness. ‘I’ll come with you Remy. I don’t want to be unhappy in my own timeline when I know I can be far happier with you wherever we go for you are my home and more.’ You confessed as you watched the smile on Remy’s face grow as he swoops in to steal a sweet kiss from your lips this time, which sent off the butterflies in your stomach as you met his passion with your own, happy to know that you weren’t going at this alone anymore and had someone who was going to make it all worthwhile.

‘Let us live out the rest of our lives starting today mon Cher.’ Remy said softly as he squeezed your hand reassuringly as you both then walked through the orange door like portal, ready to start your life together but real this time.

[asterias-record-shop]

Hyiaa!! If these prompts are still free can I please request

BINGO: Bimbo , Eggsy Unwin with the prompt

"I like having you covered in me. Smothered in me, full of me. Want all of you, and you need all of me." ?

Thank you for your time!

—𓆩[your majesty]𓆪—

𓆩[main masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪 𓆩[updated bingo card!]𓆪 𓆩[bingo masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[join the bingo taglist!]𓆪

𓆩♡𓆪 CHARACTER - Eggsy Unwin x Fem! Princess! Bimbo! Kingsman Agent! Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 TYPE - fluff, smut, maybe slight angst

𓆩♡𓆪 WORD COUNT - 2.6K

𓆩♡𓆪 SUMMARY - Eggsy truly didn’t know how you were recruited into Kingsmen, but he wasn’t complaining. You helped him out a lot during training, but for fucks sake, were you blind to how Charlie and his friends looked at you? When you go missing, though, Eggsy has to save you. He couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t.

𓆩♡𓆪 STORY WARNINGS - foul language and cursing || reader is portrayed as very naive and kind of an airhead || reader is portrayed as wearing tight and revealing clothes and likes makeup || sex positive reader || again, kinda ditsy || you’re an undercover spy princess now || you get kidnapped || edited timeline || lovesick eggsy || smut || fingering || masterbating || different positions || multiple rounds || size kink || cum kink || marking kink || rough sex turned soft sex ||

“Your mission,” Merlin spoke as you handed Eggsy, Roxy, and Charlie. “Is to win over the asset shown in the folder. And when I say win over, I do mean biblically.”

Eggsy smiles, opening and showing off the picture. “Easy. Posh girls love a little rough.”

Charlie scoffed, showing the exact same image. “We’ll see about that.”

Roxy giggled. “We certainly shall.”

“Yep! Mhm, sex! You need to fuck her,” you filled in, Charlie scoffing a slight laugh as Merlin smiled slightly and nodded. “Nicely! She’s an heiress.”

“Yes, Y/N, I’m sure they are aware she is an heiress,” Merlin spoke, a sheepish smile developing on your lips. “Anyways, you will be going to the club-”

“Oh, I love clubbing!” You say, Merlin looking over at you with a slight raise of his brows. “O-Oh I’m sorry… I’ll be quiet now.”

Eggsy smiled slightly as he stared at you, but his stomach twisted slightly at the thought of sleeping with someone else. Eggsy was faithful, he always was no matter what, and to be honest, he wasn’t very excited about sleeping with someone else when he wanted to be sleeping with you – both sexually and when he woke up.

“Anyways, you leave at 2200. Please be ready by then. Y/N, come with me.” Merlin smiled at you as you nod, smiling back.

“Yes, Merlin.”

As you both walked out, Eggsy quickly ran after you before Roxy could say anything. “Y/N! Y/N, wait up!”

“Oh, uhm,” you looked back at Merlin who nodded slightly, walking away as you turned. “What’s up, Eggsy?”

“I-I uhm… just wanted to talk to you real quick,” he whispered, looking back at the other two with a slight sigh. “If uhm… If I don’t go past this session-”

“You will,” you say, giggling. “I’m sure a rough boy like you can handle your liquor. And you’re very loyal too!”

Eggsy paused, tilting his head. “Loyal?”

You froze, humming. “Forget I said that. Anyways. Like you were saying?”

Eggsy cleared his throat, swallowing. “If uhm… I wanted to say that when I sleep with this girl,” he ignored your giggle. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“I’m aware,” you say with a shrug. “I had to sleep with a pair of guys, but not for the initiation part. The initiation part was actually easier than sleeping with those guys, how are you gonna be a crime lord with a small dick…”

He smiled as you continued to ramble off, his eyes slowly trailing over your pretty face all the way down to your tight clothes and perfect body, round and soft in every perfect place, and the thought of having your thighs around his head truly was a dream.

“Oh, I am so sorry… you had a question, what was it?” You tilted your head, smiling at him.

“I-I uhm… I just wanted to ask if after this session… if you would want to go out with me? On like… a real date?” He whispers, tilting his head slightly as you gaped at him.

“R-Really? You want… you want to take me out on a date?” You whisper, eyes narrowing. “Why? I have nothing to do with the choosing process.”

“I’m not trying to get points for the choosing process,” Eggsy clarified immediately, taking a step closer toward you. “I just… I want to take you out to see if we could… go out together as a couple.”

You paused, swallowing. “Oh…” you looked back at Merlin who was tapping on his tablet, then turned around with a nod. “I would like that. I would like that very much.”

“You would? Good. Good, perfect,” he smiled widely as you inhaled, smiling. “Go. I’m sure Merlin needs something important.”

You smiled, nodding as you leaned forward and pressed a firm kiss to his cheek. “I can’t wait.”

Eggsy smiled widely as you walked off, turning around to see Charlie and Roxy staring at him. “Did you just ask Y/N out on a date?” She spoke, tilting her head. “Really?”

You didn’t have a code name because there was no point. You were already known to the world, Princess Y/N who was the face of her kingdom, perfect in every way, though slightly naive – it didn’t make one bit of a difference to Eggsy. He truly, truly wanted to see how far he would get with you, and just maybe he would get you to the altar.

Right when they were about to leave, Eggsy noticed you in the corner, staring at yourself in the mirror as you flattened out the sides of your dress. For fucks sake, you looked absolutely stunning. Perfect in every way, the dark blue dress pooling at the floor as you slowly turned in the mirror.

He wasn’t used to seeing you in such a dark color, but you looked just as beautiful in it as you did any other color.

He couldn’t speak for a minute, but when it finally came to mind, all he could say was, “Wow.”

You looked over immediately, smiling as you walked toward him, heels clicking. “Going undercover,” you whisper, then shrug. “Kind of.”

“Well, I wish you luck,” Eggsy whispered back, trying to keep his eyes on yours and not trail over your body like a pervert. “You look… so beautiful.”

“Thank you, Eggsy, really,” you smiled back at him as he looked down at his clothes, completely underdressed compared to you. “You look great too.”

“You don’t have to lie, love,” he laughed slightly, embarrassed. How could he think a pretty girl like you would want to be with him? “W-Well… good luck on your mission. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“I could come to the barracks tonight,” you suggest, shrugging. “It’ll just be you and someone else anyways. I’ll bring you to my room.”

Eggsy smiled. “That sounds perfect, Y/N. Good luck, I’ll see you later.”

“See you, Eggsy.” You smiled as he leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before slowly turning around and walking off.

After he finished his initiation sequence, he waited in the barracks, reading a book as he slowly stroked JBs back, waiting for you to come in and take him back to your apartment for the night.

“Eggsy? Are you waiting for Y/N?” Roxy spoke, Eggsy looking up with a slight sigh.

“I was, yeah,” he whispered, shaking his head. Tomorrow was his day with Harry, and he couldn’t have thoughts of you interrupting it. “But I’m going to go to sleep now.”

“Oh, okay. Goodnight, Eggsy.”

“Goodnight, Rox.”

When morning came and Eggsy walked toward Harry who was speaking with Merlin, he inhaled as he heard your name on the TV. “Princess Y/N has been missing for three days now, gone and we haven’t been able to locate her since.”

“Y-Y/N’s missing?” His voice came out broken and hoarse, Harry turning around with a slight sigh.

“She didn’t come back from her mission last night,” Merlin says, shaking his head. “Y/N is a strong girl, she can handle herself. Now, go enjoy your day and we’ll keep looking for her.”

Oh, and then everything stacked up. With you missing, Harry being fucking murdered, figuring out that Arthur was with Valentine the entire time, he was so fucking tired. Now, about to die from Valentines dumbass soldiers, he couldn’t stop thinking about you — until the microchips came to mind.

After telling Merlin about the microchips, he could’ve sworn he heard your voice.

“Eggsy! Eggsy, is that you?!”

He quickly turned around, at this time ignoring the announcement that Valentine said and storing it for later, gasping when he saw you. “Y/N! You’re here!”

“Yes I’m here!” You giggled, sighing. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t come back and-”

“Don’t worry about that now, darling, what matters is that you’re safe,” he smiled as you leaned forward, pushing yourself closer to the opening, Eggsy doing the same before he heard Merlin’s voice.

“Hate to interrupt this lovely moment, but the fate of the world is about to be decided, Eggsy!”

Eggsy sighed as he pulled away, shaking his head. “As much as I’ve always wanted to kiss a princess, my darling, but I have to go save the world.”

You smiled, giggling. “You save the world, you can get me pregnant.”

Eggsy paused, blinking before nodding slightly. “I’ll be right back.”

You laughed, biting your lip slightly as he ran off. “Good luck!”

And as soon as he said his wicked last line to Valentine, he was already running to your cell and tried to open the door. He heard your laugh when it didn't open, clearing his throat. “Merlin, what’s the code?”

Merlin laughed and told him, Eggsy smirking as he slipped off his glasses and slowly walked in, holding back a loud groan when he saw your legs spread and your fingers working your cunt as you groaned loudly. “Fucking finally Eggsy, what took you so long?”

He laughed as he set down the champagne and the champagne flutes on the table, slipping off his tie before you pull your fingers out of your cunt and quickly moved to your feet, stumbling slightly before falling into his chest. “Are you alright, darling?” He laughed slightly as you giggled.

“Yes, I’m fine. Just… need you. So bad. Gotta hold up my end of the deal,” you tilted your head, winking up at him with another giggle. “You gotta put a baby in me, Unwin.”

