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darlingmbappe · 1 year

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When We’re Ready [2] | Kylian Mbappé x Fem Reader

[Part One] [Part Two]

Summary: After months of not getting pregnant, your mental health takes a big hit.

Warnings: SMUT! Minors, leave. Mentions of depression, slight angst, penetrative sex, oral (male receiving), brief self pleasure, cussing, google translated French, badly spell checked. Let me know if I missed anything! — English is not my first language —

Masterlist

The days were colder and the last snow of winter was sure to come any day now. Every morning, Kylian would leave bundled up and ready to train, and you’d stay home – left to your own devices with the same bitter thoughts you've collected over the past seven months.

Getting laid off in early November seemed like a blessing in disguise, but sitting here in the chill of late February with nothing to do but wonder what the hell was wrong with your body made you realize it was more of a curse than a godsend. Maybe the universe was preparing your schedule for motherhood, you thought – needing time to ready the home for a newborn – time that you couldn't find with a job. But, still you remain jobless and without a child. Alone for most of the day, and sometimes days when Kylian went away.

Seven months seems like it’s too soon to feel this type of dreadful disappointment, especially since you’ve read it takes couples upwards of a year to get pregnant… but when you’ve prayed night after night, thoughts consumed with nothing but babies, listened to your husband raving about when the day finally comes, getting your hopes up just be let down once more… for seven months… it takes its toll.

You were surprised when you heard a key jam into the front door, a mug full of lukewarm tea clung onto your chest as you watched trash TV in the living room, pajamas buried under the comforter you dragged directly from the downstairs guest room. You watched as Ky walked toward you with furrowed brows.

“Hey.” His voice was gentle.

“Hi.” You smile forcefully. “You’re home early.”

He hums and sits next to you on the couch. “Not really… It’s past six.”

When he said this to you, even with his tender tone, he hated how your face dropped with confusion, wondering how you spent your day cooped up in here. Of course he’d noticed your deteriorating emotional strength. He wasn’t so sure how to deal with all of this, also strained from having to pretend to be strong for the both of you.

He kissed your cheek upon seeing your tears well up, pulling you into his body while you tried to hide your emotion. You laughed a little. “I’m sorry. I don’t know where that came from.”

He rubbed your back in an attempt to sooth you. “Don’t be sorry. It’s okay, mon coeur.”

You pulled yourself together surprisingly quickly, the veil of embarrassment not unnoticed by your perceptive husband, but doing his best to not bring it up and make you more aware of his knowledge.

He ordered take out while you took a steaming shower, satisfied at the dinner table with a mouth full of chicken fried rice. Conversations flowed innocently, but your heart faltered a bit when you got that notification on your phone from your period tracking app – you were ovulating!

Great.

The distinct chime made your food so dry in your mouth, having difficulty swallowing it. You put your phone face down on the table, pretending you didn't both see and hear it.

He stares at you for a bit. You’re looking down at your plate, saying nothing, not meeting his gaze – though you felt it. He puts his hand on yours. “Bebe…”

“Stop.” You grumble, avoiding his eye contact. “I’m not in the mood.”

He sighs, clanging his fork a little louder than he intended to in the twinge of frustration. He understood, but he just wished you wouldn’t be so hard on yourself.

In December, you both had visited a fertility clinic to make sure all the gears were working correctly – and they were. It was amazing news that gave you both a fresh drive after months of let downs, but two months and four negative tests harshly dampened that high. You had been pretty hard on yourself, even if Doctor Laclairc said you had a pristine uterus and it just takes longer for some people.

The noise clattering on his plate caused you to look up, annoyed. Kylian rubbed his temples with his head in his hands, biting the inside of his cheek.

“What?” You barked. He pursed his lips and shook his head. He was holding back, you could tell. “Just say it, Kylian.”

“What do you want me to say?” He hissed from across that table.

“Whatever you’re not saying right now!”

He takes in a deep breath of air, trying his best to keep his head level. You pointedly stare at him, waiting for something to leave his mouth. He wiped his face with a napkin, tossing it back on the table. “You’re not the only one hurting.” He placed it softly, but you can hear the deep exasperation, emotionally exhausted. It shook you a little, having seen Kylian as a steady rock through all of this. His optimism had carried you through, letting yourself cry in his arms to find comfort. Sure, you knew he felt sad, but he hasn't let you see his devastation in full swing. “Do you think I’m in the mood? I’m not. It’s exhausting.” His eyes were slightly glossy as he expressed himself, voice loud but so unsure. You stare at him, silent. “But, we have to keep trying. I want this. You want this – I know how bad you want this. So, please. Give us a chance.”

His voice was so gentle at the end, emotions soaking every word that left his chest. You dipped your head down, knowing how you'd let your thinned patience steer your words and actions. Kylian never deserved the misguided anger that you let seep through. He’d been nothing but an anchor through these tolling seasons, putting your stability in front of his own.

He gets up out of his chair and slowly walks to yours, kneeling at your side where you sat and stared up at your teary eyes.

With your hand now taken in his, he places a gentle thumb on your cheek, guiding you to look at him. “It’ll all be worth it.” He confirms, kissing the back of your hand.

You sniffled, nodding as you turned your body toward him. Your arms wrapped so tightly around his neck and his around your middle. You both breathed in at first contact, some tears falling into the fabric of each other's shirts. The way he grasped you was allconsuming. It was a true embrace that you returned. He just felt like home.

You kiss his cheek, smooching the area until you place one on his lips. Now, holding his face and gazing into him, the strong wall he had built was knocked down. You saw the pain and urgency swirl in his irises. He pecks your lips, letting his hands roam slowly on your back.

You sigh as your lips quivered. All he did was run a thumb over your bottom lip, holding back his own exploding emotions.

He stood and your eyes followed him now hovering over you, both his hands cradling your face – then the pair of you found yourselves under the covers in your shared bed once more.

It’s funny. When you first started dating, the infatuation was supernatural. You wondered at the time how you could possibly ever be upset while he had his cock buried inside of you, stare bearing down into your soul with eyes that were made of magma, fingers so curious and ready to please as they got to know the terrain of your body.

You hadn’t felt the same way about sex in months. It felt like a chore. An obligation demanded by a stupid, inconsequential chime from the app that cost you €2.99 a month. Kylian would have to work himself up half the time and you were just a hole until he filled you up. Aftercare rituals now only consisted of laying still on your back with your feet in the air. An orgasm felt selfish for reasons you couldn’t explain. It’s like you didn’t dare give yourself that primal pleasure because you had convinced your body didn’t deserve it, having failed you over and over again.

This time, Kylian wanted to wash away the notion that your recent string of bad luck wasn’t caused by one individual or the other. Through his achingly slow actions, he showed you that you weren't just two separate people trying to accomplish a goal; not like when he jerks himself in the bathroom and puts his dick inside of you right before he came. You were together on this. A unified front. Bound to each other for life.

He praised your weary body, working you up like he used to. Moving at a snail pace, taking his time, dragging his fingers everywhere on your skin. The ‘I love you’’s and the expressions of devotion he mumbled against you flooded your senses. The drag of his member that squeezed against your walls, the inexpressible and constant eye contact, the lost kisses and marks left behind… It was purely and literally making love. He made love to you. You made love to him.

A fortnight passed once more and it was time for your bi-weekly personal hell. Kylian grabbed one of the many pregnancy test boxes from the cabinet in your shared bathroom, opening it for you and setting it next to the toilet – the usual routine.

He kissed your forehead. “I have a good feeling about this one.” Kylian mentioned with a grin on his face.

“I hate when you say stuff like that.” You mumble walking toward the small toilet room to leave Kylian alone by the his-and-hers sinks.

He stops you with a hand on your arm. The look on his face was exasperated. “Come on.” He pleads. “Amour, you have to have a little bit of hope. This isn’t how we thought it was going to be like, and I know that. I feel that. But, can you please just… fake it? For me?”

You sigh with a hand on your forehead, then churning out a grin for your husband. “I have a good feeling about this one!” It was a little too enthusiastic.

He chuckled slightly at how forced your words sounded, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “That was a really good try.” Kiss. “And I appreciate the effort.”

You shake your head with a breathy laugh, but the knot in your stomach stays put, even with the tiny little grin that found its way onto your face without permission.

You’d found the easiest and cleanest way to pee on that stick after doing it so many times. It was generally quick and you didn’t find it gross at all anymore. You set the capped test on the back of the toilet seat and grab some toilet paper. When you stood up, you looked into the bowl before flushing, and the knot in your stomach intensified.

Kylian leaned against the marble with his arms crossed, looking up at you when you opened the door. “I’ll set the timer.”

You pressed your foot on the trash can pedal and threw the plastic stick inside. “Don’t bother.” You mutter, walking back into the bedroom and throwing yourself on the mattress, body turned opposite of Kylian.

He runs a hand over his scalp, feeling the anger simmering at the surface, letting his feet guide him out of the tiled room. He sees you laying on your side, staring at the wall.

“I don’t know what else to say to you!” He cries out, staring at your back as you curl further into the pillow. “We’re both doing our part. Everyone said it would take time. We knew this would take time! Not everything is going to go our way, but we cannot stop trying. I really need you to start believing we can do this. We can!”

“I can’t, Kylian!” You sob, letting yourself breakdown. This anguish was brutal and completely unforgiving. “I can’t do it.” Your words barely make a sound; calling it a squeak would even be generous.

His heart breaks and it softens him up a little. He didn’t mean to shout, but everything has just been building and building up inside of him. “Hey…” He coos, crawling on the bed over to your side, holding you apprehensively while you cry into your pillow. He pressed you close to his body when he felt the shaking of your weeps, spooning your figure that jolted in tandem with your cries. “Shh, shh… I know it hurts, amour. I know.”

“Something’s wrong with my body, Kylian. I don’t care what Doctor Laclairc said. She got it wrong. I know she did. I’m so sorry.”

“No, no, bebe. Nothing is wrong with you.” He squeezes you tighter. “Nothing is wrong with your body. Even if we find out that this isn’t part of our journey, I will never stop loving you. Okay?” His assurance only made you turn into him, burying your face in his shirt, leaving a wet stain in your wake.

You took a couple of deep breaths in an attempt to calm yourself, only succeeding in halting your wails of sadness, but the tears still fell freely. “I just got my period.” You confess, feeling a wave of shame and guilt once more about your failure to conceive. The bloody toilet paper was a haunting image in your mind. Kylian shuts his eyes and just squeezes you, trying his hardest to make you see that it was okay. “I can’t take this anymore, Kylian, I can’t. I’m so sorry.”

He shakes his head, absolutely wrecked by the sight of your broken down persona. He’d catch you staring off into space, a depressing dullness surrounding what used to be an incredibly compelling aura. You were a shell of yourself for months now; going through the motions of daily life with a dark vail behind your eyes, losing interest in the things that used to make you happy.

He silently cried, but you felt the drops on top of your head. “It’s okay.” He murmurs in a shaky voice. “We can start trying again in the future. Maybe it wasn’t time for us yet.”

You sob again. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. You’re okay. We’re okay, amour.”

You continue to cry, Kylian finally allowing his tough-guy front drop in this moment of vulnerability. For better, for worse, in sickness, in health, ‘till death parts you from one anothers soothing embrace, you are together through it all.

The months leading up to that next summer were mundane. You’d found another job after coming to the realization that you weren't cut out to be the cute stay-at-home wife, but instead craved some sort of responsibility of your own. Kylian felt like you shouldn’t even have one because he could easily take care of you. Being married, his money was your money, but it was never about the money for you. You needed to dig yourself out of your depression hole sooner rather than later, and a consistent schedule was sure to be a nice addition to the rebuild of your mental health. Thank god for time off, though. Your bosses were huge Mbappé fans (like huge), and you weren’t past milking that for whenever you needed a couple days. You never took advantage of their generosity, but it was nice to know you could.

Summer in Paris this year had been nice, but Greece had won your heart. Kylian’s cousin’s destination wedding had been planned on a secluded portion of Corfu. The resort was huge and the pair of you were able to sneak away from your usual work duties for two days to attend. The private jet made for an easy travel plan and really any excuse to use it was sufficient enough.

The last time you’d seen most of Kylian’s family was a year ago – that night you couldn’t keep it in your pants. You had spiraled when you got to thinking about seeing them again a couple weeks ago, pleading with the gods that none of them asked about you and Ky having children. It’s been a little over five months since you decided to put the thought of babies on the back burner. Closing in on half a year and it is still painful. Mentally, you both were prepared to welcome a bundle of joy. The pregnancy books Kylian had picked up were buried deep in drawers you never thought about opening. You’d finally gotten your sex drive back in these months, having to re-learn to separate the pleasurable act with the tedious work of baby making.

Sometimes you guys used condoms, sometimes you didn’t. Still, your period came and went like clockwork. You still hadn’t erased that little habit of resenting your shedding uterus every month, but you definitely felt like you were making progress.

“This is nice.” You compliment the outdoor beachfront venue, walking hand in hand with your husband into the reception.

He looks around. “Yeah, makes me rethink our wedding.”

You scoff. “Shut up! Our wedding was awesome.”

He laughs. “Relax! Jokes, jokes…” He goofily defends, walking you both over to the open bar and ordering you a drink. “Martini?” He double checks.

“Please.”

He nods, ordering himself a whiskey coke, leaving the young bartender a tip that made his eyes almost pop out of his head.

For most of the night, you had to keep biting your tongue at the waves of people that came up to Kylian and asked for pictures. Sure, they were nice about it, but he was just trying to enjoy himself – and Kylian didn’t like telling people no. Especially not his cousin's friends. Him being whisked away left you clinging onto Ethans side most of the night, finding that Wilfried and Fayza were preoccupied with spending time with the family they didn’t get to see very often.

But, oh, the wandering eyes of a sixteen year old boy threatened to leave you on your own when he spotted a young girl about his age scrolling on her phone with the most bored look on her face.

“Ethan, no!” You whined as he brushed his suit of any pieces of lint, ready to get up and greet her. “Don’t leave me, please.”

He laughs. “Dude, you can’t keep a lion in its cage.”

You made a stank face at his bad metaphor. “That doesn't even make sense.”

“Ya-huh.” He enunciated back, typical sibling tone. “Me – Ethan – is the lion. Mystery hot girl,” he points, “a gazelle. You – sister in law– cage.”

You roll your eyes, noting to have a conversation with Kylian about his little brother's ego. “This is a family wedding, Ethan.”

“So?”

“So, what if she’s like a distant cousin.”

He makes a grossed out face. “Why would you say that? She is not my cousin.”

“You don’t know that, little man.”

“Don’t call me little man.”

“Aw, is little man embarrassed?” You coo, teasing grin plastered on your face.

“No, shut up!”

“But, you’re an adorable wittle man.” You baby-talk, reaching over and pinching his cheek. He swats your hand away as you laugh at him.

“Stop!” He stands up and smooths out wrinkles. “I’m taller than your husband.” He reminds you. “Little man, my ass.” He scoffs, giving you the middle finger teasingly and secretively in case his family saw the obscene gesture. You discreetly give one back as he walks toward the girl, a flirty pep in his step while approaching her.

You sigh to yourself, looking around and noticing that you didn’t actually know where Ky was. Last time you checked, the groomsmen had bombarded him with selfies by the DJ booth while he tried to have a conversion with his great auntie. You grab your martini and get up from the fountain ledge you sat on, a little tipsier than you thought you were. You stopped and looked around for him.

“Cute, right?”

You look to your left to wherever that feminine voice came from. A blonde middle aged woman in a red dress stands next to you holding a glass of champagne.

“Sorry?” You ask, unsure if she was talking to you or not.

The lady points to a table a few yards away – and there he was. Kylian sat talking to some people, a toddler resting on his lap. He had a huge smile on his face, poking at the little girl's cheek to get her to giggle. You grinned at the sight, loving seeing him so happy.

You turn back to the woman to respond when you look down at her dress. She was pregnant. Very pregnant. She tips back her champagne. “Don’t worry. It’s ginger ale.” You nod at her, chuckling a bit. “Kylian’s your boyfriend, isn’t he?”

You turn your attention back to him just as the little girl stuck her whole fist in his whiskey, taking a piece of ice and trying to put it in her mouth. You laugh out loud when he frantically tries to pry her little hand open. Successful, he meets your eye and his smile was radiant and full of life, shaking his head.

“He’s my husband, actually.”

She looks down at the empty martini glass in your hand. “No kids yet.” Her British accent was thick and assertive.

You shake your head at the stranger and set the empty glass down on the empty table next to you. You felt a little awkward having this conversation with someone you don’t even know the name of. She must be some extended family or the wife of a distant cousin. She seems kind, but you weren’t big on sharing your personal life with anyone you didn't trust, much less know. Especially since you’ve been with Kylian, what you say affects him. He’s in the under bright spotlight and scrutiny of the public, and if you’ve learned anything while being with a global star, it is that some people will stop at nothing to get a story.

The woman tips back the rest of her ginger ale and sets her glass down next to yours. “Are you guys trying?”

She has an audacious look now that she stands in front of you and it makes you feel unsettled. “I’m sorry?”

The lady laughs a little. “I just wondered if you and Kylian planned on starting a family any time soon.”

You couldn’t stop the bewildered look that now took over your features. “Uh…” was all you could really say. You don’t know this woman, she doesn’t know you. It’s a loaded question and frankly quite bold of her to come up to you and ask. “What?”

“Kids.” She repeated, apparently not caring about the uncomfortable shift in mood.

You opened your mouth, but had no idea what to say. You stuttered and tried to calm down with a forced chuckle. “What did you say your name was?”

She discreetly huffed.“Scheana Kingsley.”

Definitely familiar, but you just couldn’t place your finger on it. “Right.”

She waits. “So… any comment?”

“Hello.” Thank god. Fayza. She put a warm hand on your shoulder, perceptive to how tense you looked with this woman. “Scheana.” Fayza sighed. “Laurence is over by the cheese platters.” You loved how politely she just dismissed her.

The Scheana lady forced a smile at her. “Oh. Thank you.” She waved a hand goodbye with a disappointed breath. “Good talking to you.”

Your mother in law turned to you with a much clearer show of annoyance. You laugh lightly in disbelief. “Scheana Kingsley… should I know her?”

“You probably know about her. She writes for some news-gossip-pop-culture magazine.” She informs you. “Well, calling it news is charitable.”

“Unbelievable.” You scoff, crossing your arms at the revelation. “Who let her in here?”

“She’s married to Laurence over there. We try to keep our distance from them.”

From across the patio, Kylian turns his stare at you and his mother talking. You looked annoyed and frustrated, which made him so nervous. He excused himself from the small talk and speed walked over, thinking he might have to diffuse the situation – or maybe even get a scolding from his mother and his wife. God, he really hopes you two weren’t talking about him.

“My beautiful ladies.” He greets, kissing his mothers cheek then yours. “Everything okay?”

You smile at him. “You been having fun?”

“Yeah. Lot’s of fun.” He looks between the two of you. “You two are good, though?”

“Oh, no, we're fine.” You laugh it off.

“I saved your wife here from a conversation with Scheana Kingsley.” Fayza mentioned.

He shakes his head, scoffing a bit. “That woman… She has ambition, that’s for sure.” Now you remember why she sounded so familiar. Kylian had complained about his thrice removed family member’s new girlfriend a few years back and how she was a pushy reporter for The Paris Culture Magazine. “I’m surprised Laurence has kept her around for this long. What’d she say to you?”

They both turned their attention to you, waiting for you to say something. You shrug, but Kylian noticed the trepidation in your stare. “Nothing, really. Just some weird questions… I don't know.”

Thankfully, Fayza didn’t push it further, but you knew Kylian’s assuring hand on your waist meant that he knew something was up. You hadn’t asked Kylian if he’d shared with his parents that you were trying to get pregnant, but you doubted it. You would have noticed her demeanor change around you, given you saw her quite frequently. Besides, he would have checked with you before sharing that information with anybody.

There seemed to be a pattern occurring with you and Kylian leaving family events early, but the two of you were not only exhausted, but just not having a good time. The drunker the bridal party got, the more confident they felt hounding Kylian for selfies and videos. As for your mood, it was in a steady downward spiral ever since your interaction with Scheana. Just locking eyes, you both understood that it was time to surrender back into your suite.

He held your hand out of the elevator, swinging your arm back and forth. The pair of you had an overly tipsy pep in your step from the drinks you’d forgotten to count through the night.

“You look gorgeous tonight.” He kissed your cheek, a smirk overtaking his face.

You giggle shyly as he unlocks the door to your room, letting you walk in first. You went directly to the bathroom, your bladder begging for some relief. Kylian wandered in to brush his teeth as you turned the shower on, taking your jewelry off as you let the water warm up.

Kylian looked at your reflection in the mirror, shirt buttons completely undone. You were dazed. Quiet. He hated that look. He’d seen it take over you for months and finally, you were getting better.

He spit the toothpaste in the sink. “What’s wrong, bébé?”

