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sttoru · 9 months

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THE MORNING AFTER

༄ sypnosis. you wake up to your husband cooking breakfast, though it’s quickly left burning when your hubby decides to give you some ‘morning affection’.

༄ note. my first ever fic on this new account :< i forgot how to write after a while of not writing so bear with me, please.

༄ tags. husband!toji x wife!reader. female reader. very suggestive/nsfw i guess but no real action?. use of nicknames such as pretty, doll.

it was a peaceful saturday morning and the sun streamed through the curtains, casting a gentle glow across your bedroom. you instantly notice the delicious aroma of breakfast in the air once you fully regained your consciousness.

“toji?” your husband’s name is always the first thing that leaves your lips in the early mornings and the last thing you utter before you go to bed.

sometimes his voice greets you back, at other times the deafening silence does instead. you turn your head towards his side of the bed and—as expected—the space was empty.

“ugh,” a groan escapes your lips as you reluctantly stand up to find out where the smell came from. realising that you were still pretty much naked from the night before, you lazily decide to just wrap a blanket around your body.

you follow the enticing smell that lingered throughout your entire apartment which was at its strongest once you arrived at the kitchen. to your great surprise, you find your husband standing by the stove, cooking breakfast.

toji was in only his boxers which left the rest of his body exposed to your view. his back was facing you, giving you a proper look at the multiple red scratch marks on his skin.

probably from the previous night.

“god.. damn.” the words slipped out of your mouth before you even realised. how could they not, when you’ve been greeted with such a mouth-watering view in the kitchen—excluding the actual food toji’s been cooking.

a low and almost groggy chuckle escaped your husband’s throat at your choice of words this morning.

toji didn’t turn around to face you, yet you knew him well enough to guess the expression he had; a smug one. one that beamed of confidence and cockiness.

“mornin’.” the dark haired man eventually spoke, flipping the gold brown pancake on the other side before turning around to greet you.

toji’s eyes immediately wandered all over your body. even though the blanket hid most of your skin, it most definitely did accentuate your figure.

“my eyes are up here, toji.” you chuckle softly, though that cheeky comment only gained a small knowing ‘mhm,’ from your husband. toji didn’t avert his eyes once. he was shameless; that much even he can admit.

“c’mere, pretty.” toji murmurs, his voice almost a low purr as he reaches out for you.

your husband wasted absolutely no time into putting his hands on your waist. he pressed his body against yours while placing his lips on the bare skin of your shoulders.

“look at you,” toji coos as his calloused hands rub up and down your sides ever so gently, “you’re even more irresistible when you’re all sleepy-eyed like this.”

these types of mornings were rare since toji usually leaves early to take care of another job. not that you were complaining about this— it was better than to wake up in an empty home where your only company was yourself.

“oh stop it, honey. i always look awful in the morning.”

that got you a gentle flick against your forehead. “tsk tsk, don’t ya say that about my favourite girl.” toji scolds you playfully while leaving soft kisses all over your shoulder.

toji could never get enough of this and he never wants to. your smell, your presence, your warmth, your body— you were made to be held like this. to be held and loved by him.

his emerald green eyes look down at the top of your head. even without seeing your face (since you never miss upon the opportunity of burying it against his chest whenever you hug), toji could tell that you were smiling.

“look at me, doll.” toji’s voice was hushed as he spoke.

you did as told and lifted your head up, looking up into toji’s eyes. his hand immediately found its way onto your cheek and his thumb gently rubbed over the skin.

“good girl.”

toji leaned in to press a deep kiss on your parted lips. it was a quick yet firm one— one that left you craving for more. your husband has always had that effect on you.

the two of you slightly pull back, however you were still close enough to feel your lips brush against one another with each small movement.

“c’mon. give me one more.” toji mutters under his breath. you hadn’t even had the chance to react to that request before you felt his lips crash against yours again.

his hands slowly moved across the blanket you had wrapped around your body, trying to find any gaps in the fabric to make their way beneath it.

“mm, cold.” you mumble against toji’s lips once his hands successfully found a way underneath the blanket.

toji only smirked in response and let his rough hands explore every inch of exposed skin he could touch beneath the barrier of fabric. his fingers teased you all over; going from slightly brushing against the swell of your breasts to playing with the plump flesh of your ass.

toji didn’t touch any of your sensitive spots. after all, he loves teasing you to the point that you beg him for it with that pretty voice of yours.

you swallow your own saliva, slightly pulling back from his lips with a flustered expression on your face. “h- honey,” any further words were interrupted by a quiet “shh,” from him.

“no need for words,” toji whispers against your lips before moving them away to leave small and ticklish kisses against your neck, “just focus on me, yeah?”

you could feel his tongue glide against a small spot on your skin before toji sucked on it slightly. he could feel you shiver in his arms from the feeling and that’s exactly the reaction he needed.

before your brain could register it, your husband picked you up effortlessly and placed you on the kitchen counter. he stood between your legs and his hands moved to hold onto your bare thighs.

toji pulled back a bit just to be able to see you sit there in front of him, caged between him and the kitchen wall. the way you bit your lip ever so slightly and the way the thin blanket barely covered anything of your body anymore—

god, you knew just how to drive him absolutely wild and he loved it.

“you knew damn well this’d happen,” toji whispers in a low tone. his sultry voice sent a shiver down your spine, “walkin’ in here with only a blanket covering your body, huh?”

a deep grunt left toji’s throat once he felt your fingertips run over the scratch marks on his back that you had left the night before. it was like you were silently teasing him as well.

toji let his lips wander all over the skin of your neck before going back to kiss your soft lips once again. this time he let his tongue mingle with yours, letting your salivas mix.

this went on for quite a while before your husband finally pulled back to catch his breath. your lips were covered in his saliva, causing them to glimmer underneath the sunlight seeping into the kitchen.

the sight was one that could get any man hard and your husband was no exception. you could see it in his half-lidded eyes; the obvious lust and desire.

it was also then that you snapped back to reality. the smell of something burning filled your nostrils. you cock your head to the right and see the pancakes burning on the pan.

“ah, crap.” you curse and try to reach out for the knobs to turn the stove off.

toji’s fingers quickly wrapped around your wrist and restrained you from doing so. he guided your hand back to its place on his shoulder.

“told ya to focus on me, doll.”

you look at the burnt pancake and then back to your husband, “b-but.. the food.”

toji chuckles at your innocent remark. in his opinion, that should be the last of your worries at the moment.

“that ain’t stoppin’ me from getting my breakfast,” he replies while he squeezes the flesh of your thighs gently with both hands,

“now. spread your legs f’me.”

#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader #toji x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #toji smut #toji x you

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byooregard · 14 days

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x men tumblr dashboard simulator

bluebabadee

THIS BLOG IS A SAFE SPACE FOR NON-HUMAN PASSING MUTANTS. HUMAN PASSING MUTANTS DNI

10 notes 📌Pinned Post

sparklejays Follow

based on your likes!

every time I see a human talking about "how cool it would be to have superpowers" or some shit like that I loose it a little bit more. do these people realize that being a mutant isn't just fun powers. like even beyond the shit I deal with trying to get jobs or all the relationships that have been ruined once people realized I'm a mutant. abilities aren't just fun and games, I have a friend who can't touch people without nearly killing them, I burned down three buildings before someone finally taught me to control my abilities, and these people are all like "wouldn't it be great to fly to work every day??" just admit that you see us as comic book characters and not real people with real struggles

#actually mutant #jay .txt

276 notes

scamperpamperblog reblogged spocktism

🏙️tilleys-brain Follow

self diagnosing is great and all but most of you people aren't telepaths, you're just hyperempathic

#actually mutant #actually telepathic #hyperempathy #crosstagging i know but some of yall need to see this #tilley speaks #it can be dangerous to go around acting like you know peopels actual thoughts when its just your brain

1,657 notes

oh-you-pretty-things

#vent post #sometimes I get really mad at magneto #like I think he's done a lot for mutant rights and stuff #but I'm so fucking tired of everyone assuming that I'm evil just because of my powers #like jesus not all of us are trying to start atomic wars #some metallokinetics just use their abilities to make cool sculptures #but I can't get a spoon from across the room in front of strangers without someone mentioning jfk

3 notes

mutantbuffy reblogged muntantpollscentral

🩻mutantpollscentral

*physical mutation meaning something that is ALWAYS physical, not just something you can turn off and on whenever

#ig my mutation IS technically physical its just not visible to people most of the time so i feel weird claiming that #but like i was born with the tattoo marks #the powers didnt come till later tho #so idk which to pick

668 notes

sploimsh reblogged jesterjuleses

🎹pussy-truck-faggot

HEY! shout-out to people with *weird* mutations. Mutations that don't look cool, mutations that are gross, mutations that are dirty, mutations that you can't tell people about because they always cringe. You're just as valid as every other mutant out there. Your powers don't need to be palettable to humans for you to be treated with respect.

#THIS!!! #rb

5,678 notes

rosetvler

god i am so tired of the hypocrisy in this community. the double standards are insane. its okay to have 'scary' powers but the moment someone's abilities are scarier than like, pyrokinesis you're evil and dangerous to be around. 'acceptance' for you people only means nice mutants who've never hurt or scared anyone ever.

rosetvler reblogged rosetvler

non-mutants can reblog this btw

#srb #actually mutant #getting real tired of this

18 notes

katiedidnt reblogged morelikesexmen

🩻magicsteele27 Follow

okay like. i get that were all about acceptance and pride or w/e but no one in this tag has ever had friends irl i swear. if someone asks you not to read their mind you shouldnt. honestly you shouldnt be using telepathy on people at all without their permission. mutant abilities dont disclude you from respecting peoples boundaries

🌌rosetvler Mutuals

i swear to god you people are such hypocrites. its all 'mutant and proud' until someone has a power you dont like. its always about keeping the humans feeling comfortable instead of thinking about how it feels to never use your powers because theyre breaking 'boundaries' that were made up by humans in the first place

🩻magicsteele27 Follow

dude do you hear yourself right now

🎆jade-the-pyromancer Follow

Hey, I like your point op, but maybe you should stop trying to speak over actual telepaths and let them decide how to use their powers themselves???

🩻magicsteele27 Follow

i. i am a telepath.

#duddeeee telepaths are insane #used to be friends with one SO glad i broke that off before it went too bad

15,678 notes

#x men #cleb talky #marvel comics #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #x men movies #x men comics #i dont know what to tag this #i have more of these in my brain

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owliellder · 7 months

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Two's A Crowd

College Bully! Leon Kennedy x fem! Reader

MDNI 18+

(Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5)

Description: College is proving to be a lot harder than you imagined. You cannot fail this math class. So when you've tried everything else, a well-known student is recommended to you by your professor for tutoring lessons, not really leaving you with much of a choice but to work with him.

Warnings: Not proofread, No Use of Y/N, Dub-Con, Unprotected Sex, Bullying, Yelling, Cursing

Tags: College AU, Bully! Leon, Shy! Reader, both are in their early 20's, Leon is Rude AF in the beginning, Loss of Virginity, Oral Sex, Fingering, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Additional Tags to be Added

Author's Note: Forgiveness is requested but not expected. Downhill we go!!

Cross-posted onto AO3

Chapter 3:

Over time, you grew less and less worried with Leon’s nice behavior. Your math grade has gone up significantly, surpassing a low C which is a passing grade, but since the tutor sessions have become much more bearable, you haven’t felt the need to stop going. Besides, you have an A streak to fulfill.

Your friends stayed suspicious about the frat boy’s intentions, however. The way you’d become so unbothered with everything relating to him had them stressed, yet at the end of the day, “no asshole can hold up a facade like that for this long”, as per Sky’s words.

Easygoing is the best way to describe Leon at this point. A gentle soul, from what you can tell. He goes out of his way to hold the door for you, share his food with you whenever he brings it, and he even gets excited with you whenever you get an A on any of your assignments or tests. It makes you happy that you held out for him.

“And that makes sense to you?” Leon was standing next to you, leaned over with both his hands on the table. You were both in the study room, only this time you had finished everything math related. Thanksgiving break had come and gone so everything had shifted towards the finals before Winter break, meaning now you were using the space to go over the study guide for the final given by one of your other professors, though it would’ve been nice to have your math study guide to burn into your brain since it’s your biggest struggle.

“Yeah, this is easy for me,” you mutter, hand against your mouth as your eyes move back and forth across the packet of information in front of you. Having Leon leaning over you had been commonplace since mid-November. He turned out to be very nosey. “Shouldn’t you be focusing on your own classes?”

You didn’t need to look at him to know he was extremely confused by your study guide. “Uhh.. nah,” he stood upright and slowly made his way around the table, sitting down in front of you with a small groan as he relaxed into the seat. “I’ve made it through the past couple years here without ‘em. No need for ‘em now.” You nodded to the side at his, bringing the pen you were holding up to your mouth to nibble on the end of it. “Makes sense…”

It took awhile before you noticed his nervous fidgeting, looking up from your study guide to give him a worried look. “Are you bored? I can finish up in my dorm if you-”

“Do you want to get dinner with me tonight?” He cut you off, his eyes meeting yours before the room fell silent. The question was so sudden and you weren’t expecting anything like it, so it just had you confused. You must’ve looked it, too, since he moved his eyes away from yours while crossing his arms. “I mean-.. Y’know, figured I’d ask..”

Seeing him get nervous was always pretty cute to you, such a handsome guy getting worked up over you never failed to flatter you. “Oh, yeah! I’d like that, actually..” You giggled when Leon looked back at you, soon grabbing your few supplies to put back into your backpack.

Relief spread across his face, moving to stand as you collected your items. “Good, okay, uh.. How’s Olive Garden sound?” To the average college student, Olive Garden was some high class fine dining. Anyone would be a fool to say no to an offer like that.

Just like your friend told you not to do, the absolute biggest no-no when it came to these types of college guys, you let Leon get even closer. It was just dinner in the beginning, but you started seeing him outside of study sessions afterwards with him going out of his way to seek you out and hang out with you and you the same. “Just going out to dinner” turned into dates real fast, faster than you even had time to process.

You’ve almost completely forgotten about just how nasty he was towards you not three months prior with how he doted on you. Leading up to finals week, Leon made sure to bring you food after noticing your long study habits. He wouldn’t even give you a choice, just a simple “whaddya feeling tonight?” over text. He’d hang out in your dorm with you while you ate, much to your roommates dismay, and sometimes he’d just show up for no reason other than to see you. You’d blush and shy away from his flirting, he’d tease you, and you’d get mad at him for distracting you in a playful way. Even if you wanted to be actually mad at him, you couldn’t, not with that cheeky little grin he’d give you.

You never questioned his nosiness as he familiarized himself with your dorm, rummaging through your drawers as you whined at him from the bed to stay out of your stuff. Honestly, you’d probably look through his stuff too if you had the chance.

Having a boyfriend during your first year of college wasn’t exactly a goal, and you don’t know if this is even a relationship or not, but you weren’t complaining. It was so nice having someone care about you like this, especially when it’s someone who’s, to you, way out of your league in almost every sense. Though he wasn’t the most outgoing, he was very well known, and being seen with him meant the attention he received was spilling onto you. Hell, you didn’t even know he played football until he passed by you with his friends, all in their football get-ups. He never bragged about any practices or games to you, maybe you should’ve asked about the various bruises and scuffs he’d show up to the study sessions with. Oh well.

Every night during finals week, Leon would take you out for dinner under the guise of “destressing from the long day”, not that you minded, of course. You were growing increasingly anxious about your last final, the big one; math. The two of you were sitting in his black Jeep Wrangler as it idled out in the parking lot of McDonald’s, snacking on what was left of your meal in a comfortable silence. The combination of the heater blowing on you and the food in your stomach was settling you, if only a little.

Leon kept his eyes on you the entire time, hand rubbing soothingly up and down your thigh. His hand was so warm. “You’ll pass, I know you will.” His soft touch barely had you cracking a smile, looking through the windshield as large snowflakes quietly fell, lit up by the streetlights surrounding the parking lot and by the headlights on his car. The snow had accumulated an inch on the ground already, the sun having set nearly two hours prior. Winter and its short days, a blessing and a curse. “I don’t know..” You could feel his eyes on you, yet yours were stuck staring out at the falling snow. “My nerves always get me. I’m gonna make the stupidest mistakes and then once the final grades are in my parents’ll wanna see and then I’ll be surrounded be disappointment and shame and guilt.”

You closed your eyes and slumped your shoulders when you felt Leon squeeze your thigh, finally able to turn and look back at him. “You know that’s not how it’s gonna go.” He let out a breathy laugh when you raised an eyebrow. “Oh come on, you’ve got it down! Plus, you had an amazing tutor~..”