He groaned loudly as he easily lifted you up, moving you back to the bed and dropping you gently onto the bed. He watched as you quickly parted your legs, sighing as Eggsy kicked off his shoes – carefully of course – taking off his suit before you leaned forward and held his tie. “Keep this on.”

“Whatever you say, princess,” he whispers, slipping his button down off from under his tie that you immediately took hold of and pulled him down. He leaned down, kissing you and savoring your lips on his as you moved your legs to wrap your legs around his waist. “For fucks sake, never thought I’d be kissing an actual princess.”

You giggled as he pushed down his slacks, pulling him down for another kiss and rutting your hips into his. “Oh please, please… just forget about the fact that I’m a princess and just fuck me. Not like a prince, I need that roughness.”

“Whatever you say, darling,” he whispers back, smiling as he watches you slowly lay back. “Are you sure you want it rough? Darling, I-”

“I’m a princess, Eggsy, just not one made out of glass,” you whisper back, smiling. “Fuck me, Eggsy, hard.”

Oh, you truly didn’t have to tell him twice.

He was quick to snap his hips into you, groaning loudly as your head tilted back, leaning down to tuck his face under your chin. His hips moved rough and quick, fucking into you like he was infatuated. In a way, he was, his mind blurring in pleasure as moans unconsciously fell from his lips, your cunt tight and perfect around him.

His cock was perfect inside of you, just the right length but heavy on the girth, thick and filling you up just right and absolutely fucking perfect. You gasped as you tilted your head back, savoring the feeling of him inside of you. Even with his strong and rough thrusts, he was still holding himself back, and you could feel it every time he held back from slamming his pelvis into yours.

It makes you take matters into your own hands, easily pushing him over and straddling his hips. “I said that I want rough Eggsy,” you whisper, placing your hands on his perfectly toned chest, roughly rolling your hips as you threw back your head. Oh, it was finally perfect. You could feel him in all of the places you desperately wanted him to be, letting out a loud groan as you rut your hips roughly into his. “I don’t want you to hold back, please, Eggsy.”

He groaned, his head tilting back just like yours, his hands automatically finding your hips to help guide you into his hips. Sadly, they were trying to get you to go slower. “Fuck, darling, don’t do this to me. I don’t want to hurt you, please baby-”

“I want it to be rough,” you responded, gasping as his hips roughly snap into yours. It was perfect, just like you wanted to, but it was a singular movement. “No! Eggsy please, please don’t stop!”

“Fuck, please… please, you need to tell me if I hurt you. Promise?” His voice was breathless as you nod, pulling his hands upward toward your tits.

“I promise. Just fuck me, Eggsy.”

This time he really didn’t hold back, immediately twisting you to lay on your back, inhaling as he snapped his hips forward to fuck you, rough and hard just like you wanted him to. He didn’t hold back, his hands holding your hips roughly. Oh, it was perfect and everything you wanted.

He was rough just like you wanted him to be, your body bouncing along with every thrust, head tilting back with pornographic moans falling from your mouth. The way you were being fucked was as though Eggsy was never given the chance to let loose, using your body as a way to escape.

His roughness wasn’t subjected to just his thrusts, leaning down and marking up every inch of your skin with hickies and bite marks from his mouth, his rough hands rubbing and gripping your body. You were basically sobbing when he was done, not even done as he panted above you, his cum dripping down your ass as he pumped his cock.

“Can I keep going, baby? Please, darling? I want to keep fucking you, want to fuck you so bad,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss against your ear. “Please?”

“I want you to keep going,” you didn’t care how sore you were, how full your stomach was of his cum. You felt sticky, gasping as he slid back inside of you, rolling his hips softly instead of what he was previously doing. “N-No, no, roughly. Rougher. Please.”

“You’re sure you can handle it?” His voice wasn’t taunting you, his lips pressing soft kisses to your skin. “I like having you covered in me. Smothered in me, full of me. Want all of you, and you need all of me. But I can’t give it to you if it’s gonna hurt you.”

“You won’t hurt me,” you whispered back, shaking your head as you kissed his lips softly. “You could never hurt me. Keep going.”

He smiled, nodding. “Whatever you say, your majesty.”

You giggled, shaking your head. “It’s your highness. I’m not queen yet.”

“You’re almost there,” he laughed, shaking his head. “Your majesty.”

“There you go.”

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© asterias-record-shop

[armandclocksitall]

Object of Your Pursuit (Chapter 2)

Armand x gn! reader (no y/n used)

Warnings: mentions of suicide, depictions of death

Read Chapter 1 Here

“You want to see me again?” they said with disbelief. “You were trying to kill me literally 24 hours ago.”

“I didn’t try to kill you, I simply planned to.” He spoke plainly. “And then I chose not to.”

They were taken aback. “Those are,” they paused for emphasis, “the exact same thing.” Their eyes were wide with bewilderment at what they were hearing.

“They aren’t. ‘Trying’ insinuates that I went to attack you. I never did that, I just observed you throughout the night and discovered I had no use in taking your life.”

“You were hunting me. You hunted me like an animal, and then for some–” they were at a loss for words, grasping at air to make their point, “crazy mysterious unknown reason, you just let me live. Which I would seriously appreciate some clarification on that by the way. That doesn’t seem like something that you just switch up on after a second's thought.” Their hair was wild, sticking up in every direction after being run through repeatedly with their hands.

“I don’t see why the reasoning matters.” Armand was unimpressed. “Human life means nothing to me, so it’s nothing for me to choose to spare a life when I see fit.”

“If human life means nothing to you then it would’ve been nothing to kill me.” The student’s anger and frustration seeped into their words.

“Did you wish for me to kill you then?”

“I just want answers.” Their eyes narrowed, “And I still don’t see why you would want to see me again after you tried– sorry planned to kill me. Why would I agree to see you after that?” Their arms were crossed over their chest, the stance giving off a facade of stubbornness.

“I will provide answers in due time, when I know you can be trusted.” He stepped closer, matching position. “And why wouldn’t you? You invited me into your home, you demand explanations. You don’t fear me.”

“You were going to–”

He interrupted. “Kill you? Yes, you’ve said that already. But again, you do not fear me. You wish to know me.” His eyes scanned their face emotionlessly, “As I wish to know more about you.”

He was right, they realized. Despite their pushback to meet again, they couldn’t deny how badly they wanted to figure him out. He could very well be some monstrous serial killer; but the way he spoke, even the way his body moved, signaled that he was more than that. He was something much more sinister and they wanted to be consumed by it. When he left them on the steps of the church last night, they could think of nothing else. Nobody else. What made him spare their life? The man standing in their living room inspired a million questions. For the second night in a row they came to the terrifying realization that though this decision could lead to their demise, they would accept.

Armand was smug overhearing their thoughts. He knew it would come to this. Humans always hunger for more; more money, more sex, and in this case, more knowledge.

The student’s eyes were hard staring into his own. He was right and they hated it. “When do you want to meet up again?” They were oblivious to his intrusion on their mind, putting up the front that they weren’t desperate for the slightest information he could give them.

“A week from tonight. Let’s meet in the park around 11pm. You know which park I’m referring to, yes? The one you went through to get to the church, with the bridge?”

He had seen them in the park. The thought sent a shiver down their spine, recalling that as they approached the church the previous night they had thought he was nowhere near them. They hadn’t seen him at all that night, but they became increasingly aware that he without a doubt saw them.

“Yeah, I know the one.” Their resolve was shaken with the realization. “I’ll be there.”

“Wonderful,” he grinned. The look in his eye was slightly unhinged. He had something planned. A test. How far could he bend this human before they broke? “I should be leaving now, enjoy the rest of your evening and until we meet again.”

They were glued to the spot as he bowed out the door saying his farewells. It was a full minute before they could move again, peeking out the window to try and catch a glimpse of his retreating figure in the street below. He was gone, without a trace, just like the night before. They had a week to figure out what to ask him, a week to wonder what he was, and a week to figure out why he wanted to know them so badly.

The week dragged on, and every new day felt like it spanned a decade. The student had come no closer to figuring out why their life had been spared. He claimed he wanted to know more about them, but why? They were no different from any other person in this town, they didn't lead an exciting life, they didn’t have an exciting job, not even their work at school was anything to fawn over; so why them? It haunted them to know every night he was out there. Was he killing other people? Was he sparing other people? Was this his own fucked up social experiment? The only conclusion they came to is that he was no ordinary human. He looked like one and at times moved like one but there was something very dangerous lurking right below the surface of who he was.

They laid up at night wondering what would’ve happened if he hadn’t allowed them to live that night. The way in which he would kill them. He didn’t come off as the type to leave a large mess. Would he kidnap them? Slice them into bits and feed them to the fish? Would he torture them for days before finally delivering that killing blow? All these possibilities should’ve scared them straight. Don’t go to that park. Use the money. Leave town. Don’t look back. It could only end in disaster but the thing they most desired was to know what would happen next.

The student was preparing to leave and set out for the park when they caught sight of their own reflection in the mirror. They had pulled themselves together from the mess of frustration they had been when he left their apartment a week prior. Hair had finally laid in its right place, skin had scabbed and healed from where they picked at it in a nervous habit. Yet their eyes, still a wild inquisitiveness, sat behind their irises. They would get their answers tonight. They would get them, even if it killed them. They were a slave to their curiosity and it would take them out the door that night.

11:08pm. He was late. Not too late yet, but still late. They sat on a bench under a glaring streetlight in silence. Maybe this was another case of him observing. The thought unsettled them again, prompting them to survey their surroundings once more. There were plenty of bushes and trees along the walkway that he could be hiding in, waiting, watching.

They wiped the sweat from their hands on their jeans before deciding to make their way to the very same bridge they stood on just over a week ago. They recalled their thoughts from that night. If they had disappeared how long would it be before anyone had taken notice? With how flighty they had been recently they had wondered if people would just assume they had up and left for another city without warning. A fresh start had sounded like heaven to them in recent weeks, though they’d settle for a swift end just as well. They knew this thinking wasn’t healthy but it came to them so easily.

Their thoughts were cut off by a scuffling in the distance. It was a hurried noise that couldn’t have possibly come from– him. A week since that night in their apartment and they still hadn’t even learned his name, yet they knew he’d never move in a way that would signal fear. The source of the struggled noise came apparent when a boy just about their age came barreling through the park towards them, a panicked look in his eye.