“Huh? Oh. Nothing. I’m fine.” You turn your back to him. “Will you unzip me?”

He turns, slowly pulling the tiny zipper all the way down. He kissed the skin where your neck met your shoulder. “Did Scheana say something to make you upset?”

You shrug, taking the dress off and neatly hanging it on the towel rack. “She couldn’t have known. I don’t think she meant any harm.” You hop in the shower, shutting the foggy glass door and let the hot water run over you.

Kylians blurry figure leaned against the other side to continue talking to you. “What’d she say?”

“Just asking questions.”

“About?”

A big sigh leaves you. “Us, I guess.” Kylian listens, knowing you have more to say but are just keeping it bottled up. There was always a clear guide of communication between you two, especially because you were really good at letting things eat you up from the inside. You fiddle with your wet hair and Kylians frame behind the foggy glass stayed put. “She just… It was just weird. She wanted to know if we had plans to have kids anytime soon.” You chuckled, hiding your dejection with the sound. “I didn’t know what to say.”

“That’s not okay.” He indicates. “I’m sorry she badgered you tonight, cherie. She crossed a line.” He sounded a little angry.

“Don’t worry about it, baby. It’s fine.” He opens the shower door, causing you to jolt a little. He steps in, raking his eyes over your naked wet body quickly, and you his. “Yeah, sure, you can join me.” You joke as he reaches for the soap bar.

“It’s not fine.” He discards your dismissiveness, rubbing your shoulders with the foam. “I’m gonna talk to Laurence about that.”

You melt into his touch. “No, really, you don’t have to–”

“I’m going to.” He whispers, kissing your cheek. “No one makes my wife upset and gets away with it.” His hands roamed down your arms. “My hot wife.” His breath tickled your ear. “My sexy wife.” He presses his body to yours, nudging your cheek with his nose until you turn your face, kissing you feverishly.

You hum involuntarily into his mouth when his tongue decides to poke its way in, hand now feeling you up, tits squished between his fingers.

“Someone’s eager.” You laugh as he forces you to turn around, the hot water beating your back.

He bites the side of your neck dramatically and you laugh harder, pushing him away playfully – but he pulls you back into his chest, smiling dotingly with you safe between his arms.

“You wanna?” He wiggles his eyebrows.

You made a pensive face, pretending to really think about it. “I could be convinced.”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe.” You smirk as he bites his grinning lips, hands lowering and squeezing your ass harshly.

“Do you know how hot you looked in your dress tonight?” He continued feeling you up, dick pressed against your thigh, slowly getting harder by the second. “I swear, I was so close to sneaking off to some empty part of the beach and bending you over. Driving me crazy.”

Your hands ran down the rigid muscles on his chest, feeling electric under his burning stare, hot at the thought of him fucking you out of impulse. “Do I make you feel all hot and bothered?” You ask, his stare is so dark. So needy. You lean in only a little, teasing a kiss on his lips, but never truly meeting their plush touch. “Do you start thinking about what you would do to me? Thinking about touching me? Fucking me?” He growls at your words, tilting his face forward to try and steal a kiss. “Show me.”

He grips the flesh of your ass and pulls you even closer to him, frantically showing you his desire for you with a hungry kiss. Your arms wrap around his neck and he moves his hands upward and begins pawing at your exposed breasts. The steaming water dripping down your entwined bodies made everything slick, slippery, conditions that caused you both to grip to each other's bodies for security.

You reach a hand down and grab his growing cock, pumping it loosely, trying to get him fully erect. A moan vibrates out of his throat as your movements focus on his sensitive tip, thumbing the slit, feeling him grow and stiffen in the palm of your hand.

You kiss down his neck, then move to whisper to him, sultry as ever. “Am I doing something like this when you fantasize?”

He nods under your spell, eyes drooping in pure lust. “Uh-huh. Just like that.”

Gaining control over him, you waddle your bodies back until his back hits the wall. He shivers at the cold tile in the steamy shower, but forgets all memories of the chill when you kiss down his neck, lowering your body on your knees, hands trailing down so slowly, mouth inches from his swinging member. His hips jut forward and it hits your cheek. You follow it with your mouth, letting it graze your lips in passing. The blinking stare and batting lashes almost drew blood on his lower lip from how hard he bit it.

“Open up, ange.” Angel, he called you, but you were so sinful. On his knees in front of him. Droplets reflecting off your skin from the harsh light. His eyes felt undeserving of seeing you so ready to praise him. It made him feel so mortal, so lucky. He thanked the higher power that brought you to him, feeling an intense desire to take care of you – tend to your every wish.

You took hold of him with a sure fist, darting your tongue out and licking one long strip from his base to his mushroom head, letting your lips wrap around him and sucking to hear his moan. His face scrunched. His skull lulled into the wall.

You took him in your mouth a little over halfway, moving your mouth in tandem with your hand, enjoying the way his cock nudged against the back of your throat continuously to your rhythm.

“Oui, dieu.” God, yes. He fisted the back of your sopping wet hair, pulling you off of him and forcing you to look up at him. “Touch yourself for me, baby.”

You shut your mouth and swallowed harshly. He ran his thumb against your lips, hooking it on your bottom row of teeth, opening you up once more. Your tongue licked the pad of his finger, dipping your hand between your legs and quickly finding your clit. Your brows furrowed and your eyes widened. As the moan slipped from your throat, he placed your face directly back to his throbbing cock. Now, he had control of your movements, using your hair as a handle for his intentions, guiding your mouth up and down his shaft in quick movements. You gagged when he began thrusting concurrently to the tempo he stuffed you into his pelvis, heavy heaves and grunts erupting from his chest.

You gargled and gagged on your own spit and moans of pleasure from your own fingers, tasting the salty precum that dripped from your chin as you harshly sucked off your loving husband. You kept your vision from squinting together as you met his eyes through teary eyelashes. He fucked your face like you hadn’t had sex in years, rough with his actions and getting off on the way you were taking it.

His dick disappeared inside your mouth swiftly and urgently until he couldn't resist. He stopped thrusting, looking deep into your eyes – mouth still stuffed with him. He pushed his hand, demanding you take every inch of him down your open throat. You choked on him, the muffle of your gagging making him see stars.

You hit his thigh after a few seconds and he pulled his hand away. You gasped for air, noticing for the first time how sore your knees were against the hard tile. He let out a long hiss at the loss of your mouth, watching through heavy blinks as you sat against the opposite wall in the small area – knees red and patterned with the lines from the floor. Your chest moved with your big breaths, smiling and commending yourself for the avidity in Kylian’s eyes.

With your knees pulled to your chest, you slowly opened your legs, fingers playing with yourself as you made a show of how good you were making yourself feel. His pupils dilated at the way you ran your free hand across your thigh then up your chest, pitching a pulling your nipple with your lip tucked between your teeth.

He whined – a desperate noise that came up naturally. He reached down to touch himself to the sight of you, pumping a slow fist against himself. His long strokes teased his tip until he shuddered, eye contact non-negotiable. You couldn’t look away if you tried. Your swirling moans echoed in the small chamber – his eyes glued to the way your own fingers stretched and spread your pussy. Your own were attentive to the tug at the nape of his base. Though, you both looked up at the same time, hypnotized by your partners mutual ogling. He steps forward, hand still on himself. You reach for his hand and he helps you up, immediately pulling you by the small of your back into his lips, tongue lapping yours, absolutely famished.

He had clocked the little ledge in the corner from the second he walked into the intimate shower. He put his hand out behind you so the edge wouldn't hurt you, then used his strength to hoist your slippery skin up onto it. He placed himself between your legs, your back pressed to the wall, the shelf only fitting half of your rear — but it was the perfect height for him to fuck you like he wanted to.

He lined himself up quickly and desperately spreading your pussy wide open for him, pushing in and dragging out. One long moan came straight from your throat, clinging onto his neck to keep yourself in that same position.

“Fuck.” He grumbled. “You feel so good.” His pace was deadly, tip poking and poking that spot. It made your eyes cross, resting your damp head on the wall. “Been wanting to do this all night. Merde. Les choses que tu me fais, tu me rends fou.” Shit. The things you do to me. You make me fucking crazy.

You moaned in response, too focused on the way his neatly trimmed pelvis rubbed against your clit every time he pushed inside of you. It felt euphoric. Magical. Goddamn perfect. The only words you could muster out made him giggle through his heaves. “Please don’t slip.”

Your arm knocked over a few shampoo bottles when he buried himself deeply inside of you and stopped – making you borderline scream from how deep he actually was, and this position made everything feel… more.

He groaned so loudly, his mouth in the shape of an ‘O’, and you understood why when you felt him cumming inside of you, hot spurts surely dripping out. You didn't notice him biting your forearm until he let go of it, keeping his mouth against you before turning to look into your eyes. A slightly apologetic look turned cocky when one hand reached for your sensitive nub, rubbing just the way you like it, still inside of you.

“Oh, shit…” You breathed, eyes connected to the way he pleased you. “I’m fucking close.”

“Vulgar tonight, are we?” He teased your language, a tired smirk on his face.

“You just…” you begin, but he shuts you up with a small unprecedented thrust. “Fuck!”

He hisses, not really being able to take the overstimulation, but continuing to push into you sporadically – purly for your pleasure. Thankfully, it didn’t take you long to reach your climax.

He didn’t need the warning upon feeling your legs give out slightly, pressing against you to keep you on the shelf. They started shaking as your eyes closed, a fierce moan exploding from your wet parted lips. He moved his hips with a contorted face until he felt you calm down, now whining and whispering to the touch of his fingers as they slowed down, pressing down harder on you before disappearing altogether.

You pat his back lazily and he pulled out of you carefully, setting your wobbly legs on the slippery floor. You’d completely forgotten the shower was on as you watched it drain down. Kylian held your waist steadily, both breathing heavy. He lands two gentle taps on your bum. “Let's not waste anymore water, yeah?”

The vacation, though brief, was absolutely refreshing. It gave time that you and Kylian needed to feel closer. The offseason couldn’t come soon enough. You didn’t have to revolve around his schedule during those weeks because he was just home already. To you, there was nothing better than coming downstairs at 2pm on a Tuesday and seeing Ky there, drinking orange juice straight from the bottle, or being able to binge a series with him much quicker because he had time for more than just two episodes. By all means, being married to him shouldn’t be easy, and it’s not necessarily that simple… but it should be way harder. Maybe you were just more patient, but you’re almost certain it has everything to do with him. He made time. He made an effort. He tries his damn hardest. How could you possibly hold that against him?

You didn’t notice the way you were staring at him, chin in the palm of your hand, daydreaming about your entire history with Kylian Mbappé – a man with no time to spare, but he damn well made sure you fit in his schedule.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” He grins, setting down his coffee across the table from you in your shared Parisian home.

You blink, smiling in embarrassment. “No reason.”

You push some eggs around on your plate. He leans forward. “What were you thinking about?”

You shrug at him, still smiling. “Greece.”

His laugh gave away his fondest memory of that trip. “We gotta do that trip again soon, amour.”

“Yeah, like they’d give you that kind of time off twice within two months.”

His head shakes, snickering at that complete impossibility. “I think they’d send me a fee for even asking.” He looks at the time on his phone. “I should probably get going, though.” He gets up and collects his things.

“Drink lots of water today, okay? It’s supposed to get really hot around noon.”

“Yes, dear.” He drones jokingly, smirking as he makes his way over to you, pecking you quickly. “Love you.”

You squeeze his hand quickly. “Love you, too.”

Now, your separate days begin – his a little earlier than yours, but you still just wanted to envelope yourself back inside the covers. You were thinking about calling out sick, which wouldn't be a complete lie. The scrambled eggs were not sitting right this morning, or maybe it was the Thai restaurant you ate at last night. Either way, you couldn’t remember where you put the Pepto-bismol. The empty space in the medicine cabinet left you wondering if Kylian had drunk up the last bit and hadn’t bought a new one yet.

You maintain your breathing steady to keep yourself from throwing up as you shuffle through the drawers. Praying it was in the last one, you pull it open desperately, but only facing three boxes of pregnancy tests. The rush of everything fell still, the air much quieter as you got flashbacks from last year.

You didn’t let yourself think about it much, but you never really got over not getting pregnant. Mentally and emotionally, you were still there. The pain and devastation got easier to mask, but they stayed with you.

It was time you got over it, or at least lost the fear of not being able to have children... the fear of not being able to provide Kylian with a child. If you kept on being bitter about this whole ordeal, you don't know if you'd ever be in the right headspace to try for a baby ever again.

You stare at the tests and shake your head. “Fuck it.”

You snatch one from the drawer and beeline to the bathroom, peeing on the stick and thinking about how dumb it was that you had let this trivial little test ruin your for months. This time, you wouldn’t feel the dread collect inside your stomach. It would be okay. It wouldn’t hold power over you anymore.

Immediately walking out, you press down on the pedal of the trashcan and you watch it fall into the bin, feeling proud of yourself for not caring about that little plastic stick or what it had to say about your body. You weren't pregnant right now… and that's okay.

You sigh, a proud feeling swirling with sadness was still progress.

“Oh, no.” You mumble, feeling your stomach churn and running back toward the toilet, puking horrifically. It was a bad one. Maybe calling out sick was for the best. Who knows, it could be a stomach bug and contagious… but, unfortunately, you felt a lot better afterwards.

It was probably best if you went to work. There’s a promotion you’ve been chasing and you had just taken those days off for the wedding last month. Trudingly, you got ready to leave the house, rushing a bit since you hadn't realized how late in the morning it was.

Thank god you went. It was a hectic day; some project deadline wasn’t met and, for some reason, people turned to you for the solution. You were still relatively new at the company, but today, you really felt like you were doing something right. You left the office with a pat on the back from your big boss. That felt amazing. Kickin’ ass and taking names.

You were late coming home, texting Ky to let him know that you wouldn't be there when he got back. He texted back a simple:

Ky: :(

To which you responded with:

You: Bad day?

Ky: Just miss you. You were on my mind a lot today

You frown while walking to your car, wanting to get home quickly and hug him tightly.

You: Baby :( I’m on my way home now.

You: I have a big kiss just for you <3

The second you walked through the door about half an hour later, Kylian embraced you tightly, taking you by surprise but you easily fell into his arms. You could feel his stress radiating from his body as he followed at your foot around the house. He was quiet in asking if you wanted to take a shower, but his eyes were loud in telling you he just needed to be close to you tonight.

It was an innocent shower, his silent begging for a back rub and skin-to-skin contact was obvious as he kept his hand warmly on you at all times.

“You okay, hun?” You ask gently, tracing the frown line between his eyebrows after turning the water off.

He nods, eyes sleepy even though it was only eight o'clock at night. “Have you eaten?” He changes the topic, opening the shower door and wrapping you in a towel.

You shrug. “I haven't really been hungry today.” Ever since you threw up this morning, the thought of eating made you grimace. “Did you feel weird after last night's Thai?”

“I felt fine. Why? Is your stomach bothering you?”

You shake your head no as you shuffle through your drawers. “Just a little queasy this morning.”

You both get dressed quickly and lazily, surprised at how early you were deciding to turn in. Kylian was quite a bit needy tonight, pawing and tugging you close to him while he put on Pretty Little Liars… He would deny it to anyone, but he was obsessed with that show.

“What the hell is she wearing?” He tusks at the screen, apparently not approving of Spencer's outfit for the Prom.

You giggle into his chest, shaking your head slightly. “I’m gonna go pee.” You pat his bare chest and leave his side, hopping over to the ensuite.

You wanted to be quick about it, your feet cold from the chilly tile and lack of socks. Kylian had opened a new toothpaste packet and left the empty box on the counter. You roll your eyes. He’s notorious for leaving things that should be trash anywhere but the trash can – an unfortunate side effect of having someone pick up after you as a professional athlete. You bitterly grab the cardboard box and press your foot down on the petal of the trashcan, but freeze when you spot the pregnancy test you took that morning. You wanted to look at it.

Is it worth looking at it? You hadn't even thought about it all day, which is a huge step for you. Only a few months ago, you would have been debilitated at work – and you sure as hell wouldn't have been able to step up like you did. You would have been crying quietly in your cubicle, taking far too many bathroom breaks.

But… it was winking at you. Calling your name. Taunting you face down in the plastic liner.

With a gulp and a deep breath in, you shook your head disapprovingly at yourself. It’s gonna be negative, you think, preparing yourself for disappointment as you fish it out of the bin. You gave a deep sigh before letting your eyes trail down to your hand where the thing burned a hole on your skin.

The gasp that came from your mouth was severe, loud, alarming.

Two lines. Pregnant.

“Oh my god.” You mumble, much too quietly for Kylain to hear you behind the closed door. You begin laughing as it settles in what you’re seeing. “Oh my god! Kylian!” You desperately call. “Kylian!”

“What happened?” Kylian shoots out from under the covers and your current brain functions were a little crossed as you gaped at the test. The positive test. “Babe?” He comes into the bathroom with a furrowed and concerned look. “Are you okay?”

You respond with a look he was unfamiliar with. Immediately noticing the tears that had collected on your lash line, he reached for you. You couldn't tear your eyes away from him, seeing him for the first time as the father of the child inside your stomach. “Kylain.” He had never heard his name come from your lips with as much affection as it did right now.

He gladly took the hug you attacked him with, but the mood inside the bathroom was a little bewildering.

“What’s going on, amour?” He coos, but you can only sob joyfully into his shoulder, holding the test behind his back as you embrace him – staring at the double lines like it would suddenly turn in one and you'd realize that this was never real. But it was. The results were right there in the palm of your hand. He mistook your cries for sadness, placing an assuring hand on the back of your head. “Tell me what’s wrong.” His voice was so soft.

“I love you so much.” You smile, pulling back and planting a long, wet kiss on his unexpecting lips.

He’s so confused. “I love you too…” He raises an eyebrow when your hand meets his, an object placed in his palm. “What is this?” He asks before looking at it.

It takes a second for it to process, and you find yourself wishing you had a photographic memory, wanting to see his first face of realization again and again for the rest of your life. His eyes might as well have fallen out of his head with how wide his eyes went.

“Wha…” He stutters, completely transfixed on the test. “Is this real?!” He finally looks at you, excitement would be the biggest understatement of the century.

“Of course it is.” You squeak, still clinging onto your husband as you both look at the stick. “I’m pregnant.”

“You’re pregnant.”

“I’m pregnant.” You both take a big breath in, crying simultaneously, absolutely elated.

Kylian stares at the stick with a squinty and wrinkly smile before he looks at you — eyes tender and grateful. He drops the stick in the sink basin, grabbing your face with his two large hands, forehead pressed to yours to let the moment really register. He kisses you as best he could with the smile that engulfed his features, wrapping you up in his arms, truly holding you.

“I love you.” He whispers from his chest, an earth shattering smile finding a permanent home on his face. “We’re having a baby.”

A/N: Okay, I don't hate it, but it's not my fav. It's finals in uni and I'm a wee bit preoccupied with those responsibilities. Still though, I think I had some good parts in here! It's mostly just the ending that's bugging me. Also, I know nothing about pregnancies and all that jazz so this is pure Google info so I apologize for any inaccuracies!

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elliespet · 5 months

Note

if you’re up for it, could you maybe write somethin ab camping with Ellie?? I just know she’d love to stargaze with you and point out planets and tell you her nerdy facts ab them. dtf her in a tent too tbh👀

pairing: modern farm!ellie x gf!reader

summary: on your anniversary, ellie sets up a special date. how sweet of her! no way she’ll act like a feral dog out here right.. right?

warnings: smut 18+, cursing, LIGHTLY based on my own girlfriend’s mannerisms! not proof read :•]

a/n: heyyy.. hey. its been so long sorry love you guys heres something to feed you while i answer some other requests :•) slight self inserting my personality!! other than that, enjoy!

Today was your 2nd anniversary and ellie had something planned.

She spent the past week preparing everything for this day to be absolutely perfect for you. She got all your favorite snacks, books, prepared a lineup of your favorite movies on her laptop. Ellie was excited and hoped you’d feel the same, if not more. This day was your day — well, yours and ellie’s, but especially yours. She did everything in her power to cater to you today and if anything goes wrong you might end up with a crying girlfriend.

“Babe..” Ellie whispered as loud and quiet as possible. She wanted to wake you but not startle you too much. “Baby,” She called out again, setting down whatever it was she had in her hands before climbing onto your shared bed, rubbing your back softly. “C’mon. Time to get up.” Ellie leaned in and placed the smallest butterfly kisses on your face as you slowly became aware of your surroundings. You smiled — almost impossible to see considering it was so small. Sitting up and rubbing your eyes, blinking a few times before finally making contact with the girl next to you. “Morning pretty girl.” She slid off the bed with ease, grabbing the item she had set down previously.