With a dramatic groan, you rolled your eyes as he wiggled his eyebrows at you, unable to hide your smile. “I guess, but you weren’t that amazing..”

Leon moved his free hand and brought it up to his chest, holding it there with a strong pout to feign hurt. “You wound me.. Was I nothing to you?” His smile quickly returned when you clicked your tongue at him, chuckling through his nose. “Seriously though, I’ve never met anyone as smart as you are. You learned how to do that kind of stuff incredibly fast, so I don’t have a single doubt in my mind that you won’t demolish that final.” His compliments always left you blushing and at a loss for words, playfulness giving way to a more heavy air. “Thank you, Leon. Really, thank you...”

You were too wrapped up in watching the snow fall through the windshield to notice when his hand pulled away from your thigh, or just how guilty he looked as he silently watched you.

The math final was easier than you were expecting. You understood basically everything that had been put on it minus a couple things that you scolded yourself for not brushing up on last minute. Grades weren’t put in until a week or more after the finals were turned in, yet you were confident enough in how it went to feel good leaving that room afterwards.

This first semester had really tested your limits, but you were lucky to have your friends, lucky to have Leon. It didn’t feel strange having him around anymore, it felt natural, real. There weren’t enough ways to thank him for all that he did between tutoring you and taking care of you overall.

You yelped with laughter as Sky picked you up, their arms around your midriff, waving you side to side as they yelled how proud they were of you. Ella only stood by and laughed along, making sure to take a picture of the moment as keepsakes. “Guys, I don’t even know if I passed yet!” You pushed away from Sky and they placed you back down on the ground, smoothing out your shirt which had you swatting their hands away.

“But! You survived and that’s always cause for celebration.” Ella pocketed her phone and took a couple steps forward so you were all standing in a small circle now. “You really pulled through these last few months.”

Thanks to Leon. “I did, huh?” You looked down with a bashful smile, shrugging before pulling the strap on your backpack further up so it wouldn’t slip off your shoulder. “You know,” Sky started, resting their elbow on your other shoulder while pursing their lips as they slowly turned their head to look at you, “you’re not very good at hiding your love for Leon..”

You weren’t trying to hide it, it's just that even the vaguest thought about the man had you flustered and stumbling over your words like a fool. All you could do now was glare at your friend, who just raised their hands up in defense. “Hey now, not poking fun, just making an observation.”

Ella placed her entire hand over Sky’s face and pushed them away from you, ignoring their muffled complaints as she looked at you. “We’ll always be suspicious because we’re your friends and we care about you, but as long as you’re careful, we’ll keep our distance.”

Sky pulled Ella’s hand off their face, making gross-out noises while wiping their face off. “Blegh, anyways, yeah. Keeping our distance, but still watching from afar.” They pointed their index and middle finger from their eyes to yours before smiling.

You hung around in their dorm as Ella finished packing up her suitcase. She’s had her plane ticket back home booked for a month, constantly expressing her need to leave as soon as finals were finished during that time. Sky was leaving the same day you were, which was in two days since you both drove or were driven here. Leon stayed at his frat house all school year, so you were thankful to have two people sticking around so you weren’t left all alone.

Unfortunately, this meant you had your own packing to do. Thankfully though, your roommate had already left, sparing you from their menial chit-chat. Packing was almost cathartic in a weird way, almost as if you saw going home as a reward for working yourself to the bone at this university. Quiet music was playing from your phone as you gathered the essentials, you’d be coming back in three weeks so there wasn’t any need to pack up everything.

A gentle knock knock knock at your dorm’s door startled you from your thoughts, causing you to blink a few times to make sure it wasn’t just coming from the song that was playing. Slowly, you made your way over to the door, and before you’d even opened it fully, Leon slipped his way through, side stepping into the room with a cheeky smile.

You scoffed as you watched him weasel his way in, hand stuttering away from the door handle to allow the heavy door to shut. “You could’ve waited until I opened the door all the way.”

“I knocked, though.” Mischief was evident in his tone as his eyes landed on the suitcase sitting on your bed. “Getting ready to leave?”

“Not for another couple days. Just.. wanna be ready.” You walked past him over to your suitcase, continuing to fold the last few pieces of clothing you wanted to bring back home. “Perfect, got some extra time to spend with you then.” Leon chuckled, now standing next to you to watch you get back into rhythm.

Having him admit that so casually had you nervous, cheeks heating up as you glanced over at him. “Wouldn’t you rather hang out with your friends?” The eyebrow raise he gave you made you stumble as you tried to elaborate. “N-not that I don’t want to hang out with you! I just feel like you’d have more fun celebrating the end of the semester outside of a stuffy dorm.” You tried to laugh away the embarrassment, moving your focus back to the suitcase as you zipped it up.

“I can celebrate with those slobs any time, but for right now, I would really like to be around you.” Leon carefully lifted your suitcase off the bed, placing it near the door for you. “You’re nice and quiet. They’re not.” You sighed after lifting yourself up onto your bed, sitting criss-cross right in the middle while meekly smiling to yourself, watching him walk back over to stand in front of you.

“By the way,” he said, turning his head to look out your window for a split second before looking back down at you, “I haven’t had the chance to tell you how proud I am of you for coming out of that math final. I know results take awhile, but you seem pretty pleased with yourself.” He crossed his arms and bent forward a bit with a teasing smirk as he not-so-subtly looked you up and down.

You covered your face with your hands and laughed into them, a poor attempt to hide your ever increasing blush. After letting your hands fall away, you bunched the end of your hoodie up in them, fiddling with the thick fabric as you replied. “Yeah, uh.. I think I did alright.” You were going to say more, but you stopped when Leon’s hand found its way under your chin, tilting your head back so you were looking at him. “C’mon, don’t downplay this, baby. You did amazing and you know it.”

Your mind went blank at the pet name and you were finding it hard to breathe with the way his hand felt under your chin. The air in your dorm was a tad tense before, yet now it just felt heavy. Stifling. All you could do was stare up at him with wide eyes, eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly as you tried to think of something, anything to say.

“Did I catch you off guard?” He said with a breathy laugh, gently tilting your head side to side as he studied you. And you let him. Your mouth felt dry, face hot as he leaned in closer. “You’re so beautiful..” His voice dropped an octave and his eyes were lidded as they stared into yours. “So smart, so brave..” Soon his lips were brushing against yours, whispering out a final “So perfect..” before pulling you into a gentle kiss.

It didn’t take long for you to relax into the kiss, eyes fluttering shut as you tried to mimic Leon’s movements. His hands cautiously slid down to grasp at your waist while yours moved up to cup his face, pulling him closer. He slowly crawled onto the bed with you tugging him along, leaving you laying down as he hovered over the top of you, knees planted on either side of your legs while one of his arms moved up to support himself.

He was doing his best to be careful with you, noting your nervous tremble as his right hand slid under your hoodie. “M’gonna take care of you, ‘kay?” He hummed against your sensitive skin, kissing along the underside of your jawline. You only nodded as his lips trailed down your neck, stopping when your hoodie got in his way of the rest of you. “Need you to say ‘okay’ f’me, baby.”

Nearly whining when he stopped, you nodded again a bit more vigorously this time, voice barely a whisper. “O-..Okay..” You propped yourself up slightly when Leon pulled his head away from your neck, his eyes meeting yours as both his hands were now playing with the end of your hoodie. “Y-Yeah, okay…” You repeated.

First it was your hoodie, then it was his jacket, and before you knew it, he had you in his arms, chest pressed against yours as he reached around to unclasp the hooks on your bra. You immediately brought your arms up to cover your breasts once Leon leaned back after pulling your bra off, self-consciousness suddenly settling in. “Hey hey, no need to hide from me..” He cooed, eyes raking down your body as he grabbed your hands to pull your arms away, thumbs rubbing circles onto the tops of your hands as he stared with a crooked smile.

You took the opportunity to take in his form; muscular, a couple old scars and freckles standing out to you. He was gorgeous, through and through, no doubt about it. He took notice, craning his neck to look down at his exposed chest before looking back up at you. “Looks good, huh?” That got a small giggle out of you, at least.

He slowly guided you back down onto the bed, his hands firmly rubbing up and down your sides. “You look even better, though. Layin’ pretty beneath me~..” His right hand found its way to your panties, running his fingers along the band before trailing further down to press his middle finger against the gusset. You gasped at the feeling while he laughed quietly, leaning back a bit further to catch a glimpse of the wet spot he was feeling. “You’re soaked.. Lil’ bit of touching got you all worked up?”

Your hands flew up to hide your face again as he rubbed his finger up and down your clothed pussy, letting out small gasps and whimpers all the while. You shakily nodded, subconsciously spreading your legs further apart as he slotted himself between them.

“Tell me something, babe.” Leon paused his movements to look up at you, huffing a chuckle through his nose when he noticed you’d covered your face. “You seem real nervous, so I’m jus’ wonderin’...” Dread settled in your stomach at his implication, you were hoping he wouldn’t ask this. “Yes..” You whispered, parting your fingers over your right eye so you could look at him. “Don’t make me say it, please…”

He hummed low in his chest, eyes darkening as they moved back down to your panties. “Juuust wonderin', is all..” His finger started to caress you over your panties again while adding a bit more pressure. “There’s no shame in being a virgin. Only means I gotta make this extra special for you~.” You moved your hands to shoot him a weak glare and he smiled in return. “Didn’t say I couldn’t say it.”

Once he felt your tremble start to dissipate, he brought his hands up and hooked his fingers on the band of your panties before slowly tugging them off, letting out a low groan as a string of slick stayed connected to the gusset from your leaking pussy. “Fuck, that’s hot..” He breathed in sharply through his teeth, taking your panties into one hand before grabbing his hoodie, stuffing them into the large pocket in the front.

Leon didn’t waste any time putting himself back between your legs, languidly dragging his middle finger up and down through your folds. He relished in your every noise, even as you tried to hold them in. “You ever finger yourself before?” He asked, voice gravelly as he repeatedly pulled his finger back to watch your slick cling to it by a string.

“... no..” Your innocence had him groaning to himself again. He could ignore the guilt eating away at him long enough to handle you the way you needed to be handled. “Let’s give it a try then, yeah?” He hunched over some more so his face was hovering above yours, middle finger now gently circling your clenching hole.

“P-Please be careful..” You whimpered, slightly panicked at the feeling of his finger nudging your entrance, one of your hands grasping the bed sheets while the other held onto his bicep that was closest to you. “I’ll be so careful, baby.. I promise I’ll be careful.”

And he was. What would’ve normally been a relatively quick process turned into ten minutes of Leon tenderly stretching you on his fingers. He studied your face the entire time, whispering sweet words into your ear, even letting out deep moans to encourage your own timid ones. You needed the time. There's no rush.

He moved down to pair his fingers with his mouth, tongue running through your wet folds as his fingers stroked your walls. The noises you let out when he sucked on your clit were intoxicating. You were intoxicating.

Once Leon pulled his mouth and fingers away from you, you knew what was coming. And when he paused for a moment after standing up, hands hooked in his boxers, eyebrows tightly furrowed together in thought, that only served to make you more nervous.

“..Leon?” You managed to say, propping yourself up on your elbows as you watched his shake himself out of his head. “Yeah, sorry, just… thinking about the best way to go about this. Don’t wanna scare you.”

“You-... I’m not gonna be scared..” You looked from his face down to his boxers, eyeballing where his fingers were still hooked in them. He just clicked his tongue, nodding his head to the side with a soft “if you say so”.

As much as you didn’t want to admit it, you were scared. There wasn’t much frame of reference, but Leon was… sizeable, for lack of a better term. And it wasn’t just his size that was intimidating to you, it was the idea of sex itself. Sex has always been made out to be this big grandiose milestone by everyone around you, so now that you’re about to actually do it is giving you the same sinking feeling that public speaking does.

“You’re scared.” Leon had pulled his boxers all the way down without you noticing, letting them lay abandoned on the floor as he took the small step back towards you. “No.” You were quick to object, eyes still glued to his dick. He chuckled and tilted your head back by your chin once more. “Yes, you are, and it’s okay. I’m not gonna kill you with it.”

“You might…” You muttered under your breath, eyes lowly making their way back down to his dick as he got back up onto the bed and in between your legs. “I promised you I’d be careful, right?” Leon grunted, his hand squeezing the base of his cock before giving it a few slow strokes.

You swallowed dryly, pulling your eyes away and back up to meet his. “Yeah…” He nodded, giving you a wobbly smile as he teased his thumb across his tip. “Right. So don’t worry, I’ve gotcha..”

You only nodded, doing your best to keep your eyes up and focused on his face as he lubed himself with your juices. Your eyes widened once you felt him line himself up with your hole, body jerking a bit at the slight pressure.

“You gotta relax, sweetheart..” He used his freehand to stroke your thigh before pulling your right up over his shoulder, hand moving back down so his thumb could rub your clit. “Just breathe and focus on what my hand’s doin’, alright?”

The two of you were lucky that a lot the people in your dorm building left already, cause when his tip finally pushed past that ring of muscle, you let out an embarrassingly loud yelp. It hurt, but it was also such a new feeling that it simply startled you. “Okay, okay, that’s the hardest part. You did it.” You panted, hands tugging at the blankets beneath you as he stilled. “Okay…” You copied him, nodding your head once you felt you were ready for him to move.

The sting of the stretch was the hardest to get by, however it was easily masked by just how full you felt after Leon was fully sheathed inside you. So new, yet so good.

You let out a shaky sigh, eyes closing as you rested back against the bed. Your heart was beating and your body felt hot. It was actually a nice feeling. “You- ugh.. You can move.. a little..” You breathed out, grunting softly when you felt him twitch.

“Mhm..” Leon agreed with only a hum, not trusting his mouth enough to speak. He pulled back an inch before thrusting just as slowly, eyes darting around your face for any sign of discomfort. A minute or so of taking it slow led to deeper thrusts, following your command as you asked for “harder”, “deeper”, “faster”. All with that sweet voice that he couldn’t say no to.

You were eating away at him and you didn’t even know it; wrapped around him so perfectly, that delicious honey of yours dripping down his balls, moaning his name, looking at him with those glassy eyes, fuck. He fits you so well.

He kept his eyes closed, unable to look at you any longer. Ignoring the guilt was harder than he thought, even with him thrusting into you like he owned you. You weren’t his, he can't have you the way you want him to-

“Shit-!” He gasped, too lost in his own thoughts to notice you’d grown close until you abruptly clenched around him, sloppy cunt milking his cock. His thrusts stuttered to a stop as he buried himself deep into you, cumming with a whine of his own. Looking at the wall with bleary eyes, he furrowed his brow again, chewing on the inside of his cheek while he caught his breath.

Clarity crashed into him when you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down into a weak hug. He needed to go, but how could he leave you like this? God, he was so fucked.

He should’ve just stayed an asshole, that would’ve kept you far away. And he should’ve never taken that stupid bet. All this for a pair of panties to wave around like a trophy.

tags:

@kayotee4 @k-fallingstar @bobastayhigh @mi-zer-y @chasingkennedy @l30nva @espressonerd @jjouki @5tarx @bunnybreadloaves @whoisgami @cyanscribe @c4b3r1a @darichvep @mmmangel @kingtacocat @klee-iii @baby--vera @dakiniii @kenma-izhu @aliidarling @leonsmamacita @deadghxsty @nekoheist @dumbassmortal @cassiecasluciluce @iovewilliams @maeplayscello @deddiemunsonsblog @paranoid-but-android @mariesmain @tteokhwaa @bonnibuckets @eilonwykennedy @1dk-anym0r3 @papatyacikcik

(few of your blogs won't work, but i really tried 😩)

984 notes · View notes

angelltheninth · 9 months

Note

Miguel O'Hara + "I would never abandon you" please?

More angst, lets go!

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, lots of angst, hurt/comfort, reunion, post mission kisses, soothing kisses, cuddles, arguments, Reader being lifted up

Word count: 0.8k

A/N: I almost missed this ask cause I didn't see it when I refreshed asks. Tumblr please get it together.

"Mi vida, I'm home." Miguel heavy footsteps echoed through the halls, a good sort of comfort now in your current state. "Baby? Are you asleep?" You could pretend to be. Like you pretended all those night before, then wake up in the morning and wonder if he would be there or not. No. Not this time.

You waited for him to open the door, his charming, soft smile thrown your way, almost shaking your resolve.