They gasped as he tumbled into them, grabbing their shoulders. “Please–” he was heaving. “Please, you gotta help me. There’s someone after me.” Tears were welling in the boy’s eyes. “He’s gonna kill me. He’s after me and whenever I think I’ve lost him, he’s always right there. I can’t die tonight, please, call for help!” He begged, grabbing onto the student’s shirt.

They stuttered, unable to put together a sentence before deciding a frantic nod would do the trick and pulled out their phone beginning to dial.

Tears were now streaming down the face of the boy, thanking the student profusely for saving him. His gratitude was cut short when he stared in blank terror over their shoulder. They stopped dialing, their hands shaking as they turned to see what stopped him.

11:23pm. There he was.

Leaning against a streetlight, his long dark coat waving slowly around him in the cool night breeze. This statue of a man, devoid of impurity, devoid of emotion there, staring back at the boy who was quickly falling backwards. A startled noise left his mouth as he clung to the stone beneath him stumbling away. “That’s him!” he screamed. “He’s gonna kill me!” He choked on a sob.

The student was frozen in place. Their brain, short circuiting on what to do. He floated towards the two unbothered by the screaming that exited the boy’s mouth. He stopped in front of them, examining their features. Only the slightest bits of fear, not nearly the amount he was used to seeing in a human that could be facing their imminent undoing. They had expected to die tonight just as they did the night they first met. His eyes wandered to the blubbering boy again.

He was now speaking in hoarse whispers. “Please don’t kill me; I don’t wanna die. I won’t tell anyone about this, just let me go.”

Armand tipped his head sideways mockingly, approaching the boy. “If I don’t kill you then who else should I feed on tonight? It’s very important that I remain fed, the consequences of me going hungry could be quite dire.” He squatted next to him.

The boy's eyes widened in horror before coming to a quick solution. His arm shot up with a pointed finger at its end, “Them! Kill them! Let me live and I’ll never speak of this night again!”

The student broke from their trance upon hearing his suggestion. “Kill me?” They were offended. “I tried to save you!” They would not be condemned to death due to the poor decisions of someone who knew nothing of them. They knew in doing so they condemned him just the same but if he had made the exact deal they had all those nights ago, he knew the terms of it and accepted them with all the risks in consideration.

Armand tutted, sucking on his front teeth and ran his hand down the boy’s face smoothly. “Unfortunately Ethan, that’s simply not an option. I can’t kill them.” He turned briefly to look at the student, “At least not yet, not until I figure something out.”

The boy, Ethan, started shaking. His tears resumed. “I can’t die like this.”

“No, no.” Armand’s words were soft, caring almost. “It’s okay. I know you’re scared but you have no reason to be.” The words were hypnotic, like a song working its way into your ear. “You’ve worked so hard to make it this far, it’s not your fault that you didn’t quite end up where you wanted to be. Not everyone is destined for greatness, or a long prosperous life. A young death is nothing to fear or be ashamed of. It’ll be a warm welcome, I promise.” The boy’s tears quieted as his thumb softly brushed his cheek back and forth, back and forth. The feeling lulled him into a silent acceptance. “It’ll be like the first warm day after a long, cold winter. Sweet like the piece of halloween candy you saved for last to savor the most. A long awaited rest after a lifetime of sleepless nights. There will be no pain.” Armand softly tugged the boy’s head to his shoulder.

“No pain,” Ethan whispered, giving himself fully to the vampire.

The student again frozen on the spot watched as the man they so wished to know tore into the boy’s neck. They watched in silent horror the ritual as he lured him into his own suicide. They imagined plenty of ways that he could’ve killed them that night but never did they imagine this. They watched as the blood drained from the boy’s face, his jerking body had grown still. It was in morbid fascination they watched as he pulled away from the boy’s throat, a single drop of blood at the corner of his mouth quickly licked away with a darting tongue. Fear was not present.

The boy’s now lifeless body fell to the gravel below as the creature slowly rose to its feet and turned to the student. Tears sprung to their eyes as a sick feeling rose in their throat. They could not move, alarm bells were ringing in their mind screaming at them to run and get as far away from this thing as they possibly could but they could not shift an inch. This was not fear. It was sadness. It was vulnerability. He could see all the negative thoughts that plagued that boy and used them to put him to a calm and soothing death. Did he see that in them?

Once again, Armand was fascinated by this human’s lack of fear. This was a new side to them he had not seen outwardly portrayed before. This was a crack in the facade, a peek into how they viewed life and just how sorrowful it made them. He grabbed their hands in his own, rubbing soothing circles across their knuckles.

“You have questions. I feel now I can provide you with answers. Let me clean this up and I will meet you back at your apartment so we may speak.”

They nodded numbly, not daring to glance down at the body just feet away from them. They had seen enough and could not bear to face their feelings. They weren’t scared, not of the man at least. Maybe only scared at the fact that despite seeing him kill somebody, they still wanted to know everything about him. The lone walk back to their apartment was silent, their mind completely quieted.

They sat in their living room on the couch staring into nothingness. An hour of stillness passed as they waited for his arrival. A quiet knock came from the door, and they gulped before slowly standing and shakily making their way to answer it. He stood there, casual as ever waiting to be invited in before they slowly shuffled out of his way.

They sat back down where they had been for the past hour, silent once again but now observing the man’s movement. It was like he wasn’t walking but gliding smoothly to his intended destination. It was inhuman. Since the murder, they could not think of a single question to ask him. All thought had ceased to exist in their mind. They could not help but to just stare up at him in petrified awe.

Armand realized they were not going to break the silence and decided to address the basics of his existence that he knew they wished to learn. “I am the vampire Armand. I am 514 years old. I feed off of human blood, that is what you witnessed tonight.”

The student blinked. They were dazed at his confession. “What you did tonight,” they could not bring their voice above a struggled whisper, “is that how you planned to kill me? Before you spared me?”

Armand rolled the question over in his mind. “Yes. It’s how I kill most of my victims. I prefer to bring death quietly when I can. I usually pick them if they are committing some atrocity in the world, though if I cannot find someone like that I usually prey on those who have their foot in the grave already.”

“Is that why you picked me that night?”

“Originally, I had thought you were like any other human with a death wish. You had a general distaste for living and seemed like a simple victim. I had heard your thoughts that night though. Death was your easy way out but it’s not what you desired. You didn’t wish to be dead, you wished to have something to live for. The idea captivated me; I so rarely meet mortals who think in such a way so I chose to spare you.”

They were clutching themselves in a self soothing embrace hearing his words. They had felt completely seen and for the first time since meeting him, fear struck in their heart. How could he possibly understand them so quickly?

He answered their unspoken question, “I understand because I’ve felt this way before.” He allowed himself to be vulnerable for only a second before steeling himself again.

“You said you heard my thoughts?” they questioned.

“Yes, it’s one of the many abilities I possess as a vampire.”

They shakily nodded, attempting to wrap their mind around all this new information. Vampires are real. Armand. His name was Armand. He can read minds; he has read their mind. They shivered feeling the slightest bit violated now knowing of his intrusion.

“I can stop reading your mind if you wish. I didn’t realize it would upset you like this.” he interrupted their thoughts.

“Have you been reading my mind this whole time?” Their arms dropped from their shoulders, now sitting up straight and disgruntled.

He shrugged now, sheepishly. “You think very loud.”

The student’s jaw dropped. “I think loud? What does that even mean? How do you ‘think loud’?” They scoffed.

“I just mean your thoughts are very unguarded. If you’d like I could teach you to at least somewhat block them from being read. And like I previously offered, I could stop reading your mind if you’d prefer that.”

“Yes. I would prefer that, thank you.” The words were short. They think loud. The comment was bothering them much more than they’d like it to as they felt their face fall into a pout. “Wait. you said you could teach me to block my mind? So you would see me again?”

“I would like to see you again, only if it is your wish though. If you wouldn’t like that I can leave.”

“No!” The word tumbled from their mouth. “No. I’d like to see you again. I have more questions, if that’s alright. I just can’t ask them tonight. What you did– what I saw was a lot and I need time to work through that I think. But I would very much like it if we could meet again.”

The corners of Armand’s mouth quirked up the tiniest bit in a smile that was almost warm. “Of course, I’ll allow you a few days to think on it and we can meet again. Same spot?”

The spot where he killed someone? “Yeah, same spot.” They stood from the couch meeting his gaze. “I should probably get to bed now.”

He nodded, understanding it was time for him to leave. Before he opened the door to make his exit he turned back towards the student. “Goodnight. I’ll see you again soon.”

They nodded before pausing to glance back at him. He stood there completely still. Like a statue, like a painting. His skin was smooth like well blended strokes of a paintbrush, and he was pretty. As pretty as a Botticelli angel. They had wondered if all vampires had ethereal beauty or if it was exclusive to him. The thought was interrupted once more by a clearing of the man’s throat. Heat rose to their cheeks as the comment appeared in their mind once more. They think too loud. “Goodnight Armand,” they stuttered as he shut the door.

“Like a painting.” Armand stood in the street below, their subconscious words echoing in his own mind. They couldn’t have possibly known the relevance of that statement. The power it held. He hadn’t been painted in centuries, the last one to do so– He couldn’t bring himself to think on it, they couldn’t have meant anything by it. It was a simple observation on their part and he needed to move past it.

With one haunting thought came another. What was he doing? The ancient laws meant nothing to him tonight as he revealed his being to this human. He thought of Louis’ interview with Daniel now on its way to print. He thought his former lover was being reckless, a kind of begging for death. He wanted no part in that interview but gave in thinking it would crumble Daniel’s resolve to no avail. And now here he was, his old ways out the window. He had made a fledgling of the journalist, his words were in that book to be published, he was sparing the life of a human and revealing himself to them. He even had a moment of vulnerability towards them, this was unheard of for him. He had told himself he spared their life based on a kinship for their ways of thinking but what if there was more to it? If there was more than even he knew?