“You hungry?” Her voice was as sweet as honey and as soft as the freshness of a new blanket. The words slid out of her throat with a slight rasp, indicating she had woken up herself not too long ago. With a slight nod, you sit up properly, fixating into a comfortable position. Ellie placed the tray on your lap filled with food of all kinds. She had fruits, both pancakes and waffles, dependent on your mood, eggs and amongst other things your favorite strawberry smoothie. She made it just for you, just how you like it. “Thank you.” Chapped lips from the long slumber making contact with her reddened freckled cheek, you placed a light kiss on the skin. “You ate too, right?” Your voice cracked a little as you spoke, this being the most you’ve spoken all morning. “I’ll eat whatever is left, you first.” Fully aware she made enough for the both of you, you’re her angel and she wanted you happy and healthy before herself. “I’ll be back, eat well.”

Presumably to go clean the kitchen, you nodded once more at her and watched as her stature grew smaller the farther she got, descending down the stairs. You ate, just enough to fill you up until lunch, making a nice plate for ellie to eat too when returned. It was almost as if she was summoned just by the creation, she came back up the steps and settled down next to you. “How was it?” Ellie questioned and carefully took the tray from you, placing it elsewhere before eating whatever you had made for her on the plate. “It was really good!” After eating, naturally you felt ten times more energized and awake, your reply sounding just as alive as your body felt. “I’m happy,” She mumbled, her mouth filled, making one cheek bigger than the other. “Don’t eat with your mouth full, ellie.”

She mumbled a quick sorry before finishing her chewing and swallowing, allowing her to talk freely. “You should go get ready, big day ahead. Big plans. Lot’s of stuff to do!” Ellie patted your exposed thigh, taking another bite. You obliged and got up from the bed, heading to the bathroom. “When do these big plans start?” Loud enough for her to hear, you ask from the bathroom while releasing your hair from its protection. “Around 12, maybe? It’s only 10:33 right now!” She shouts back. “Okay!” And you shout back, stripping off your clothes and hopping into the shower. Ellie joins you not too much later, helping you wash your hair and back as you did hers.

The rest of the morning was spent getting ready and packing to go on the adventure Ellie had planned. She appeared more happy than usual. Perhaps it was due to the anniversary or maybe she was just highly anticipating your reaction to her gift, I guess you could say. It really was more like a date, of course she got you something but it was mainly a date. At least thats what ellie thought. She led you out the house, making sure to lock everything up before opening the gate for you and leading you into the woods. It was a tad bit creepy considering you tended to stay put on the farm and when you did go out, it was never that way. Often by car in the opposite direction.

“We’re not going too far out, don’t worry.” Ellie noticed how tense you were entering the unfamiliar territory. “You’re not planning on killing me, are you?” Teasing the taller woman, you squeeze her hand softly and relax slightly, looking around at the small flowers blooming from the ground. “Course not.” She replies, coming to a full stop to hand you the basket she had packed earlier. Placing her large hands over your eyes, she positions herself to help you walk. “Only a little further..” Ellie informs you, guiding you carefully. The sounds of crunching leaves finally start to dissipate. Your senses are heightened enough for you to be aware of your surroundings, focusing on the almost inaudible sound of wind and a softened muffled sound of what you assume to be grass. Finally the warmth of her palms lift and your eyes adjust to the beaming sun. A soft gasp passes your lips as you take in the serene view.

Ellie had set up a place on the edge of the woods, trees still nearby yet not nearly as surrounded. A tent, not too big and not too small. It surely has more than enough room for the both of you. You set the basket down in one swift move before turning on your heel and almost tackling her to the ground. Placing what felt like thousands of kisses on her face and thanking her multiple times, you pulled back again to look around. Along with the tent she had prepared another area for you two to do art, pre-drawn sketches already made for you. She had brought her most expensive art equipment that she keeps locked away in a safe place. A new guitar, polished and carved so prettily sat perfectly next to the tent. Sometimes if you have a hard time sleeping, ellie would play something that would lull you into, probably, the best sleep you’ve ever had. Of course in the basket she had brought snacks of all sorts. There was candy, fruit, chips. Inside the fort contained a soft bedding and some pillows, obviously. Between all the pillows and soft linen adorned a new plush. Maybe the cutest one you’ve ever seen, resembling your favorite animal. Lastly, her laptop, clearly meant for a movie before bed.

“Do you like it?” Her voice came out a bit worrisome. Ellie would’ve probably lost her mind if it turned out you hated it. She worked so hard and even took a day off work to make sure everything was flawless. “Like it? Do I like it?” You stare at her with eyes so wide they seemed as if they’d fall out of your head. “I love it, ellie. Seriously.” Your soft hands on her cheeks caused all the fear she had to dissolve and she could only smile at you in return. “So.. what do you wanna do first?” Ellie finally spoke, breaking from the silence between the two of you. “Maybe.. we should paint first.” You decide to do this first, considering it’s one of the longer activities and you wanted to get it out of the way. The two of you settled down at the stations your girlfriend created and started. Ellie had drawn the cutest animal for you. As usual, it was your favorite. Hers was as expected — you. Once ellie talked you through using her good paints properly and how to keep the brushes from bending out of shape, you started. After about an hour and a half, you finished, showing off your painting proudly. Ellie wasn’t half done but maybe that’s due to the fact she is the more artistic in the relationship.

The rest of the night you did whatever else it was she had planned. As the sun began to set, you could already feel yourself growing tired. “Let’s go for a walk, before it gets too dark.” Ellie suggested, wanting to take you out more to properly see the field in all its glory and the clear sky. She took you out far enough and you talked along the way about how work was going for her, the small renovations you’ve made to the farm. It seems she prepared a spot for this too as a blanket laid in a mostly clear spot, in an attempt to avoid crushing a large amount of flowers in the area. The once colorful sky faded into a gorgeous shade of dark blue, decorated with the radiant gazes of the stars. The moon was just as lively, allowing the light to illuminate your faces as much as possible. There wasn’t much conversation left in either of you as you were being held so safely in her arms. You thought this has to be the best thing she’s ever done for you. Who can really say when this is only your 2nd anniversary?

The warm breeze settled into one that gave you goosebumps as it danced along your skin. “It’s cold els.. can we go back now?” Without a word, she helped you up and led you back to the tent. Of course being the amazing girlfriend she is, ellie already picked out the matching pajamas she wanted you to wear. The blanket you were previously laying on was draped over you in an attempt to keep you as warm as she could while still being able to change for bed. You did the same for her before you both entered the tent to rest for the night. As planned, she had put on your favorite movie to watch until you fell asleep. And you did just that. Your day was perfect and you were prepared to have the best sleep of your life. As quickly as you had fallen asleep, you woke up.

Blinking a few times to clear your blurry eyesight, you sat up on your elbows to look around. Surprisingly, ellie wasn’t next to you. The minute you notice, she had already been climbing into the tent again. “Morning babe. Went to clean up while you slept.” Your question had been answered before you even asked it. “Thank you for yesterday,” Your voice cracked and you cleared your throat to continue on. “I had a lot of fun!” Adding an emphasis on the sentence to show your sincerity, she smiled and pushed some of the pillows out of her way. “I’m glad. That’s not all, though.” A mischievous look was plastered on her face and within seconds you were straddling her lap.

Ellie has always been the touchy type, yet it was still so early in the morning. Sure, it caught you by surprise. You reciprocated, wrapping your arms around her neck. You softly dragged your nails up the back of her neck with your right hand, making her shiver against you. Your fingers tangled into her hair while you stared right back at her. Ellie already knew what she wanted the day before. She had prioritized your happiness and anniversary over fucking your brains out, obviously. I guess you could say this was apart of your anniversary gift. You could easily do it on any day, but since you’ve successfully passed another milestone in your relationship, it was different. Her main goal is always to please you. Ellie wanted to do it differently this time. She wanted to experience you in another environment. Somewhere calm and pretty, just like you.

Although she had planned everything else before this, she truly had no idea how to go about this. Of course, initiating it is one thing. She had already done that, but what now? She didn’t want to do the normal make-out, get naked, fuck, sleep. It wasn’t always like that.. more often than not, though. Work makes things a tad bit harder for her and shes so grateful she’d been given the days off. “You’re so pretty.” Her voice came out so softly and made you smash your lips onto hers. You have always been in love with ellie’s voice and being on her lap only added fuel to the fire. The kiss was messy — desperately grabbing at one another as if you would slip away. One thing led to another and thats how you got into this position.

Ellie’s head was buried between your thighs and you were tugging on her hair for dear life. Her tongue was flat against you, fitting between your folds like a puzzle piece. Your girlfriend had been teasing you for what felt like eternity. Her fingers danced around your hole so many times, never slipping in. In reality, it’s only been five minutes. You already felt like you could cry. “Please-“ your voice was small. Whining out to her, she mumbled against you. “Please what, baby?” Her words were clear despite the fact she hadn’t moved from your clit one inch. She was so focused, her tongue moving almost too easily against the bundle of nerves. You weren’t going to give in just yet. You wanted more. You needed more. Ellie knew that, she was just having fun. “Hmm?” She hummed against you making your body jerk slightly as she anticipated your answer.

“Use your fingers, please..” You’ve been begging her since she started. Upon getting the reply she wanted, her fingers slid into you with ease. Before this all you could bear to say was ‘please’ or ‘your fingers’. Clearly that wasn’t enough for her. She needed the whole thing. Your voice was a drug to her, it’s not like she wanted you to have to beg her to touch you, it just happened! If you ask Ellie about it now, she’ll swear up and down it wasn’t intentional. Though it took you thousands of tries to get that sweet voice of yours unstuck from your throat, you were relieved she finally gave in. Of course, as gentle as always, her fingers slid across your thighs painfully slow. You could cry out if you had it in you. Truthfully, you didn’t. It was still early in the morning. Your brain already felt foggy. You laid there, just how she had you.

Your right arm was swung over your eyes in an attempt to stay calm. Your free hand was tangled in her hair, tugging on it every time she’d suck on your clit. Ellie carefully slipped her middle finger into you, acting as if she’d injure you if she wasn’t cautious. As soon as you felt her finger press up against you, you unfolded against her almost immediately. If you weren’t relaxed before, you definitely were now. Her tongue moved too skillfully for you to even comprehend and you were trying your absolute best to keep everything inside of you. Ellie knew and she stopped. Everything she was doing halted and her head lifted ever so slightly. “C’mon.. you’re louder than this..” She hummed out. Ellie could read you like a book and frankly she’s done this enough to know when you’re holding back. You only nodded in response, too overwhelmed to open your mouth to reply.

She seemed satisfied with this, pushing her head right back in between your thighs. She added her ring finger, curling them just where you needed it. You cried out, tangling your hands in her hair and tugging on it so hard you could’ve literally scalped her. She wasn’t phased, though. In fact, she chuckled against you, only speeding up. Her fingers slipped in and out of you effortlessly. The tip of her tongue flicked your bud at an inhumane pace, forcing an arch in your back and your thighs to squeeze around her head. If this was your girlfriend’s cause of death, she’d die happy. You could feel your orgasm creeping up on you. It all felt too fast, one minute you’re cuddling and the next you’re a mess under her. Your voice came out in a whine, choking on your own breath. “Ellie-“ She ignored your warning, not easing up from you one bit. Your mind was already fuzzy and your whole body jolted, growing sensitive at every tiny movement. Eyes hitting the back of your head and the most gorgeous moans that seemed to be bouncing off the fabric right back to her, Ellie was literally in heaven just listening to you. You didn’t even have to touch her for her to want to ruin her brand new jeans. Your lower stomach tightened again and you were still speechless, letting her praise wash over you.

She’d breathe out “You’re so pretty,” or “you taste so good,” every now and then, smiling to herself at every little whimper you let out. “You’re almost there baby,” her voice came out almost too soft for you to hear and it pushed you just a little closer to that feeling you’ve been aching for. Her lips wrapped around your clit and she sucked harshly, only drawing you closer. Those moans made her drag your orgasm out as far as she could, just to hear you a little while longer. Ellie took her time and decided she had played with you enough, you deserved to come. She pumped her fingers inside of you a few more times, curling them perfectly against your walls and finally you let go. “Fuckfuckfuckfuck-“ You blurted out, repeating it as many times as your throat would allow you. Ellie was already cleaning you up with her tongue. You were sensitive as it is and this only enhanced it. The way she dragged her tongue across you slowly was excruciating. How she pulled her fingers out, feeling the warmth inside you disappear the more she removed them. “Did so good for me babe.” Ellie leaves a few small kisses on your thighs before sitting up, keeping eye contact while licking her fingers. She wouldn’t dare waste any of you.

This wasn’t ever about her pleasure, just yours. You were her whole world and everything revolved around you. Ellie let you compose yourself before she finished cleaning everything else. She passed you water, knowing you’d need it wayyyyy before. She was so caring towards you, which was the bare minimum, but most people don’t give a fuck as much as she does and you knew that. You were grateful. Once collected, you helped her clean and reorganize everything. It took no longer than 10 minutes and you both had gotten ready to go back, leaving everything at the spot to clean later. This might’ve just been your favorite anniversary to date. Who knows what the future holds?

a/n: sorry guys this was kinda blegh poopy butt. i’ve been writing it for days likee my writers block is so bad for no reason! ive got to get a grip.. anywaysss i hope u enjoy i’ll be filling other requests shortly (i hope) love u guys baiiii 🧺🐰

#tlou #tlou2 #the last of us #ellie the last of us #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie x reader #ellie x you #ellie x y/n #ellie tlou #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams tlou

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invaderzia1 · 9 months

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Horns (Wyll x Tiefling!Reader)

After breaking his promise to Mizora, Wyll navigates life as a brand new Tiefling. Luckily for him, he has support in his tiefling friends.

yes I’m aware the game isn’t out yet but I really liked that scene with Wyll and Mizora. Also this is set in act 1

Since disobeying Mizora, Wyll had been rather moody. Nobody could really blame him, not after the way she stormed into their camp and basically turned him into a tiefling, laughing about how some magic even she can’t fix. She left him with rather hefty horns on his head, leaving him to figure out how to navigate life with them by himself and laughing about how it’ll affect his reputation as the blade. So nobody was surprised when the heavy horns caused Wyll to struggle with his balance and maneuvering through his recent days, but they rather kept to themselves, all having other things to deal with then offer support to the poor man.

Except, you had been watching him. You had always found him quite charming and handsome, it honestly made you quite glad that he accepted traveling with you and the rest of your companions.

It had been a week since the incident and you’ve kept a close eye on Wyll, giving him space to process everything. But being a tiefling yourself, you couldn’t help but notice the lack of care he is giving his new horns. You knew what happened when people didn’t take care of them correctly, having suffered the consequences of failing to properly take care of your own.

Wyll is stood by the river near camp, having finished cleaning himself and getting ready to join the others for whatever food Gale decided to cook up. He barely even notices you sneak up behind him, too busy staring at himself in the reflection of the lake, still not used to his visual changes.

“You know, you gotta take care of them.” Your voice startled Wyll, causing him to jump slightly before turning to look at you. “Can’t just pretend they aren’t there or they’ll grow weird or get too brittle.” You moved closer to him, trying yo be cautious around him while assessing his new horns. “Kind of hard to tell right now what they’ll do, but I have some extra things if you need them.”

“What?” Wyll says in disbelief, almost self conscious about you having noticed how poor he’s cared for them the past couple days.

“If you don’t take care of them they might start grow weird.” You walk over, trying to get a better look at how his horns seems to be growing. “Or, they’ll become brittle and start to chip off.” Reaching up, you cautiously bring your hand to his right horn, but refusing to touch it until Wyll gave consent.

It takes Wyll a few seconds of going through his emotions before he leans his head down, letting you touch his horns. Your hands touch softly against it, standing on your top toes to get a better look at where they meld into his head. Then moving to look at the sharp tip of the horn.

“Hmmmm,” you let your feet fall flat again, letting go of Wyll, “I have an extra pad to smooth it down. They look healthy, but you are going to have to be careful of them getting over grown.”

“Like a sheep?” His voice comes out as a mix of surprise and disbelief, raising an octave.

“Yes,” you smile, finding it a little funny how that’s the only comparison he could think of, “like a sheep.”

He makes a noise of annoyance, accompanied by the sound of your laugh. As he looks up at you, he takes notice of your broken horn, recalling Karlach also has a similar situation. It feels rude to just ask, but he feels the situation permits it.

“May I ask what happened to your horn?” Wyll nods his head to your broken horn, instinctively your hand goes up to touch the nub.

“Oh this old thing,” you start, laughing a bjt to yourself as the memory surfaces in your brain, “fun story actually, when I first started traveling I didn’t have enough money to keep my usual tools with me. So I went without taking care of them. Ended up in a fight against a lone gnoll, thing got a good grip on my head and just took the rest of my horn off.” You can’t help but laugh, knowing to everyone else that seems wildly traumatic, but so much time has passed that you feel disconnected from it. “Luckily, I was able to even the score. We both left that fight pretty fucked up.” Your hand falls to the necklace around your throat, decorated with teeth that Wyll is now able to identify as gnoll.

Wyll’s mouth drops horrified for a brief second, then letting air escape his nose as he starts to laugh. It’s a weird and fucked up thing to bond over, but for the two it seems to work. As the laughter dies down, you put a hand on his shoulder.

“Wait here, I’ll go grab my bag and help you with them.” You say, then running back towards camp, leaving Wyll slightly flustered by your kindness.

You rush back, a brown bag tightly held in your hands as you come back. You gently lead Wyll to a large rock by the water, patting it for him to sit down, which he does. Placing the bag next to him, you jump onto the rock and kneel behind him, just like your parents used to do for you when you were young. Reaching into the bag, you pull a small vial of a yellowish liquid and a round brown pad.

“Alright, now this is horn polish, you can find it in most market places or you can make your own.” Your hand snakes over his shoulder, showing him the vial. “It goes on before you use this,” your other hand goes over his other shoulder, reveal the coarse rough pad of material. “This will help you buff out your horns and keep them looking smooth.”

Your hands disappear behind him, he can hear the vial open behind him and then feels your hands softly applying some of the liquid to his horns. You take great care in making sure you cover all of them, then wiping your hands off on your bag.

“This is going to feel kind of weird the first couple times, but it’ll get better, I promise,” you warn him, giving him a few seconds to brace himself.

The feeling of the rough pad against his horns is awkward and uncomfortable, almost like hearing nails on a chalk board. Wylls teeth grit together as he clenches his hand together, trying to brace himself as you go to work. He feels your body get closer to him, trying your best to comfort him while using both hands on his horns. You try your best to be both thorough while going quickly, recalling how much you hated this when you were a kid. To try and distract him, you opt to speak.

“When I was a kid, my dad used to help me with my horns. He was always better at this part than my mom,” you admit. “I used to start crying when she would do my horns for me because she was so rough with it. If I saw her with the pad in her hand I would immediately start crying and run off, trying to hide. She’d always find me though.”

“Really?” Wyll chuckles.

“Yeah. Looking back, I feel kind of bad about the trouble I gave her when she was just trying to help me. But at the time it seemed like a reasonable response.”

Wyll and your laughter blend together, the mood becoming more light as you continue to work on his horns. He starts to tell you small bits of his teen years, talking about the trouble he used to get in.

“Alright, now that we are done with this part, it’s time to move on to the finish touch,” your voice announces, slowly putting the used product back into the bag. You pull out another bottle, this one looking more clear than the polish, but a thicker consistency. Your hand rests on his shoulder, leaning over as you show him the bottle more. Wyll feels his heart rate pick up feeling you this close to him, but watches as you start to explain this product. “This is your last step, it’s a protective coating to keep your horns shiny and helps strengthen the keratin.”

“So, I just slather it on them?” Wylls face turns slightly to look at yours.

“Yeah, you don’t need much either, it spreads like crazy.” You lean back, popping the bottle open and reaching up to his horns again.

Slowly, your hands start to rub the oil onto his horns, being as gentle and smooth as possible. It grows quiet as you concentrate on keeping the oil only on his horns and making sure it’s spread as thin as it can be. Wyll, on the other hand, grows quiet as he enjoys the intimate position you are in. It’s been years since he’s felt this close to another person, having spent years to following Mizora closely. He allows himself to drift closer to your touch, feeling more at ease now than he has the past couple weeks, possibly even the past couple years.

“And that should do it,” you reach down and wipe off your hands on your bag. Wyll snaps back to reality, giving some space between you. You smile softly down at him, then gesturing from him to look at himself in the lake.

Wyll stands up and takes a few steps, looking down at his reflection and seeing how nice his horns now looked. Moonlight now illuminated them from the shine, its a small change but it makes him feel warm. It’s the first time since becoming part infernal that he’s felt content with his new appearance.

Wyll looks back up at you, still looking amazed by the work you had done. He takes a step closer, putting a hand on your shoulder as he speaks.

“Thank you.”

“No problem, I know it’s been tough for you.” You smile softly at him.

Wyll moves closer, as if he wants to lean closer. You prepare yourself for him to do so, your body leaning closer to his until a loud voice interrupts the both of you.

“Are you two done down there or should we just eat without you?” You both hear Gale ask, followed by comments from Shadowheart and Astarion that you most certainly don’t need to hear to know that its innappropriate.