"You didn't have to wait up for me you know, I don't mind cuddling up next to my-" He stopped talking once his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the bedroom and he saw your eyes red from crying, "What's wrong? Are you hurt?" You nodded. You were about to explain when he was in front of you in a flash, his hands pressing and prodding, looking you over. The bed dipped to one side under Miguel's weight, his worried expression turning a little angry, " Where does it hurt? Who hurt you? I'll make them regret it!"

You let out a long heavy sigh. Taking one of his hands you placed it above your heart and then pointed your finger at him, finally meeting his eyes with your being full of tears, "You hurt me."

"What?" He looked like you just slapped him, which would have been preferable, he would hardly feel that. But your words, they cut deep. "What do you mean? Was I rough with you last night? You told me it was-"

"Oh for gods sake Miguel, I'm not talking about that. I'm not physically hurt." You backed up a bit, putting some space between you two. It was a little empty space, easy to close, yet it felt like you were worlds, universes apart, "I don't ever see you anymore. You go on missions, you come back, you... fuck me and then you leave. Do you really not get how that makes me feel? How... used and alone I feel?"

The sex was good. The sex was damn good. Perfect even. He was so close to you, he was smiling at you, you were one with him, holding him, feeling him everywhere, kissing him. But those moments, they passed way too quickly for your liking and then you were empty and alone again.

"Is that really how you feel?" He sounded like he couldn't wrap his head around what you were saying. At the same time you could see it on his face that he was putting the puzzle pieces together. "I love you, more then anything, you're the most important person in this or any universe to me. I... would stop. If you wanted me to. We could settle down, buy a bigger house, start a family, like we talked about."

"How? How can you say that when you leave without... without even telling me? Your job is important, I understand that, but for the love of god Miguel, I'm your girlfriend! I at least deserve to know when you're leaving don't I? What if... what if one day you... what if you don't come back to me?" You started hiccupping while you cried, your body shaking from the wave of emotions that you were finally able to unleash. There was a part of you that felt like it was selfish, that Miguel wasn't yours to keep and that doing so would mean a lot of people would get hurt. Did you deserve him in the first place?

Miguel's arms wrapped around your smaller frame, you could hear his heart beating quickly, you could feel him shaking along with you while he balanced himself on his knees, his suit flickering on and off. "I would never abandon you. Even if I have to crawl back from Hell itself I'd find a way to come back to you. I made up my mind long ago, when I die it will when we're both old and I lost all my hair."

"And we have grandkids running around?" You whisper against his chest, voice still raw from crying and nose stuffed from sniffles.

"So many grandkids. We're gonna have a big family, just like we planned. I know its hard right now but its almost over okay? Then we can settle down anywhere you want." Miguel cupped the back of your head as his lips pressed to your forehead, lingering there for the longest time, "Nothing is more important then you. Nothing."

"I want at least three kids." He nodded, "A big house in the country side." A nod, "A big, cuddly dog." Another nod, "And you in my bed every night." He kissed you, not caring the least that you tasted like tears. But he didn't stop there. His hands lifted you up by the hips, your legs wrapping around his body as you felt yourself being lowered on the bed.

You felt his suit vanish and warm muscles take its place, "Three kids. That's a lot of work. We should practice as much as we can." Miguel smirked like an idiot while he undressed you, ready to prove his love to you.

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lendeah · 4 months

Text

Daggers and flutes

Happy New Year! I decided to release this a bit earlier than expected as a New Year's present. Also! The TAV in this fic is called Lilianna because I wanted to change my narration for once and it felt more fitting. Hope you enjoy!

Pairing: AstarionxOFC!Bard

Summary: In which Astarion and bard Tav agree to a deal: Astarion teaches Tav dagger skills, and in return, Tav is supposed to teach Astarion how to play the flute. The thing is, Tav is terrible with weapons, so things don't go as expected.

Tags: Smut. A bit of fluff if you squint.

Word count: 6.9k

Warnings: NSFW (minors dni), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, cunnilingus (fem receiving), squirting, choking, kind of dom-sub dynamic? Just pure filth.

The idea had been hers, naturally. Astarion had cautioned her against coming within 50 meters of any weapon after her near-fatal axe incident with Shadowheart. But it wasn't just that – she had also nearly blinded Lae'zel with an ill-advised attempt at archery, and may have even caused Gale a concussion during his staff training session with her.

Okay, she was terrible with weapons. And any kind of fighting, for that matter; it was not her forte.

But when she had seen Astarion in the heat of battle, his agile and toned body moving swiftly and gracefully like a dancer's, every muscle tense and defined under his glistening skin, his hands wielding a dagger with expert precision and ease, an idea had planted in her mind. And not just the dirty kind.

A few nights later, as they camped near the looming Crèche, she saw her opportunity and seized it. Without hesitation, she entered his tent, unannounced.

"Teach me how to use daggers" she blurts out, her voice echoing in the small space. The leather straps of her boots creak as she shifts her weight, and the faint scent of pine and firewood fills the air.

Astarion is engrossed in one of his books, his shirt carelessly unbuttoned to reveal a sliver of pale skin. Strands of white hair fall over his eyes, obscuring them from view. He jumps, startled by her sudden appearance.

"Gods, Lelianna, have you got no sense of privacy?"

But Lelianna only shrugged, her wide smile never faltering. "I have already seen you naked quite a lot," she said nonchalantly, "there is no more privacy needed between us."

He closes his book and sets it aside, standing up from his bedroll to face her fully. A twinkle of amusement flickers in Astarion's eyes as he crosses his arms, leaning against the tent's frame. His lips curl into a mischievous smirk that sends a cascade of butterflies dancing in Lelianna's stomach. "Well, the thought of you holding a dagger does sound quite thrilling, my dear. But are you sure you're up for it? You do have a tendency to turn any weapon into a hazard."

She playfully rolls her eyes. "Oh, come on! I've seen you in action. You make it look so effortless and graceful. I bet I could do the same with some guidance from the great Astarion."

"You know flattery is the way to my heart, little bard" He leans in closer, "But what will you do in exchange? Surely you know that nothing comes for free in this world." A mischievous glint sparked in his eye as he continued, "even less so when my life is on the line from, you know, being near you wielding a weapon".

Lelianna giggled, swatting his arm lightly with the back of her hand. "Oh, you'll be perfectly safe. I won’t use you as my practice dummy, promise," she said with an innocent blink of her eyes. "As for the payment... maybe I could let you drink from me tonight?" Astarion raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms "I drink from you almost every night, my dear. You are going to have to raise your offer." She pouts, lips pursed in frustration as she considers her options. There is not a lot she can offer. She could compose him a song, but he absolutely hates those and would end up using his daggers on her instead if she did. Her mind races with possibilities before a brilliant idea takes hold. "How about I teach you how to use the flute? I remember you said you would like to give it a try back in the groto"

Astarion scoffed, his usual smirk quickly replaced with a look of utter disbelief. "Me? Play the flute?" He began to laugh, a deep, hearty sound that echoed through the tent. "Oh, little bard, you certainly know how to make a vampire chuckle."

Despite his mockery, Lelianna stands her ground, hands on hips in a defiant pose. "I'm being serious! You'd be great at it. And besides," she leans in closer to him now, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she murmurs into his ear, "I hear it's quite the hit with the ladies." She could already imagine Astarion, handsome as ever, blowing into a flute with an alluring expression on his face as women swooned around him.

The smile fades from Astarion's face as he considers her words, running a hand through his stark white hair thoughtfully. "Hmm... that is... an interesting proposition," he muses aloud.

"I knew you'd come around," Lelianna beams proudly.

The corners of his lips quirk upwards into a small smirk. "I see you have a brain beneath all of that messy hair, perhaps I can use that as well." he adds, a teasing lilt in his voice.

"Thank y- wait what did you say about my hair?"Lelianna's eyes widened with mock offense, her hands automatically going up to her unruly hair. "Hey now, my hair is not messy! It's...cascading chaos, a masterpiece of untamed locks! It's..."

He interrupts her with an annoyed swat of his arm.

"Fine, fine! I'll teach you if you shut up, gods"

She smiles, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"But I will take the flute lessons AND I will drink from you tonight, of course. I can't resist indulging in your company" he retorted, trying to suppress the grin and failing miserably.

When she exits the tent, she can already imagine herself, wielding a dagger with as much grace and skill as Astarion. She spins lightly on her heels, her heart swelling with hope and excitement. Everyone would see her as cool and capable, finally recognizing her talents beyond just singing, playing the flute, and being an excellent drinking companion.

The next morning, as Lelianna approaches the designated meeting spot in the distant forest clearing, she can't help but notice the objects that Astarion has strategically placed around. There is a small wooden dummy with various markings, indicating where one should strike with a dagger. Next to it, several throwing knives are laid out neatly on a log, glinting in the morning sunlight. Astarion stands nearby, his posture relaxed yet alert. The morning light caught the hard planes of his face, emphasizing his sharp cheekbones and the intensity in his piercing gaze. He exuded a quiet confidence that is both alluring and intimidating. But she can't help but feel a flutter in her stomach at the sight of lean body, toned muscles visible even under his loose-fitting shirt.

"What's all this?" she asks, distracting herself from her filthy thoughts and gesturing towards the objects.

Astarion grins mischievously at her arrival, his gaze fixed on the makeshift target he had set up. "Ah, my dear Lelianna, I thought we could make our dagger training a bit more interesting," he replies, sauntering towards her with a certain swagger in his step, stepping forward to pick up one of the throwing knives. His movements are fluid and effortless as he twirls it expertly between his fingers. With a flick of his wrist, he sends the knife soaring through the air, hitting the wooden dummy dead center. Wow.

"Now, my dear," he says, handing her a dagger "It's your turn"

She takes it from his hand, inspecting it. The dagger is sleek and sharp, the blade glinting in the sun. Its handle is adorned with intricate carvings, giving it an almost regal appearance. The dagger is surprisingly light, yet its edge is sharp and dangerous.

She scoffs "Easy peasy." But as she throws it, her aim is way off and the dagger lands nowhere near the wooden dummy. She pouts, feeling embarrassed by her poor attempt.

"Not as easy as it looks, is it?" Astarion chuckles lightly at her reaction. "Don't worry my dear," he says reassuringly as he retrieves the dagger for her. "It takes practice and precision."

Lelianna can feel Astarion's warm breath on her neck as he leans in to correct her stance, teaching her how to position her body for a better throw. She gulps nervously at the proximity of his body. His cold fingers gently and confidently guide her arm, sending a shiver down her spine. Her own hand trembles slightly as she holds the dagger, feeling the weight and sharpness of the blade beneath her fingers.

"Ahem, I think I got it" she quips, nervously.

Astarion steps back, a knowing smirk playing on his lips as he watches Lelianna take aim once more. She takes a deep breath, focusing her gaze on the wooden dummy. With a flick of her wrist, she releases the dagger, and it lands in a nearby bush. Astarion snickers lightly beside her, and she gives him a dirty look.

"Just laugh it up, Mr. Tall, Pale, and Annoying," she huffs, crossing her arms over her chest.

Astarion only laughs harder, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "I must say, your aim is...interesting."

"Alright!" Lelianna declares, swiping another dagger from his grasp with a huff. "Enough with the teasing already. I'm going to get this right even if it kills me!"

And she tries, for like, 107 times. She really tries. In fact, she is panting and sweaty by the time she fails misserably for the umpteenth time.

At this point Astarion is not even hiding his amusement. His laughter fills the clearing, his mirth evident in the sparkle of his eyes. "My dear Lelianna, I must say, your persistence is truly commendable," he says, wiping away a tear that had formed from his laughter. "But perhaps, just maybe, throwing knives is not your calling. You know, some people are simply better suited for other talents."

Lelianna huffs indignantly, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "Maybe if I imagine your ugly face on the dummy I won't actually miss," she declares, her voice filled with determination.

He laughs and smiles indulgently at her determination. "You know, that actually is a good strategy. Go, try it. I'll watch." he leans up against a rock and waits for her to take her shot.

She grits her teeth, narrowing her gaze on the object in front of her. She focuses intensely on each step she was given: positioning her hand, gripping tightly, and then making the wrist movement. With a loud and determined grunt, Lelianna gathers every bit of concentration and strength she has left and throws the dagger with all her might. To everyone's surprise, especially her own, the blade lodged itself into the dummy's wooden heart.

A triumphant smile lights up Lelianna's face as she turns to look at Astarion.

"Ha! I did it!"

Seeing her thrilled reaction, Astarion bursts into hearty laughter, clapping his hands in aknowledgement. His eyes are shining slightly when they meet hers. He stands up from the rock, sauntering towards the dummy to retrieve the lodged dagger.

"Well, I'll be damned," he says brightly, removing the blade with an easy pull. "Who knew that imagining my so-called 'ugly face' is all it took for you to land a good hit?"

He turns to her then, the sun glinting off his white hair and turning it to silver, and with a sly grin adds "One in a hundred is not a bad start, especially for a small and weak bard."

She gasps, taking a hand to her chest in offension. With a fiery intensity burning in her gaze, she points a finger at him, her voice laced with defiance. "I'm not weak!"

He smirks devilishly "You are, as a matter of fact" he laughs "I reckon even a wooly sheep would stand more of a chance in a brawl than you."

Her rage grows exponentially. Calling her weak? maybe. But comparing her to a damn sheep, of all things? No way. Lelianna's eyes narrow, her fists clenching at her sides. She takes a step towards Astarion, her voice filled with defiance.

"Oh, is that so?" she snaps, her eyes ablaze with indignation. "Well, let's see how well you fare against this 'woolly sheep' in a brawl then, bloodsucker!" she declares before thinking better of it.

Astarion smirks at her challenge, his eyes glinting with amusement as he crosses his arms over his chest. "Are you sure about that, my dear? I wouldn't want to hurt your fragile ego." With a confidence that surprises even herself, Lelianna moves closer to Astarion until they are mere inches apart. As they stand face to face, Lelianna can see the subtle upturn of Astarion's lips and the playful glint in his eyes. She raises her chin defiantly, staring him down with unwavering determination.

"I may not have your strength or your agility," she begins, her voice steady as she meets Astarion's gaze, "but I have wit, creativity, and a few tricks up my sleeve. And you know what they say, Astarion, brains can be just as powerful as brawn." she states firmly, her voice laced with undeniable purpose.

And then he is laughing again - boisterous and loud. "Yeah, and you have neither" he says once his laughter has subsided enough for him to speak.

Lelianna scowls but doesn't back down, her heart beating loudly in her chest. She swipes the dagger from Astarion's hands and squares her shoulders, eyeing him fiercely. "Just you watch," she rejoins. "I'll have you running scared before dawn."

Astarion raises an eyebrow cockily at her response, a slow smirk curling up his lips "And what do you propose? That we settle this with a dagger-throwing contest? Or perhaps a duel of wits?"

"A real duel," she declares, her voice resolute. "No weapons. Just you against me. Pure strenght only."

A flicker of intrigue flashes across Astarion's face as he sizes her up. His sarcastic smile slowly fades, replaced by something akin to curiosity. Folding his arms across his chest, he tilts his head and regards her with a newfound interest.

"You're serious, aren't you?" he asks, his voice tinged with skepticism.

Lelianna nods firmly. "Deadly serious," she replies, her voice laced with determination.

A sliver of something dangerous flashes his eyes.

Astarion's lips curl into a half-smile, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Well, my dear Lelianna, if you truly wish to test your mettle against mine, who am I to deny you such an opportunity?" His voice dripped with mock sincerity as he takes a step closer, closing the gap between them.

Lelianna felt a shiver race down her spine, a mix of excitement and nerves tangling within her. She couldn't quite decipher if she was being foolish or courageous for challenging Astarion to a duel.

Without breaking eye contact, Astarion extended his hand towards her. "Very well, then," he said, his tone filled with a challenge. "May the strongest win."

Shit, shit, shit. What did she get herself into?

Astarion cracks his knuckles with a self-assured smirk, relishing the opportunity to test Lelianna's bravado. He begins to circle her slowly, like a predator stalking its prey. Lelianna mirrors his movements, trying to maintain a steady distance between them. Her palms grow clammy as the weight of the challenge sinks in, but she refuses to let it consume her. She squares her shoulders and meets Astarion's gaze head-on.

"Scared? I'll admit, you have every reason to be," Astarion taunts playfully, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You can still back out if you're too frightened"

And she knows. She knows she could back out and return to normal and avoid getting absolutely destroyed and humilliated by the man in front of her. And he would give her shit, fair, but at least she would keep her dignity.

However, the weight of pride and the fear of appearing weak held her back from backing out. So, she meets his eyes, trying to keep steady "I never back out."

Astarion watches her with a light smirk on his face.