(A/N): And that’s chapter 2! Please let me know if you enjoyed it because I really do love talking to you guys. I’m gonna be off at a friend’s house for the next week and then I’m starting classes right after so it might be a little before I’m able to put out a third chapter but I promise you guys I’m working as quickly as possible

[ninzied]

and that's how it works

a co-worker au. based on the prompt: kiss out of spite. ~2.4k.

Alex can’t stand him from the start.

He tries not to actively dislike any co-workers, as a general rule. It takes effort, and time, neither of which he wants to spend on this guy—unless said work has been affected, which, Alex has to admit that it hasn’t.

But there’s something about him that rubs Alex the wrong way the moment they get introduced.

He’s hard-working, Alex supposes, and the quality of the work isn’t lacking. He’s punctual, and to-the-point in his emails. None of those things are an issue. He does make a habit of helping himself to Alex’s office supplies, but a few missing staples and running out of printer paper don’t exactly justify a grudge.

The guy’s personality is, objectively, annoying. He has the worst taste in ties, which to Alex says a lot, and he can’t go more than five minutes without alluding to his pedigree in some way (Alex knows this because he and Nora have made a drinking game out of it at work functions).

Still, it doesn’t explain the weird surge of resentment he gets every time he looks at the guy. And not understanding it might be the most annoying part of all.

He just wishes he knew why.

.

Alex works in the legal department, but the coffee’s way better in HR down the hall, so most mornings he’s using their break room. Most mornings, and at lunchtime too, and in the afternoons more than once until Nora starts cutting him off, which. Fair.

Apparently he’s not the only one who’s discovered HR’s superior coffee, though, because he’s always there too, and always at the same time as Alex. Seriously, can he not? It’s bad enough that they share a cubicle. Now Alex has to suffer the insult of watching him fucking microwave his coffee like some kind of sociopath, too?

“Are you following me?” Alex demands to know one morning, a little ridiculously. He’s aware that HR is not the best place to be throwing accusations around, but he’s kind of had it with this guy. “Because—”

At that exact moment, the door is opening, and Henry Fox is walking into the room.

“Oh, hey,” says Alex.

Henry glances at him the way he always does, that is to say, a little bemused as to what Alex is doing here. But Henry had been his point person when he was hired six months ago, so he must know Alex works here, right? Besides, he’s been coming to drink their coffee every day of those past six months now, and he knows Henry knows this because their breaks usually overlap and the way Henry barely says two words to him half the time is starting to feel kind of personal.

“It’s Alex,” says Alex, because, well, just in case.

“Yes, I’m aware,” says Henry. After a beat that’s long enough to get awkward, he says, “Err. Right then.”

And then he smiles and waves at Hunter, who isn’t even supposed to be here either, and walks over to take the seat Hunter has saved him like they’re all in fucking high school.

Hunter says something smarmy about a new art gallery or what-the-fuck-ever he went to last night, using a slightly too-loud voice that’s clearly meant to be overheard. Alex grits his teeth.

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to go,” says Henry. “What did you think?”

Alex scowls. Fuck, he fucking hates Hunter.

.

“So how’s the transfer going?” asks Hunter one day.

Alex jerks involuntarily and splashes hot coffee all over his hand. “Motherfucker,” he says, and then, because his filter is fully shot now anyway, he glances over at Henry. “You’re transferring? Like, jobs?”

“Oh. Um. No. Departments,” says Henry. Alex supposes that’s all he’s getting—four whole words must be some kind of record—but then Henry continues. “To editing. Starting first thing next week.”

“Oh,” says Alex. “Cool. That’s…a big move.” Literally. That’s, like, whole floors away. He opens the freezer door with his good hand, and wonders what the coffee tastes like up there in editing, if it would be weird to find out sometime. He grabs a fistful of ice.

“Yes,” Henry is saying. “It will be quite the change, and I—wait. Sorry.” He stands abruptly, and Alex stares in surprise as Henry comes over and stops right in front of him. “Please put the ice down.”

“Um,” says Alex. “O…kay?”

“You should use lukewarm water,” says Henry. “Cool, at best. For your hand.”

“Oh,” says Alex. “Right. Thanks.” He turns to the sink, feeling weirdly aware of the fact that Henry is still standing there. “It’s too bad,” Alex says before Henry can decide to sit down next to Hunter again. “Kind of a big loss for HR.”

Henry’s brows knit back together. “Is it?”

Alex shrugs. “To my knowledge, no one else personally escorts new employees to their cubicles on the first day of work. Like you did with Hunter here, for example.” He levels Henry with a grin. “I was there when you showed him around, in case you don’t remember.”

Henry’s expression is inscrutable. “I do,” he says.

Alex makes a point to not look away. “Guess that wasn’t a thing back when I started.”

“Ah,” says Henry. He’s flushing for some reason now. “No, I suppose not.”

Alex considers him. He can’t decide if Henry’s playing dumb, or if he really doesn’t remember that he’d been the one to help hire Alex. Then he decides he doesn’t care, because both options make him feel like something on the bottom of Hunter’s shoe, which he hates.

“Think I’m gonna head back.” Alex looks expectantly at Hunter, who only lifts his mug like he’s still planning on being a while. Fucking fine.

He can still see the two of them through the glass pane in the door when Nora walks by with a stack of folders.

“You okay?” she asks, in a tone that says she’s guessed the answer.

“Fucking no,” says Alex anyway. “What are they even doing? Talking?”

Nora sneaks a peek through the window. “Appears so,” she deadpans. “Talking in the break room. Unbelievable.”

“I know, right?” Alex scowls, then realizes he’s left without his coffee, which makes him scowl even harder.

Nora sighs, then slips her free arm through his. “Let’s walk.”

“Do you think Hunter likes him?” asks Alex. Because—not that he’s spent a lot of time on this—Alex thinks that Hunter does, and nothing is worse than the thought of Henry liking him back because he doesn’t know any better.

Maybe Alex should say something.

Nora is looking sideways at him. Alex isn’t sure why. “I think what Hunter likes is people with a pedigree,” she says. “Anyway, what’s not to like? Henry’s a snack.”

“What?” says Alex. Objectively, Henry looks a bit like an Adonis, but, “That is so beside the point. And just because Hunter’s like Harvard royalty or whatever doesn’t give him the right to come in here and trick people into liking him when—”

“When you were here first?” Nora supplies.

“What?” Now Nora is really missing the point. “This has nothing to do with me, or with Henry. I just meant, like, you know. In general.”

“Right,” says Nora. “I must have misunderstood.”

.

Alex keeps going back to the break room, of course. The coffee’s still better, and he can keep bothering Nora even though she’s transferring soon too (to marketing two floors down, the traitor). None of those things have changed just because Henry is no longer there every day.

The one thing that does change, Alex notices with a dark kind of satisfaction, is that Hunter does not go back to the break room. In fact, he starts bringing his own coffee each morning (Starbucks, which seems very on-brand). If anything, Alex only has more reason now to escape to HR and not spend any more time around Hunter than necessary.

About a week after Henry’s transfer, Alex realizes he’s used the last of the break room’s cinnamon. Again. Goddamn it, he thinks. He’s just spent the morning in back-to-back meetings, he’s getting his coffee hours later than usual, and now this?

He rifles through the cupboards for a second and then a third time just in case there's a rogue bottle somewhere. “Fuck me,” he mutters.

“What’s the occasion?” comes a voice from the door, and Alex turns to find Henry leaning against it. His arms are crossed, and he’s doing that chin-tilty thing that apparently means Alex has zero control over what comes out of his mouth.

“What are you doing here?” Alex blurts.

Henry raises an eyebrow. “I could’ve been asking you the same thing for the past six months or so, but I haven’t.” He uncrosses his arms and comes over. “Would you believe me if I said I came here for the coffee?”

“No,” says Alex, with absolute certainty. “You don’t drink coffee.”

Henry blinks. “I could,” he argues after a moment, then straightens a little. “In fact, maybe I planned to start today.”

“Uh huh.” Alex gestures for him to have at the machine. “Do you even know how to use it?”

“Can’t be that difficult,” says Henry. He gives the machine a dubious look, and Alex doesn’t mean to but he starts to laugh.

“Here, I got it. Was about to make some for myself anyway.”

“Ah.” Henry looks abashed suddenly. Even the tips of his ears have turned pink. “Suppose you’ll be wanting this, then.” He pulls a ground cinnamon bottle from his pants pocket.

Alex shakes his head in disbelief. He could actually kiss Henry right now. “How did you—?”

“Well, you were running low last I was here,” says Henry, like that’s a totally normal thing to have noticed when Alex has never seen him touch the spice rack once. “Figured you'd be out by now, so I nicked some from the break room upstairs. No one’s been using it there anyway.”

The shock on Alex’s face makes him backtrack. “Sorry,” he says, flushing an even deeper pink now. “I—didn’t know you’d be here. You’re usually, um. Earlier. I can return it, if you’d like.” He says all this in a rush.

“No, it’s great,” Alex says emphatically. “Don’t you dare take it back.” He’s still staring a little, but that can’t be helped. Henry knows how he likes his coffee. And Henry had planned to restock the cinnamon without Alex ever knowing.

Henry clears his throat, looking around them. “You didn’t bring Hunter with you today,” he notes.

“No,” says Alex immediately. “God, no. And I don’t bring him anywhere, he just. Shows up. Honestly, I can’t stand the guy.” Shit. Maybe he shouldn’t have said that.

“Oh, thank Christ,” Henry says, looking immensely relieved. “Now that I don’t work in HR anymore, can I just say how little I enjoy his company?”

This is way better news than when Henry had first reached out to Alex with his offer letter and starting salary. He grins. “You can. In fact, please say more.”

Henry looks rueful. “I really shouldn’t.”

“It’s just that—” Alex sobers a little. “He was the only person you seemed willing to talk to.”

“It was easier, for me.” Henry takes a breath. “I feel less shy around people whose opinion of me doesn’t matter as much.” He pauses, something meaningful in the way he looks sidelong at Alex now. “I do want to be better about it.”

Alex nods, considering this. He tries hard not to smile. Probably not hard enough. “I can work with that.”

.

“You do realize neither of you work in this department,” says Nora, pulling food from the fridge.