Now both your cheeks flush red, flustered by being caught by the rest of the group. As you hear Astarion make one more comment, you start running up the hill and threatening to grab your a stake for him. Wyll just stands there, watching you as you start to argue with Astarion, hearing Shadowheart and Karlach laugh at the display. His heart fills with warmth as he looks back at his reflection in the lake, seeing the way his horns now shine with the moonlight. Grabbing your bag, he slowly makes his way back to camp.

#wyll x mc #wyll x reader #wyll x tav #baldurs gate 3 x reader #baldur’s gate 3 x reader #baldurs gate 3 #baldur’s gate 3 #maddy writes

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dandelionprints · 1 year

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More Than Enough

(Tommy Shelby One Shot)

As some of you will know if you’ve seen any of my posts, I’ve not had any motivation to write and have really felt my inspiration dwindling on a daily basis. I had a little bit of that motivation come back to me this evening so I thought I’d use it to write this short one shot. It was quite hard to write as I feel like my self belief is at a low right now so I was questioning myself a lot when writing it but fuck it, I’ve finally completed a WIP after weeks of not writing, I hope you enjoy!

Day had slowly turned into night in what had felt like only a matter of minutes in your bedroom, the only light now coming from the fireplace and a lamp that was lit on your desk. The comfort of the fire warmed you as the air grew cold.

Piles of invitations were laid upon the wooden surface with various addresses to the wealthiest people within England and Scotland. This charity ball had better get you a lot of fucking money after all the time you’d put into it, not to mention the cramp that was now very apparent in your fingers.

“Come to bed love, it’s getting late”, Tommy whispered against your shoulder before moving the strap of your nightie to the side and gently laying a kiss on your bare skin.

“I will my love, I’ve just got a few…”, you began, getting cut off swiftly by an exasperated sigh from your husband that caught you off guard.

“Y/N, you’ve been at this for hours, you need to get some rest. I would also like to spend some time with my wife. Please, come to bed”

You turned to look at him standing there in just his boxer shorts, a look of pleading in his expression. Those eyes of blue almost boring right through you, making you melt like they had the first day you’d made contact with them.

You sighed feeling guilty, “I know, Tom. But if I don’t do it then who the fuck will? They’re meant to be delivered to everyone tomorrow and I feel like if they’re not perfect then I’ll be judged even more than I already am”

A wave of insecurity swept over you unexpectedly. Fuck you hated that feeling, never feeling like the life you’d married into was something you deserved. The money, the big house, the handsome gangster husband. None of it.

“Who do you think is judging you, the people invited?”, his eyebrow raised as he took a step toward you, kneeling at your side, “don’t take any notice of what they say, they’re all twats in expensive suits”

You nodded your head and averted his gaze, instead choosing to pick a spot on the floor to focus on.

“I know what they say, Tom. ‘What’s a girl like that doing with a man like him? A former peasant girl who used to have to beg for scraps on the street? She’s probably only with him for the money! Oh, and the maids too, they do everything for her’”

“Who have you heard say that? You tell me and I’ll send Arthur round to have a chat with them, no one talks about my wife like that!”

He stood with his fists balled at his sides, his knuckles white from the tension. Grabbing his arm you pulled yourself up and squeezed him gently, his muscles tight under your grip.

“No! Please don’t, it’s not a big deal”, you used your free hand to bring his face towards yours, “All I’m saying is I’m well aware that they don’t think highly of me. I just want to show them I’m no longer that peasant girl who had to beg for food and money, that I’m capable of organising a charity event and doing as much for it on my own as I can without the help of staff or other influences. I want them to know I work hard, Tom”

He hadn’t taken his eyes off you the whole time you’d been speaking, too fixated on every word you were saying. He brought his hands up to either side of your face and cupped your cheeks.

“You work harder than any of those fuckers that are invited, the only reason they’re on the guest list is cause they have money, and lots of it. They don’t have a clue what shit you went through to end up on the streets or how we met, which if I remember rightly wasn’t when you were still having to sleep in the gutters. They don’t know fuck all about anything, none of them do”, he said, stroking your cheeks with his thumbs.

Bringing your hands up you held onto either one of his wrists, your thumb on the back of his hand.

“I know love, I just want to show I’m enough. Enough to be deserving of this life we’ve built. Enough to be with you when there are so many other beautiful women out there who would drop their knickers for you with just a snap of your fingers”

He chuckled then before his expression turned soft, moving his face closer to yours, hands still cupping your cheeks.

“Darling, you’re more than enough. You always have been”

His lips connected with yours in a soft swoop, holding themselves there for a while before curving up into a smile.

You smiled back feeling a rush of warmth in your chest, the butterflies fluttering around in your stomach making themselves known.

“Now c’mon, bed”

This time you didn’t have a choice in the matter as he swiftly swept you up into his arms and carried you towards the bed. You giggled as you wrapped your arms around his neck, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours, the signature smell of whiskey and cigarettes moving to your nose.

Placing you down onto the bed he knelt over you and kissed you again, this time with more passion.

“I think it’s time I show you just how wrong those people are, how it’s really me who is unworthy to be with you, Mrs. Shelby”

The firelight continued to flicker, casting shadows around the room, the plans of finishing the invitations now well and truly gone.

Right here in this very moment, in your big expensive house, on the expensive Egyptian cotton bedding beneath you on your expensive four poster bed, the only thing that mattered was that the love of your life truly believed that you had always been enough, no matter what.

————

Tagged: @peakypoet @moral-terpitude @lyarr24 @cillmequick @mrkdvidal1989 @shelbydelrey @alasya16 @tommystargirl @elenavampire21 @adaydreamaway08 @slaypussypop-21 (unable to tag) @bluesongbird @zablife @cljordan-imperium @look-at-the-soul @rangerelik

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby one shot #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #peaky blinders #cillian murphy

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hugemilkshake · 29 days

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.....like can I send in a cookie run kingdom prompt thing? If so here is one...and I'd like this to be a one-shot plz! Also your writing with your other stories are good so don't stress too much about this! I'm sure you'll be fine! And if ya want feel free to ignore it.

So I got this idea while reading some self aware au fics...where reader is taken from the human world and brought into the cookie world.

The reader, a selfless workaholic, was working like always but then gets taken into the world of cookies! They were surprised they ended up in the cookie run world and decide to try their best in this amazing new world they loved, ready to work hard for the cookies to keep em happy and so on....buuuut that's when they discover how much the cookies love em. They start doing everything for y/n so that way y/n could finally rest and relax. You can go crazy with whatever scenarios you want of y/n trying to do stuff for the cookies buuut cookies stop y/n so y/n stops working or of cookies spoiling the hell out of y/n. Like cookies do their best to make sure y/n is happy, safe and relaxed. Also throw in whatever cookies encounters and stuff you want!

Hope you have fun with it and feel free if you don't feel up to it!

I hope you enjoy the milkshake! Now I might not be the best at writing self aware stuff since this is my first time writing it

Just relax

-self aware AU-

-platonic-

Part 2, part 3

Another long day of work… you rested your head before feeling a vibration from your phone. It was a coworker… asking if you could take their shift…. Again…

Ugh… did they not see that you were tired? But you couldn’t say no… you just couldn’t…

You had some time before having to return to work so you scrolled through the App Store until you came across a cute game franchise called Cookie Run. You decided to buy three of the games, the one that caught your attention was Cookie Run: Kingdom.

It was so charming, the way you could interact with the cookies and decorate your own kingdom was so nice, and in over a month you had gotten all the cookies and decors, which sounds a little crazy but this game was kinda like your escape from your job.

But with this you had gotten very very fatigued. You couldn’t remember when the last time you had a proper meal… or a full night of sleep… or when you saw your family last… or when you didn’t have to work… or when your friends talked to you last…

You were practically on the verge of breaking down, the only thing’s keeping you from going insane was the silly cookie games on your phone.

Now… you might’ve been going crazy but you swear that the cookies were talking to… like directly. It could be sleep deprivation making you hear things but it was still very odd.

But you might’ve hit a breaking point. You finally passed out. You had just gotten a notice that you were getting evicted from your apartment and you didn’t really have anything so all you did was clean up any trash that was left around, and by the time you were done it was midnight and your boss had the AUDACITY to ask you to do even more work… at that point you passed out. Either from exhaustion or stress it was probably both tbh

…

But when you woke up you weren’t in your apartment.. you were in a comfortable bed.. that had… candy like details…? You tried to get up and out of the bed but someone quickly jumped up and had you lay back down.

“Please son’t sit up too fast! You’re exhausted. You shouldn’t be moving too much, here let me get you some food, just wait here…” A gentle voice told you…. It was also familiar…

The person returned and set a tray right next to the bed, you saw that they looked familiar…

“I hope your not in any pain… I’m Strawberry Cookie by the way…” Strawberry Cookie spoke “Please just try to relax…”

You tried to speak but your throat hurt a lot… like to an unnatural degree.. but you were quite hungry so you decided to take a bite out of one the the star jellies i front of you. Now when you took a bite… something clicked in your head.

You thought you were dreaming but this felt way to real… the bed.. the food.. everything was too real.

And the realized you felt sore.. not just your throat hurt, everything hurt. You went to rub your temples but your skin felt less oily and more… doughy..?

You wanted answers and Strawberry Cookie was aware of this, so she started to speak once more.

“…I know your probably really confused about what’s happening and I am too… but it’s important for you to not get up and move around… your dough is still getting used to the temperature..”

Dough… what…? What was happening…?

“Just… please don’t stress to much… try to relax… please..?”

…

So you were a cookie now..

Interesting

Well it’s not as bad as you thought it’d be

I mean- you can’t walk and talking is a little difficult but you’re treated like royalty

Like you try to get up and do something and Strawberry Cookie has to guilt trip ask you to lay back down

But Strawberry Cookie wasn’t the only one who visited you

Gingerbrave, Wizard Cookie and Custard Cookie the lll visited you the most

Strawberry Cookie try’s to make sure your feeling alright and gets you food

Gingerbrave tells you what’s currently happening in EarthBread and, you kinda knew what was happening but hearing it more in detail was a little frightening

Wizard Cookie tries to understand how someone your age could have dough as soft as your- and by soft I mean dough like.

And Custard Cookie the lll just talks about how he’s going to be a great prince king and how fun some of the adventures he’s been on!

But out of all of them, the one thing they had in common was making sure you didn’t get up to do anything

You physically cannot do anything without someone making a fuss over it

It was actually kinda nice…

#crk #cookie run #crk x reader #crk self aware

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heavyweightheart · 2 years

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i’ve spent most of my life in milieus where beauty culture had a muted influence. i currently work with a group of body liberationists who don’t wear bras or makeup lol (a statement?? see: sara ahmed). but recently i’ve been sucked into the vortex of skincare youtubers, media writers, redditors, bloggers, etc. and i’m soooo very interested in this phenomenon (tho only moderately interested in skincare itself). there are such interesting and disturbing parallels to diet culture, a lot of which are obvious. there’s also a subtler dynamic that i’ve been observing, and i and others have named it about diet culture, and i’ll call it the “moderation frame.”

the moderation frame in diet culture gives injunctions like: don’t be overly preoccupied with food and diet (cringe! get the dsm!); but don’t just eat whatever you feel like eating (the body isn’t that trustworthy)/we all know intervention in your instinctive diet and body’s processes is needed; have thorough nutritional knowledge but only trust The Credentialed Experts (many of whom are in fact untrustworthy). we’re expected to do quite a bit of work to maintain a certain nutritional state and a certain body status. but the state and status are culturally determined, along with their desirability--without the baseline assumption that there is only one right way to have a body, there is no point in the quest to attain it. and of course, i am deeply critical of norming the quest to obtain it, bc bodies can in fact be trusted to regulate eating, shape, and size largely on their own. we are intervening in processes that don’t need intervention, and the intervention itself is the point--to keep us distracted, self-hating, and buying.

the analogue in skincare and “anti-aging” is sth like: don’t go overboard (sad! bimbofication!), but obviously you can’t just :/ let your skin have wrinkles and spots :/ i think we can all agree that’s [a horror] to be avoided. and the knowledge these people have (superficial and memed as it is), even lay people, about skin and skincare ingredients? it’s a staggering investment that requires, and so like orthorexia and other EDs where we become encyclopedias of nutrition facts. and dermatologists are some of the worst peddlers of cosmetic skincare bullshit, like many nutrition and medical professionals (particularly if they have influencer status) in the area of food/body.

in both areas, too, it makes sense to be thoughtful--that we’re eating enough and eating in ways that support our own bodies; that we’re taking care with skin cancer risk. but what’s demanded of us as good citizens and consumers in skincare and diet cultures is, again, an anxious preoccupation that’s based in the assumption that the body can’t just be, can’t simply be what it is. it has to be controlled and normed and understood “scientifically” to that end. it’s all so very rational, right??

we’re all aware of the political underpinnings and implications of these things. awareness of those things is literally my job! and even i get sucked in. i am not immune to propaganda, and neither are you. it’s good to reflect on our investments of time, energy, money, and emotion. i have personally pulled myself out of a week-long skincare-culture hyperfixation quagmire and i won’t be going back!

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falcqns · 7 months

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would it be enough (if i could never give you peace)

✰ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Tim Bradford x Lucy Chen x Tamara Colins

✰ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: everyone at Mid Wilshire knows that Tamara is Tim and Lucy’s daughter. There is only one person who isn’t aware of this, and that is Tamara. Until she gets hurt, that is.

✰ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: crying, like lots of it. Car crash, near death experience, fluff, angst with a happy ending. tagging @natashasera

don’t forget to read and reblog, and i do not give permission for my works to be posted anywhere other than tumblr. thank you.

Tamara loved Tim and Lucy. Ever since they had busted her for stealing Lucy’s car, Tamara had felt safe with them. There were her warmth; the people who cared for, comforted, nurtured, supported and loved her, something she had never felt as a child. Right now, there was nothing Tamara was missing more than the warmth of Tim Bradford and Lucy Chen while she was upside down in her totalled car, hanging on for dear life, just before the world around her went black.

Lucy loved Tamara like her own. She had never had such strong maternal feelings for someone than she did Tamara. She rarely made her angry, she kept her space tidy, and rarely talked back, which had resulted in Lucy rarely feeling upset or frustrated with the teen. But right now, she was frustrated. Tamara was ignoring her messages.

Tamara’s high school had called her; she wasn’t present for morning attendance. This isn’t what frustrated Lucy. What frustrated her was that Tamara was then also absent for 2nd period, and now 3rd.

Lucy knew that Tamara was struggling with her birthday approaching. That meant that the teen would put even more pressure on herself to find a job and move out, which was something Lucy and Tim did not want. They wanted her to know that she was family, and that because she was family, she didn’t have to leave on her 18th birthday, but no matter what she or her boyfriend said to the teen, the words just weren’t getting through to her. And Lucy knew that having stress like that, especially self imposed stress like that wasn’t easy to deal with, but Tamara also knew better than to skip school.

Lucy sighed heavily, looking down at the 5th unanswered text from her teen. She then shoved her phone in her pocket, and stepped out of the shop, walking towards the table between the food trucks that her and Tim always shared. She plopped down next to him, and didn’t greet him, instead she grabbed a few fries and shoved them in her mouth, hoping that she would feel less angry with some food in her system, but it didn’t work.

“What’s going on?” Tim asked. Of course he knew something was wrong, Lucy thought to herself.

“Tamara is skipping class.” She said simply, and Tim shrugged his shoulders.

“She’s a teenager. Teenagers skip school. I did it, and I’m sure that you did too.” He said simply, taking a drink of his pop.

Lucy rolled her eyes, turning to face Tim. “She also isn’t answering any of my texts. Something that she knows to do, even if it’s just an emoji. I know she has a lot on her mind right now, but that doesn’t mean she can ignore me.”

Tim sighed, reaching out, and wrapping his arm around her shoulder. “I know. I know you’re frustrated with her, and that’s okay, but there must be a logical explanation for her not answering. Maybe her phone is dead, or she forgot it at home. She’s not doing it deliberately okay?” Lucy nodded, and she opened her mouth to respond to Tim, but was cut off by Tim’s phone ringing.

He lifted it from the table, and Lucy saw Angela’s name. Tim answered and held it up to his ear.

“Hey.” He said, and Lucy could hear Angela’s voice on the other end, and it sounded concerned. Lucy’s brows furrowed, and she honed in her hearing, trying to pick up what was being said. Tim hung up a moment later, and once again Lucy opened her mouth to speak, but was once again, cut off.

“We have to go back to the station.” Tim said, standing up, and tossing out his garbage from his lunch.

“What’s going on?” Lucy asked, standing up immediately, and following him to her shop, tossing him the keys in the process. Tim opened his door, and made eye contact with Lucy.

“I don’t know, but judging by her tone, it can’t be anything good.”

——

As soon as they pulled up to the station, Angela pulled them inside and into an interrogation room. She sat them both down, and took a deep breath before sitting down across from them.

“What’s going on?” Lucy said, an edge of demanding to her tone.

“Nolan and Juarez responded to an accident a few hours ago.” Angela started slowly. “By the time they arrived on scene, paramedics had gotten the driver out of the vehicle and were preparing to transport to the hospital. Nolan and Juarez took witness statements, and then followed the ambulance to the hospital.” Angela finished, her voice shaking ever so slightly.

Lucy and Tim looked at each other, confused. Why was Angela telling them this, and why did she seem to be on the verge of tears.

Angela took a deep breath, gulping before she spoke again.

“We were unaware of who the victim was until she was being prepped for surgery, and Nolan got a good look at her.”

“Who was it?” Tim asked, and Angela looked down before looking back at the couple.

“It-uh, it was Tamara.”

Lucy felt her heart drop and shatter, and all of her frustration immediately disappear, tears pouring from her eyes with no warning. “N-No,” Lucy whimpered, and she felt Tim immediately wrap her up in his arms. “No, sh- she-“ She gasped, and Tim hugged her tighter, leaning in close.

“It’s okay, baby.” He whispered, hugging her to her chest as she broke down. “I-is she okay?” He asked Angela shakily.

Angela sniffed, wiped away a stray tear. “She’s in surgery, but last I heard she was stable. From Nolan’s once over of her, it appeared she only had a broken leg, but we won’t know the full extent of the damage until she’s out of surgery.”

Tim nodded, finally breaking down, burying his face in Lucy’s hair. “She’s gonna be okay, baby.” Lucy sobbed harder. “C-Can we go see her?” He asked quietly, and Angela nodded immediately.

“Of course. I’ll inform Grey.” She said, wiping her eyes as she stood up. Just before she shut the door behind her, she looked at Tim. “Keep me updated, okay? Doesn’t have to be much, just a quick text. Just so we know she’s okay?”

Tim nodded. “Yeah, yeah of course.”

Angela smiled, and shut the door behind her, and Tim held Lucy even tighter. “She’s strong.” He whispered. “She’s our strong girl. She’ll pull through, and she’s going to be okay.” He said, unsure if he was reassuring Lucy or himself more. Lucy pulled away from his chest, and Tim held her cheeks in his hands.

“I c-can’t lose her,” Lucy whispered. “She’s my baby, I can’t,”

Tim nodded, chin wobbling, a tear falling from his eye. “I know. But like her mom,” Lucy smiled at that. “She’s determined. She doesn’t give up. There is not a weak bone in her body. She’s going to get through this, and she’s going to be okay. Wanna know why?” He asked, and Lucy immediately nodded.

“Because she has you for a mother.” Lucy smiled, more tears streaming from her eyes. “You’ve been to hell and back, and you are the perfect person to help her through this. She’s going to be okay.” He said, and Lucy nodded, taking a deep breath.

“Don’t discredit yourself so much,” Lucy whispered. “You’ve done a lot for her too, you know.” She said quietly. “And you’ve been through a hell of your own, and you survived, which is why you are the perfect person to be her dad. You support her, comfort her, and love her like your own, and thats something she hasn’t had for so long, if at all. You’re right,” Lucy said, taking a deep breath. “She’s strong, and she’ll get through this, because she has us.”

Tim nodded, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Can we go see her now, please?” Lucy asked, and Tim nodded with a smile.

“Yeah, Goosey, we can.”

——

By the time they had changed out and reached the hospital and had found the right ward, the doctor, who just so happened to be Grace, was just speaking to Nolan. They walked up to the pair, and Tim and Lucy immediately interjected.

“How is she?”

“Is she okay?”

Grace smiled, and turned away from John, who raised his hands, and stepped away.

“Your daughter is very lucky. She had some internal bleeding, but it was an easy fix. She also has a broken ankle, but we’ve set it, and it should heal perfectly. She’s just being moved to recovery now, I’ll come and get you two when you can see her, okay?” Grace said, and Lucy nodded.

“Thank you,” She said. “So much.” Grace smiled, touched her elbow briefly, before walking through the double doors behind her.

Tim wrapped Lucy back up in his arms, holding her tight. He bent down, and began whispering in her ear. “I told you she’d pull through.”