"Fine, my dear. But remember you asked for this" Astarion's smirk widens, his eyes glimmering with anticipation as he readies himself.

With a sudden burst of energy, Lelianna lunges forward, feinting to the left before swiftly changing direction and attempting to deliver a swift kick to Astarion's side. However, he effortlessly sidesteps her attack, evading it with a grace that only serves to infuriate her further.

Undeterred, Lelianna regains her balance and pivots on her heel, launching herself towards Astarion once again. This time, she aims a series of quick jabs towards his chest. But Astarion's reflexes are lightning-fast, effortlessly dodging each blow with a surprising swiftness. She is already breathing heavily, while he looks like he is just batting a fly. She needs to change tactics.

So, with all the strength she can muster and a war scream, she climbs into his body, wrapping her arms and legs around him as if he's a tree. But as soon as Lelianna's body connects with Astarion's, she realizes her mistake. She had underestimated his strength and agility, and now she was paying the price.

Astarion's arms wrap around her waist, pulling her tightly against him as he falls to the ground with her in his grasp. He pins her to the ground effortlessly, his legs straddling hers to keep her from moving. Lelianna grunts as she hits the ground, her breath knocked out of her. Astarion's strength presses down on her, his body pinning hers with an intensity that sends a jolt of panic through her veins. She struggles beneath him, the weight of his presence suffocating her. She begins to wiggle and squirm, using every ounce of her strength to break free from his grasp.

"Nice try, my dear," Astarion chimes, his voice laced with mock sympathy. "But you'll have to do better than that if you want to best me."

Lelianna grits her teeth, refusing to let defeat consume her. A spark of determination ignites within her as an idea takes shape in her mind.

And then she bites his arm. Hard.

Astarion lets out a yell, and with a sharp movement, he releases his grip on her. "Damn you, that hurt!" he says, his tone is serious and he's now glaring at her. "Did you really just bite me? Are you mad? That is my thing!"

Seizing the opportunity, she rolls to the side and scrambles back onto her feet, as she smirks at Astarion's bewildered expression.

"You said I had to do better," she says, winking playfully. "I call that a win."

And then his gaze turns vicious, making a shiver run down her back.

"Oh dear, we are far from over".

Astarion pounces, his eyes blazing with a mix of fury and amusement. Lelianna barely has time to react before he's on her again, his speed blurring their surroundings into a mess of colours and shapes. Desperate, she kicks and squirms, trying to dislodge the infuriating vampire who pins her down with ease.

"You fight dirty," he accuses, his voice low in her ear as he attempts to immobilize her wayward hands.

"Funny," she retorts, grunting as she manages to connect an elbow with his side. "I thought you enjoyed that."

Lelianna's smirk quickly fades as she finds herself once again pinned beneath Astarion's weight. She struggles against his hold, but it seems futile as he chuckles, clearly enjoying this game of cat and mouse.

"I must admit, you have some fight in you," he says, his tone smug. "But don't think biting me will save you every time."

Lelianna bites her lip, feeling a mix of frustration and excitement coursing through her veins. She knows she can't win against Astarion with just brute strength. She needs to use her agility and wit to outsmart him.

With that thought in mind, Lelianna suddenly shifts her weight and twists her body, causing Astarion to lose his balance and fall to the side. She quickly flips over and straddles him, pinning him down this time.

"Now who's on top?" she grins triumphantly.

Astarion's eyes widen in surprise before he bursts into laughter, throwing his head back as if he finds the situation hilarious.

"You truly are something else," he admits, still chuckling. "I haven't had this much fun in a long time."

Lelianna can't help but feel a sense of pride at getting the upper hand on Astarion. But before she can bask in her victory for too long, he flips them over once again and pins her down.

She charges him again, but he's ready this time. His hands shoot out to catch her wrists before she can land a punch and with a smooth movement, he twists her bound hands back and holds them behind her back. His other arm curves around her waist trapping her against him.

"You really are more like a wild beast than I gave you credit for," he purrs in her ear with amusement. "Are we going to keep rolling around? Or are you ready to surrender?" he smirks down at her.

She tries again to twist, do something. But this time his grip is unwielding, and his whole body is pressing down on her. So that leaves her with only one option. "Let me go, you creep!"

Astarion's smirk only widens at her words, his eyes glittering with mischief. "Oh, is that how you ask nicely?" he teases, keeping her pinned beneath him. His grip on her wrists tightens just a fraction, but it's enough to make Lelianna squirm under his hold.

"You're enjoying this too much," she huffs, her face flushing as she tries to wriggle away from him.

He chuckles again and shakes his head. "Such a shame," he muses, his smirk never leaving his face, "You could have been a worthy opponent."

"I am a worthy opponent!" she retorts indignantly. "I am far more than you could ever handle."

"Maybe," he concedes with an insouciant shrug. But instead of releasing her as she'd hoped, he tightens his grip on her wrists even further. Her face flushes in frustration as she squirms beneath him. "But look at you, so small" He presses down again, making her feel his whole weight on her, rendering her movements even more futile. Sweat trickles down her forehead as she struggles for breath, her chest heaving in the effort to break free. And then he leans into her face, warm breath tickling her skin "I will release you... if you admit you are weak"

"Never! I'm not weak!" she spits, even as a gasp tears from her throat due to his crushing weight. Her pride won't allow it. She can't let him see her as weak, can't admit defeat.

Astarion's smirk only grows wider at her continued resistance. "Oh, but you are," he taunts, "You're just a small, insignificant creature in my grasp."

She wiggles and writhes beneath him, feeling his hot breath on her neck as he leans down closer to her ear. The smell of his sweat and musk fills her nostrils, making her head spin.

"I'm not weak," she repeats stubbornly, the words barely a whisper as she fights to get them out. "I'm just... strategically disadvantaged."

Astarion's laughter rings in her ears, a rich and genuine sound that makes her heart flutter despite the situation.

"You are weak," he repeats says softly, his voice dripping with sensuality. "I always knew it." His hand curls around her neck possessively, holding her in place like an animal that has just caught its prey. "My pretty little bard" he says, grazing his fangs over the skin under her ear.

His rough grip sent shivers down her spine as his hot breath fanned her neck, sending a jolt of excitement through her body. Her breath catches, and she finds herself arching her back a little.

She feels helpless and trapped beneath his larger frame. And for some twisted reason, she likes it.

"I am not your prey" she mutters raggedly.

"Oh, but I think you are," he says, trailing his teeth from her neck to her jaw "and I will use you however I see fit."

Lelianna's breath hitches at his words, and she fights back the blush threatening to spread across her cheeks.

"You can't do that," she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

Astarion chuckles, his grip tightening around her neck, making her breathless. "I can do anything I want, and you won't be able to stop me." He leans in, his fangs just barely graze against her throat, a delicate stroke that sends fresh shivers skittering across her skin. "And I'm not going to stop until I've had my fill."

Her heart thuds loudly in her chest at his words, drowned out only by the sound of their mingled breaths.

"But you would like that, wouldn't you? Look at you, all flustered under me." he smirks "you love feeling helpless, feeling weak."

I stiffle a moan when I feel the hand on my neck slowly caressing its way to my chest.

"Y-you don't know what you're saying," I manage to stammer, my voice breaking.

"Oh, but I do," he says, his smirk never wavering. "I see it in your eyes, the way your breath hitches when I touch you, the way your body trembles beneath me. You feel it too, don't you, Lelianna?"

His hand moves inside my leather top, his fingers grazing the sensitive skin of my breast, making me shiver with desire. My breath hitches in my throat as he leans in closer, his tongue brushing against my neck, sending a wave of pleasure.

"You want me to take you, to use you for my own pleasure." he whispers, his breath hot against my skin. "So needy and desperate"

"T-that is not true. I don't want your self-centered ass" I mumble.

He gives me a wicked smile, before lowering his hand. Lelianna's eyes widened in shock as she felt his hand dipping beneath her pants. He chuckles softly, the sound vibrating against her skin. "Your words say one thing, Lelianna," his lips curl into a wicked smirk, "But your body says something entirely different."

"I…" His thumb lightly brushes over her stomach, causing her to gasp sharply. Her mind is a whirl of thoughts and desires - part of her wants to push him away while the other part yearns for his touch.

She tried to reply, but her voice was muffled by the panting. She was lost in the pleasurable sensations coursing through her body.

"You can't keep losing yourself like this," he continued, his voice soft and gentle. "You have to stay strong."

I can't answer him, as he's already started to move his hand again over her breast. Her senses are overwhelmed with the sensation, and she feels like she's about to lose it.

"Do you want me to stop, Lelianna? Do you really?" he purrs in her ear.

She bites her lip, scared that her mouth will betray her.

His voice trails off slightly, and his movements slow. "My poor little bard..."

And then he stops altogether

"What-?" she begins, disapointment coloring her words.

But his grip doesn't relent. Instead, he grabs his belt and places it over her wrists, with the intention of binding her. He leans in and whispers in her ear, this time softer "Do you want to stop?"

His crimson eyes study her face intently.

"No," she murmurs, her voice barely audible. "I don't want to stop."

And he grins widely.

"Great." he finishes binding the belt hard. She feels his hips moving against her, his erection pressing into her, and she can't help but arch her back, wanting more. "You're a tempting little thing, Lelianna," he growls, his voice low and thick with desire. "But we have to be careful. We can't have you wriggling around, can we? That would spoil all the fun"

She struggled against his grip, but it was no use. He had her completely under his control. "Oh, you look rather beautiful like this," he said, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

"No fun in fighting, Astarion?" she manages to retort despite the arousal clouding her senses.

"Quite the opposite, my dear," he purrs back at her, pressing his body closer to hers, making her squirm even more. "The fight is half the fun. The other half... is in winning. So you may want to start behaving better, hm?."

"Oh, but I'm behaving so good!" she exclaims, trying to sound innocent. "You're the one with the wandering hands."

Astarion smirks, a devilish grin spreading across his face. "Oh, are you now?" he purrs, his fingers still tracing the sensitive skin of her chest, teasingly slow. "Then I suppose I'll have to make an exception for you." he whispers, his lips now surrounding her nipple, gently suckling.

Lelianna's breath hitches, her body trembling as the sensation courses through her. She tries to struggle against him, but it's no use. She's putty in his hands.

He takes her nipple between his teeth, gently nipping at the sensitive skin. Lelianna's back arches, her hips bucking against him as pleasure rippled through her.

"Freaking vampire" I murmur "always biting and sucking where he shouldn't."

Astarion's chuckles fill the air as he continues his torment. "You are right. I should be putting my mouth somewhere else."

He retreats from her breast, his smirk never leaving his face as he moves lower, his fingers dancing over her stomach before finally unbuttoning her pants. His gaze is intense and possessive, filled with a hunger that makes her heart race.

"I think you deserve your punishment for losing, don't you agree?" he whispers, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

Her breath hitched and she bit back a moan as he nipped at her thigh lightly.

"W-well, not exactly lost," she tries to reason with him. "I mean, the rules weren't explicit, and-"

And then he dives in, and his tongue darts out tasting her slowly, teasingly. She gasps as he laps at her folds, savoring the taste of her arousal. Her legs tremble beneath him, helpless from his iron grip on them.

"Mmm," he hums against her skin, giving her pleasurable vibrations. Her legs quiver at the sensation, and she lets out a small whimper.

He separates for a second and smiles up at her.

"Not that hot-headed anymore, are we darling?" He says, while slowly introducing a finger inside of her. Lelianna gasps as Astarion's tongue torments her clit, flicking it in a way that sends shockwaves of pleasure through her body. She tries to wriggle again, but the binds hold her tight. Her hips begin to buck against his face unconsciously, seeking more contact with his mouth. The friction of his lips and teeth on her most sensitive spots make her moan loudly, sending vibrations across the clearing where they are. His fingers inside of her stretch and fill her, causing her insides to clench around him incessantly. His tongue laps at her folds, teasing every inch of sensitive skin it can find and driving her crazy with desire. She feels like she's on fire everywhere. The belt binding her wrists scrapes her skin sending sparks of pain through her system. Every nerve ending is alive with desire as he plays with her body, and she can feel herself getting closer to the edge with each passing moment.

His fingers slide in and out of her tightness with ease, stretching her further than she ever thought possible. Each thrust is accompanied by a low groan from deep within him. She opens her eyes again, and find him already looking with a predatory look, as if he's devouring her

"I won't last long if you keep looking at me like that," she finally manages to gasp out, her eyes fluttering closed again as each wave of pleasure seems more intense than the last.

His fingers move faster inside of her, stoking the fire within her until it becomes unbearable.

"Say my name," he growls against her skin, his fingers curling inside of her in just the right way.

"N-no" But he just bites the inside of her thigh.

"Say my name"

She resists for a moment, a stubborn streak burning fierce in her eyes. But his fingers are unrelenting, his touch too exquisite. And the weight of his gaze, predatory and possessive, is more than she can bear.

"Astarion," she breathes out, her voice barely more than a whisper yet laden with an intensity that has him grinning wickedly.

"That's right, Lelianna," he purrs against her skin, his lips tracing a searing path up her thigh. "You're mine tonight."

Her body is quaking beneath him, waves of pleasure crashing through her with each stroke of his fingers and lap of his tongue.

"All mine," he purrs again, his tongue flicking over her clit. "Tell me you're mine, Lelianna." It’s a demand, an order that she finds herself all too willing to comply with.

"I'm yours," she cries out. His fingers curl within her, brushing against a spot that has her seeing stars and gasping for breath. Astarion’s smirk widens at her response, and he leans down to nip at her inner thigh lightly. The combined sensations of his fingers moving inside her and his teeth on her skin tip her over the edge, and with a cry, she comes undone beneath him.

“Astarion!” she gasps, her thighs quaking around his head as he thrashes his tongue against her. She can feel waves of pleasure coursing through every inch of her body, radiating from where he's touching her. Her arms strain against the belt tying them together, the rough texture of it scraping against her skin and adding a touch of pain to the overwhelming pleasure. Her back arches, and she cries out his name once more before succumbing to the bliss.

But instead of stopping, Astarion's tongue and fingers keep their unyielding pace, making her shiver with the pain of oversensitivity.

"W-what are you doing?" she breathes, struggling against her restraints.

But he just looks up with a wide grin, his hand still pounding inside of her "I'm giving you your punishment."

And with that, he quickens his pace, his tongue and fingers relentless as they push her towards another wave of pleasure. His crimson eyes flicker with delight as he watches her writhe beneath him, sweat glistening on her flushed skin.

"No more..." she pleads between gasps, her body quivering from the intensity. But her protest is drowned out by the pleasure he's igniting within her.

His free hand reaches up to grip her breast, his thumb rubbing circles over a hardened nipple. The combined sensations have her writhing and bucking beneath him, desperately seeking release. Each touch is electric, setting her skin. Astarion’s lips curl into a devilish smirk at her reaction, his tongue continuing its torturous pace. He flicks his finger against her increasingly sensitive nub, drawing out a whimper from her. “What’s the matter, darling?” he asks, feigning innocence. “Can’t handle your punishment?”

She would've rolled her eyes if she wasn't so lost in the overwhelming sensations coursing through her body.

She tries to form a response, but all that comes out are fragmented moans and short gasps of breath. She writhes underneath him, the binds on her wrists chafing against her skin. But he doesn't let up, his fingers thrusting deeply within her as he skillfully plays with her clit.

"I... I hate you" she gasps out.

Astarion just laughs, the sound dark and throaty. "Oh, I know," he replies, his gaze unfaltering, as if he knows a truth she herself has yet to realize. His fingers increase their rhythm, torturing her remorselessly. Every touch sends jolts of pleasure radiating from her core and spreading to every corner of her being. She starts getting dizzy, all the sensations coming to her at once. Her body convulses beneath him once again as another orgasm rips right through her. She screams his name, her voice hoarse and breathless, as her body shakes uncontrollably. But Astarion doesn't stop, keeps driving his fingers within her folds while his tongue flicks over her sensitive bud.

"Gods" she cries, as fire sweeps through her veins, searing every inch of her. She gasps, completely breathless as her body convulses in the throes of bittersweet pleasure.

She rides the wave, writhing and thrashing in the circle of Astarion's arms. At that point, she is just blabbering nonsense, far too gone to make any coherent thought. She can hear him whispering something, a low rumble of words against her skin that makes her shiver with aftershocks.

"Again," he orders, his fingers flexing inside of her, and she obeys without thought, brought back to the brink by the insistent pressure of his hand.

"I can’t... I can’t..." she gasps, feeling her body start to tremble again. She tries to get away from his mouth, but the binds and his arms are a powerful restraint.