Henry sips the tea Alex has just made him. Coffee, turns out, had been a lost cause. They’re both leaning against the counter, elbows not-quite-touching but getting closer to it every day, by Alex’s estimation.

“Do any of us, at this point?” Henry muses.

Nora shrugs. “Fair.”

“Just don’t tell You Know Who,” says Alex.

“Who’s You Know Who?” Hunter asks from the doorway. He has a confused smile on his face as he looks from Henry to Alex back to Henry again. Normally the sight of Hunter fills Alex with the most profound irritation, but now he’s feeling kind of pleased.

That’s right, he thinks smugly at Hunter: Henry is mine.

Huh. Suddenly things make a lot more sense now.

“Hey, did you get my email about the museum opening this Friday?” Hunter asks Henry, and Alex bristles instantly. Did Hunter not get the look Alex just gave him?

“Ah,” says Henry awkwardly, and it would be endearing if he didn’t also look so deeply uncomfortable. His awkwardness now is so different from the bashful kind of awkward he used to be around Alex; honestly, Alex can’t believe he’d never been able to tell between the two until now. “Actually, I’m—”

“Going,” says Alex, “already. With me.”

Henry looks at him in happy surprise. “Really?”

“Really,” Alex says firmly. And then, because he likes how dumbstruck Hunter looks right now, and because Henry doesn’t pull away when Alex puts an arm around his shoulders and he really, really likes that too, he does the only thing left that makes sense to him, which is to lean in and kiss Henry. He kind of feels like he might die when Henry kisses him back.

Fuuuuuuck.

Henry’s eyes are still closed when Alex leans back. He’s dimly aware that Nora has shooed Hunter out and closed the door behind them. He’s more acutely aware of how Henry licks his lips, then opens his eyes with an oddly vulnerable expression and says, “Alex, please tell me you didn’t just kiss me for Hunter’s benefit.”

“What? No. I mean—not exactly.” Fuck. Why can’t he use only the words that he needs? “The answer’s still no, but I might’ve used it as an excuse if I’d kissed you like two weeks ago. But that’s not why I kissed you just now, and it’s not why I’m going to kiss you again.”

“Oh, you think you’re going to kiss me again, do you,” Henry says with a hint of a smile, lifting his chin in a kind of challenge that Alex does not intend to back away from.

“One-hundred-percent,” he says, then pauses. “Unless you plan on reporting me to HR.”

“Honestly,” says Henry, “I might have to report you if you don’t.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” Alex says, very seriously, and he pulls Henry back in.

[jokingmisfit]

Science Experiment

Yandere Villain Rise!Donatello x Human!Reader

Prompt- “I was going to kill you, but I found a much better use for you instead.”

Warnings-Kidnapping, Implied Human Experiments, Implied Human Torture, Human being kept as a pet, Implied Murder

It had been so long. You were so fucking tired. You knew it’d been a few months, you just don’t know the exact number. You’ve been in this hell hole for too long. He didn’t let you keep count of the days and whenever you asked he’d give you a loose answer. 

He’d stopped his experiments a few days ago. You remember when Donatello first kidnapped you, he told you the only way you’d ever experience peace again was when he’d lost interest and killed you. A part of you felt hopeful. Finally a minute of rest. Another part of you knew that you’ll be resting forever soon. You were equally terrified.

The past few days were peaceful in your isolated cell. A little cage in the corner of his massive lab. You can still see him just like he can still see you. The thing is, he's just been staring these past few days. Glares and no words. Donatello would normally experiment on you several times a day. You noticed it’d lessened over time, but the new schedule worried you as much as it calmed you. 

He fed you more too than he originally did. Patched you up after his tests. Spoke less and yet did more. It confused you. At least you could rest. The time you’ve been given has helped rid your body of some of its pain. Though you were aware you wouldn’t leave this lab alive, it was nice to feel some sort of healing; even though you’ll never be the same as you were before.

You knew Donatello had no problem with killing you. You’d seen him bring in other “subjects” , quite a few on the brink of death or already dead. Everytime he did you’d watch with morbid curiosity. Unable to look away from his gross administrations. In the beginning you’d silently cry at what you saw now however you only let the pity last a few seconds. One of the few things he did successfully was desensitize you to the gore.

The lab was currently silent aside from the buzz of the multitude of machines. Your eyes were closed as you enjoyed the moment of solitude. A moment that wouldn’t last.

The doors opened and Donatello came in smoothly. A body carried by his mechanical arms. Not a glance spared to you as he sets up a table. Tools spread on a separate one.

He turns and walks towards your cell. You avoid meeting his eyes, something you’d started towards the beginning to keep him from lashing out at you. Donatello opens the door and grabs your chains.

Crawling out of the cage and onto the floor you stand in front of him with your head turned down head down.

“Sigh,” He says rather than actually sighing. “Look at me.” He demands.

Simply you obey, learning a while back that it did nothing but make things worse to argue or disobey. His eyes matched his pleased smirk. He always liked when you listened. You made it so easy for him.

“Such a fragile creature.” He says raising his hand and stroking your cheek. “You remember our conversation when you first came here, yes?” He asks with a prideful smirk.

You nod your head silently.

“Ah good!” Donatello says clasping his hands together. “Remind me,” He starts. “What did I say I’d do to you once you were no longer useful?” He asked this time with a sadistic smile.

Your heart skipped for a second, but you knew this was coming. It was time for him to rid you of your life. There’s a sort of bittersweet feeling to it. You were no longer useful. A deep breath in and you look away for a moment.

“Once I’m no longer needed you’ll dispose of me.” You say flatly.

Your eyes meet his again. Donatello's eyes bore into your own, seemingly satisfied with your answer, but there was something gathering in his eyes that you’d only seen a few times.

“Yes,” He smiles almost in anger. “That was the original plan.”

You look up at him with confusion. What does he mean “the original plan”?

“However,” He says, holding his hands together pointed at you. “Things have changed. Don’t get me wrong, I was going to kill you, but I found a much better use for you instead.”

Your brows furrowed at the turtle's words. What better use? Hasn’t he done all he can? All the experiments, wasn’t he done with you?

He pulls your chain causing your head to look up at him. “Would you like to know what I’ve decided?” He asks. “I’ve decided to keep you as a pet instead. You see,” He says walking you towards the center of the lab. “I noticed something different about you. The odd little human you are.” He says, shaking his head with a deranged smile. “Captured my affections somehow. Fascinating, how something so weak and pathetic could capture MY attention.”

Your head reeled at this revelation. He developed some deranged likeness for you. How would something like that even happen?

You’d paused all movement in your confusion causing him to pull on the chain sending you to the floor. It knocks the wind out of your lungs for only a split second.

Donatello turns around in shock. He stops his talking as he shakes his head. He comes back over to you and pulls you back to your feet.

“Sorry.” You say looking down. Although you didn’t talk much anymore you knew better than to not apologize.

“Were you even listening to me?” He asks, annoyed.

You nod. “Mostly…”

“I was listing your new rules.” He says adjusting the chain around your neck. “I recommend you listen carefully. Understood?”

You nod, again.

“Good, now. You’ll be moved into another room to sleep, although you’ll still spend most of your time here in the lab. You haven’t been stimulated or fed properly since you’ve been brought here therefore you will be put on a proper schedule. You still are not allowed any communication with any of the others in the lair…” He drones on and on.

You listen intensely to everything he has to say. Following him blindly as he leads you around the extra spaces you’re allowed to tread through. Still, as you listen, you can’t help but wonder what he was thinking. Why is he really letting you live? Where did this destructive heart come from?

Why you?

[imaginesforeons]

The thing with the tongue (Yandere!Geto x Reader)

~You're bored, but Geto is right there. You decide to put him to work~

This is actually inspired from the tv show The Great. There's one scene where Catherine demands that her husband "do the thing with the tongue", so I wanted to write something similar.

CW: Abusive Relationship. Kidnapping. Oral sex. AFAB reader. Face sitting.

Word Count: 1,259

18+ only

Reqs are OPEN! At the top of my page you can see what fandoms I write for, so DM me with your ideas!

Buy me a coffee?

.-.-.

Never, you mused, had you ever been so bored.

To your left you hear the rustling of papers, and look over to see Geto, the man who had kidnapped you six months ago, shuffling through a stack of papers. You were in his office with him, set aside and forgotten on a plush couch like some type of trinket. Your eyes narrowed into a glare, but if he was aware of your gaze, Geto didn’t do anything to show it. He just absently clicked a pen, dabbing the tip on his tongue before signing a paper for who-knew-what.

A couple minutes later, he did the same thing again, stretching out his pink tongue to lick the nub of a pen. Next, he licked his finger, a quick, nimble stripe against the pad of his pointer. Before he went to turn a page, you saw the wetness of his spit gleaming on his skin in the office lights.

You chewed on your lip in a moment of indecision before you sighed, standing and brushing invisible dust off your clothes before walking up to him.

“Hey,” you said, kicking the side of his desk to get his attention.

Geto blinked, and looked up from his stack of papers. “Yes?”

You felt a heat rising to your cheeks, but you plowed forward. “Do the thing with the tongue.”

“Oh?” A cheshire grin spread across his face. “I’m afraid there are lots of ‘things with the tongue’. You’ll have to be more specific, pet.”

You hissed a breath between your teeth. “Get on the couch, lay down, and let me sit on your face,” you snapped. “Then do the thing with the tongue.”

Geto laughed, but that was all he did. You were grateful, though you’d never let him know it. If he had said anything else you’d have probably run from the room, hot from shame, all to hide away until Geto felt like finding you again.

Sex with Geto was a relatively new development. Even though you had been with Geto six months - six months, one week, and five days, to be exact - anything sexual with him hadn’t happened until a few weeks ago, give or take. That wasn’t to say Geto hadn’t tried. He had tried a lot, in fact, since the moment he had stolen you away, with a determination and patience that you would call impressive, if you weren’t the recipient of it. He would trail his hand along the small of your back, give you romantic gifts of flowers and chocolates, or hold you in his lap. At night, when the two of you were in bed - in the same bed, because Geto had never allowed you your own room - he’d offer you massages, or try to press kisses against your lips, your brow, the corners of your eyes.