Lucy choked out a sob. “I was so scared.” Lucy expressed. “I thought I was going to lose her. I thought that I would never see her again, that I’d never hear her call me Mom, never tell her how much I love her, how important she is to me.”

“I know, baby.” Tim whispered, rocking back and forth slightly. “I know. I was thinking the exact same thing, but know we’ll get a chance to tell her, and to show her how much we love her.”

Lucy looked up, a slight smile on her face. “You were thinking you’d never hear her call you Mom?” She asked playfully, and Tim glared at her, but with no real heat behind it.

“You know what I meant, Boot.” He said, kissing her forehead.

“Not your boot anymore,”

“Maybe on paper, but in my heart you’ll always be my little Boot.”

Lucy slapped him across the chest, and he choked out a laugh just as Nolan walked back up to them, with Juarez beside him.

Tim looked Nolan in the eyes, a serious look on his face. “How bad was it?”

Nolan breathed in through his nose before answering. “It was bad.”

Lucy turned around in Tim’s arms. “How bad?”

“Like ‘I’m-surprised-she-survived’ bad.” Celina answered, and Lucy closed her eyes, breathing deeply, to stop herself from crying again.

“Thank you for being here with her.” Tim said, and the duo nodded.

“Of course. She’s family. There’s no other place we’d be.”

A moment later, Grace came back out through the doors, and walked up to them. “She’s still asleep, but should be awake within the hour.”

“Can we see her?” Tim asked, and Grace nodded immediately.

“Of course, follow me.”

Lucy followed Grace immediately, and Tim followed after nodding at Nolan in thanks. Tim grasped Lucy’s hand as Grace led them through the hallways towards Tamara’s room. “She’s in here. I’ll give you some time.” Grace said, and walked away once Lucy nodded.

Tim squeezed Lucy’s hands, and after a collective deep breath, they entered her room.

“Oh god,” Lucy whispered once she laid her eyes on Tamara. Tamara was laying in the bed, a cannula under her nose, heart rate monitor on her finger, and other various wires in her body, along with an IV with what Lucy assumed was pain medication. Lucy wasted no time in going to her side, and Tim wasn’t far behind, moving around her to stand at Tamara’s head, brushing her hair back and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Lucy grabbed onto her hand, and pulled up a chair. She pressed Tamara’s hand to her cheek and just gazed at her, a million thoughts running through her head. Tim came up beside her, and rested his hand on the back of her neck.

“What’s on your mind?” Tim asked. “And don’t try and lie to me, Lucille.”

Lucy rolled her eyes at his use of her full name. “Don’t call me Lucille.” She snapped, but sighed, and explained. “I was mad at her earlier. I was mad at her, and she was probably terrified. We could have lost her today, and all I cared about at the time was that she was missing school.”

“Luce-“

“I was mad at her over something so stupid, for no reason, too. So what she skipped class? She works so hard she should be allowed to rebel a little bit. I should have realized that it wasn’t like her to not respond to me. I should have driven her to school today, I should have let her stay home-“ Lucy rambled, more tears falling from her eyes.

“Lucy-“

“She didn’t deserve this. She worked so hard to buy this car, and now all her hard work is gone. Her car is totalled, and she’s going to be crushed. She deserves to have a car, to have a safe space with her at school after not having that for so long-“

“Lucy.” Tim said, finally catching her attention. “Baby, you’re rambling, and none if it really makes sense.”

“Sorry.”

“No, no don’t apologize, but you do need to calm down. That’s what she needs right now. She needs her mama to be the cool and collected one, right now, at least. We don’t want her feeling guilty for crashing her car, or her thinking that we’re mad that we had to leave work. She just needs us to show her that we’re here for her, and show her how much we love her.” He said, and Lucy nodded.

“Okay, yeah, you’re right.” She said, and looked up at the ceiling, taking a deep, calming breath.

“And about the car, we can just get her a new one.” He said, and Lucy looked at him like he had 10 heads.

“What?” Lucy exclaimed. “How?”

“With the money I got from selling my father’s house.” He said, shrugging as he did.

“You mean the money that you were saving to buy yourself a new car?” Lucy asked.

“Yeah.” He said. Lucy shook her head in disbelief at him. “Look, Luce.” He explained. “The car I wanted was just that, a want. But Tamara just lost her car. The car that takes her to school and back every day, the car that she worked so hard to buy. She needs a car, and I’m willing to use the money to buy her something that she needs instead of something that I wanted.”

“So you’re not gonna be sad every time you see a Tesla, and you’re not going to be singing “That Should Be Me” in your head?” Lucy joked, and Tim rolled his eyes, before grasping Lucy’s chin in his hand, and leaning in.

“You think you’re funny, don’t you?”

Lucy hummed. “Yeah, I do. I’m hilarious.”

Tim and Lucy shared a laugh, and had just started to lean in when Tamara began to move, and make noises. They immediately pulled apart; Tim shot up from his seat and resumed his place by her forehead, rubbing his thumb across her soft skin, while Lucy held on tighter to her hand, and shifted from the chair to the bed beside her leg.

“Mmmm-mm,” Tamara whimpered, and opened her eyes, blinking at the harsh light.

“I’ll go get the doctor, okay, T?” Tim whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead again, before heading out of the room in search of Grace. She nodded, squeezing her eyes closed. She opened her mouth again and attempted to talk again.

“M-ma-“ Tamara said, and Lucy furrowed her brows, confused on what Tamara was trying to say.

“Take your time, baby,” Lucy encouraged, leaning closer.

Tamara’s face crumpled up slightly, and she was finally able to speak, as tears began to stream down her face. “M-mama,” she whisper-cried, and Lucy immediately helped her sit up, and wrapped her up in her arms, a warm feeling spreading through her chest after hearing her call her Mama for the first time. She knew Tamara probably didn’t know what exactly she was saying, but it meant that she saw her as her mom. And Lucy also knew that she needed to lean into it, to show her that she accepts her as her daughter, and that she loves her.

“I’ve got you, baby.” Lucy whispered into her ear. “You’re okay, Mama’s got you.”

“W-where’s D-Dad?” Tamara said, and Lucy smiled, hearing the name, knowing Tim would cry.

“He went to go get Grace,” She explained. “Dr. Grace is just going to make sure that you’re okay, and then as soon as we are able to, me and Dad are going to bring you home, okay?”

Tamara nodded, burrowing her head into Lucy’s neck. Lucy adjusted her position, laying back on the bed, and helping Tamara lay down, resting her head on her chest. Lucy started to play with her hair as Tim walked back in.

“She’s on her way, she got pulled into another surgery, but she said to press the nurse’s station button if anything is wrong.” He said, walking over to the side of the bed, and taking up refuge in Lucy’s previous spot on the bed. He took Tamara’s hand, and rubbed his thumb back and forth. “How are you doing, T?” He asked.

“‘m sorry, Daddy,” Tamara whimpered as she started to cry. Lucy hushed her quietly, her hand traveling down to rub her back. “I crashed the car. I didn’t mean to, I swear-“

Tim leaned forward. “It’s okay, bubba. I’m not mad, neither is Mom. It was just a car.” He soothed.

Lucy smiled, seeing tears in Tim’s eyes. She knew that it was a mixture of being thankful that Tamara was okay, and extreme happiness that Tamara called him dad.

“A car can be replaced.” Lucy explained. “You, however, cannot be replaced.”

“Yeah, bubba.” Tim said, pressing a kiss to her hand. “There’s no replacing our daughter, you know that right?”

“D-Daughter?” Tamara stuttered, and both Tim and Lucy nodded.

“Of course you are. You are so important to us, T. And we want you to know this because we know your birthday is coming up, and that you’re stressed about having to move out, and we want you to know that we want you to stay. Especially after today, we want you where we know you’re going to be safe.” Tim explained.

“You’re our girl,” Lucy said, kissing Tamara’s head. “You’re with us forever, okay?”

“Even when I annoy you?” Tamara asked, a small smile on her face.

Tim laughed. “Especially then.”

#tamara collins #tim bradford #lucy chen #tim bradford x lucy chen #chenford fanfiction #chenford #the rookie #the rookie fanfiction

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drawingdroid · 6 months

Text

Sweet Potato

Modern AU Firefighter Din Djarin x GN!Reder

Summary: You move to your new apartment and meet your new neighbours.

Warnings: Fluff!!!, Meet Cute Trope, Gender Neutral Reader, no y/n, Mentions of food and eating, This is literally the most SFW piece I’ve written ever, Good Dad Din Djarin!!!, But also stressed!

Words: 1336

A/N: This is just a little one shot for you to enjoy as I enjoy sweet potato! I wrote it to celebrate I’m getting my own place finally, one step further from my abusive family, so this is practically autobiographical lol. Anyway, life has been hectic and I felt a little blocked with The Unknown Regions IV, since smut is coming and I want it to feel natural between Din and Reader, but things are finally flowing. Let me know if you like this little self-indulgent piece! The lovely dividers are from @saradika by the way!!!

Edit: I added a moodboard hehehe

You had just moved to your new apartment on the outskirts of the city. Aspiring to be a cosmopolitan girl all your life, you had finally surrendered to your true nature: you craved a quiet existence. Luckily, after some searching your friend Martha had made you an offer you couldn't reject. She'd lend her spare flat to you at an affordable price if you could keep an eye on her grandma, who lived next door. The woman was a kind, sassy 80-year-old lady and you adored her, so it was a win-win situation for you.

After a busy day of moving boxes around with the help of your friends, you (and your plants) were finally settled. With a content sigh, you collapsed on the sofa, looking at the strip of blue sea that was visible from your new balcony. You smiled toothyly, proud of yourself. Finally, you broke free from your family and achieved having your own space.

The morning after you were sitting in your elder neighbour's kitchen with a warm cup of coffee between your hands. Violet, that was her name, was delighted with having you there. She had shown you all the pictures of her grandkids before breakfast and now you were chatting about which plants you could add to your new house.

“Let me give you a piece of this one, if you put it in water, the roots will be out in a week.”

You grabbed the tiny branch and tucked it in carefully.

“I have something for you too!” From inside your tote bag, you took out a paper bag that contained Violet's favorite sweet potato pie. Her face lightened up and she took one serving. But just when she was going to have the first bite, someone knocked on the door. Who could be this early in the morning?

“Oh, maybe it's Din,” Violet said casually and started standing up from the chair. You had no idea who that was but followed her to the door. People trying to scam the elderly had been sadly a common thing in the previous months.

“Good morning sweetheart!” She greeted them when the door was finally opened, and someone responded with the cutest coo. A kid? You couldn't see anything, since the old lady had the entrance only half opened.

“Morning Violet.” That was the most beautiful baritone voice you had ever heard. “Grogu, be polite, that's her pie.”

“There's more inside if he wants one.” You poked from behind your friend's white locks with a friendly smile and finally met with the stranger's eyes. And what a beautiful pair of eyes. His chocolate irises went from Violet to you alternatively and his brows frowned with a silent question. Din knew you weren't her grandkid and was aware of scammers too. Who were you?

“This is our new neighbor, Martha's friend. Just moved in yesterday.” The lady introduced you to Din and the man relaxed a bit, but you were more tense than ever. He was like a dream. Lean and muscular, tattooed arms and the softest looking face. You could sense his gaze scanning you, as if evaluating if you were a threat or not when something grabbed the hem of your clothes.

“Eh?” The biggest pair of eyes returned your look from the floor and you felt you were gonna die from the cuteness.

“Hello little man, are you here for your pie?” The child cooed enthusiastically and Din sighed in defeat. You crouched to be closer to the kid's height, dumbfounded by the little one. He chirped, visibly delighted, but then looked at the older man for approval. Violet was laughing softly at the scene, knowing how much Grogu enjoyed food.

“I'm sorry to interrupt your breakfast,” Din said, shifting his weight while looking at how you made funny faces to the kid. “The fire station just called, there's a big emergency, I'm on duty and they need backup and…”

“Of course, he can stay with us!” Violet interrupted with a dismissive gesture and Din's shoulders visibly relaxed. The kid looked delighted at the prospect and made grabby hands to be picked up by you. You indulged in his petition, obviously.

“Thank you so much, Violet, I'll compensate you.” Din looked at the kid in your arms still hesitant. You were a total stranger but he looked like Grogu already trusted you. And you were Violet's friend too.

“I have a lot of experience with kids, I'll take care of him as my own.” Your kind face convinced him and finally Din nodded. Then, to your surprise, he touched his forehead with Grogu's and he was suddenly so close you could smell his shampoo and the aftershave he used to keep that nice mustache.

“Be polite with them kid.” Grogu giggled and grabbed Din's face with his claws in a sweet embrace. Your heart melted at the tender gesture. It was clear they loved each other a lot, even though you didn't know if they were related or not.

“He's an angel,” Violet responded, caressing the kid's fuzzy head. “But I need you to do something in exchange for keeping an eye on him, son.”

“Whatever you need Violet,” Din responded surprised. The old woman grinned mischievously and then went inside the house. Grogu then surprised yourself to death jumping to the floor and following her.

“Does he…make that a lot?” You asked Din, confused about how such a small kid could manage that jump. Now alone with his caretaker, you felt your nerves growing in your belly. He was handsome and also imposing.

“You can't imagine.” He rolled his eyes and let a tired sigh escape his plump lips and you laughed. It was going to be an interesting day in Grogu's company. “It's so kind of you to visit Violet.” He declared after a short silence. You looked at him wondering what he was referring to. “She's been so lonely since her husband's illness. It's sweet.” He added the last phrase almost muttering and without looking at you. So the big man was shy.

“I enjoy her company, I'm glad we are neighbors now and we can hang out more often.” You offered him a wide, sincere smile.

“I'm glad too.” He responded after licking his lips, his big brown eyes now fixated on yours.

“Here you have, you weren't gonna leave without some sweet potato pie!” You didn't notice when Violet had returned, that's how distracted you were with the new neighbor. She had packed some of the pie you had baked for her and now was handing it to Din in a container. You observed that Grogu was already having his fill, stuffing his little mouth while grabbing the lady's skirt.

For the first time, you saw him smile. The warmth of his expression was contagious and you noticed the cute dimple in his cheek.

“This was the condition to take care of Grogu?” He said accepting the gift.

“Exactly. I'm sure you haven't had breakfast. Am I wrong?” Din looked somewhere else in shame, totally guilty. “And I love the pie, but this time she has baked too much to my poor sugar levels, sorry sweetie.” She apologized but then winked at you. What was she plotting?

“You baked it? That's incredible.” Now your face was red and you started to pick what Violet's intentions were. “Grogu seems to love the pie.” The kid cooed agreeing, his tiny clothes covered in crumbs. He was too adorable to be true.

Din's phone interrupted the conversation and with a concerned look, he gestured to the stairs. Violet just told him to leave with her and Grogu and you waved at the firefighter. You then crouched again to speak to the toddler.

“Let's go, little man, we're having lots of fun.” And you did, indeed.

That day in the fire station, everyone had a bite of your delicious sweet potato pie, and Din was forced to talk about the new lovely neighbour who had baked it. They wouldn’t stop teasing, but all he could think was in seeing you again, the sweet potato neighbour.

#din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin fic #din djarin x gn!reader #din grogu #grogu #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom #droidwrites

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snnnailmail · 1 year

Note

I see you need some Howdy requests °^°, I am here to provide!

I think it would be cool to see Howdy grow some kind of self-awareness much like wally. Its small stuff first, seeing a small thin crease line up where the sky is and he probably thinks its just his eyes playing tricks on him. Then it would start to derail to seeing the seems of his friends, and feeling that something is isnt quite right no matter how he twists and turns, his body doesnt feel like *his* now, and we're basically here to try to do some damage control because he draws attention to himself (wally side eyeing him heavily)

-🌼

:DDD here’s something like that!! Sorry if I didn’t hit everything,, when I start writing my own visions take over and I forget I’m filling out a request. Anyways,,, I think the concept of walk-around puppets in this universe is horrifying. Here’s my take.

GN! Reader / Ambiguous species

cw: horror and unreality

additional tags: hurt and comfort (you comfort Howdy!)

Also remember my guy has a Transatlantic accent,, so cool so swag. All that time watching Westerns has paid off for me.

<333333333333

When you step into the shop, you’re met with all kinds of pleasantries.

‘Howdy-hey! What’s the news today, sweetheart?’

‘Oh! You’re just in time! I’m having a special on jokes! This ones a kicker! Heard it from Barns himself!’

Not this.

The seven-foot-tall pillar of Home fiddling with his hands like they weren’t his own. If he weren’t your friend it would be grotesquely unprofessional.

“What’s got you down, Howdy?”

You tried to approach this like it was just another bit. Like he was going to announce that someone had picked up the wrong order and he’d send you on a quest around town to find the oblivious culprit. Hilarity ensued.

The look on his face told you otherwise.

No script this time. Just terror.

He shook his head, like some sort of thought was trying to come loose that he just couldn’t get rid of.

“Oh, ah, nothing to bother about. I just got a late shipment to fuss over… right before closing time, too! A shame. I’ll be getting home late tonight. Good thing my home is upstairs, ey? Haha!”

The change in demeanor was relieving, but you were still uncomfortable.

“Oh… I’ll give you a hand, in that case!”

Two hands found his cheeks, one flipped towards you bashfully. “That’s so sweet… you think I need six hands to get around here? By all means!”

You grinned, forgetting whatever your reason was for stopping by. You stepped behind the counter.

But then you paused. It hit you, that you had never been back here before. No one has.

Howdy looked at you happily, blankly. “Weird, huh?”

“Yeah.”

He headed towards the back. You took a second to confirm with yourself that neither of you were going to elaborate. At least not yet, you think. You followed him.

He did indeed have a shipment. All kinds of inventory. Fruit, snacks, cleaning supplies.

“Our little town sure goes through a lot.”

He was beside you with all four hands on his hips.

It was silent for a moment.

“Who brings you these?”

Howdy laughed with closed eyes. “That… I would love to know.”

The two of you worked quietly. Whether occupied with stocking, or just processing the events prior, you didn’t know. You didn’t mind the silence, but the air was heavy. Like there was something you two should have been acknowledging, but it was lost, or hiding.

You decided to stick around and help him close. Putting up food and taking apart warmers, mostly.

“I can’t believe you do all this by yourself every night.”

“All in a day’s work! ‘Sides, being busy ain’t too bad.”

“Yeah, I get that.”

“It feels good to be good for something. Even here.”

The silence was back, but now you were looking at him.

“Less time to think, right?”

Howdy’s eyes widened, like the notion had been ready to jump off his head the whole time, and he couldn’t believe you put it in the air like that. And then his eyes sank in relief, because you felt it too.

“Don’t be shy to come around when you need to quit all that thinking. There’s plenty here to keep you busy.”

“I will.”

Work resumed, putting everything in its place.

“Be careful, darlin’.” He said, uncharacteristically quiet.

“You too.”

And he laughed, and you didn’t like that.

When all was said and done the two of you looked at the pristine store with some sort of pride, muddled by grief that you weren’t even contemplating before you stepped in. Hazy orange shadows coated the walls and floor.

“How about you stay the night? Wouldn’t want you out and about in the dark.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure.”

But this wasn’t a sleepover of games and stories and staying up past bedtimes. You just needed to be there, and be real. As real as you could get.

Howdy was gazing out the window of his bedroom.

“Funny how dark it gets out there. You would think… I’m not so sure, actually.”

You scooted over to confirm. His window might as well have been a pitch black rectangle. You could just barely make out the outline of Home and their kind eyes.

You closed the curtain.

The two of you settled down for the night. Howdy’s sleeping routine involved spreading out a blanket and rolling himself up in it like a cocoon, or a burrito, and that was kind of funny. You laid right beside him and kept your eyes glued to the ceiling. A night light glowed softly to the side, shaped like a butterfly. A gift, probably.

Howdy didn’t have many qualms sleeping. He worked too hard for his mind to stay wired through the night.

But you sure made it easier, he thought. He imagined the hours rolling by a lot differently if he was alone with his thoughts. Thoughts of scary things, like the sky. The pitch black sky. Like a sheet had been thrown over the entire expanse of home. Everyone knew what the moon was. Where was it?

You shifted beside him, and his train of thought pushed the breaks, coming to a gentle stop.

Wally approached you the next day, casually, as you were tending to some plants.

“Hi, you. What were you up to last night, neighbor?”

You gave him an odd look, but you were used to nosy neighbors at this point.

“Oh, with Howdy! I had no idea I hung out till dark, so we had a sleepover.”

Wally hummed. “That’s sweet.” And walked away. You let out a breath of air when he was out of earshot.

You’ve been paying more attention to your caterpillar friend since then.

He’s been distant. On the occasion he leaves the shop, he’s always glancing around like someone was going to leap out of the bushes and tell him he’s been duped.

He’s always been suave, persuasive. A cool cat or whatever. With so many arms and hands and fingers you can easily spot the anxiety creeping into his form. Your friends noticed, too. Wally seemed especially worried. Poor guy.