"Shhh," he whispers against her skin, "you will. For me."

She can't distinguish between her orgasms anymore, everything a jumbled mess of sensitivity and pleasure. His fingers continue their relentless rhythm, pushing her further and further until she feels like she might shatter from the intensity. His mouth returns to her clit, sucking harshly and her vision turns white as she convulses underneath him once more. She is screaming so loud her voice breaks, her hands clawing at the dirt beneath them. Her entire body tenses and spasms with pleasure. Suddenly, she feels a rush come out of her, and sees what has happened before she processes it. She’s squirted, soaking him and the ground beneath them both. Astarion pulls back, laughing in delight at her shocked expression.

“Doesn’t look like you hate me that much, darling,” he teases, wiping his face with his free hand.

Her cheeks are flushed bright red, the embarrassment nearly consuming her. She's too overwhelmed to form a coherent thought, let alone a retort. She just glares at him half-heartedly, her energy spent on the pleasure he'd mercilessly coaxed from her body. Her breasts rise and fall quickly as she gasps for air, sweat trickling down from her temples to pool in the hollow of her throat.

But Astarion only seems to be spurred on by this new development. He lowers himself down between her legs once more, tongue darting out to taste her again.

Lelianna squirms, oversensitive from her previous orgasms. "No...no more..."

But he isn't on her anymore like before. Instead, his lips and tongue are cleaning her thighs and the space between, lapping up every last drop of her release, smirking up at her with a look that was equal parts predatory and satisfied. The cool night air sends a chill down her spine as Astarion’s tongue hits her overheated skin.

"You're such a mess, darling," he coos, his fingers lightly tracing over her sensitive mound. His touch is light now, soothing after the relentless torture he'd subjected her to. Despite herself, Lelianna lets out a sigh of relief.

Her body is shaking from exhaustion and overstimulation. But she can't deny the thrill that still thrums through her veins or the rush of adrenaline that leaves her feeling both breathless and revitalized.

He briefly rests his head on her stomach, his white disheveled hair tickling the sensitive skin there. His hands are gentle as they trace patterns along her waist and hips, soothing her trembling muscles. Once he’s done, Astarion takes her out of her bindings "I think you've learned your lesson,” he murmurs meanwhile, with a little smile.

Lelianna blinks up at him, still panting and trying to catch her breath. "You're... insufferable," she stammers, voice hoarse from her screams.

But he just smirks and kisses her softly. Then, Astarion curls protectively around her, his hand resting casually on her stomach. He's warm and solid, his chest rising and falling steadily against her back. The quiet night is a stark contrast to their previous activities, but it’s peaceful and comforting in its own way. She turns to look at Astarion, his face bathed in the soft moonlight filtering down from the trees above. His expression is unguarded, with a hint of smug satisfaction playing about the corners of his lips. They kiss lazily, and then with a gasp she remembers.

"Wait you didn't" she starts, weakly reaching for his pants.

But he catches her wrist and kisses the side of it. "Not today, little bard. Today was about you." he whispers softly, his breath teasing along her skin and stirring goosebumps in its wake.

"I think I've had enough of your idea of punishment," she murmurs, her eyes fluttering closed with the lull of relaxation coursing through her.

"Let's go back to the tent and I will make up for it" he whispers over her ear.

He gets up and swiftly helps her sit up, but her legs give away at the movement and she slumps against him, her body too spent to hold her upright. He laughs heartly "And there's our strong bard who can take anyone in a fight."

She rolls her eyes, too tired to even attempt a retort. "You're lucky I can't move," she grumbles, leaning heavily against him.

His chuckle rings out through the quiet night. He puts his cloak around her, clothes discarded somewhere in the clearing. Then reaches down and easily lifts her into his arms. She yelps in surprise, gripping tightly onto his shirt as he carries her back towards their tent.

"Don't get used to it," he warns playfully. “I don’t make a habit of carrying damsels in distress.”

She scoffs weakly at that, resting her head on his shoulder. "You wish I was a damsel in distress to feed your ego."

Astarion's laughter is infectious, filling the otherwise silent forest with his mirth. It sends waves of warmth coursing through her despite the cool evening air.

"So, when is our next lesson?"

#astarion ancunin #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #bg3 #bg3 fanfic prompt #bg3 tav #astarion x tav #astarion fanfic #baldurs gate fanfiction #baldurs gate 3 #astarion baldurs gate #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #fanfic

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dribs-and-drabbles · 14 days

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Get to Know Me Tag :)

I was tagged by @telomeke and @hughungrybear. Thanks for tagging me!

do you make your bed?

It depends... I live in the part of the world where it's usual to have a duvet in a duvet cover and a sheet covering the mattress, and I have a duvet twice the width of my bed so it usually doesn't get rucked up during the night, so when I get up I fold over the top third of the duvet to air out the mattress/sheet. If it's a work day, it will stay like this until I get home, then I will usually pull the duvet back over the bed. If it's a weekend, I might make the bed again midday. I like it when my bed looks made.

what's your favourite number?

I'm not sure why but I like the number 7, and then also the numbers 4 and 3 because they make up 7. I've never really considered numbers beyond single digits to be 'favourites'. But if I did it would be my birthday day. Oh and I don't really use favourite numbers as important passwords or pins or the such...jsyk.

what is your job?

The work I do is quite niche, so I never really want to say too much because I'm pretty discoverable online with a few key words...but then sometimes I really want y'all to know what I do because it's unusual (and, I think, quite cool!)...but without revealing too much I work in the arts sector - specifically dance.

if you could go back to school, would you?

School, as in aged 11-16? Absolutely the hell no. But school as in higher education, degrees, masters, or smaller qualifications for my general interests? Well, I sort of did a few years ago (*she looks at the calendar and realises it's more than 'a few'*). I did a Creative Writing Masters over 2019-2020, which was GREAT to do but sort of killed my spirit and drive to be a writer...but whatever, I can always pick it back up again in the future if it returns. I also went to classes to learn Swedish when I lived in Sweden and I'm going to a different language class now one evening a week. I enjoy studying...but I get too focused on getting good grades.

can you parallel park?

Yes but I only do it when the space is big enough for me to confidently do it (especially with all these sensors beeping nowadays) and usually only on the side of the road opposite to the steering wheel (I can drive on both sides of the road).

a job you had that would surprise people?

I think my whole career is probably surprising to people but in the sense that I think people are mostly confused because they don't really understand what I really do on a day to day basis.

do you think aliens are real?

I think it would be incredible if in this whole universe we are the only planet who has developed 'life'. Aliens don't necessarily have to be intelligent life like us (and that's debatable sometimes!), so yes, I think somewhere in this universe there is another planet which has the conditions for some form of life, whether we could survive there or not.

can you drive a manual car?

Yes, I learnt on one and have managed to adapt to both right-hand and left-hand gear sticks, although I'm still a little 'fumbly' with the right-hand gear stick. I prefer automatics when in a traffic jam but otherwise I'm happy to drive whichever. Sometimes it's good to have something to focus on when driving, so a manual is good. The problem happens if I've used different hire cars in a short period of time (which I need to do sometimes with work) and when I forget I'm in a manual and brake coming up to to a junction and just...stall because I forget to change down gears 😂

what's your guilty pleasure?

If a guilty pleasure is something I'd feel shy or embarrassed admitting or talking to others about...then it would probably be watching ql or reading fanfic 😂 Other than that I'm not sure I have anything...I enjoy what I enjoy and don't feel guilt over it.

tattoos?

No but I've always thought about getting one but I think the thought of the work I'd have to do to find someone I would really trust to permanently mark my skin means I've just never done it. But I would like some kind of minimalist abstract colour art that starts on my shoulder and trails down my arm. Maybe. I've never been able to find exactly what I'm imagining, which is also why I've never pursued it.

favorite color?

I think I'm in my blue stage in my life, looking at the majority of colours surrounding me, but I also like pops of red.

favorite type of music?

The music playlists I listen to most are 1) OSTs and similar style songs from all the qls I've watched over the past 3 years 2) the instrumental background music from all the qls I've watched and 3) Swedish pop (to keep the language fresh in my brain). I do like all kinds of music - just NOT drum and bass - anything can work for me in the right mood.

do you like puzzles?

Yes, although I don't often do them. I enjoy the 'escape room' type Exit games as well as sudoku, and for a few months several years ago I really got into hanjie puzzles.

any phobias?

I'm not sure if this is a phobia or not but I absolutely CANNOT deal with cotton wool. Just thinking about pulling it apart makes me want to crawl out of my skin and lay down in a bath of acid just to get away from it let alone actually TOUCHING it and pulling it apart 🤢🤮 The cotton wool pads are ok because they have smooth sides and I don't...pull 🤮 them 🤮 apart 🤮. Ok, I gotta stop talking about this now, I'm squirming in my seat.

favorite childhood sport?

I did gymnastics as a child, from about aged 8 to 13, but I don't know if that counts as a 'sport', although I did compete. I didn't really enjoy most ball sports as a kid.

do you talk to yourself?

ALL. THE. DAMN. TIME. I talk to myself in my head. I talk to myself out loud. Sometimes, if I'm talking to myself aloud about something important and then do something that means I can't continue (cleaning my teeth, drinking/eating etc) then for some reason I can't continue in my head. I have to wait until I'm finished to then talk out loud again. But I also talk to myself aloud when I'm out 😬 but I do it quietly and without moving my mouth too much so people don't notice. I was in a shop recently and a gentleman was talking to himself out loud (commenting on the offering of tea towels ikea had and wondering whether to buy any) - loud enough that I thought that he was actually talking to someone else but he wasn't - and I felt like I had a glimpse of my future if I wasn't careful 😂

what movies do you adore?

I don't watch a lot of movies nowadays - the last I saw was Barbie. But the one that has stayed with me as a favourite since I first saw it is Some Kind of Wonderful. And I love The Holiday as a Christmas movie (although I haven't watched it for ages). Oh and it's not a movie, so maybe doesn't count, but the BBC's adaptation of Pride and Prejudice has my whole heart.

coffee or tea?

I'm definitely a tea drinker (approx 3 cups of black Earl Grey plus one or two herbal teas every day) but sometimes I'll crave a coffee...but then I'll have decaf. I'll crave it because I think the milkiness of it (oat milk though) makes it feel like a comfort drink, and I like a small shot of gingerbread syrup in it too.

first thing you wanted to be growing up?

I remember things like 'lawyer', 'journalist', and 'doctor' were common aspirations when I was a kid which I also contemplated but when I decided I wanted to be a dancer at aged 13 that was it for me. My 'back-up' career plan was some kind of palaeontology or archaeology ("you get an -ology you're a scientist!" 😂) but I never needed to pursue that.

Onward tagging: I'm not sure by now who has done this or not, so I'll tag some people and if you have done it then tag me in your post so I can read it! @grapejuicegay @dimplesandfierceeyes @casualavocados @ranchthoughts @jourquet @lollygirlpops @airenyah @incandescentflower and @linosaur

Like @telomeke, I also get tagged now and then by others in various tag games but then get too busy with work to be able to do them. So if you've tagged me and I've not responded, please know that I really wanted to but I just didn't have the time and then probably forgot.

#get to know me tag #that tag game

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butmakeitgayblog · 20 days

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what do you think was going through lexas head the night she showed up in the black nite gown. i believe she definitely had to hype herself up before even showing up at clarkes door at all, how many times did she start walking to her room or even knocking on her door. did she repeat what she'd say on the long walk there and what her guards might think because we know lexa second guesses everything to do with clarke. how do you think that scene should have went? lexa couldnt have been more vulnerable in that scene look and all... she just wanted clarkes love so much...

I wrote a long post once before of how I wished the scene had gone, which should be tagged in the Clexa tagged below (I'll to find it after this and add the link if I can)

But if I'm thinking just from Lexa's pov, yeah I think there was a lot of conflicting feelings there. I think that scene was the most just pure Lexa we had seen thus far. Yes she still fell back on the safety of using her commander stoicism as a shield, but with Lexa, everything she did had a deeper meaning than surface value because those were the only ways she really felt comfortable and safe communicating.

For this night in particular I think Lexa was probably grappling between the want to respect Clarke's wishes for distance, but still wanting to see her. I mean think about what had just happened. Clarke had been visibly upset at the prospect of Lexa fighting Roan, visibly angry and scared at the idea that something could happen to her in that fight. She went so far as to try and fucking assassinate the ice nation queen (which,,, the amount of conflicting feelings that alone must've stirred up) just to keep Lexa from danger.

She had tried to protect Lexa.

And she'd shown up even when Lexa didn't think she would. When Lexa walked past stage of clan leaders, she'd looked up and seen Clarke's seat vacant, just as she had expected it would be. But then, oh, then there Clarke was. Not only there, but standing definitively on her side. She was backing Lexa and quietly willing for her victory.

And dammit, that had to mean something.

Didn't it?

I think all of that was playing in repeat in her mind as she got ready. The unsure wobble of her stomach, the residual guilt of everything that had torn them apart, the hope that things were mending. Questioning whether Clarke would even want to see her and the little zings of thrill that maybe, just maybe they were past a lot of the pain.

I think she wanted to very honestly tell Clarke that she appreciated her support, even if she might be reading too much into things, because it was a very tangible way for Lexa to be vulnerable in a way Clarke could appreciate on her own terms. Lexa had had so few people in her life who supported her beyond just the crown of Heda, but Clarke knows her more than that. She knows Lexa. Which was why I believe she thoughtfully and consciously went to Clarke's as Lexa, not Heda. I think she was trying very hard to be vulnerable with her in the few ways she knew how.

"Not everyone. Not you."

"I do trust you, Clarke."

"I vow to treat your needs as my own."

"This is, 'thank you.'"

Do I think she wanted Clarke to accept her back into space without barriers? Yeah, I do. I think a piece of her, however small, hoped that that night would be a defining turning point in their relationship. Both physically and emotionally. I think Lexa at that point was yearning for closeness with Clarke. More intimacy. She wanted to be forgiven. She wanted that intimacy to more than fleeting moments. She wanted Clarke.

But I also think that Lexa was never foolish enough to assume it'd be that easy. While she may have allowed herself moments of hope - like the one that lead her right to Clarke's door, dressed for a relaxed night of being alone together - I don't think she ever took that hope for granted. I don't think she ever assumed anything was a given. I just think she was happy to always put it out there. To remind Clarke, "I'm still here. I still care. Even if you don't, I do. I still want you."

#anon #clexa #lexa kom trikru

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blacklesbothatlovestowrite · 8 months

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On My Mama Pt 2

Shuri x Fem Reader, Fem Reader x OC

I'm new to the tag list and tagging so bare with me if I left anyone out just let me know and I'll add it in.

Tags: @mixedfandxms @shurislover @sweetalittleselfish-honey @desswright29

Side note: I had an idea for a fic with Jada Kingdom Reader (looks) and Shuri, maybe ShuRiri. I'm Jamaican so you know seh big tunes ah guh run. 💥 reader could be an aspiring model trying to break into music and she meets Shuri or Shuriri at an event and they decide to produce her music wanting to do a fusion between Jamaican, African and American music. And a whole lotta smut and messy, toxic shit in between. 😮‍💨

I be in the section dolo, baby, oh

You chose to go to the club on a Friday night, you'd been ducking Riri and Shuri for days. Expensive gifts were delivered daily, Beautiful flower arrangements, your favorite foods. Things you wanted but had no clue as to how they knew that.

Some girl you barely knew invited out out with her group of friends. You weren't very interested at first as you knew girls were catty and competitive by nature and you weren't interested in having to be on the defense all night. You'd done the trying to be a girl's girl before and it never worked out. Girls tended to be weird and you had no time nor energy for the bullshit.

Making acquaintances was the goal. You couldn't spend all your time in college doing nothing but doing work and keeping your head in the books. You wanted some fun, some irresponsibility. You were tired of being a 'good girl' someone that was a people pleaser. You had no people to please any longer. Your mother was a cheating whore and your father the star of your eyes was gone.

Your look + Outfit (with a more subtle eye look)

The club was lit. You noticed many POC students from campus. Which wasn't surprising as this club was marketed towards POC's on the low. Owned by a black couple, and ran with POC staff. It was a safe space for POC's to have fun without fear of harm.

"Y/n, I'm a little miffed. I invited you out and you out here making us all look bad." Gina says, her eyes narrowing at you playfully.

"Girl hush, she couldn't do normal if she tried. Even in casual wear with no makeup she looks hot." Nina giggles, greeting you with a hug.