For a long time, you fought him, hiding or running, but that never worked, at least not for the long-term. It made you so, so tired to always be in fight or flight, and you never knew how lonely it could be without someone by your side. So, finally, you gave in. One night a few weeks ago, you were sprawled across Geto in bed, the man languidly playing with your hair. When he pressed a coaxing kiss against your lips, you pressed back. After that, it was all heat and sensation and Geto.

You cried afterwards. You did it in the bathroom where no one saw, but you’re pretty sure Geto still knew about it. After that, you and Geto had done things together more and more often, but this was the first time you initiated.

As Geto got on the couch, you didn’t bother with any of your clothes but your panties, sliding them down your legs and around your shoes to toss them in some forgotten corner of the room. Climbing on the couch, you straddled his chest, looking into a dark pair of eyes for only a split second before looking away again, scared at the emotion in them.

“Well?” Geto asked, laying down fully and patting his face. “Come use me to your heart’s content.”

You only scooted forward in reply, spreading your legs and already feeling a deep ache in your core. With a sigh, you settled on his face, feeling his breath fan between your legs. 

Geto grabbed your thighs, impatience eating at him, and laved his hot tongue across the entirety of your pussy. You squeaked, whimpered, and felt Geto tease at your clit. With a groan you threw your head back, but you could feel him staring at you. Those endless, dark eyes would be looking up at you, a spark of something unnameable deep in their depths, the man beneath you devouring you in more ways than one. 

You were wearing a skirt today, and you think it’s perfect for the occasion. Geto liked to dress you. He liked to dress you and feed you and spoil you like a pampered pet, and it drove you close to insanity almost every day. You would fight back, snarling and spitting in his face, only to get that infuriatingly bland smile of his no matter how hard you sought a different reaction. This morning you had been too tired to fight, and you had let him coax you gently into a flowy, knee-length skirt, much to Geto’s delight.

For once, you were actually glad you listened to him as you lifted the skirt and draped it over him, covering the top half of Geto’s face. From between your legs you heard him bark out a laugh, and in response you ground your hips down, shuddering at the sensation. Now you could pretend it was just you in this empty room. You and the exuisiteness lapping at your sex.

Muscled arms looped around your thighs, pulling you forwards and down, his tongue circling around your entrance. You whimpered, then jerked as Geto firmly sucked on your clit, massaging your ass while he did so. Soon the two of you settled into a rhythm, the firm pressure of Geto’s tongue matching the erratic movement of your hips. The room filled with your barely suppressed whines, while beneath you the occasional grunt or groan from Geto was muffled by your skirt.

Geto flicked his tongue against your clit one more time before he delved into your pussy, fucking in and out of it like it was all he had ever dreamed of. His movements were raw, primal, and seemed to grow faster by the second. His hands on you squeezed hard once, as if in warning, before he suddenly forced you onto his face with so much strength you would have lost your balance if his hands had not been so firm.

This made his tongue go impossibly deeper, and when Geto groaned you let out a cry as you felt it vibrate up into you. You wouldn’t last much longer, your hands scrabbling desperately for something to hang onto until you found his hair. Clenching it between your fingers, you mewled as your climax pulsed through you, Geto’s tongue pumping in and out of your pussy at an impossible speed.

Finally, your spasming ceased, as did Geto’s ministrations. You allowed yourself only a few seconds of respite before you were up and off Geto, stubbornly ignoring the wet sheen coating the bottom half of his face.

Geto swiped his thumb over his bottom lip before popping it into his mouth, sucking it clean. When he smiled, he looked a little feral. “Delicious.”

[recklesssturniolo]

please write something for sub chris with mommy kink and degradation, maybe a handjob and he just goes dumb

Friends - C.S

Y’all wanted sub!chris so badly so I’m providing using this request 🫶🏻 also I did this from Chris’ POV & they’re “friends”, mommy kink too (if you guys don’t like this I stg)

NSFW below, leave if you’re a minor

I had messaged Y/N to come over, we’d been friends for a while now and out of my brothers and I, she was closest with me. I hear the door handle twist and her walk inside. I smile to myself and get up to greet her.

“Hey you” I say, pulling her in for a hug.

“Hi Chris” She smiles back.

“I need a snack right now or I’ll die” I dramatically tell her.

“To the kitchen we go then!” She laughs.

Once we’re in the kitchen we both begin raiding the cupboards, I look over and see that she’s bent over searching through a cupboard. All I can focus on is how good her ass looks, and her red panties that rose slightly above her leggings. Fuck what am I thinking? She’s my best friend. I try to focus my attention back on our hunt for food, but my mind is just consumed with the picture of me fucking her.

“Chris? Helloooo?” She says.

“Shit sorry yeah? I zoned out” I say, I didn’t even realize I was fully zoned out thinking about fucking my best friend. I need to get it together.

“I asked if these are good for snacks” She replies.

“Oh, yeah that’s good. Let’s go to the living room and find a movie” I smile back, becoming aware of the fact I was fully hard and desperately needed either a blanket or pillow to cover it.

Getting to the living room I sit down on the couch, my hands immediately on top of my dick. But of course she’s bent over grabbing a blanket from the bin. Giving me the exact same view I had a few minutes ago. My mind once again picturing me fucking her from behind and hearing her moan out my name. God what is going on with me? I watch as she walks over to the couch and sits down beside me, grabbing the remote on her way over.

“Jesus Chris why are you so tense right now?” She asks.

“What? I’m not, was just waiting for you to sit down” I replied, trying desperately to stop my thoughts.

“Okay then” She replies.

As she scrolls through Netflix, I can’t help but look at her lips and just think of how good her mouth would feel around my dick.

“Oh my god Chris! What’s going on with you? I’ve said your name 3 times now” She questions.

“I - sorry I’m just tired” I mumble back, feeling slightly embarrassed.

“Tired or horny?” She asks, as if it’s the most normal question, not even looking away from the tv.

“What are you even talking about? Why would I be horny?” I retaliate, now nervous as she was clearly on to me.

“Oh come on you don’t think I could feel you staring at my ass? Or I don’t know the hard on you had in the kitchen which I know you still have?” She smirks back.

“Listen I’m sorry I swear it wasn’t on purpose, I don’t -“ I begin trying to explain myself.

“Do you want me to touch you?” She cuts me off.

“W-what?” I stutter out.

“What? You don’t want me to make you feel good pretty boy?” She questions.

At a complete loss for words, all I managed to get out was, “Please”

She moves the blanket off of us, leaning in to kiss me while palming me through my pants. The kiss was rough, our tongues fighting for dominance. As we continue to make out, she unzips and pulls down my pants and boxers.

She pulls away from the kiss, and spits on my dick. The sight alone would’ve been enough for me to come.

“Fuck mommy please touch me” I whimper out.

“Mommy huh? I like it. Be a good boy for me okay?” She smirks.

“Yes yes” I mumble back, thrusting my hips up.

She takes her hand and swipes her thumb across my tip and my slit. Causing moans to effortlessly fall from my mouth.

“Look at you, moaning already. So pathetic” She says.

“I just - fuck” I say.

She begins moving her hand up and down my dick, but at an agonizingly slow pace.

“Faster mommy, please” I whine out.

“You’re such a needy whore you know that? Already begging” She says back before spitting on my dick again for more lube.

“Yes mhm needy for you mommy” I groan out, noticing her pace picking up.

“You aren’t coming until I say you can, understood?” She demands.

I nod in response.

“Use your words slut” She says.

“Yes I understand yes” I reply back.

She continues stroking my dick. Her pace getting faster now and the urge to come only becoming stronger.

“Feels so good, I want to come soon mommy” I groan out.

“Such a fucking whore, already wanting to come and it hasn’t even been that long” She says back, making direct eye contact with me.

Fuck her degrading me was only adding to how badly I wanted to come. I couldn’t get enough of it.

“I can’t help it - you’re making me feel so good” I tell her.

She shakes her head but continues on. I feel my dick twitch and know I’m about to come.

“I - I’m about to come” I mumble out.

“Did you not hear me? You’re not coming until I say so”She says back sternly.

I throw my head back and squeeze my eyes shut, letting a whimper fall from my lips. Using everything in me to hold myself back from coming. My eyes snap open as I feel her lips on my dick, and her start bobbing her head without warning. Fucking hell she was good at it.

“Mommy I - holy fuck please keep going please” I beg.

Licking around my tips she still manages to say, “Fucking whore, you’re going to come in my mouth alright?”

“Yes mommy” I whine back, my legs now trembling from holding myself back. Her letting me finish in her mouth - god my dick in her mouth to begin with was driving me absolutely fucking crazy.

“Come on, I know you want to come. Let go for mommy” She mumbles out.

That was all I needed, my legs only shaking more now that I was climaxing, my hand moving to the back of her head and pulling on her hair. Coming in her mouth as she swallowed it all and continued sucking even after I was finished.

“Oh my god holy fuck” Was all I could muster out. Still in a state of absolute bliss from the amount of pleasure I was in.

Pulling away from my dick, she looks up and me. I suddenly become aware of the fact that I just came in my best friends mouth. What if this ruins our friendship? She interrupts my thoughts.

“Who would’ve thought you’d be such a needy boy hm?” She says smiling.

“Listen I couldn’t help it. God that was incredible” I respond.

“And a mommy kink? Definitely wasn’t expecting that from you either. I liked it, but it took me by surprise” She continues.

“Ugh yeah yeah I get it. But seriously this isn’t going to make anything between us awkward right?” I ask.

“Awkward? Not a chance. I would’ve done that months ago, but now we’ll have lots more to do. Gotta see how good you are” She smirks.

“Really? God I should’ve asked a long time ago then, and don’t worry I’ll prove to you just how good I am. You think I was needy? Wait till you see how needy you’re gonna be for me” I reply back, winking at her. Already picturing myself pounding into her with her begging for more.