You were at the shop one day, just visiting, checking up. Howdy’s demeanor was… upsetting. He kept all his hands in a ball, fidgeting.

It was well past closing and a little yellow figure was passing by the doors. Howdy ushered you to the back. You went along, albeit slightly alarmed.

“You good?”

Howdy rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah— you bet, you bet. Just don’t want any last-minute customers. Love em’, but they’re a pain to clean up after.”

You weren’t convinced. You looked back towards the entrance, but Howdy had taken your hands.

“Just tell me something.”

Unexpected, but this is the most you’ve gotten out of him about the whole conundrum in a while. You nodded.

“Alright. Now this will sound strange, but I need you to put your hands on my hands. Just feel em’.”

His two lower arms raised towards you, and Howdy was your friend and frankly you didn’t care about how strange it sounded, so you reached out and intertwined your fingers. Gave them a squeeze. Just like everyone else, they were soft and cushiony. If you pinched hard enough you could feel your fingers on both sides, but that would hurt. You looked back up.

“Okay.” He replaced those with his upper set of arms. Not having second thoughts, you took those as well.

And paused.

Solid. Completely. You could almost say they were warm. You looked up at him in alarm, still holding his hands, squeezing them, like if you held them long enough they would go back to being normal and you two could laugh about this, but you knew that wasn’t a possibility. Your thumb was on his wrist. It was beating, flowing.

“There is something terribly wrong with me.”

#howdy pillar x reader #howdy pillar x you #welcome home x reader #welcome home x you #howdy pillar #welcome home x y/n #howdy pillar x y/n

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nikosamaki · 2 years

Text

When you call them "Old Man":

Lucifer:

It’s like the ICE water you splashed to his face, because he didn’t expect to hear that from you (You know, you’re supposed to be his LOVER and now, you Fucked Up :(. To be honest, it doesn’t bother him, because everyone –his brothers- call him with that title –sometimes he hates of being the ELDEST son and says: “WHY ME?”- so, he just stares at you with narrowed eyes; then sights –he hoped that you learnt your lesson, but did you? I don’t think so!- and leaves you when you’re confused 😕, which makes you to think: “Am I in DANGER now?? God helps me!”.

Mammon:

WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?? You… you called THE GREAT MAMMON OLD MAN? HOW DARE YOUUUUUUUUUU?? –definitely he took it as a OFFENSE! And now here we are, you have to make it up (It’s easy, after all we are talking about MAMMON). He’s pouted and will stay there till you apologize –he’ll act just like a DOG and WILL get through it EASILY… LIKE A DOG (So don’t be that much nervous).

Levi:

“LOL… Look WHO calls WHOM “Old”! I’m young in Demon Ages, but it doesn’t mean it’s same in Human Ages… LOSER!!," (NOW you feel OLD, don’t you? It’s a PAIN in YOUR ASS). Nevertheless, we can say he DOESN’T give fuck to it –he’s an OTAKU and heard a lot of nonsense things, so… But if you COMPARE HIM with SOMEONE ELSE; just DO NOT do it, because he’s avatar of ENVY! –it’s going to be the same story just like Satan!

Satan:

HOLY COW!… JUST RUN till he doesn’t EXPLODE!! (You put your life in REAL DANGER… Just shout LUCIFERrrrrrrr & PRAY –if you can. Now there IS a question: “Are you going to be ALIVE?”… OF COURCE NOT! You ARE ALREADY DEAD!! Now you’re a MEAT in his sight) -in other words, GOD BLESS Luci that has SELF CONTROL, if he hadn’t had, we all could have been DEAD long ago! And thanks to him, he will SAVE you… If he arrives there SOON!! :/ . Well, if Satan had caught you up sooner than Luci arrives –or if he even is aware of what’s happening there-, you should have thought of two things:

1= How would you like your FUNERAL be? Simple, Gorgeous, etc.

2= If you were VERY LUCKY, he’ll PUNISH you –DON’T think it’S GOOD… because we’re talking about Satan’s PUNISHMENT!! It still equal with DEATH!!. He will teach you a BEAUTIFUL –also with PAIN- lesson! (You know what kind of punishment I’m talking 😙😉… The Naughty One).

Asmo:

What the FUCK you said????? –Asmo is NOT polite when it comes about his Beauty, so watch your language-, How COULD you?? –he’ll get MAD as much as Satan gets!! You better RUN!. I know you don’t expect that he could be dangerous or threatening –because he seems the weakest brother among them or is-, but dear, when youk cross the lines –especially RED lines-, you SURELY are DEAD!! (Don’t worry, he WILL make sure you’re beautiful in the GRAVE). You should NEVER UNDERESTIMATE any of them, after all, they’re DEMON!

Beel:

“Old Man?… Hahaha, Is it edible? If not, Goodbye 👋 ” . . :/ He acted so CALM, in other hand, it was inconsequential to him! –OPPOSITE of his brothers!!!- He didn’t even get ANGRY , let alone to KILL you! (How on the Devildom??? It freaks ME out). But if you INSULT to his FOOD –even he doesn’t own it-, he’s MORE dangerous than Satan! So NEVER EVER take the risk, because Luci may CAN’T save you!!

Belphe:

“So what? Have you seen the ELDEST son –addressed Luci-?" And continues his sleep :/ (Why ARE the last two brothers so carefree and easygoing? WHY?? I don’t enjoy it 😐 Too MUCH Boring 💤 ) He doesn’t even bother himself to think what you said –I guess so- and won’t get angry if you insult to ANYTHING! –except Beel, he’s his RED LINE!.

Diavolo:

“Come on, I’m not OLD; I’m a Baby Boy!!” (WTF he said?? Oh man, my mind is going to BAD thoughts, you too? What he meant? Believe me I'm NOT a PERVERT, but what he said was… ). To be honest, he doesn't care to what YOU -I emphasis YOU again- call him, like :"Daddy, Baby, Honey, ladder and so on" (Don't ask why I called him LADDER…) In conclusion, he WON'T get angry for such a nonsense things like it 🤗 -he's really Understanding (I can cry now 😭).

Barbatos:

"You think so? Then I'm sure you love OLD MEN more than Young Men, aren't I? 😊" - that shitty SMILE on his FACE, DEFINITELY something IS WRONG; I bet you. If it wasn't, I'll change my GANDER!!-, now he said that, you just feel embarrassed and be like: 😳 (This emoji; I couldn't describe your face, so…). The feeling you have is included: "A lot of Shame, Awkward and Horny! (Don't tell me you DON'T know why not getting HORNY, dear ;) )". And like Dia, he won't get angry but he'll TEASE you a lot '-'.

Simeon:

"In the name of God, Who dared you to say I'M OLD?? I shall end his life! 🔪"… CHILL OUT DUDE!! -he's even worse than Satan, who would ever thought??-, you're an ANGEL and supposed to be calm and cute and adorable, but not DANGEROUS! WTF? (I'm sure Simeon is a DEMON in ANGEL's disguise 🥸, DO NOT let you guard down). You will never dare to say him his OLD or if you did, you'd face with your beautiful destiny…

Luck:

Because you DON'T want to BREAK his HEART, you just put him in exception list (How could you DO IT???).

Solomon:

"Oho… Me.. OLD?? You sure??"; With these words, only THESE WORDS, you give him up 🥲 (Now, I kinda understand how he made pacts with Barb and Asmo), because you don't want to figure out how spooky -PAINFUL- it could be, DO YOU? If you do, even GOD CAN'T HELP YOUUUUU!! (Just love your life, please)

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megamindsecretlair · 10 months

Text

The God Who Stole Me

Pairing: Loki x Black!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. You are in charge of your own reading experience. Degrading/Praise kink, cursing, cruel language, mentions of "being worthless and nothing". Unprotected sex, PWP, PIV, fingering fem receiving, oral male receiving, domination, pet names, established relationship, sorry if I miss any others!

Summary: Set in the early days, before Thor 1, you are a mere mortal who found your way to Asgard. You and Loki understand each other in a way no one else really does. There's not much plot, just pure smut.

Word Count: 2,852k

A/N: I don't know what to say, beyond I'm a whore and feral and my hormones are out of my control. If I missed warnings, I'm really sorry. I just thought this was hot as hell. Not beta'd or proofread so all mistakes are mine. While likes are awesome, please consider commenting and reblogging to support writers!

You enter his office. You cast your eyes about looking for the man himself. He stands before a window, looking out across the realm. At your entrance, he turns his scowl on you.

You step softly on the hardwood floor and close the door behind you. “Yes?” He asks.

You rock on your heels. He’s in a nasty mood tonight. “Came to bother you, of course.” You don’t have an ounce of self-preservation around this man. There was no use pretending.

“I’m busy planning. I don’t have time for you right now,” he says. He turns his attention back to the window.

You study his profile. He wears his casual leathers, the black and green highlighting his dark hair as it fans around his face. His shoulders are hunched forward and he rubs his chin. Planning, scheming, plotting.

“Maybe I can help,” you offer.

Loki’s laugh is cruel and mocking. “Do you think me so foolish that I would accept help from you? If so, you must be a special kind of stupid.”

You only smile. “Right, right. Not like your last dozen or so schemes weren’t complete failures or anything.” You cast your eyes about the room. Your poor baby had been hard at work, pouring over mountains of paperwork.

Loki chuckles with little humor. “I am the God of Mischief, not the God of Utter Failure. Show some respect if you want to leave here alive,” he says.

“You won’t hurt me, Loki. So stop with the threats, you’re boring me,” you sing. Your long burnished orange dress swishes against the floor as you walk about, tidying up things. He hates when you do that. So you continue to do it anyway with a happy smile on your face.

“What makes you so confident that I won’t hurt you?” He asks.

“You love me too much, duh,” you say.

Loki turns away from the window and leans against the frame. He watches you with little interest. Like a cat regarding a poor offering of food. “Do not flatter yourself, little mortal. I could never love something so…insignificant,” he says.

You only laugh. “The lord doth protests too much,” you say and smirk at him.

“Stop provoking me, mortal,” he says. He narrows his eyes. His scowl deepens. Whatever it was that happened to put him in such a foul mood, you bet it had to do with Odin. Curse the All Father, he is a cruel and bitter man. A Has-Been. He heaps praise on Thor and ignores his other son.

“Use my name properly, God of Failure,” you say with a raised eyebrow. “Stop being rude.”

He scoffs and stalks towards you. A thrill goes through you. Perhaps he isn’t in that bad of a mood. If he were truly fed up, he wouldn’t engage with you at all. He’d simply ignore you as if you were a fly buzzing about his head.

“I was not aware I had a reason to be nice to you.” He leans forward and looks down his nose at you. You stare at him square in the eye.

“You might hurt my feelings,” you say. You pout and give him puppy dog eyes.

“Perhaps hurting your feelings would not be the worst idea,” he said. He reachs up and strokes your cheek softly. His eyes finally soften, filled with longing and some unknowable emotion you couldn’t name.

“You’d only fail at that too,” you say. You lean into his touch.

“I’m not even trying yet.”

You smile. You back away until your legs hit his desk. You slide backwards onto it, getting as comfortable as you can. You lean back on your hands and tilt your head at him.

“Go on then, let’s hear your best attempt,” you say.

Loki takes in your prone form and his eyes darken. He smirks as he thinks. “You are just a tiny mortal, no more than an insect to me,” he says.

“A good first attempt. Give us another,” you command.

Loki's smirk grows wider. He approaches you until he crowds your space. You widen your legs and he steps between them, running his hands up and down your bare, copper skin.

“You will grow old and die, forgotten by all. You are nothing but an extra who will be left on the cutting room floor. You will fade away, no more than a whisper in the wind.”

“That’s too easy, even for you.” You grip the edge of his collar and absently play with it. His mahogany and teakwood scent float over and around you, crowding your senses. Heat casts off him in waves.

Loki scoffs. He runs the back of his fingers along your cheek. Then he rubs his thumb across your full, pouty lips. “Maybe this will work then. No man, no god, nor creature could ever love you the way you want to be loved. You are doomed to a life of eternal loneliness and misery.”

You pretend to yawn. You smack your lips and blink sleepily at him.

Loki’s answering chuckle vibrates his whole body. Standing between your legs as he is, you feel him. He trails his long fingers along the length of your neck before sliding up under your chin and lifts it.

“You will live out your days as a mere plaything, used and discarded by whoever deigns to give you their attention.”

A slow grin spreads across your face. “Are you the God of Stating the Obvious?”

“You are worthless and unlovable. Weak. Your life is pathetic,” he continues.

You give a lazy shrug. “I’m waiting for my feelings to be hurt,” you say.

“Why would anyone want you? You are not even attractive,” he says. His eyes roam over your body with a mild disgusted face. You suppress a giggle.

“Attacking my beauty is also too easy. I guess you’re not capable of hurting my feelings. The God of Utter Failure, I see.”

Loki smiles seductively, leaning down to kiss along your neck, your jaw, and the corners over your lips. “You are truly frail and breakable,” he says. He captures your lips in his. His fingers grab the hem of your dress and lift it. His hands trail up your bare legs, causing goosebumps to raise in his wake.

He pulls your legs wider, forcing you to open up further for him. You gasp and bite your lip. Your thighs tingle with anticipation.

“I’m frail and mortal and disgusting,” you say. You kiss him back, desperately. The cadence of his voice weaves a spell on your body. You react to him more strongly than before. Or perhaps it’s just him. Just your attraction to this all powerful god before you.

“You are mine,” he growls into your mouth. His hands get closer to your pussy and you moan just thinking of what he’s going to do to you.

“Even as ugly and pathetic as I am?”

“Especially as ugly and pathetic as you are.” He licks your lips and pushes his tongue inside to duel with yours. Soon, there is nothing but mashing teeth and desperate cries between you.

“Who says you deserve me?” You lean up and run your fingers through his long, black hair. Your nails graze his scalp. He shudders beneath your touch.

“Nobody else would want you. I am doing you a favor by claiming you,” he says. He leans in again and kisses you harder, nipping at your bottom lip. His fingers dig into your fleshy thighs. He will leave bruises come morning. The thought only excites you and makes your pussy throb painfully.

“A favor from the God of Failure? Don’t make me laugh,” you say.

“And yet, you are a mess before me,” he says. To emphasize his point, he runs his fingers over your damp panties. He hisses. “You’re soaked,” he coos. “You would throw yourself at anyone who gave you attention.”

“Yet I have the attention of a petty, cruel god at my feet. That’s certainly something I can get used to,” you say. You tighten your legs around his waist, needing him to get closer. To do something else. Your skin feels aflame.

“You think yourself above the God of Mischief? You are so foolish,” he says.

“I am the foolish one, yet your hands are on me. Your lips kiss my skin. What god do you serve then? Yourself? Or me?”

“I serve myself. Only my own desires matter,” he says. He finally, finally sinks his finger into you. He coos more about how soaked you are and what a pretty mess you make before him. At the moment, you care so little. You grab onto his shoulders for any type of anchor.

He adds a finger as he swiftly glides in and out of you. The sound of his pumping fingers and your wet suction drive both of you wild.

“Allow me to leave then. If I matter so little,” you somehow manage to say. You make obscene whimpers and cries as he drives your pleasure even higher. You lean forward and bite his shoulder through his clothes.

“You’ll leave when I’m done with you,” he growls. He watches your face as different emotions play out. He can see how much you want to resist. How badly you want to prove him wrong. But your body betrays you. Your hips jerk forward as it becomes too much sensation.

“I truly pity you. Nothing more than a little playtoy for anyone to use and discard.”

You whimper and bite the inside of your cheek. He leans down and nuzzles your neck.

“So, you concede that my body is desirable,” you smirk. His dark chuckle sends shivers across your skin.

“It is your only redeeming feature. Such a pity that it is wasted on someone so dull and dim-witted,” he says. He adds a third finger and you come undone in his hands. You scream out your pleasure for any passerby to hear you. Your nails dig into his nape. Loki keeps up his relentless pounding, making your legs jerk harder.

Your harsh breaths scorch your throat as you try to calm down. Loki’s fingers still and finally withdraw from you. He licks them one by one as he maintains eye contact with you.

“I have to be dimwitted to keep up with someone of your minor stature. Someone so jealous and cruel and prone to childish temper tantrums,” you say.

“I am the Son of Odin and the God of Mischief,” he says. He grabs your chin and forces you to look at him. His tone is disdainful and arrogant. “Pray, what do I have to be jealous of, mortal? You are nothing.”

“I live a full life, free from burden. You are nothing more than a lost boy begging for his father’s love,” you say.

Loki’s face morphs into a mask of pure rage. He grabs your throat and squeezes. You moan and writhe beneath him.

Loki leans down and kisses you softly, reverently. His thumb strokes your neck as his grip lessens.

“Your dense little brain cannot begin to fathom the complicated nature of gods,” he whispers against your lips. “I bet you could never dream that a god would set you free. Give in and let me take what you have desired for so long.”

“Are you not a God? Will you not take what you want?” You have no choice but to look into his piercing, crystal eyes.

“I am whatever you need me to be.”

“I wish for you to be yourself,” you say. You rub your leg against his, feeling his dick straining against his pants. “Only yourself and I shall revel in it.”

“I am myself. And what I am is yours,” he says. He says your name and smiles at you, your game momentarily forgotten.

“Who says you’ve earned me, my god?”

Loki chuckles, still caressing your neck. “You have it backwards, pet. You need to earn me.”

You grin. Finally. He moves away and pulls you to your feet. You stand on shaky legs but hold your weight. You trade places with him. You sink to your knees and unbutton his pants, freeing his cock. You lick your lips at the sight of it. It’s long and thick and a bead of precum leaks out from the tip.

He watches you and plays with your hair. “Oh, my little pet is bold. What a good girl,” he says.

The unexpected praise makes you sigh. He looks down at you with adoration and lust as you pump his cock. You take him into your mouth and he shivers. A low moan escapes him as you work him deeper and deeper. Your sloppy sucking is loud in your ears. He grips your hair tighter and soon, he’s fucking your mouth. You take it all, gagging on him. You can barely breathe as he pumps into you, his salty cum dripping with abandon.

“That’s my good fucking pet. You want all of it, don’t you?” He says. You can only whimper as he continues to pump into you.

You use your hands and your mouth to drive him wild. You fondle his balls as you suck greedily. “Oh, sweet mortals and their tricks…”

You think he’s about to climax but he roughly pulls out of your mouth. He lifts you, kissing you, tasting himself on your tongue. He sucks on your bottom lip as he trades places with you once more. His eyes are on fire, burning into you with a near animalistic rage. He bends you over his desk, your ass jiggling and like putty in his hands.

He drags up the hem of your dress and is too focused on getting to you that he has no time to pull down your panties. He pulls it to the side and slams into you. You both moan from the sheer sensation of him filling you up completely. He stretches you out. A lifetime with him would never prepare you for his size.

He leans over you and licks the shell of your ear. “I will have you, pet,” he whispers, which is a direct contrast from his rough fucking. Your pussy clenches around his dick and he groans.

“Nothing in this world can satisfy me quite like your needy little pussy,” he says. He pounds relentlessly into you. His balls slap your clit from the force of his strokes. He pushes your head down until your upper body is flat on the desk.

With one hand on your lower back, his other hand grips your thick hips. His grip is punishing. You feel his devotion in every slide, every squeeze, every spent breath. It heightens your own pleasure. That he needs you this much, craves you this much. “You are mine,” he says, thrusting with each word. “Vow it.”

“I vow it. I’m yours. I’m only yours,” you say. He’s hitting a spot so deep inside you, it’s like he’s writing his name. He’s marking you and staking his claim in the most brutal way.

“Mine forever? Are you such a good girl to admit it?”

“Forever. Always and forever yours,” you moan. Pressure builds painfully in your lower tummy. Your hands roam across his desk looking for anything to keep you tethered to your body. It’s like he’s trying to fuck the soul out of you. You grip the edge of his desk pathetically. Nothing but him can keep you tied down.

You can hear the smile in his voice. “My pet…my lover…my everything,” he says and explodes inside you. A second later, you release your own orgasm. Dark spots wink in and out of your vision as pleasure courses through you. Loki makes a deep satisfied grunt as you cum all over him.

You shake and he rubs his hands down your thighs, your hips, your sides, and your arms. He whispers incoherent things into your ear.

When you’ve finally calmed down, you shiver from the breeze coming through the open window. Loki withdraws from you. You share a moan. But the ache he leaves behind is nearly unbearable. You cry from it.

Your combined ragged breaths are the only sound in the room as he pulls you to him. He carries the bulk of your weight to the couch where he settles you. He fixes his pants and then sits beside you, conjuring a blanket to wrap around you. He waves his hand and a fire ignites in his fireplace.

“Oh, my love. Thank you. I would rather beg at your feet than bend my knee to any other. The only one I wish to serve is you,” he says. He peppers your face with soft kisses.

“You bow to no one, my god,” you say sleepily. You are wrecked and as you grow warm, you grow sleepy.

“I bow to you. I worship you,” he says. He kisses your forehead.