"I'd kill for your looks and figure..." Gina pouts. You laugh at her. "No wonder your mom's a model. You need to follow in her footsteps, all that damn beauty."

"I'm good. Beauty and Brains is the goal. I'd rather be known for being pretty and a genius rather than pretty and an airhead hoe." You shrug and the girls look between each other in shock. "My mother isn't my favorite person so you'll never hear a compliment out of my mouth about her so it's better to not bring her up."

"Noted..." Gina muttered, clearing her throat. You could practically hear the silent judgment.

"Let's go get some drinks." Nina suggests, leading the way to the bar.

"I want a margarita." Gina calls to one of the bartenders. A pretty tall caramel skinned girl with highlighted curls and a bright smile.

Bartender

"Make that two." Nina agrees.

"I'll have whatever you think is best." You say, watching the girl eye you seductively.

"Coming right up, gorgeous." You bite your lip as she looks you over as she makes the drinks. The look she was giving you had you weak in the knees already.

"Oooh..." Gina giggles, bumping your shoulder. "She feeling you..."

"Here ya'll go." She places each drink down, before handing yours to you. "This one's new, I'm sure it tastes just as good as you look."

You fight the urge to break out in a cheesy smile. Her fingers grazing yours as you take the glass. You down the drink, eyes widening at the sweet yet potent taste that slid down your throat. You felt slightly hot as she smirked at you.

"Ok... I'll have what she's having!" Nina says, wide eyed. The bartender laughs but nods.

"Lord Ha'Mercy I'm too gay for this." Nina fans herself. You smile a genuine smile. Something you hadn't done in a very long time.

"What's your name ?" The bartender asks, as she passes Nina her drink and a hands you a refill.

"Why should I tell you?" You raise a brow, while nibbling on your bottom lip.

"Ok, Smiley it is." She licks her lip and you internally fan girl. "You have such a beautiful smile."

You're making me forget my past

"I'm Jess by the way." She adds.

"Ok, Jess by the way. Thanks for the drinks." You say, your tone playful. You grab a $20 and slide it towards her before heading to the dance floor. You wanted to let loose and have fun, and a small part of you wanted to show off for her.

You let your body sway to the beat, your head slightly tilted back as you gyrates your hips to the beat. As you danced your mind went to Shuri, the lyrics swirling in your head. Your eyes snapped open wanting to remove her from your mind.

You'd been trying to stop thinking about her. You couldn't help your attraction to her, she did something to you but you refused to go there. She was the cause of your family's downfall. She'd been with your mother. It was disgusting to even be thinking about her after that.

Your eyes locked with Jess and you put every effort into seducing her. Something that wasn't so hard since she seemed interested in you. You needed Shuri the fuck out of your head and Jess seemed like the perfect way to do that.

You were sure fucking with Riri would work two fold. Take your mind off Shuri and fuck her over at the same time. Yet you couldn't stand the fact that Riri was friends with the girl. She was bright and from what you'd heard she was by all accounts a morally good person.

The two being friends made no sense to you. How could you trust someone so messy and chaotic unless you had that in you as well? Maybe Riri was better at hiding her dirt and kept it on the low. Regardless you weren't interested in finding out.

As the song finished and you went to make your way back to the bar a familiar face stopped in front of you. She looked bothered, and you couldn't find a fuck to give.

"I see you've gotten my gifts." Riri eyes your body in the outfit she's sent you. You wore it hoping she'd see you in it because you wanted to prove a point to the duo one you knew would be relayed if the other wasn't present.

"And I see you weren't listening." You deadpan. "But if you'd like to send me stuff who am I to stop you? It's giving fan behavior, and I find that very amusing."

"Oh, so you got jokes?" Riri cracks up. She steps closer, her body almost touching yours. "You can continue acting like you don't want me but we both know you secretly like my attention. You like being chased and that's fine. Just know once you get caught, you'll have to beg for my attention."

"Your head being big clearly fits you, Williams." You say her name with malice.

"And that's not the only thing big." You can tell by her tone exactly what she's talking about but you choose not to acknowledge it.

"Well have a good rest of your night." You dismiss her before stepping around her and heading back towards the bar. You see that Nina and Gina are gone. You look around to see them with the other people they were supposed to meet up.

"So Riri's your thing?" Jess says, settling back in front of you.

"Thing?"

"Your type." She clarifies, her eyes sparkling. She had the prettiest eyes you'd seen.

"I think the only type you need to worry about is yourself." You flirt. She raises a brow.

"Word?"

"What do you say to heading home with me?" You get straight to the point, watching as she grins.

"Oh you go for what you want, huh?" She seems impressed. You simply stare at her. "We can head out right now."

She walks over to some guy and they talk for a bit before she gathers her things from under the bar and motions for you to follow her. She leads the way to her car, a black Camry with blue and black interior. Her rims are even blue and her windows tinted.

The next morning you're woken by Jess with her skillful tongue and you take pleasure in the fact that you're loud. She'd put you to work the whole night, and you'd returned the favor showing her exactly how much you appreciated her attention.

You sighed as you piled your straight hair into a messy bun and pulled on a oversized t-shirt and walked her to your dorm door. You yawned as you let her out and thanked her for coming over. You made a note to text her for another session as she was definitely a generous and thoughtful lover.

As you watched her leave and was about to close your door you watched in victory as Riri walked towards her dorm room. She'd left at some point in the early hours of the morning, slamming her door. You knew she was jealous and that thought sent chills of satisfaction throughout your body.

"Good morning, Williams." You said, smirking as she clenched her jaw. "Sorry about the noise. I'll try to be quieter next time."

And with that you closed the door with an enthusiastic kick. The message you'd sent very clear. Little did you know, you'd just started a war. One you wouldn't win.

Your day was starting to turn to shit as your RA left your dorm. Angry was an understatement. You knew someway somehow your current predicament was curtesy of Riri. You couldn't prove it but you knew it was her.

You'd been reported for having an off campus visitor spend the night. A violation that meant you lost your dorm. You were pissed. You'd already made your dorm home. Decorated it how you wanted and even saged it to clear any bad energy out. Clearly it hadn't worked.

You were being moved to another building where you'd have two roommates. The only upside being you had a room and there weren't many rules. You just hated the fact you had to share a space with people you barely knew in closer and smaller quarters.

It took you the whole day and the help of the sisters Nina and Gina. Once you'd moved into the new apartment, you noticed the apartment was huge. You looked around, steering clear of the other bedrooms not wanting to invade anyone's private spaces.

The apartment was styled nicely. By the door was a shoe rack with dope sneakers, expensive heels and slides. You could tell whoever your roommates were they came from money.

You were so exhausted you knocked out on the sofa watching some old show.

A loud sound and a cuss woke you up. As your eyes adjusted to the dark you could barely make out two figures.

"Hello?" You called out, you knew you locked the door so the two had to be your roommate. The light was switched on and you instantly jumped up, anger building in you.

"Are you fucking serious!?!?!?!" You bellow.

"Told you she'd be happy to see us." Riri wiggled her brows, bumping Shuri.

"Y...you..." You couldn't find the words to express what you were feeling.

"Chill ma, we just thought you'd like some company." Riri grins, heading for the kitchen.

"Stop antagonizing her, Ri." Shuri speaks up, her demeanor is different. You glare at the duo.

"Fuck you look so good when you're pissed." Riri chuckles, grabbing a water and taking a sip. "Adorable really."

Realizing there wasn't much you could do, you swallowed down all the things you wanted to say and headed for your room. You slammed it, locking it behind you.

They didn't know what they'd started but you were damn sure going to finish it. You started scheming.

💕

#Spotify

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clockwayswrites · 1 year

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Specter of Starlight Snippet

Continuing this week of posting snippets since I'm K.O.ed. From this idea here. Two parts and another snippet.

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“That’s it, we can’t be friends any more. You’re dead to me,” Danny said, hand to his heart as if Tim had mortally wounded him.

Friends. Danny thought they were friends. He shook his head to clear it and gave back his best smirk. “I’m sorry, Deep Space 9 is just patently better than Enterprise.” “But they don’t go anywhere!” Danny whined. “Star Trek’s whole thing is to ‘boldly go where no man has gone before’ and you can’t do that in a space station!” “That’s just a cover and you know it. Star Trek is about exploring the human condition— especially by using aliens to do it. Going where no man has gone before is using a cheesy sci-fi show to talk about race and sexuality and gender. By putting it on a space station they can really focus in on that without all the other distractions.” “Distractions!” Tim couldn’t help the snort of amusement at how insulted Danny managed to sound on that one word. “Distractions he says. Red. Red, why.” “You know I’m right,” Tim said, putting every ounce of Bristol born and raise snobbery into the statement as he could. “This is an insult to Picard,” Danny managed to say between his laughter. Tim could feel the grin stretch across his face at Danny’s laughter. The other— his friend— had seemed a subdued when Tim had first landed on the roof that night. Tim was glad to see Danny’s mood lightening. He didn’t want to see that listlessness clinging to Danny like that again. “I would never insult Picard,” Tim assured Danny. Danny smiled back, relaxing against the gargoyle behind him. “Good, or else it would be pistols at dawn or something.” “Pistols at dawn?” “You know, duel of honor.” Tim’s nose wrinkled at the thought. Sure, Jason had taught him to shoot (he insisted Tim needed to know how to handle a gun for safety reasons), but Tim still didn’t like handling them. “Can’t we use swords?” “No. You’d win in two seconds,” Danny said with a little wave of his hand. “At least with a gun I have a shooting chance.” “Danny,” Tim groaned at the joke. Then the implication of rest of the statement caught up to him. “You know how to shoot?” “Oh, sure. I grew up around fire arms… of a type,” Danny said. His smile slid off into a little, pensive frown. “Pull one out of a couch cushion enough and you sorta have to learn how to handle it safely, you know?” Tim’s spine straightened in alarm. “Out of a couch cushion?” “Yeah. Hey, it’s fine,” Danny said. The smile he plastered on was far from convincing. “It’s… I’m not there anymore. The guns aren’t really my worry right now.” “Danny…” “It’s fine," Danny snapped back before curling up a little from his own tone. He picked at his nails, eyes darting out over the dark city. "Come on, time to rank the captains. Janway verses Pike.” Tim took a steadying breath and counted to five. He wouldn’t press. But he wouldn’t forget either. “Okay, pilot Pike, reboot Pike, or Strange New Worlds?” “Strange New What?” “You haven’t seen it? Okay so…” Tim launched into talking about the new series and the whole effect of the streaming platform on the series. He knew it was just a distraction, but he wanted Danny’s smile to come back. He just wanted Danny happy.

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AN: No tagging cause I'm dead and it's not in order. But it is part of the next part! Which is mostly these two being goofs and talking about various things. Who do you think is right? Enterprise or Deep Space 9?

Stay delightful everyone~

#dp x dc #danny fenton #tim drake #tim/danny #brain dead #dead tired #brain dead ship #nerds being nerds

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thatfreshi · 7 months

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"Tough Crowd" (Uni AU P. 1)

Really embracing the catty queerness of these fuckers LMAO. Anyways, here's our little intro to Ravenguard Univeristy and Tav's living situation :)

Tw - mention of alcohol

@justporo (If you want me to tag you in part two, leave a comment!)

It's finally move-in day. After getting your Associate's degree at some small-town community college, you finally transferred to Ravenguard University, probably through sheer luck. Perhaps someone dropped out of the waitlist, but you're here now, moving into the place that'll be your home for the upcoming semesters. Soon enough you're asked for your name, and given the key to your room, quickly being ushered to the elevators. The volunteering students are clearly stressed by all the newcomers, so you don't exactly blame them for seeming impersonal.

You read your key, which has deemed you to be in room 717. Sneaking your way over to the floor buttons, you lightly tap 7, and place yourself in one of the empty corners of the elevator. After dropping off a few strangers on lower floors, you finally get to your destination, and find your dorm room shortly after. When you unlock the door, you immediately hear arguing.

"I need the room with the desk! I have far too many exams to study for. Besides, you don't seem like the studying type anyways."

Two women are yelling at each other, one with jet-black hair and the other with piercing eyes and an intimidating demeanor.

"We're all here to study fool."

"Well, as far as I know, you don't want to be a doctor. Besides, aren't you just here as an athlete? Or, my bad, were here as an athlete?"

At this point the ginger is fuming, fists clenched, but simply takes the room they were arguing over and slams the door, locking it immediately. The med student slams her fist on the door.

"Just wait til I tell the RA about this Lae'zel!"

She sighs, clearly still trying to let go of her anger. When she turns from the closed door, she finally realizes you're standing there.

"Sorry about that. Roommate problems, am I right?"

The pale woman nervously chuckles. Dressed in all black, she looks ready for a funeral, well if funerals were comfy and full of college students.

"Uh, yeah. Please don't tell me you're going to be arguing like this every night."

"Well, her and I don't particularly get along. I'm surprised housing even let us be in the same room after how many issues we've had. Though I'm sure I'll learn to tolerate her better in our living situation."

The woman ponders the thought for a moment, and then her eyes light up.

"I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Shadowheart, and yes my parents are hippies. Most people call me Shadow since it's less cringe."

"Well, nice to meet you. Please tell me there's a room I can snag that you aren't fighting about."

"Oh, go down the hall and to the right. That one has a bigger wardrobe, but Lae and I both really wanted the desk."

Your phone vibrates, with a notification from some online magazine.

'Szarr: The Seven Models Behind the Magic'

"Why has this man been doing so many interviews?"

Shadowheart's ears perk up.

"You know Szarr, that fashion guy right? He's been all over the news, I cannot escape it."

"Oh. You may want to be careful how you talk about him. One of his precious prodigies goes here. Kind of a bitch honestly."

She makes a fake throw-up noise, rolling her eyes.

"Wait. One of his models goes here? I assumed they were all full-time."

"He's full-time alright. I've never seen Astarion pause for anything other than himself. Anyways, I suppose I need to unpack my things IN THE ROOM WITHOUT A DESK."

Shadowheart yells the last part loud enough for Lae'zel to hear, which coerces a groan from her behind the locked door. And just like that, she's locked away in her own room, leaving you with the room at the end of the hall. At least it has the nice wardrobe? You put on some music and start to unpack all your bags, soaking in the space. It leaves some to be desired, but you're excited nonetheless. You're woken from the trance however when there's a very loud knock at your dorm door. You wait for a moment, hoping one of the other two will get it, but the knocking simply continues obnoxiously. Making your way to the front door with a scowl on your face, you throw it open.

"Floor meeting in thirty minutes. If you or any of your roommates are late, I'll kill you."

You're met with the topic of your previous conversation: Astarion. While you aren't necessarily into fashion, you've seen so much about this guy as of recent, mostly from people thirsting on Twitter. You almost laugh, knowing Shadowheart will be pissed when she hears that he's the RA for their floor. He doesn't wait for you to respond and simply walks down to the next room. After closing the door, you call for your new gossipy friend.

"Oh Shadow, I have wonderful news!"

She opens her door and leans in the frame.

"Please tell me I heard that voice wrong."

"Nope. I guess if you want to complain about Lae'zel, you'll have to see your favorite person!"

She lets out a heavy sigh.

"Fine. I guess I'll just deal with her. Better the devil you know than the devil you don't."

You knock on Lae'zel's door to tell her about the meeting, but you're simply met with a yell of 'I know!'

"Geez, tough crowd."

"She's the toughest crowd you'll meet. Don't ever try to impress her, you'll die trying."

Shadowheart gives you this slice of advice while putting her hair in a black claw clip.

The next thirty minutes pass by quickly as you decorate the walls of your room. Posters, little pieces of art, pictures of friends from home. When you leave the room to go to the floor meeting, you're met with the overlapping voices of everyone from floor seven, clearly annoyed that they have to be here. You and Shadowheart sit on a couch in the common area, and Lae'zel stands off to the side.

"Okay, I'm going to make this quick."

The room gets quiet quickly as Astarion speaks up, pushing his shades down his nose slightly so he can make intense eye contact with anyone who interrupts him.

"I'm your RA for the year. No, I will not answer your calls. If I'm sleeping, you better not wake me up. I do not care if you have an air fryer in your room, but if you burn down the university I will be pissed. To make it entirely clear, I'm only doing this to make a little extra cash, so do not expect me to be, how do you say... present."

The room is silent, both pleased that he doesn't seem to care and entirely annoyed by his attitude.

"Any questions?"

Once again, no one speaks.

"Great! If you truly need something, I would suggest you go to the RA on floor eight, my wonderful friend Gale, as he actually cares about the well-being of strangers. Good day!"

The large group mutters as they all make their way back to their rooms. Shadowheart turns to whisper to you.