TAGLIST: @sturnphilia @thatonekid536 @cupidisworld @devsturniolo @loveesiren @daddyslilchickenfingers @christinarowie332 @ilovemattsturn

[seoulmatez]

— 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓅𝑜𝓈𝒶𝓁 ౨ৎ

miya osamu x reader. 3.9k wc. ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ secrecy ﾉ misunderstandings

synopsis: after accidentally finding out about your boyfriend's plan to propose, you anxiously await the moment.

that’s probably why he wants to propose. that’s probably why he wants to propose. that’s probably why—

the words have been playing on repeat in your head ever since they slipped past atsumu’s lips. you could tell he was apologetic for not only the mistake he made in revealing his brother’s business but also for keying you in on something you weren’t meant to be aware of. despite his profuse and plentiful “sorry”s, it has been impossible for you to not think about osamu’s impending proposal.

even less so now that you’re standing outside his restaurant.

the last time you’d been relatively nervous at or near onigiri miya was when you were stationed on the bench and waiting for him to close up for your first date. time passed by excruciatingly slowly as you peeked over your shoulder every couple of minutes to gauge whether or not he would be out any time soon. you’d been inside the establishment only a few hours earlier with some friends who wouldn’t shut up about how cute the guy with the black cap was. you couldn’t blame them; you thought the same thing. which is why you were so surprised when what you thought was harmless flirting with the entire table led to him pulling you aside and asking you to hang out that night. 

it was an impulsive decision for you to say yes, but you don’t regret it in the slightest. the happiest two years of your life came as a result of your spontaneity. the nostalgia of that moment hits you at full force as you stand tentatively at the entrance of the restaurant, patrons entering with excitement and exiting with content smiles. the kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttering around in your belly feels the exact same it had that first night you spent with him.

you can’t loiter around forever, though, as you only have so much time before your coworkers are expecting you back with lunch. with a stabilizing sigh, you push the door open, the bell above it ringing to announce the arrival of another.

part of you is expecting osamu to welcome you at the door, after all, it isn’t rare for him to be running the host podium. though, instead of being greeted by a familiar face, a girl sporting a black apron is seating the growing line of visitors.

 you never know where you can find your boyfriend at any given moment—he hops between helping out in the kitchen, handling business in his office, and even waiting tables; which is what he seems to be busy with today. you always thought he preferred spending his hours in the back working with the food, but he’s surprisingly adept at socializing with customers. that much is evident by the easy smile playing at his lips while he converses with a group of older women just to the left of where you’re currently positioned.

you’re close enough to pick up on most of the exchange. he’s dropping off the bill and collecting plates as they dote on him—going back and forth about how helpful and kind he had been while servicing them. a smile of your own stretches across your lips as you listen to their overt praise of your boyfriend. you tell him how amazing he was all the time, but he deserves to hear it from other people, too.

“a handsome gentleman like you oughta be married by now.” one of the women points at his ringless finger as he reaches for her empty cup.

your ears perk up at the lady’s words. to them, it must be hard to believe that a successful business owner with a personality likable to all isn’t settled down already. you wait in anticipation for his reply.

“yeah.” he breathily laughs—not with ease; more bashful than anything. “i’m working on that.”

you can pick up the distant laughter from the women that sounds farther away than it truly is. you never doubted it when atsumu told you, but hearing it from osamu himself makes it so much more real. too focused on your thoughts, you don’t feel the presence of someone beside you.

“hey.” you almost jump at the sudden voice but the familiar feel of arms wrapping around you and soft lips pressing to your cheek stops you. he must have finished up his chat while you were lost in your thoughts. 

“hi.” you smile, hoping it doesn’t appear too strained. you can’t think back on  a time where it had felt awkward to be around osamu but you’re beginning to think that now might mark the first. as much as you want to remain your normal and composed self, the task is proving to be difficult.

“lunch run?” he asks, pulling away from you but keeping one arm wrapped around your waist.

“mhm,” you hum.

he tells you that he’ll grab your order so you don’t have to wait any longer in the line. you chew at your lip as you gaze nowhere in particular in an attempt to think about anything but the proposal you should be oblivious to. osamu is back in no time, placing the to-go bag in your hand and sending you off with another kiss.

the bell rings again as you depart from the restaurant. as if your mind wasn’t already in the gutter, you have something new to dwell on for the rest of the day.

ᡣ𐭩

the aroma of breakfast cooking typically rouses you from your slumber on saturday mornings, but rather than waking to the scent of a freshly cooked meal, the hum of the television from the next room works as your alarm. wiping any lingering sleep from your eyes and tossing the comforter aside, you stand up and stroll down the hall to see what osamu is up to. through slightly bleary vision, you catch sight of him sitting on the floor in front of the couch, his eyes trading off between looking at the flat screen and the screen of his laptop. it’s not often that he handles work matters outside his office and on the occasion that he does bring business home, he usually hunkers down in the guest room that serves as a workroom so he won’t get distracted.

“good morning,” you call from behind the couch. you lean over the back and squint your eyes to get a closer look at his laptop. “whatcha looking at?”

tilting his head back, osamu flashes you a bright smile. his hair is messy and unbrushed and your hands are itching to neaten the brunette strands. he pats the space on the floor beside him. “come see.”

you round the cushioned furniture and plop down next to osamu. you wriggle around a bit before you’re comfortably pressed against his side. the sound of the tv playing some competitive cooking show fills the otherwise quiet room. with a satisfied sigh, you finally look at the tab pulled up on osamu’s computer.

“houses?” you clear your throat but it’s too late to take back the crack that breaks the word.

a hand runs lazily up and down your side as osamu nods.

“how come? i thought you liked your apartment.” you cross your arms and chew at the inside of your cheek. you spend more time at his place than your own and osamu often calls his apartment yours—the two of you are practically living together. and you love it, being able to wake up beside him and welcome him home after a long day, but the thought of buying a house makes you shiver. the nagging at the back of your mind that you’ve been trying so hard to ignore was resurfacing.

“i do,” he agrees easily. “but don’t you want to find a place to call a home of our own?”

“well, yeah…” at the beginning of your relationship, you could only have dreamed of this moment; house hunting with osamu. the thought made you giddy; picturing how beautiful your yard would look lined with colorful flowers, thinking about all the meals you and osamu could make in a spacious kitchen, imagining what the rooms would look like filled with photos and belongings of your own—envisioning a happy life with him. now that you’re getting a taste of the experience, you can’t help but think about his plan to propose. if he’s already searching the market for houses, it must mean that you’re quickly approaching his proposal. there’s no time to enjoy what’s right in front of you when you’re too preoccupied thinking about osamu popping the question.

“hey.” he smooths a hand over your hair and squishes your cheeks together with his other. osamu hates seeing your eyebrows knit together in a frown. he can’t be sure as to why you look so troubled, but he does know that he’d do anything to get your mind off of whatever is bothering you—even if that thing is the window displaying images of houses for sale. his lips meet your puckered ones in a quick kiss before he continues. “no need to get the jitters just yet. we’re just scouting, nothing serious.”

it’s clear that he caught onto your discomfort and his words are an attempt at ridding you of it. just because you’re feeling awkward doesn’t mean you have to put a damper on osamu’s hopeful mood. and he’s right; it would take a lot more than a couple hours on a saturday morning to find a house that the both of you were happy with. there’s no harm in just looking. you nod with a grin, “nothing serious.”

“but,” he draws out the vowel, “i have been waiting for you to get up so i could hear your thoughts about this kitchen.” he clicks over to the picture showing off the kitchen of the listed house. “what do you think? pretty amazing, right?”

you won’t let your nerves ruin what is supposed to be an exciting milestone for you and your boyfriend. and how can you deny the man with sparkles of anticipation in his eyes? 

“if you like it, i love it.”

ᡣ𐭩

spacing out is your new normal. it happens much more often than it ever did before a couple weeks ago. you’ll be at work, typing away on your keyboard, and your mind will drift. the next time you look at the document you’re working on, it’s filled with your written thoughts about being a spouse rather than the report you’re meant to be filling out. you’ll stare at your hands while loading the washing machine with dirty laundry, imagining what your ring finger would look like adorned with a metal band. it’s only when you go to transfer the wet clothes to the dryer that you realize you accidentally mixed colors with the whites. the growing number of mishaps have you wishing you were still gleefully unaware of what’s causing you to internally rush osamu to hurry up and bend down on one knee. though, you don’t blame osamu for your wandering mind—how could you? it’s not his fault that his brother blabbed.

your life would be a lot easier if atsumu had a filter and kept his mouth shut. you had let him off the hook because his apology seemed sincere, but the moment that ring is resting easily on your fourth finger, he’ll be getting a mouthful of choice words for causing you so much unnecessary stress.

even now, on what’s meant to be a relaxing walk with osamu, you’re too distracted to enjoy the cool breeze gently blowing against your face and the company of your boyfriend. the warmth of osamu’s hand enveloping yours is the only thing anchoring you to your environment, which is why you gasp when he tugs your arm to keep you from walking any further. you stumble back on your feet, glancing over to osamu to see why he stopped you so abruptly. you aren’t able to ask before he starts kneeling down.

it’s as if time froze.

oh god, is he doing it here? now? in the middle of the sidewalk? of all the scenarios you had run through during restless nights, you had come to the conclusion that a public proposal was the least likely; osamu is an intimate man and you figured he wouldn’t want to make a scene. but more than that, he’d want the event to be exclusive to the two of you—no spectators or wandering eyes, something private; a memory that belonged to you and you only. the shock of not only his proposal but the execution leaves you reeling. heart thumping wildly in your chest, you will your eyes to look down to your feet. your breath catches in your throat upon seeing that he’s only tying his shoe. you don’t know whether to breathe out a sigh of relief or scream in frustration at that fact you’ll be waiting for who knows how long for the real thing to happen.

“you good?” osamu questions with a frown as he slowly returns to his standing position. he’s been catching you with a crease between your eyebrows recently and despite your consistent reassurance that you were fine, the expression seemed to always find its way back to your face. even though he’s concerned, he never wanted to come off as the overbearing boyfriend that crossed your boundaries by constantly hovering over your shoulder and badgering you to tell him how you actually feel. he trusts that if something is truly bothering you, you’ll tell him when you’re ready.

you have no intention of coming straight out and telling him that you were expecting him to give a sappy speech and pull out a velvet box. the entire reason you’ve been suffering silently is because you don’t want him to know that you know. you wrap your hands around his arm and peer up at him with a tight-lipped smile. “yeah, sorry. i was just in my head when you stopped me, that’s all.”

he stares down at you and you can practically see the doubt swimming in his eyes. there’s no way you can keep up this act without him getting even a little suspicious—your behavior is clearly stirring up some wariness on his end. you ignore the biting feeling that’s telling you that osamu is onto you, meeting his gaze happily.