You have just enough energy to look at him. He gazes lovingly at you. You may not have forever with him, but you certainly have now and all the little moments until then.

If you need more Loki in your life, great news! The Secret Loki Files

#marvel smut #megaminds secret files #fanfic #loki #loki x Black reader #loki x reader #loki fic #loki fanfic #loki fan fic #loki god of mischief #loki laufeyson #loki of asgard #loki odinson #The Secret Loki Files #Loki x Black!reader #Loki x Fem!reader #Loki x Fem reader #Loki x you #x Black reader

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drdemonprince · 10 months

Note

Heyyyy. I just had an unsettling thought. So I’ve been learning about the oxygen of amplification and thinking about whether I’ve been giving “free food” to bigots by paying too much attention to the wrong things.

You’ve written about being “a vault” being a benefit especially when it comes to health care, and lying to employers, and, basically, intentionally using masking to get ahead.

Over the past five or so years, I have tended to go in a different direction - being more vocal about my disabilities and the disabilities of others, in the hope that I’m being an advocate for awareness and acceptance. I’ve had a lot of people tell me I’m “brave” for behaving that way and it always confuses me, because it’s easier for me to be honest than it is for me to lie or hide the truth.

But I am reminded of being on a conference call with the California board of law examiners (the people who make the bar exam for California) at the start of the pandemic. I spoke on the call about how law school makes people (if I remember correctly) as much as three times more likely to be depressed between the time they enter and the time they leave. There’s additional context here that I could add but I’m not sure if it’s necessary.

Anyway, while I was speaking, one of the people on the board (at least, my colleagues and I were pretty sure it was) very loudly yelled at me to “FUCK OFF.”

I wonder if disabilities are something, unlike other categories of oppressed people, where the more evidence you provide that we are human and deserving of accommodations, the more bigots get pissed off and want to deny us those accommodations. Because they think our disability inherently makes us undeserving.

I think, because I’m in a position of privilege economically (and my family culture isn’t particularly tumultuous), I get into this moral headspace where I think, okay, maybe others have to lie to get ahead. But if, because of my unique set of circumstances, I don’t have to lie to get head, isn’t it my duty not to?

I actually think I wrote a paper about that in law school. Maybe I’ll try to dig that up and we what I had to say.

But now I’m wondering if I’m just making things worse by being so vocally honest. Giving ammo to judgmental people who will hold what I say against people who are not as fortunate as I am.

You’ve also spoken about how you’ve become less of an advocate and I wonder if this sort of thing factors in to that decision.

Yeah for me, it's about developing a greater sense of tactics.

Most people are not persuaded by data or objective information. Most people do not have coherent or consistent political ideologies, either (see Phillip Converse's groundbreaking work on nonattitudes -- most people, when asked about a political topic, will just make up an opinion on the spot based on what they've heard most recently, and that opinion will not remain consistent). There's a robust research literature attesting to this. I abandoned the field of political psychology because the research on fostering attitude change and open-mindedness is so dismal.

Instead, what most people find the most compelling is a combination of emotional appeals, social pressure, and their own material, economic self-interest.

What this means is that a great many people will not be moved by additional information on a topic, until it becomes economically costly or socially perilous for them not to rethink it, and even then, they might just dig in their heels if they've already incurred losses in order to justify the pain they've been in. It also means that if someone has an ignorant perspective and no desire to change it, well, you talking more isn't going to change their perspective, but they will try to shut you up so that it doesn't change anybody else's.

The liberal perspective on change is a highly individualistic one. Disabled people are supposed to share our stories, victims of sexual assault are supposed to name our abusers, fat people are supposed to just feel more positively about themselves, Black and brown people are supposed to spell out to us white people exactly what we should do to guarantee their liberation, but only in a very gentle tone, and everybody, everywhere, is on the hook for fixing the injustice of their own social position.

This is a perspective on change that employers, governments, and institutions benefit from us believing in, because it keeps us busy showing off our vulnerabilities and behaving as individuals, rather than pooling our power and demanding something better for all of us collectively.

And this individualistic approach is of course is never how change actually happens. The federal government didn't suddenly start unrestricting access to AIDS meds because some individual gays came forward and told very persuasive stories about their battles with the disease. ACT UP activists crowded federal offices and covered politicians' homes in giant condoms and marched AIDS victims' corpses down the street.

Sickle cell anemia did not become a subject of medical research because Black patients individually shared their stories of the disease. The Black Panthers created their own health clinics to test for the disease and educate the public about it, and they also gave out free childcare and food, and the federal government found this so threatening they began taking sickle cell seriously themselves so that more people wouldn't go running to a communist, anti-racist group.

The ADA didn't pass because disabled people made ourselves vulnerable, it passed because we made ourselves strong, clawing our way together up the statehouse steps and blocking traffic with wheelchairs during rush hour.

We've been propagandized by capitalist individualism and representation politics to believe the most empowering thing a marginalized person can do is stand solidly as a single person. But it's not true. In fact, some of the steps we take to broadcast our marginal status and tell our stories makes us more vulnerable in the end.

Many companies now encourage their disabled employees to come out and be proud of their status, for instance. I've given workshops at companies like that. At every single one, I've later heard from Autistic and ADHDer employees that the second they actually identified themselves publicly, it became a target on their back. They were scrutinized, denied accommodations, pushed out of the office, threatened with their boss calling 911 on them, forced to quit.

The real way to make a change happen is through organized, collective power, not through personal vulnerability, individual pride or sharing every last drop of energy that we have educating people who have a vested interest in not understanding our concerns. Winning the hearts and minds of the ones in control is not the answer. We must organize to take control.

I've done all kinds of activism all my life since I was fourteen years old, from phone banking to voter registration drives to jail support to writing my congress people and more, and much of it was a waste of my time. It was designed to waste my time, to convince me that by being a good little boy and playing within the system I would be freed, when really I needed to be joining forces with other people to dismantle it. That's the way forward, that's truly what I believe now.

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4dkellysworld · 2 months

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Hey! I have been reading about ND and loa for a while. Finally decided to apply it but then everything got so confusing. It feels so easy and calm when im reading but when I apply i keep getting triggered or stressed out by 3D stuff. For example: Do I just sit and do nothing and manifest me graduating my dream college?

But then since 3D shows my old state i’m still experiencing failed version. So like i need to think about plans to take care of myself and survive in my 3D. But at the same time, i don’t wanna do that i just wanna revise things and i will be in a different place.

It almost feels like as if I need to be in a two place at the same time. One for taking care of my body in 3D one for staying to true to my desired state. But this kinda feels stressful too. I kept changing my desires based on what I experience in 3D. Plus i can indecisive sometimes. When i ask this question most bloggers says but you’re just an awareness chill, yes cool i get it but let’s be real most of us have needs in 3D. Like basic needs food, place to stay and money etc. I wanna manifest them yk. In easy and simple way. How do I balance everything? How do you do it? I know i am an awareness and this human experience is nothing but still that doesn’t change the fact that im still being human and having needs.

Sorry for a long ask i didn’t think this would be this long. but thanks for helping <333

ND isn't actually a method to manifest, it's not something to be lumped in with LOA. I'll answer this time but I prefer not to answer questions so purely focused on "manifesting" which have nothing to do with ND.

It feels so easy and calm when im reading but when I apply i keep getting triggered or stressed out by 3D stuff. For example: Do I just sit and do nothing and manifest me graduating my dream college?

Because you take it to be real. If you take ego/mind/world to be real, then you can't just do nothing to get what you want. Even loa says that the 3D has nothing to do with reality because it's all a projection of your mind.

But then since 3D shows my old state i’m still experiencing failed version. So like i need to think about plans to take care of myself and survive in my 3D

No, you decided you are experiencing a failed version so then it keeps showing you a failed version, it's not your old state, it's your current state. Who is the 'I' who needs to take care of themselves and survive in the physical reality?

Even Neville Goddard says "The undisciplined mind finds it difficult to assume a state which is denied by the senses." Based on your questions, you don't actually understand ND or LOA. You dont understand the LOA fundamentals which tell you not to place any reality on 3D nor have you detached from ego/body/mind to understand your true self.

How do I balance everything? How do you do it? I know i am an awareness and this human experience is nothing but still that doesn’t change the fact that im still being human and having needs.

No, you read about being awareness and then decided that was your own knowledge but it won't be until you have your own realization of that fundamental truth, as evident by your saying 'I'm still human' - you aren't. This is the danger of just reading endlessly and never going within to understand it for yourself - you take what you read to be your own knowledge but you don't awaken from the dream just from reading. Your true self is beyond intellect and mind.

Know who/what you are and the questions will answer themselves. But to come from a LOA perspective, this post might help you.

The truth is, no matter how much they bark or even bite, the conditions of our physical realities don’t matter in the slightest with regards to the actuality of what we imagine. Our physical realities only become our masters because somewhere along the way we agreed they were. If you’re ever going to truly create the reality you desire, it’s completely necessary to untether and break away from this hypnosis that compels you to believe your physical reality is what’s real, controls you, and has an independent authority over you.

It makes no difference to the Law whether what it produces makes your day or sinks your ship. It’s not a god choosing to withhold or provide. You (your imagination) are the authority here, but if you’re stuck in unwanted cycles and not creating what you desire, then you’ve given that authority over to your physical reality. You’ve made it your god, and under this perspective, anything you imagine can only be a pipe dream or wishful thinking, at best. If we're continually manifesting the unfulfillment of our desires, it's because we've placed authority in a "reality" that shows us they are unfulfilled. Remember, your physical reality has no authority over you; it’s just information. Treat it as such. Giving it any more meaning keeps you stuck to it, and is certain to keep the physical experience your old self created firmly in place. If ongoing unwanted conditions persist in your reality, it’s only because you persist in unwanted states in your mind. Stop allowing them! The old self has to die so the new self can live.

To avoid confusion.. you are not imagination. LOA's 'you' is imaginary, but the true You is neither imagination nor imaginary. I just shared the above excerpts because you're coming from a LOA perspective.

You can also read Realisophie's posts and 4dbarbie's posts here and here. Also read this on why manifesting desires isn't the best way to realize Self.

In the past, no matter how much I would affirm "I have no worries, no doubts - it’s literally impossible for me to have any of that." it made little change because before realizing who I really was. I was still identifying with an ego I thought I had to convince to believe that. To know who you are means you have to convince no one and no thing because the ego doesn't exist, the mind doesn't exist, the doubts you are affirming against are made up (they have no existence outside of you). The only thing that is is Self.

^ Until you actually know this for yourself, manifesting will always be some sort of struggle.

Again this is not a LOA blog so I kindly ask you all not to send any more questions so focused on this, there's plenty of LOA blogs out there you can send these questions to.

#asks

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ficbrish · 6 months

Text

"You were my first."

Rating: Explicit 18+ only!

[AO3 Link]

[Kinktober 2023 prompt thanks to @absurdthirst! October 2nd - Sexual Frustration, Virginity]

[[TW/CW: Cptsd, blood, gore, self-hate, abuse flashback, casual suicide ideation, intense genitalia depiction (imagined), alcohol]]

Summary: Astarion drinks from a person for the first time.

Expansion of the first bite scene in Act 1. The fourth night of their adventure.

[Click here for my other Kinktober one-shots]

Astarion and Vistri trusted each other the least out of everyone else.

They were too much alike, cut from the same cloth and that cloth was absolute bullshit. Something always lurked in their eyes behind carefully crafted smiles. All of their expressions were adornments, masks. Even their movements were costumes. The two of them practically made up their own masquerade ball! Always dancing around flirtatiously, getting under each other's skin, ruffling feathers.

Vistri knew these things, and she refused to let herself trust Astarion because of it.

So why did it feel like a betrayal to find him looming over her bedroll in the dark? Fangs bared, ready to strike. Ready to take. Her heart plummeted before she even had the chance to process what was happening. She opened her eyes and the sight of him dragged her down into a nostalgic pit.

“Shit,” Astarion jumped back the moment she stirred. He’d fucked up, made a bad call, and now Vistri was going to drive a stake through his heart. The glower on her face said it all. He’d been so close to finally tasting a real person, and now he was doomed to die without ever sating his gnawing hunger.

Gods! If she hadn't stopped him...

“The hells!” she raged, shaking off sleep as she stood.

“No, no—It’s not what it looks like, I swear!” he protested, thinking, Surely, this is the end. Vistri was going to kill him. Or one of the others if he put up a good enough fight.

Vistri scowled. The fear in Astarion’s tone and posture was a mirror. His was the exact sort of song and dance she’d put on whenever she herself got caught; when she wasn’t really sorry about anything other than the discovery. It set her heart racing, and made it ache for some reason.

She spoke with a lump in her throat, “Kind of looks like your second murder attempt from where I’m standing.”

“I wasn’t going to hurt you!” Astarion explained defensively, “I just needed—Well, blood.”

“Blood? You needed my blood? Who?—Oh…”

Somewhere between Darkvision greys and the orange glow of dim firelight, Vistri saw Astarion draped in new colors. Those red eyes, pale skin, and silver hair of his were not signs of fealty to Lolth as she'd thought, but the markings of another dark god. One, no doubt, more worrying. The scar on his neck wasn’t the shadow of an arrow or fork, but the echo of another mouth. His sharp teeth were... It’s not that Vistri didn’t have her suspicions, it’s just that she’d pushed those thoughts to the edges of her mind. She’d literally been blinded by the sunlight!

It was the first time Astarion ever admitted this to another person, his condition. He couldn't even say the word ‘vampire’ out loud, but based on the various looks shifting in and out of Vistri’s expressions, he wouldn't have to, she’d gotten there on her own.

She hadn’t reached for a weapon, but that was subject to change. Astarion swallowed, her pounding pulse as real in his senses as the smell of hot food wafting through a warm breeze. He watched her observe the hunger as it consumed him, drove him mad. His body shook with the signs.

“I can’t believe I didn’t see it…” she muttered, “We even found the boar you snacked on!”

She’d only chosen to go to sleep that night because Astarion had been acting so… so pissy! He'd been equal parts dismissive and condescending that evening whenever they spoke. Vistri thought he didn’t like her much before, but he’d been acting as if he truly hated her—It grated on her nerves! Trance wouldn’t do when its semiconsciousness still left her with a vague awareness of his presence. She needed to get away, and to get away, she slept. Ironic then, how her awareness of him was what roused her now. Gods, she couldn’t get away even when she tried to!

She slapped her forehead, “The pig! Gods I was wondering why you were being such a bitch about the pig!”

Astarion was literally taken aback, “A bitch?—I was not!”

“You just now tried to steal my blood!” she scoffed, “And yes, you have been! All day and evening long!”

“Now, now. Let’s not wake the others.”

Vistri crossed her arms, frowning.

“It’s not what you think—” he said defensively, “I’m not some monster!”

Whether true or not, she could tell he didn’t really believe his own words. Reality was, part of him did and part of him didn’t, and both parts rejected the other. For some reason, it was important to him now that she didn’t believe he was... one of those. For once, Astarion had revealed his dirty secret, and needed Vistri not to let that change anything.

“I feed on animals! Boars, deer, kobolds—” he continued, “Whatever I can get.”

“The latest I recall; I am not a boar or a deer or a kobold.”

Astarion rolled his eyes in desperate frustration, “Yes, exactly! You’re not whatever I can get. You’re what I crave to sink my teeth into!”

Vistri’s breath tripped over her heartbeat and got caught up in its frantic patter.

That wasn’t an unwelcome thought, but… It’s just that he didn’t ask first! It pushed Astarion over into the “unsafe people” category, and she wasn’t allowed to like those people. Shadowheart was right, and Vistri hated him for it as much as she did for finding him ready to prey on her unconscious form.

There was just no going back from that.

“You were looking at me funny last night,” she mused, “This is why you were looking at me like that, wasn’t it?”

He nodded, not breathing.

“Wanted a nibble, did you?” she teased unkindly, holding her fear all the way down in her toes, so as not to risk it slipping into her voice.

“I’m just too slow right now,” he explained with puppy eyes, “Too weak.”

“I’ll say.”

Well, Vistri wasn’t killing him, and now she was starting to act like her usual unserious self. Astarion knew he should really stop there. He was lucky enough to just get where he was now, with her not immediately staking him.

But…

Astarion carefully considered how to phrase his proposal, “If I just had a little blood… I could think clearer. Fight better. Please."

He reminded Vistri of sobering drunks shouting out to bartenders after the pubs had closed. But it was also an ask of her. One that centered on her willingness to give herself away and made her the most important person in his world at that moment. Vistri had an easy answer for those types of inquiries.

She could see the ravenous curse glaring in his eyes. Astarion was all need, and yet he gave her the chance to decide. To be taken, or not?

And what would that be like? If she let him take her? If she just laid back and craned her neck?

No!

Absolutely not! No!

She shut her eyes to think for a moment, almost wishing Shadowheart would stir. Where’s a cleric when you need one most? She could help her say no. Or rather, wouldn’t let Vistri say yes—But she’d be absolutely insufferable about it the whole time!

Vistri fell into Astarion’s eyes the moment she opened hers.

“Gods be damned,” she whined.

“What?”

“Shhhsh! Let me think!”

Astarion’s mind was so consumed by the sight of her throat that he couldn’t come up with a retort. He just swallowed and stared longingly at her.

Gods, he was going to eat her up!

Vistri knew she was already lost, but she still had to fight it. As a last resort, she turned to the tadpoles. Even if she was doomed to give in, she could at least see the moment for what it was. She always considered pushing into someone else’s mind without permission a gross transgression, but if Astarion was willing to take without asking, then the truth was more important than his trust or comfort.

It was as simple as giving in. Vistri reached out to both their tadpoles, blending their minds so she could read his. The door she created only opened one way though. She imagined her mind as an impenetrable abyss. Nothing could breach it. Vistri would peer inside his consciousness without showing him any of her own. She pictured Astarion's mind as a sea, its waters ready to be parted, and dove in.

And as she stole information, memory, the tadpole enacted its own violation, nestling further into her flesh. It touched parts nothing should ever touch and ate things she couldn’t afford to lose. But what would that matter after tonight? Or at the end of their seven days?

“I—What’s this? What’s happening?”

Vistri forced herself to ignore the helplessness in his voice; hold tight onto her regret and push it down. There was no turning back. It already cost too much to catch the faintest glimpse.

She found the most monstrous things inside his head, but Astarion wasn’t the horror. His memories were cracked and quivering, living right at the forefront of his mind. Vistri travelled along their strings and found a hand wrapped around them in the form of dark eyes, commanding him. Feed.

Feed on the rat.

The memory was shame, and it twisted his face. Astarion grimaced as if stabbed, and Vistri hated herself in a way she never had before.

More than a command, that sinister voice was like another brain willing one's body to move. Vistri could feel Astarion's teeth, her teeth, sinking into a struggling rat, body twisting as it shrieked. She choked on the feeling of its fur on her own tongue, as viscerally as if it sat there now. She felt its bones break under her bite. Pangs of disgust and unmet need mixed up together into a particular form of sickness. Astarion was starving, and her rising empathy fueled her rage rather than quelled it. The gnaw at his core was a nightmare Vistri would never forget.

“You ate animals because you were forced to,” she spat bitterly, “Not because you wanted to.”

“I—Yes,” there was no point in denying it after all she’d seen, “Yes, I ate whatever disgusting vermin my master picked.”

Astarion spoke with a wave of vengeful revulsion, his glare and tone defensive wounds that made her stomach hurt to witness. Vistri felt like she wanted to bite someone almost as much as he did. Having nowhere to put it made her restless. So she shook her hands to rid them of magical impulses, a nervous habit of hers, “Fuck!”

“Once again, if we could lower our voices.”

“That’s horrible, Astarion!”

What sort of cruel joke was she playing at? Vistri looked sincere enough, Astarion would give her that, but why on Toril would she care? His brows knotted suspiciously.

He seemed a little confused, but Vistri thought that was understandable. Maybe he didn’t know it was horrible and was hearing it out loud for the first time. She’d been there before herself.

“Believe me, I’m well-acquainted with how horrible it all was.”

Vistri froze. Astarion couldn’t be reading her mind, could he? She pulled out her go-to check for such a spell and conjured a graphic image in her mind’s eye. In as much detail as she could manage, Vistri pictured the biggest, bulgiest, veiniest, drippiest penis she could think of. Nothing pretty about it, just vaguely unsettling and truly shocking. As she held that image, she squinted at Astarion and picked apart every aspect of his expression.

She found only sadness there. Invisible bruises, hit again and again, covered his face once she knew to look for them. There was no hint indicating he shared her conjured horror; only an agonized recollection. It didn’t just absolve him, it made Vistri feel quite terrible for thinking of a horrible penis just then.

And if he was really reading her mind… Well… I’m so sorry.

Without acknowledging her mental apology, Astarion spoke again, “So you can see why I’m slow to trust you.”

Especially if she was going to keep poking around his mind without asking. Astarion had been so ready to be rid of her just to hide the whole vampire thing, and now both that and Cazador were out of the bag in the space of one mistake. His own memories played through her head, and for some reason he couldn’t touch hers at all.