"Oh Gale fucking hates him, and I guarantee you he didn't sign off on being the RA of two floors. Can't wait to see that catfight."

You laugh at her comment, not noticing the white-haired man approaching the two of you.

"Shadowheart."

"Astarion."

"Who's your new friend?"

She then realizes she never actually asked your name.

"Tav. It's Tav."

Astarion makes a noise that lies somewhere between a laugh and a scoff.

"Fascinating. Well Tav, how would you like to be my plus-one to a party tonight? I would ask our emo queen here, but I'm sure she has some sulking and studying to do already."

"And I thought you'd be selling out on another Instagram post, but I guess you just really love bothering people. Have fun though, if you even know how to do that."

And with that comment. Shadowheart is back off to her room, most likely to sulk and study like Astarion said.

"Ugh, don't mind her. She just doesn't understand the hustle. Anyways, Tav was it? You seem like just the kind of person I'd love to silently drink champagne with."

You're silent for a moment, unsure if he really is as bad as Shadowheart makes him out to be.

"The champagne is free by the way."

What better way to sell a broke college student on a night out?

"Alright, guess I'm in."

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #au #shadowheart #lae'zel #astarion #gale of waterdeep #freshiau

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konigbabe · 1 year

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the five times you meet phillip graves

Author: @konigbabe

Pairing: Phillip Graves x fem!reader

Word count: 5.6k

Tags/Warnings: cod mwii campaign spoilers; swearing; enemies to those who tolerate each other; kissing; blood and injury; minor violence; cursing; pet names; gunshot/knife wounds; inaccurate military procedures/terms; inaccurate cia procedures; use of codenames/callsigns

Summary: The five times you meet Cmdr. Phillip Graves and the one time he surprises you.

Inspired by the book The Five Times I Met Myself by James L. Rubart.

masterlist • request • faq • taglist • AO3 • ko-fi

01 ˚✧ ┊ The first time; he irritates you.

A guttural grunt escapes your throat, fingers tightening around the steering wheel as the car before you speed up. A series of fucks and dammits leaves your mouth; foot on the accelerator, you follow the asset on the dirty road.

Where the fuck are they, you curse internally, barely missing the rotten fence as you near the end of the farm; this is the only chance to stop the asset with air support Shepherd sent to help you—that be if they were actually here.

The car never slows down, drifting through the abandoned farm, away from you. A static cracks next to you, before an unknown, rather casual voice comes through, “Echo 3-6, this is Shadow-1. Engaging the silo north of your position.”

Finally, you reach for the transmitter next to you, “Shadow-1, you’re free to fire but do not engage near the car, I need him alive.”

“Roger that,” the man says before all hell breaks loose; and to your dismay, you watch in horror as your asset’s car turns right towards the silo, intended to drive right past it the very same second the Shadow Company opens fire. A loud explosion blinds you momentarily as you slam the brakes.

Almost none of the men manage to exit the plane before you storm into the vehicle, rage surging through your veins; the red lightning matching your emotions.

“Which one of you is Shadow-1?” you stop a masked man about to leave, hand on his shoulder as you look around; and your eyes land on the only man without a mask and uniform—dirty blond hair, narrowed eyes shining with blue ice, lips pressed tight. He stays leaning against the side of the aircraft, hands clutching the top of his vest; and you know, even without anyone answering, that this must be the commander.

“Commander, you have a visitor,” the man next to you announces, shaking your hand off his shoulder.

“I can see that,” his voice is vexed, displeased. His men flow by you, leaving only the two of you in the confined space. Face to face, you feel a mix of frustration and confusion while he walks toward you.

Hand tugging at the side of his vest as he nears you, he takes it off.

“You must be the officer, echo 3-6.”

“And you must be the jerk that disobeyed my order and killed my asset,” the words come out like a hiss, voice laced with venom.

With a whoa, his hands shoot up in a defensive gesture, eyebrows raised, “but you gave me good to go, officer,” the commander takes a tentative step towards you, “I can’t foresee the future.”

Standing before you, his gaze sparkles with a mischievous twinkle, only inflaming the boiling rage that churns within you.

“You should’ve double-checked before firing, commander,” you remark, a touch of poignancy in your voice.

Opening his mouth to answer, his radio abruptly interrupts, calling out his name. As he strides past you, he adds, “I’ll remember your sage advice for the next time, officer.”

“Oh, and one more thing,” he stops by the opening, hand gripping the loose rope on the side, “the name’s Phillip Graves, not the jerk.”

02 ˚✧ ┊ The second time; he offers you a helping hand.

The tight bindings on your wrists sting, the beige material becoming stained with your blood as you squirm in the corner of the small, stuffy room. A moan escapes your lips while you try to find some reprieve from the uncomfortable position, only to be reminded of the dire situation you are in by the fresh wound on your leg opening up; more wet, sticky red substance turning the white camo pants into violet.

Foreign voices can be heard outside the room; malicious content behind the words. Ears perked for potential incoming, you attempt to stay alert; the soft light of the dark room and the throbbing pain in your leg makes it difficult to do so.

The sound of gunshots ricocheted through the building, reverberating off the walls; the voices behind the door go quiet for a split second. Air stills as tension fills the room. There’s a distant sound of a helicopter flying over your head. Someone starts throwing commands; three men to the rooftop, two to the north of the building and—

—the door is bashed open. Back pressed to the wall, your eyes follow a masked man, white camo matching yours. All you can see is his eyes; young, too young to be in this situation, the forest green projecting his worry; something isn’t going according to their plan.

Breath hitched, he strides toward you, handgun pointed right between your eyes. It feels like your heart is pounding so hard that it's going to burst right through your ribcage, his finger dancing dangerously close to the trigger.

“Who did you call,” he barks, accent thick, voice shaky, “tell me!”

“First you tell me who sold the weapons to your boss,” it’s a shot in the dark but there isn’t any other way now; you need to find out and this man—this boy might have the answer.

His hand isn’t steady, he’s hurried, impatient. Restive.

“I’m gonna die anyway, who does it matter if I die knowing or not,” you press further. Gunshots grow louder, closer. Multiple boots hit the hardwood. Ash and dust raise as men keep running around, shouting and shooting.

Eyes flickering between the soldier and the door, you keep pressing, urging him to answer. Both of you are aware of the fate awaiting you; just a matter of time and the right (and wrong) decision.

Through the smoggy air, a dark figure creeps into the room, the crimson beam slicing through the fumes with the precision of a sniper; a killer. Within a second, the no, stop makes it just to the tip of your tongue before a click is all that could be heard.

A warm, wet substance splatters over your cheeks. Clenching your eyes shut in revulsion, you let out a moan of displeasure. The soldier's body collapses to the floor with a heavy thud, his vacant eyes gazing up at you.

“Bleeding all by yourself, sweetheart,” the shadow nears you. Blue pools of larimar running over your sitting form before Graves crouches before you. His gloved fingers touch the tender skin around the open wound, examining the damage in the dim light.

“Seriously,” you hiss at him, “what’s with you and killing my intel? And don’t—”

A groan cuts you off as Graves presses a gauze against the oozing gash, applying more pressure than needed while wrapping a bandage around your thigh; the pain radiates through your body like a searing fire, teeth clenched and putting on a stone-cold face in front of the commander himself.

“—don’t call me sweetheart, Graves.”

“Well,” he finally looks up at you, tying the last knot of the bandage securely, “you didn’t tell me your name, and I gotta call y’ something.”

Standing up, his form looms over you, enveloping your figure in his shadow.

“Think you can walk?”

Your eyes burn into his as you raise your still-tied wrist, silently demanding him to free you.

A corner of his lips turns up, knife still tucked up in his vest as he says, “I think I prefer you tied up.”

“Not funny,” you remark but it gets him to bend down to your level again; the cold of the blade grazes over your irritated skin, gloved hand enclosing one of yours in his, steading your wrists. Few slices later, pain shoots up the whole length of your arms upon the freeing; soothing the wrists for a moment, Graves gets up and with a “Let’s go” walks toward the open door. It takes some willpower to stand up.

Once you steady yourself, just a simple step throws you off balance as you put your body weight onto the wounded leg. A hiss alerts Graves, who turns his head to look back at you. With an annoyed huff, he offers you a hand to help you get balanced again before throwing your arm around his shoulders.

His grip around your ribcage is firm but somewhat tender, fingers splayed over your side like a protective shield while he guides you to the door; the other hand grasping his weapon as he walks you out of the building.

03 ˚✧ ┊ The third time, he takes away your breath; quite literally.

Months of rehabilitation and a psychological evaluation later, you find yourself at a military compound. Shadow Company’s provisional base, covered in snow, in the middle of nowhere as the European winter fell upon all of you.

Simple intel mission, that’s your job; what makes it harder is the utter finesse skill of avoiding the commander by all means—so far successfully.

Since the last time you saw him, back when he killed your intel (again), managed to burn down a whole building just to get you out and almost pushed you out of a Shadow company’s helicopter while taking off (which you firmly believe was on purpose), you haven’t stopped hearing about him, especially from general Shepherd. It’s evident that he’s taken a liking to the company, to your dismay.

The hard mat underneath your bare feet squeaks with each slip, hard thuds and thumps spread through the room with each blow. The heat of the room is stifling, sweat dripping down your back, hands wrapped in tape to protect the knuckles.

Focusing on your breathing and the moves, letting the rhythm of your body drive you through the kata, every movement precise and each strike purposeful, you can feel the energy of the room around you and the strength of your own presence growing within.

With each repetition, you take down the imaginative opponent with more ease. A dull ache pulsating in your leg, the gush already healed but your subconsciousness still bringing it up.

Eyes close, focusing on each move, feeling every muscle in your body flex and contract, the silence is cut short by someone clearing their throat. With only the ceiling light above you being lit up, the intruder steps into the light only for you to huff in annoyance.

The man you’ve been successfully avoiding for days has finally found you.

His blonde hair is ruffled as if someone was running their fingers through it, cheeks tinted with a pinkish hue, Graves stops at the edge of the mat with raised eyebrows, lips tightly shut. Jacket open, the combat shirt outlines his dog tags, exposing the taut body hidden underneath; arms resting in his pockets, he takes a look around before his eyes land on you again.

“Most people spar during the day,” he notes, “and with a partner.”

Nearing where Graves stands, you glowered, “I don’t need a partner. I’m done anyway.”

Graves takes his hands out of the pockets, arm extended in front of your body like a tollgate, firm and unyielding. Looking at him, his eyes stern but form relaxed. It’s admittable that even at this moment, him being less than a foot away, he radiates an air of authority, his commander showing.

“I can show you a move,” he says, losing his arm back to his side, “one that’ll take your breath away,” he specifies.

A huff leaves your lips, “That’s childish.”

He sighs, hand running across his cheek as his eyes stay focused on you, “I’m serious. It might come in handy in combat for you.”

It takes a silent moment for you to think; to weigh whether to give in or not. Graves doesn’t show any signs of making fun of the situation as your eyes scan his face, eyes heavy-lidded, tired; but still, he offers to give you a piece of his knowledge—and even if your dislike to the commander outgrows your sense of authority, he still possesses more field experience than you and who are you not to take advantage of his offering.

When you accept the proposal, he nods in return; jacket and shoes off, the mat narrows as the man walks to stand in the middle of it, motioning you to stand before him. Face to face, he directs your body into the appropriate position.

“Pretend to kick me in my side,” he pats his ribcage, feet apart and ready to defend. The moment your leg is in the air, his hand grips the back of your thigh, just behind your knee, the other gripping your shoulder to firmly stop you in motion.

“When you push against here,” he squeezes the leg twice, “you squat down a little,” his body follows his words, “and the other hand goes for either the knee,” the hand on your shoulder leaves the moment he’s sure you can still stand and listen before gripping your other leg, still on the mat, “or the ankle, depending on the size of your opponent,” his cold fingers wrap around the exposed flesh of your ankle, “and you go back into the standing position, pulling your opponent’s body up and forward.”

This time, he doesn’t follow his words; instead lets go of your body, stepping back.

“Sometimes it’s better to not only pull but slam into the opponent as well, disrupt their center of gravity,” he adds, “it’ll send you both down but you’ll still have the upper hand.”

A mental image of his words replays in your head. Nodding along his words, you reposition yourself and motion for him to come closer, “I need to see it in full force.”

Looking at your leg, where the healed wound left its scar, Graves makes sure to understand your demand, “You want me to take you down?”

“I want you to throw me against the mat, yes,” you reassure him, “my leg’s all healed up or I wouldn’t be here, commander.”

Even with doubt painted on his unshaven face, he steps closer to position himself as well.

“I’ll probably hurt you if I do it.”

“Like you haven’t dreamt about that before,” you snark.

“My dreams tend to differ.”

His words send a jolt of electricity through you, resulting in a leg high up, aiming straight at Graves’ ribcage, the same place he patted before. It’d be an admirable attack if all this wasn’t prepared beforehand.

The commander does exactly as he described earlier; all you manage to do is yelp as his fingers sneak around your ankle. Strong pull forward, up, and back. The next thing you know, the heavy mat feels like an unforgiving surface beneath her.

Using enough force, the air pushes out of your lungs completely, throat closing when you try to take a breath as if a lump blocking the airways. Muscles tight, you sit up. Graves stands over you, starry eyes following your movement as you finally inhale, short and shallow but the air fills your lungs delightfully.

“Told you I’ll take your breath away.”

04 ˚✧ ┊ The fourth time; he saves your life.

The embassy is in flames; searing hot, ever exploding, and growing with every passing second. The sound of gunfire and shrieks of terror echo through the halls, smoke billowing out of the windows. Passing multiple bodies, your group moves in unison. Scouting each hall, each room and every single corner for the target—nowhere to be found.

Passing a windowed hall, glass shattered all over the marble floor, your eyes take in the outside scene, the utter chaos; crowds of people, shouting, crying, fighting. Praying. Their families might still be in this hellish building and as much as you wish to help, the diplomat remains the priority number one. You notice the familiar hooded figures of Shadows exiting multiple cars and heading towards another entrance, clearing other sections of the embassy as you work.

Reaching the end of the hall, all of your team stops next to the stairs as one of the soldiers clears the remaining room, returning to you with empty hands; nothing.

“Echo 3-6 to Watcher-1,” you turn on the mic when the last room is cleared, “target’s position unknown, moving the fifth floor. Over.”

“Negative,” the mechanic voice cuts through the static, “regroup with Shadow-1 and move back to the rendezvous. Over.”

The men around you remain still, their eyes fixed on you as you stand there resolutely, gaze trained on the top of the stairs; the flickering flames of the fire dancing like a sinister symphony. A heavy sense of dread clings to you, the crackling of the fire cutting through the momentary silence before you speak again, “What if the target is there?”

“Negative,” another refusal, “fifth floor’s completely taken over by the fire. Regroup and fall back. Over.”

“Roger that, over and out,” you nod to the group. Turning around, a step behind everyone, a sound pulls you back; silence follows before a distant Help! reaches your ears. It’s weak, merely audible but still enough confirmation that someone is still there.

Eyes on the group, none of them seem to notice you falling behind. Fingers tightening around the handle of your gun, a mere second passes before your body turns around on its own accord; one leg follows the other, and stairs pass by as heat envelopes you in its scourging warmth.

Flames kiss up your skin as you move through the remains of a hall, fire closing you in; stupid, stupid idea and stupid me. The heat is unbearable, each crackle sends shivers down your spine. Dread settles in your bones over the realization that this might be the way you go.

Another Help! throws your thought away. Stopping by the closed door, you bang your hand on them, eliciting a shout from the other side; no matter who’s there, you already know you’re gonna get that person out. Going through all this inferno, it’s the least you can do.

Bashing the door open with the butt of your gun, a figure rams straight into you, slamming your back against the burning wall for a second.

“Oh my god, thank you,” a man bellows straight into your face; the target. Before you notice what’s happening, he reaches towards you and snatches your mask from your face, holding it to his face to inhale.

“Wait,” you try to stop him but it’s too late, smoke and ash fill your lungs upon the unexpected moment. The radio on your neck crackles but nothing comes through. Frantically gasping for air, you focus on the mission; bring the target to the rendezvous, that’s your only way out of here—preferably still alive.

The air is thick with the smell of acrid smoke. Gasping frenziedly, hand wrapping around the target’s thick arm, you drag the diplomat towards the staircase. Heart racing, head becoming dizzy, it doesn’t help that the man slips through your weakening hold, landing on the floor with a loud thud.

“Fuck,” you curse; breathing shallowly, nausea and headache start to creep on you as you try to move the mass of a man on your own. Everything spins, the flames licking and nipping at your skin like fiery fingers, the heat of it all pressing down on you.