“okay,” he finally speaks up with a short nod.

“okay, let’s go.” you rest your head on his shoulder and squeeze his bicep in a gesture to keep moving. he obliges and the two of you naturally fall into step with each other, continuing your stroll through town. you point out a shop that catches your eye, one with mannequins set up in the window wearing some cute outfits. the weather getting warmer is a perfect excuse for you to stop by the boutique and shop around. maybe browsing and asking osamu what he thinks about the clothes will be enough to get your head out of the clouds.

ᡣ𐭩

“this place is really nice,” you comment, head turning to take in your surroundings as you sit down in the chair osamu pulled out for you. the most eye-catching characteristic of the establishment is the extravagant chandelier hanging from the center of the room. the crystal pendants glimmer when the lights hit them at just the right angle, highlighting the intricately carved art on the walls. individual candles are lit at the center of each table. you can’t put your finger on their scent, but if the rest of the place is anything to go off of, you’re sure they smell amazing. even the silverware set out looks expensive. “are we celebrating something?”

you were caught off guard when osamu walked through the door earlier than usual, telling you to change out of your comfy clothes into something nice. it took a full-blown interrogation under the ruse of needing to know the dress code for osamu to come clean and admit that he was taking you out to dinner. it struck you as strange, though. your boyfriend was a chef at heart and loved trying out new recipes in the kitchen, excitedly standing by while you tasted the dish and gave him feedback. but on days when he was burned out from all the cooking at work, he’d ask you if you were fine with him ordering takeout. even on the days when didn’t want to cook but wanted to get out of the apartment, the two of you usually ventured to a familiar local spot, never anywhere that warranted more than jeans and a sweatshirt. him bringing you to a restaurant so opulent must mean that today marks a special occasion, right?

tonight has to be the night.

“no,” he takes his seat across from you, laying the provided napkin on his lap before running a cautious hand over his hair. it’s an unusual sight to see his hair slicked back, but some of the dark pieces strayed from the rest, swooping over his forehead and framing his face. he always looks handsome in your eyes but under the lights illuminating the room, he’s even more attractive. “i just wanted to treat you to a nice night.”

“that’s sweet.” you reach across the table to take his hand in yours, giving it a gentle squeeze and offering him a soft smile. what exactly does a “nice night” entail? dinner, dessert, and a diamond ring? you hope he doesn’t notice the tremors running through your fingers.

he returns your smile with one of his own, brushing his thumb across your knuckles. the two of you share light conversation until the waiter arrives to take your orders and collect your menus. as smoothly as things are going, you can’t help but think that as time goes on, you’re getting closer and closer to the moment you’ve spent weeks waiting for.

“is something wrong?” osamu asks.

“nope.” you shake your head. “why would something be wrong?”

“your leg keeps bouncing under the table.”

“oh, sorry, i didn’t even notice.” you pull your hand back and rest your palms on your thighs to stop them from moving.

“look, babe.” osamu runs his hand down his face and sighs. you must have thought he didn’t notice that you were beginning to frown more, that you were sleeping at his apartment less, that you pulled away when he brought up the future—but he did, he did notice and he can’t let it go. “you’ve been acting strange lately and i told myself i wouldn’t pry but it’s really starting to worry me. i just… was it something i did?”

“no! no, of course not.” you wave your hands back and forth frantically as if they’ll physically disperse his words throughout the air—rid that ridiculous thought from his head. you want to grab him by the face and scream at him about how wrong he is, but you keep your hands folded in your lap, thumbs unconsciously twiddling.

“the truth is…” you chew your lip thoughtfully, thinking over whether or not it’s a good idea to finally tell him. you had a good reason for keeping it from osamu, but now that you’ve witnessed that it is doing more harm than good, that he’s blaming himself for you being distant, you recognize that maybe it wasn’t the best idea to keep him in the dark. you have to tell him—this whole debacle has gone on for far too long and it’s affecting someone other than yourself. you take a deep breath before continuing. “when i went out with atsumu a couple weeks ago, we were just talking when he told me something he shouldn’t have. he said you were going to propose to me.”

osamu’s lips part in surprise. it never crossed his mind, the possibility that you were aware, but now that he thinks about it, everything makes sense. well, mostly everything. you had answered his question, but it raised another, one that’s a lot more difficult to ask. “so, have you been acting off because you knew, or because you don’t want to get married?”

you know it isn’t his intention, but your heart breaks a little at the fact that he even considered your rejection to be a real possibility. and it cracks a little more knowing that your secrecy is what likely instilled that notion in his head. “it’s not that. i was just on edge because i didn’t know when it was going to happen—i was expecting it and every little thing set me off.”

he nods slowly as he processes everything.

“i’m sorry i didn’t tell you earlier.” your voice is quiet and osamu can just barely hear it over the commotion of the dining area. “i didn’t know what to do when your brother told me and, i don’t know, i thought acting like i was clueless would be best. i didn’t want to ruin it for you.”

“you don’t have to apologize.” he places his hands palms-up on the table and waits for you to set yours on top of his. you lift them off your legs and give them to osamu. he raises them to his mouth, kissing the back of each before meeting your gaze once more. “i’m not mad, i swear i’m not. you did what you thought was right. don’t beat yourself up about it.”

despite his understanding, part of you still feels as if the whole ordeal was avoidable. but if osamu isn’t upset with you, there’s no point in being upset with yourself. he wouldn’t want you fretting over it and you want nothing more than for things to return to normal. you smile and huff out a laugh. “i guess i ended up doing exactly what i was trying not to. did you have a backup plan in case i found out before you got the job done?”

“mmm, can’t say i thought about that. but i suppose i could just do it now. i don’t have the ring on me but there’s no reason to wait since—”

“are you serious?” you stare at him in disbelief. you’d spent the last several days walking on eggshells as though osamu would propose at any given moment, telling yourself that it could happen when you least expected it. still, none of those previous close calls lessen the shock of osamu’s nonchalantly spoken words.

“completely.” he traces a line over your finger; the one that he ideally would be sliding a ring on. it’s far from how he imagined the scene playing out, but even without the defining qualities of the average proposal—the dropping down on one knee, the long heartfelt speech about how his life changed when you walked into it, the dazzling ring—everything about here and now feels right to osamu. “marry me?”

tears pool in your eyes, threatening to spill over your lash line. you thought you had enough time to prepare for this—experienced enough scares to steel yourself from crying, but if this stretch of time had taught you anything, it was to expect the unexpected. the vision of osamu in front of you is slowly blurring with each passing second. you blink, allowing the tears to flow down your cheeks and drip down your chin. you want to be able to see his face clearly when you give him your answer. fervently nodding, you tell him, “yes.”

thanks for reading! if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment :3

[rainbow-sunshine-unicorn]

"While what Violet said was through a haze of grief and trauma, what Anthony heard, at a very vulnerable moment, was that his mother would rather die for her husband than live for her children. And it’s very hard to not take that sort of thing personally."

YES YES EXACTLY like I have all the empathy in the world for Violet as a mom with postpartum depression and just a depressed person in general when Edmund died but at the same time you just told your oldest flat out you have no reason to live for WHEN YOU HAVE EIGHT FUCKING KIDS AND ONE RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU. She just told her son they aren't her air and there is NOTHING left for her in this realm like... that SCARS A PERSON.

dont get me wrong I still enjoy Violet as a character no one is all good all bad but... I would assume that even if Anthony and Violet's relationship becomes less fraught Idk if he would ever get over that no matter how fulfilling his life is now

I think it’s super interesting how Violet is a very loving mother who obviously wants the world for her children yet is a flawed parent in many ways. It shows you that flawed mothers are not necessarily just those who are like Portia but also those like Violet, who are “good” people.

Not that I think Portia and Violet are the exact same, but it’s an interesting juxtaposition, because you may think that both of them are on opposite ends of the parenting spectrum but the closer you look, the more you see, that both of their actions are motivated by wanting to do what’s best for their children and that it is this that lies at the core of a lot of their bigger mistakes as mothers.

Also, I think that her relationship with Anthony was fundamentally changed by him witnessing her raw grief. Though I think the other children, besides Gregory, Hyacinth and perhaps Francesca, were aware of her grief and absence from their lives, and it impacted them in different ways, for example, Daphne singing to Eloise over Violet’s cries, none of them truly felt the weight of it like Anthony. And I think this altered the relationship not only from Anthony’s perspective but from Violet’s perspective.

This character study perfectly articulates exactly what I mean. It summarises Anthony’s character and motivations in such a succinct way, I believe everyone should watch it!!

But throughout season 1, we see her treat him as though he’s Edmund’s replacement falling short rather than her son while simultaneously wanting him to treat her like an authority figure. She demands he arrange something for Daphne with a friend like his father would have, then later, berates him to renege when she considers Simon a better match. Yes Anthony does many things wrong, but he is navigating it from a very lonely place of extreme pressure and absolutely no one to turn to for guidance.

She waffles like this throughout season 2 as well, like insisting that she knows what he wants deep down while also accusing him of thrusting his responsibility upon his siblings, which is simply not true, considering Colin doesn’t even seem to understand the importance of balancing accounts. It’s only in the very last episode of season 2 that she seems to realise how much she has hurt Anthony but even then she apologises for the hurting him while she was grieving and not the way she has treated him subsequently.

I’m going to be honest, I don’t think Anthony will ever go back to being Violet’s oldest child rather than the half limbo state that they are in where he’s the head of the household and she’s his mother but also part of his household. And this is not because of a lack of love on either of their parts or because they are too different. Which is the tragedy of their relationship.

Anyways this is already too long, but Anthony’s last experience of unconditional parental love was when his father died, because the moment he did, in certain ways, he lost that from his mother.

I truly believe that the next time he experiences such unconditional love and affection is from Kate, who sees him at his worst, witnesses him make every mistake and still equally matches his feelings, his love and devotion and desire.