“But I do trust you,” he lied, “And you can trust me.”

Vistri paused, gathered herself, and met his deception with one of her own, “I do. I believe you.”

The grins on their faces hissed like snakes. Neither called it out, willingly entering a folie à deux. Both were desperate to believe the lies they told, each other's and their own. In a fucked up way only the two of them could manage, it turned into its own type of trust. It wasn’t real, but it was there.

For as long as they both agreed on its existence.

“Thank you,” Astarion sounded genuine and even tipped his head.

Vistri nodded back, you’re welcome.

But Astarion wasn’t done yet. The ache still rumbled through him, making his mouth water.

“Do you think you could trust me just a little further?” he asked carefully with a flourish of his hand.

Vistri raised her brows.

“I only need a taste,” he cajoled, “I swear.”

The pounding in her ears started up again. He offered a thrill she’d never tried before. A vampire. People usually didn’t come back from one of those bites, did they? It was never only just a taste, was it?

“Fine. But not a drop more than you need,” she agreed despite her best intentions.

Astarion sounded a bit shocked, “Really? I—Of course.”

The fact that even he was surprised Vistri said yes was a red flag she was fully aware of. She was very aware. If magic whispered under her skin, self-destructive impulses shouted through it.

“Not one drop more,” he promised, elation breaking through his measured voice. He still couldn’t believe she said yes; that it had been that easy. No one had ever known him for what he was and offered themselves anyway. Maybe he didn’t have to get rid of her after all.

Maybe he didn’t want to.

For Vistri, it was the ultimate moment of truth. She was either someone important enough to spare, or this would be her final night. Astarion would either take only as much as she gave, or use her up completely. It was a true test of value; who they were to each other, and who they were as people.

“Let’s make ourselves comfortable, shall we?” Astarion offered smoothly, inviting her back to her bedroll with a gesture. If she came to him willing, there was no reason the moment couldn't be a nice one for the both of them. He had no idea what he was doing and found a certain comfort in the familiar role of hospitality.

Vistri glared at him, reading his genuine attempt at kindness as a sort of gloating insincerity. She mumbled as she settled down, “Could have started out this way if you weren’t such a bitch about that boar.”

“I was not!—You’re ruining the atmosphere now, darling.”

“Atmosphere? We’re in the dirt trying not to wake our companions who are also in the dirt.”

Astarion raised a brow, more amused at her antics than vexed, “Bit more premium than the mud, at least. Now lie back.”

They were going to try this again, with her permission this time. Vistri laid back in her bedroll fully prepared for death. She knew her worth and was ready to surrender to it.

Dirt.

Vistri was dirt. Whatever was about to happen would validate that, and it excited her enough to feel something as much as it choked her.

“I’ll haunt you,” she said.

“What?”

“If you kill me. I’ll haunt you.”

“Right.”

As Astarion crawled over Vistri, all he could think was, finally. The pulse in her throat called to him, reaching towards his like a siren diva. A completely brand-new ecstasy was his to savor, and he kept waiting for someone to snatch it away before he could have a taste. Like always.

Still, he waited. Unwilling to cross a line that would make him lose his prize. He let out a low groan, almost a growl, in anticipation of her signal.

Vistri tried to blink away the warmth that spread over her as he hovered above her. It wouldn’t go away.

She gave up and closed her eyes, making a silent bet with herself, “Go on.”

Astarion lunged forward and pierced her neck so fast it was like the punctuation to her sentence.

Vistri anticipated teeth, not mouth. Turns out his fangs were only there for puncture. The rest of it was all lips and tongue and throat. She knew there would be pain, but it was quick and sharp before throbbing into numbness. It was a strange sensation, but not overall unpleasant.

Their life forces seemed to merge at his bite. He flowed into her and through her as he took, like two rivers meeting at a frothing current. Vistri's breath would be rough and laborious if she wasn’t working so intently to be still and quiet.

Good, little prey.

Her heart beat out such a rapid, panicked tune; fighting helplessly in her chest as she gave herself to him with nothing less than a death wish. Astarion longed painfully for a moment like this for two terrible centuries, and it was so much better than he ever dared to dream. Her dragon blood was cool on his tongue, like frosted cream. The silver scales on her face had piqued his curiosity, he’d wondered before how she tasted. Now he was blessed with the knowledge, he was lost in it. Astarion didn’t exist anymore. Just the need.

He swallowed her down.

Vistri began to think that maybe she should probably stop him.

Probably.

Or she could let him continue. Give in entirely until she was all gone…

Astarion never wanted to stop. All performance was cast aside, abandoned with no grace. The only thing left in control was his cursed nature. His tongue eagerly lapped up the blood against her neck with no sign of stopping.

She let him do as he pleased. Wanted to disappear between his lips. Vistri couldn’t tell if there was something narcotic in his bite, or if that was just…

Gods, please don’t let that just be him. She felt her knees shiver, and almost let Astarion have his way.

Then another thought suddenly shouted above all the others. Maybe he couldn’t control himself. He’d said he trusted her, and if that wasn’t a lie, then perhaps he meant for her to stop him before he lost them both.

“That’s enough,” she reluctantly sighed.

Her voice reached Astarion through the dreamy fog.

“Mhh?” he moaned, yes?

He was still lapping her up as he answered, and his question broke over her skin. Vistri twitched and he mistook it for pain.

Excusing himself, he tore away from the bliss of her neck with a courteous, “Oh, of course.”

A chill came over her as his body left hers. The continued pounding of Vistri's heart grounded her in the reality that she was still alive. She’d survived Astarion's favor. Pressing her hand against the wound to stop the bleeding, she felt a sort of glee wash over her.

Standing across from each other, their chests rose and fell. Wanting more.

“That—” his words faltered, overcome by a mixture of ecstatic satisfaction and lingering bloodlust.

Vistri’s stomach flipped. Renewed vigor was palpable in his very energy, and a genuine smile spread over his gloomy face.

“That was…”

She watched him appreciatively smell the mess left on his lips. Then again delight in her taste, sucking his fingers clean of all remnants, one by one.

“Amazing.”

He wore an even wider smile. Everything Vistri was swirled inside her like strong wind.

“My mind is finally clear,” he continued, “I feel strong. I feel…" He took a deep, smiling breath, "Happy!”

That was the first time Vistri ever saw Astarion take such a complete deep breath. She learned that his shoulders sat naturally lower than she previously thought.

And this was her effect on him. Her blood in his veins.

Something about that made her want to taste him right back.

But she refused to give that urge any attention, and spoke to shake it off, “I’m looking forward to seeing you fight.”

He was grateful to her for rooting the moment in something they could actually discuss. Even if he wanted to share every detail that went into the descriptor of amazing, Astarion wasn’t sure he could put into words what this meant to him.

“Shouldn’t take long,” he smirked, “So many people need killing.”

And Vistri wasn’t one of them.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” he bowed, “You’re invigorating, but I need something more filling.”

It was true, Astarion was plagued with a lingering hunger, having abided by the bounds of Vistri's consent and stopping before he was satisfied. But what really set his feet jittering was the real weight of all these brand-new feelings. No wonder Cazador kept his spawn apart from thinking prey. Even a little taste of all that life brought back so much of what he’d stolen.

“Wait!” Vistri called out as he turned to strut away into the forest.

They bumped into each other as he twirled back around.

“Sorry,” they both said.

Astarion stepped back. She didn’t.

“Um,” she gestured at her face, “You have…”

He could feel her breasts brushing against his chest, and blinked as if that would help him to ignore it.

“What?” he asked quite shortly.

With an unsure gesture, Vistri reached up to his mouth. Even though she went slowly, questioningly, it was faster than explaining. At least in her current, near-speechless state. She asked with her eyes if she could get closer, and he answered with his own to inch closer, even though they were narrowed and suspicious.

Astarion jumped slightly at her touch but allowed Vistri to wipe her finger along the corner of his grin.

“Little bit of blood,” she murmured, and cleared her throat.

She held up her smeared finger in demonstration, and Astarion had to stop himself from grabbing it and licking it clean.

“Oh,” he said, “My, my! I have made a mess, haven’t I?”

Vistri didn’t know what to say, so she mirrored his smirk. But she didn’t want to just stand there smiling like someone thick, so she rushed herself to say something clever. Which came out thick, “Nothing that takes more than a little wipe.”

He had no idea what she was talking about and just needed to leave, “Right. Well—”

She was standing so close. He could still sense her pulse, smell the blood clotting on her neck. The demons inside him were screaming to tear her apart. Astarion had to get away, but he was held in place.

Vistri was looking at him with such a mix of emotion that it made her a riddle.

Why didn’t she stake him? Why did she let him sup? Trust him at the risk of her life?

Astarion’s eyes travelled from her neck to her lips. Now that he’d had a taste of her throat, he found himself desperately curious about all her other parts.

His stare made Vistri tremble even more than she had in the gods’ damned mind flayer pod! Which was ridiculous! She’d long ago sworn off aristocratic types. The fourth night into an illithid transformation was not the right time to fall of that wagon!

“Off you go!” she playfully pushed Astarion towards the trees, needing him out of sight. She'd normally leave herself, but had nowhere else to go besides her bedroll a few paces from where they now stood.

He obliged, but suddenly turned once more to thank her. Which crashed them into each other again.

This time, they both took a big leap back. Instead of apologizing, they shared a brief look and let out a pressure value-laugh.

Astarion became serious for a moment. His voice sounded softer and stronger than she knew it could be.

“This is a gift, you know. I won’t forget it.”

If she answered with more sincerity, they'd both choke.

“Wouldn’t dare let you,” she smirked.

He returned it, then left Vistri alone to nurse her aching neck.

She could still feel his mouth on her skin, and her breathing hadn’t yet stilled. Shit. Now that Astarion was out of sight, she felt her bones calling him back. Vistri shut her eyes tight, willing the wanting to go away.

If it was kind, it would just go away.

There was something bittersweet about how the raw power Astarion now harnessed depended on Vistri’s kindness. A proper hunt would surely be more satisfying. The woods were full of treasure, but they felt empty. So many bodies slumbered in the shadows, but the one he truly sought was in the other direction.

It didn’t matter that she was the first person he ever drank from and had nothing to compare her to. Perhaps it was instinct, but he already knew that nothing else out there could match the fine, exquisite vintage that was her.

Astarion explained it away as just the dragon blood. It wasn’t tied to that drow at all.

It couldn’t be.

v---v v---v v---v v---v v---v

Big moment, that following morning was. Pleasantly enough, none of the others tried to drive a stake through Astarion’s heart upon learning his true nature. Nor did Vistri suddenly change her mind and call for a mob. She even stood up for him. Showed a suspicious amount of understanding.

But that’s how she’d always survived.

A bit of kindness tinged with charm, and lying back, goes a long way.

Astarion seemed the happiest that Vistri had ever seen him. Although, to be fair, they’d journeyed together less than a tenday, and not under the most pleasant circumstances. She’d seen him smile, but not like that. Not like the way he’d been smiling since—

His lips on her neck…

“Augh!” Vistri exclaimed, walking unannounced into Shadowheart’s tent, “I feel like a ripe pile of shit!”

“Were you raised in a barn?!” Shadowheart cried, startled and put out by her new friend’s sudden appearance.

“No, the Underdark—But that’s not important right now,” Vistri answered, too obsessed at the moment to exchange a bit of back and forth, “We don’t have time for an ethics debate.”

“An ethics debate? You just barged into my tent!”

“Because I needed to talk to you!” she explained, as if that answered everything sufficiently.

“I swear, if you hadn’t saved my life…”

“I know, I know! I’m insufferable. Do you have wine?”

“It is just passed sunrise.”

“Yes, and I’m very thirsty.”

Somehow, Shadowheart’s exasperated refusal to indulge her self-destructive habits prompted Vistri to spill everything. How she never felt anything.

How much she felt last night.

“You like the vampire?”

Vistri looked as if Shadow had just spat in her face, and protested, “I do not!”

While she had her crisis at Shadowheart, Astarion was literally skipping through the woods. He couldn’t remember a day where he felt better than he did this morning. With her blood flowing through him, giving back life.

Was this what it felt like to be Vistri? he found himself musing, watching the dapple of shadows dance across his hands as the sunlight trickled through the trees.

Which was a very ironic conclusion for him to draw, considering that she was just now sobbing wildly on Shadowheart’s awkward shoulder.

But Vistri never let him inside her mind despite pushing into his, not after that first initial taste; when they met on the ground in his arms, while his blade pressed into her. Too much was happening then for Astarion to really notice anything, and he only felt a hint of someone else before she instinctually shut her mind off from his. They’d shared a memory, but it was like the directions of a play read aloud, not the feelings of an actor emoted through their eyes.

It piqued his curiosity now that he spent a little time in her company. Had a taste of her.

And like a cat discovering a closed door, he was suddenly possessed by the need to pry it open.

Turns out, things were working out for Astarion better than he could have ever imagined. He could get used to his luck turning around like this. Not only did the rest of his companions accept that he was a vampire without much complaint, Vistri offered to let him feed again.

Before he accepted, it was important for Astarion to make clear that nothing would ever happen again without her say so. He could be better than Cazador ever was—wanted to be better.

“I shall wait patiently until you suggest we… dine together.”

Vistri could feel heat rising in her face. Cheesy little comments of his like that previously grated on her nerves, and now she wanted to giggle.

What the fuck was wrong with her? Did she really want him? Could she really… imagine that as a possibility?

“But until then: No more late-night surprises, you have my word on that,” he promised. Rather sincerely, actually.

It was probably due to some vampiric thrall she must be under, but Vistri decided to trust his words. Every night could be its own test, and a sick part of her hoped he’d break his vow. That he’d prove it was all good to be true; show her who she really was. Prove that neither of them were worth it.

“Thank you,” she said, biting her lip, “And if you don’t mind, I have a vow of my own to exchange.”

“Oh?”

“Pushing into your mind… I wasn’t sure if you were going to kill me, but in finding out, I also… That was for you to save or tell. Not for me to find out. Not like that. I swear I’ll never do it again. Not without asking first.”

Astarion looked a bit devastated; shook it off with a smirk, and then said, “We’re even.”

Vistri was taken aback, “Even?”

“I've only tried to stab you when we first met, and bite you while you’ve slept. A little wriggling around with my mind worm… Well, you’re not better than me after all! In fact, you’re just like me.”

She smiled and looked at her feet, “I wouldn’t go as far as that.”

Even the teasing mention of closeness was too much for Vistri to endure, and she hated him for it.

So of course she didn’t want to appear too eager! She waited a whole other day before proposing another late-night snack. Astarion took it to be a reward for his good behavior; not coming back for seconds before he was asked.

The anticipation ate at them even worse after they agreed it would happen that night, and it itched at them all day. Unfortunately, Astarion was a bit of a stress-eater, and quite literally bit off more than he could chew with a large bear that evening before they met up. Draining it just barely replaced what he'd lost, which left him punch drunk and dizzy from his own bloodlessness. Their fun was put off for another night.

Much to the vexation of both.

He didn’t want to wake her that second time, not because he didn’t want her to be present, but because he was doing his best not to be an inconvenience. Vistri wasn’t offended either; he was so obviously sure he was doing her a favor. Oh, but she wanted to be awake for it! Not asleep, not in trance, but there feeling his—

Shit. Bad thoughts! No, no, no.

It was nothing. He meant nothing. She was nothing but a source of sustenance. Vistri had a purpose, and that was that.

She was food.

But then… So was that bandit earlier. Now he was food. Astarion drunk him dry with little grace. Ripped his screaming throat from out of his neck, and the spray went everywhere! Tonight he would gently creep up to her in the dark, at her behest, and take only a little while trying his best not to cause her to stir. It was quite the contrast.

That bandit was a meal. Vistri was a treat.

Then what was this even all for?

Vistri shooed away her curiosity before it meant she had to answer that question herself.

Waiting impatiently in her bedroll, eyes shut tight, Vistri could feel her heart pounding as if it was berating her for their present circumstances.

Oh, hush! she thought, arguing back.

This wasn’t her best performance, pretending to be in the midst of trance as she was. Her focus was elsewhere, searching for his presence through her pores. Her mind froze when Astarion finally began to approach. Even without seeing, she knew he was there; could feel his proximity before he touched her. The very air changed around him, like a storm cloud. Her senses filled with something herbal and sweet, then brandy and heat as his chest crept over hers.

She held her breath, even though deep breathing was the telltale sign of trance. Vistri thought he caught her, sensing him pause for a moment. Then she reasoned she was probably making that up.

But she didn’t. He did pause. Not because he noticed she wasn’t breathing, but because he still wasn’t quite sure this was all really happening. Not just some mad trick of the tadpole.

He swallowed and let himself lean carefully down, until his body pressed into hers. He could feel her heart beating frantically, but in his distraction, it didn’t give her away. Astarion just took it as a sign she was alive. That this really was all real.

His lips met her neck before his fangs. Vistri held back a shiver, taking a deep breath against it. She stifled a moan as one hummed quietly in Astarion’s throat. She could feel it vibrate on hers, neck to neck. Feel her life and power flow into him and through him. Power. Pleasure.

It was palpable.

Astarion’s tongue moved against her skin, swallowing her.

She even lost herself for a moment. As her mind flew blissfully away, her fingers, those sluts, found their way up into his curls.

Her hands grasped the sides of his head. Vistri wasn’t trying to push him away, she just needed to brace herself against the loss of gravity. Astarion didn’t even notice at first. It just felt like part of the whole thing. It was her sudden movement as she jerked them back that brought his attention to her wakefulness.

“Are you not in your trance?” he asked in the crook of her neck.

“No,” she answered with her eyes still closed, “Do you want me to be?”

She was truly the most curious thing to him. Was she pretending to be in a trance to please him? While allowing him to drink from her? Who does that? Astarion smirked, shaking his head, “I thought you’d prefer…”

Vistri opened her eyes and looked into his. She’d been warned her whole life about elves with red eyes.

“No, I—” she blushed, “I mean, it’s quite fun. Is it not?”

“It is?”

Curiouser and curiouser.

She nodded.

“Well, that’s nice to hear.”

“Do you want to-?” Vistri gestured to her neck.

“Right, yes,” Astarion said, clearing his throat. Regaining his cool, he slyly suggested, “Why don’t you crawl into my lap?”

Vistri couldn’t breathe.

Her non-answer was a glorious victory. Astarion could tell he had an effect, a sway over her somehow. He tilted his head back, smiling with confidence, “You do want it, don’t you?”

Lightheaded, Vistri gave in and sat across his knees. Grinning, Astarion grabbed her up into his arms and dipped her dramatically with a slight growl. Vistri giggled, too loudly, and he cupped a hand over her mouth.

He shushed her, “Be still now.”

First, he brought his lips back to her throat. Then his tongue. Then his fangs.

A moan escaped Vistri this time. One, warm hand cradled the back of her neck as he drank from the front of it.

He promised it would be just a taste, and it was just a taste. She didn’t even have to hold him back this time. Astarion stopped on his own accord, before she was ever in any real danger.

When she opened her eyes, Astarion had stars in his. Just a little bit of her, and he was an entirely new person.

Self-satisfied, Vistri grinned, “You’re welcome.”

Sitting up, her head swayed forward like a drunkard and almost smashed into his skull.

“Oh, there you go,” he muttered, steadying her.

Vistri looked up at him, her face so close to his. “I’m okay,” she answered before he could ask.

“Don’t try to get up just yet. You’ll take another tumble, and who knows if I’m feeling generous enough to catch you again.”

“Bastard,” she laughed weakly.

Vistri could smell her blood on his breath. She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes so the only thing in existence was the scent lingering between them. She couldn’t imagine liking this so much with anyone el—She shot up so fast, suddenly standing to escape those thoughts.

“Careful!”

Astarion must have been feeling generous because he caught her a second time.

“Oops,” she said, embarrassed.

“You ought to take better care of yourself, darling. I’m invested now.” Funny thing, that wasn't even a lie. He'd never met someone like her before.

Vistri met his grin with performative suspicion, “How heartening.”

Astarion's eyes followed the words as they bounced off her lips. He smiled realizing they were perfectly painted instead of washed clean.

She either swayed or leaned closer. Even Vistri couldn't tell if it was blood loss or an intentional inching of her feet.

“You look a bit peaked,” Astarion said nervously.

“Yes,” Vistri sighed, standing so near, “Off to bed I go.”

Even the air between them pounded. They stayed very still. His breath turned into her breath.

Then Astarion broke the spell, stepping back with narrowed eyes, “Sweet dreams, then.”

“Sweet dreams.”

But there were no dreams.

Just forbidden thoughts that ran endlessly through their minds, until even their muscles ached.

[Click here for my other Kinktober one-shots]

#vistarion #kinktober 2023 #absurdthirst kinktober list #prompt fill #vistri #astarion #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #full fic #astarion x tav #tav x astarion #you were my first fic #BrishFics #angst #smut #lime

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