The smoke clogs your lungs, air deathly still; your consciousness gives up on you, darkness succumbing you to the all-consuming fire. Eyes watering, swallowing feels like drinking molten lava, the roaring flames devour all in their wake.

A sharp slap jolts your eyes open. A masked man hovers above you, the larimar blue shining through the mask; Graves.

“Wake up, sweetheart,” he hisses, tapping at your cheek harshly, “not dying on me today.” The blonde turns his head around. That’s when you notice other Shadows hovering around, two of them carrying the hopefully unconscious (and not dead) body of the target while Graves stays by your side; hand on your shoulder blade, he helps you sit up.

“Don’t kill this one or I’ll shoot you,” a guttural cough creeps up your throat as his gaze bores into you. Wrapping a piece of clothing around your lower face, a makeshift mask, his arm sneaks around your waist, effortlessly lifting you up to the point your feet don’t even touch the ground.

“What, he’s intel?” he remarks; one hand guiding your arm over his shoulders, his fingers securely wrapping over your wrist to keep your weight onto him while the other arm stays around your waist—basically carrying all your weight on his side, he adds, “if yes, might shoot him them.”

05 ˚✧ ┊ The fifth time; he kisses you.

Everything is going smoothly, too suently to your comfort, causing a shivering sense of unease creeps up slowly on your spine. The pungent smell of cigarettes and alcohol fills your nostrils, chatter surrounding your lonely form in a dull hum as you sip at the drink in your hand.

A group of men and women sit across the confined space, closer to the exit door than you, talking in hushed voices; the deal going according to the plan, except they don’t know about the closeness of sneaky ears encompassing this place.

Observing the ongoing deal, another man joins the group, whispering to one of the men; your eyes firmly on them, fingertips dancing on top of the full glass, you watch as—

—”Echo, your cover’s blown,” a static voice of a Shadow comes through the second two more men enter your peripheral vision, eyes scanning the area; for you.

“Roger that,” you whisper, earpiece barely picking up. Taking one last sip of the drink, feeling the cold liquid cool your burning throat, the chair squeaks as your feet touch the ground.

Before the men manage to look in the direction of the noise disruption, you slide into the shadows of the nearest hall; too bad the only exit was behind them. Now it’s time to come up with plan b. Swiftly moving along the building, you look out from the window, too high. No stairs. No escape route. No fight; instruction clear—don’t get caught, don’t cause a scene.

Heavy footsteps echo from behind you, enclosing you like a wild animal being cornered; slight panic starts settling in your abdomen. You’re a professional, pull it together. Pull. It. Together. Deep breath in, shallow breath out. Looking to your right, then to your left; first doors locked, second as well.

Footsteps growing heavier, closer, faster; deep breath in, sha—

—hand over your mouth.

A firm figure pulls you backward, calloused fingers wrapping over your mouth, digging into your cheek as he drags you into the third door. The smell of suede, the taste of leather, hot breath fanning over your earlobe as a quiet Shhh echoes in your ear; Graves.

The commander guides you into the guest closet; turning you around, you’re faced with the same wide, larimar oceans of eyes, finger over his tightly shut lips as his hand remains over your mouth. With a reassuring nod from your side, he drops it, looking at the open door, the sound of incoming footsteps filling the confusion and tension surging through your body.

“What’re you doing here?”

What are you doing on this mission? In this city?

“Graves,” you hiss, finger digging in the middle of his chest, feeling the metal of his dog tags beneath the fabric of the blue shirt that only enhances the color of his eyes.

“Check the second room, I’ll check the third,” a man’s voice orders. The third—the third, the third where you are currently stationed, hidden.

Graves’ jaw twitches, eyes fixated on the door; a shadow is cast over the light from the hallway. It feels as if time has stopped, and your breath hitches as the anticipation of being discovered takes hold of you. Heart pounding, breath bated—

Lips on yours; rough, wet. Needy. Hands enclosing your face, covering every inch of your head, fingertips diving into your hair. Graves’ body presses against yours, hips flushed together, a leg between yours. A whimper escapes your bruised lips as his tongue swipes along the lower one before biting, tugging at it, drawing a desperate, humiliating moan out of you.

A hum reverberates in his throat, tongue pushing inside you. It’s wet, sticky; messy. His tongue explores the depths of your mouth. He’s aggressive and impatient. Hunger seers through your touch-starved body, jolts of electricity awakening your desire. Bringing your leg up and around his hip, you push him into you, hips grinding into yours.

Groans, grunts, moans; a mess of two people, air filled with desperation.

Your brain goes completely blank, kiss drunk and empty. The heat of his flesh is searing through the material of his shirt; squeezing his bicep, you feel the muscle flex as he angles your head for better access.

He’s the first one to pull away, your lips following his for a split second before the realization hits you; breathless, confused, and way too eager, you shake your head. Eyes staring at his flushed face, the darkness of his pupils overtaking the blue oceans of his eyes like a stormy night, you can feel the raw tension between the two of you. Not good, not good at all.

Graves’ hands slide from your cheeks at the same time you put your hands on his chest, the tight muscle contracting, heart racing; and you push, leg falling from his hip.

“Why did you kiss me?” you hiss at him. The pink hue that decorates his nose and cheeks only adds to the allure of his pale skin; and if it was anyone but Graves, you'd be finding it hard not to reach out and brush your fingers gently against his flushed cheeks. You’d even say it looked slightly adorable (and immensely attractive).

“Why did you kiss me back?” he bites back gruffly. He takes a step back, his gaze shifting towards the door as if he's trying to make a run for it.

“Why did you use tongue?” Not letting him win this, you continue to press into him. He stands at your arm's length, fingers wrapping around your wrist that still rests against his chest, fiercely putting it away before he shoots you a smug look.

“Why did you moan?”

“Stop it,” pushing him one last time, Graves takes a step to the side, letting you go and head toward the door; the hallway clear.

01 ˚➶ ┊The time he surprises you; and it hurts.

The car ride is silent, a sense of relief settling inside you while you return to the Los Vaqueros’ base. That’s before your phone starts ringing, and Shepherd’s code name appears on the screen. From the peripheral view, you notice Graves shifting, the two shadows at the front seats sitting quietly.

The call is rather informational, Shepherd impatiently collects your report before you even arrive at the base to follow the proper procedure.

“What about the third missile, did you manage to locate it,” he asks, voice calm but concerned. Graves’ eyes meet yours, conveying a strange mix of fear and guilt.

With an exhale, you say, “no, sir, but I’m getting close to identifying the source.”

“Say again,” Shepherd’s voice turns stern.

“I have a meeting with an asset of mine, after that—”

“I did not give you the order to search for the source, officer,” he cuts you off, “give me Graves.”

The man next to you watches with confusion as you hand him your phone without much question. Eventually taking it, he talks with Shepherd for a brief moment; eyes flickering to you, you notice his rigid posture and hand lowering to the zip ties in his vest.

Something is off.

Hanging up the phone, Graves’ attention is now fully on you, freeing the zip ties from their restraints.

“I’ll need you to extend your arms, officer,” he commands formally. As the realization hits you, a chill of dread creeps up your spine. Everything after that happens in less than a minute; from reaching for the radio to inform Ghost and the others (who are currently obliviously riding the car behind you) to inform them of the situation to Graves’ fingers wrapping around your wrists, tugging forward. With your face a few inches from his, you kick up your leg, fighting not only the commander but the confined space of the back of the car.

The element of surprise and strength isn’t on your side as Graves takes out his handgun, one hand gripping both of your wrists.

“It didn’t have to be like this,” the bitter words grate through his clenched teeth.; taking his handgun out, the handle lands harshly against your temple, sending a dull pain throughout your body as he knocks you unconscious.

A loud thud jolts you awake, shaking you from the depths of darkness. Eyes heavy, your head spinning and a throbbing ache radiating from the side of your face; a low groan escapes your chapped lips.

Heaving a groan, you muster all of your strength and spin to the side, outstretched arms seeking the door handle. With a click, the door opens. Pushing forward, the rain pelts your skin, eyes squinting to protect themselves from the onslaught.

As you stumble out, the hard thud of your body hitting the wet asphalt sends jolts of pain through you. The echoes of voices seem to linger in the air, blending with the night as it pours down. A dark figure slumps against the car - a shadow. Reaching for his pulse, you can feel the sickly warmth of the blood that’s already soaked through his mask.

That’s when you notice the man looming before you. Back facing your crawling form, hunched, gun ready to fire as he walks to the side of the car; Graves keeps talking, his voice taunting Ghost (who's nowhere to be seen).

You know what you have to do. Heart pounding, you slowly raise your hand to the shadow's thigh, groping for the handgun in the holster.

It takes you a moment to stable your stance and focus your gaze to aim at the back of Graves’ head, pouring rain blurring your vision but this moment, this second is all it takes for a nearby shadow to notice the imminent danger of his commander, to aim his weapon and pull the trigger.

Like a powerful force, a sharp impact sends you crashing to the ground with a pained groan erupting from your throat. The handgun clatters to the asphalt with a hollow click, Graves turns around sharply; eyes wide, finger on the trigger.

Lowering the gun, he walks over to your groaning figure. Calloused fingertips brush back the wet locks of hair from your face, he crouches down; the butt of his weapon resting over the oozing wound on your chest, face solemn, eyes dull and lethargic.

“Now that was a big fuckin’ mistake, sweetheart.”

BONUS ˚✧ ┊

The heat of Adal’s sun burns into your clothing, seeping through the thin layer of fabric and biting into the skin of your arms. Throat dry, licking your lips, you walk in Ghost’s footprints, the city of Al Mazrah behind you.

Snatching a bottle from Ghost’s backpack, the feeling of cool water running down your parched throat brings a wave of relief.

Reaching the cliff, Ghost stands a step before you, looking through his scope; handing it to you the moment he pinpoints the target’s position.

As you search the area with his instructions, your eyes fall upon the familiar face. Commander Ghorbrani stands surrounded by both Quds Forces and Russians, the ongoing deal going according to plan it seems.

Five words; that’s all it takes for you to get involved in taking the lives of dozens of men - “Visual on General Ghorbani confirmed.”

With Laswell’s last confirmation and Shepherd’s orders, you hand Ghost his weapon back. Securing the sunglasses on your face, you listen to the communication; crouched down, barely reaching Ghost’s mid-thigs as the lieutenant hovers above you, providing the much-desired shadow.

“Echo 3-6, Ghost, you are danger close to the zone,” Graves’ voice whispers into the earpiece, “this arrow’s gonna pack a punch.”

Veins thrumming with adrenaline, looking up at Ghost, an affirmative nod is sufficient enough for him to respond, “Copy. Approved.”

“Send it,” you state into the mic around your neck mic before holding onto the top of the body armor Ghost basically bullied you into wearing.

“All stations, Shadow-1. Missile is ready for immediate delivery, stand by for launch,” Graves continues talking as you hold the mic frequency open for possible communication.

Ghost straightens his back the moment Graves announced that the missile is loose, both of you mentally bracing for the impact as the Shadow commander continues informing about the missile’s actual coordinates.

The blinding light fills your vision as the missile strucks its target, the deafening roar of the impact overpowered by an immense shock wave; grains of sand stung your exposed cheeks like tiny droplets of glass; the sensation of the sharp needles nicking at your flesh rather awakening.

“Bloody fucking hell,” Ghost’ voice cuts through the sound of destruction. Both of you watch as pieces of metal and flesh fly in the air; a dance of death. A pungent, sweetish smell fills your nostrils as you get up to stand next to him again.

“Direct,” you confirm, “target destroyed.” As you watch the last remains falling to the ground, you add, “one would say it’s raining men.”

“Fuck sake, Echo, keep it professional,” Graves’ voice echo in your earpiece, a hint of amusement present in his tone. Ghost shoots you a look of disapproval.

Shrugging, arm extended to what was a meeting ground just seconds ago, you state, “What? It’s true.”

#phillip graves #phillip graves x you #philip graves x reader #cod #codmwii #call of duty modern warfare #phillip graves x reader #call of duty imagine #call of duty fanfic #cod mw22 #codmw #call of duty modern warfare 2 #moni writes #phillip graves x y/n #philip graves x you #philip graves #philip graves x y/n

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cookiesupplier · 5 months

Text

What She Needs (nsfw)

pairing: Chris Motionless x ofc (Alexis)

warnings/tropes: smut, cockwarming, p in v intercourse, unprotected sex, friends with benefits, pining.

summary: Lex can't focus worth a damn when it comes to trying to study for exams, but thankfully, Chris her best friend and fuck buddy, helped her figure out the best way to get around that problem awhile ago, and he's more than happy to help.

author’s note: Unbeta’d, this might never change, lol.

tags: @tearfallpixie @cncohshit @nyxthedestroyerofworlds

If there is one thing that Alexis hates about being in college, it's when exam season is approaching, because trying to study is always the worst for her. She can never seem to focus when she needs to just sit down and pull out her books and get to studying for her exams.

Oh, the amount of people that had given her advice, from her parents to her friends, to her classmates and professors, even in study groups. There was setting study periods, and writing up time tables, having a study plan and trying to keep to it, setting out her study space and keeping it organized.

Nothing helped her. She always spaced and she just couldn’t focus. Her brain went everywhere at once and she could never focus on just one thing when she tried to study, it was all over the place. It was like the moment she needed to study, the moment she had exams, a switch went off in her brain.

She couldn’t fail again. Alexis had failed too many times and her parents were threatening to cut her off if she didn’t get her act together. It wasn’t like she wasn’t trying, she was desperate, and thank fuck her professor liked her, and could see how hard she was working. Her assignments in class were gold, it was just studying for her finals that destroyed her. Yet, they were worth so much of her grade, and she just couldn’t keep crashing and burning on them.. It couldn’t keep happening.

That was where Chris came in.

Chris had been her best friend forever, and best friend had become benefits a few years back.. For her benefits were a bit less than what she really felt for him, but with him working on becoming a big rock star, Lex never wanted to be the one to hold him back. So, here they were, when he was home, Lex got as much Chris time as she could, and when he was gone, she badgered him on the phone.

He just so happened to be home coinciding with finals season, which was perfect timing, and not something that she always got because explaining this to her last attempt at dating had just turned out… weird. Chris never made her feel weird.

It also never felt quite the same with anyone but Chris. Possibly because of just how big his cock was.

Anyone that had seen Chris cock would understand, but really, none of the guys she's dated other than him could compare to the way he made her feel when he was inside her. Might also be that Chris knew what he was doing, and he seemed to enjoy it as much as she did, instead of making her feel, well, strange.

Opening her door to her dorm, her roommate was spending the night with her boyfriend, she knew by now that when she said she was inviting Chris over for a study session, that it wasn’t something she was going to want to be here for, even if she was really going to be studying. Smiling seeing Chris on the other side of the door, the fact that he was standing there, inconspicuous, unaccosted, told her he’d made it in without incident, while the band wasn’t massive, they were known enough that girls had noticed him on campus last time..

“Hey, Lexi Baby.”

Stepping into the room, Chris didn’t hesitate to pull her into a kiss as he closed the door behind him with a kick of his boot.

“Hey Cerulli, pants off.”

“Yea yea, I know, just using me for my body, as always, I know how it is.”

Laughing,

“Fuck you, you know how finals get, soon as they are over you get to do whatever you want with me, fair play and you know it, the next two weeks, you are all mine.”

Chris smirked as his hands reached down in front of him as he walked towards her slowly, his fingers running along the leather of his belt and sliding the strap out of the loops so he could pull it back and undo the front.

“You said whatever you want with me, baby, but really, you just mean my cock, and we both know it.”

Lex tried not to grin, or blush, she wasn’t embarrassed, she wasn’t. She wasn’t even ashamed, what she was, was a little giddy with the way Chris made her feel. The tingle between her legs had already started long before he had gotten here, and it actually had nothing to do with studying if she was honest. Their friends with benefits, fun, hadn’t started because of the studying, the studying had been something they’d discovered by accident because of the fact she couldn’t handle how badly she was failing, and Chris had wanted to comfort her.

Boy had that comfort fucking helped in ways neither of them had expected.

Chris pushed his pants, and his boxers down around his knees and sat at her desk, positioning her chair as she slid down her panties from her thighs, she was already fucking soak. Once she got them off, before she toss them aside, he snatched them from her hand, and feeling how wet they were, he knew, and groaned before he smirked,

“I love how worked up you get. Come on, study time.”

Reaching for her hip with one hand, nothing more, and wrapping his fingers around his cock, stroking himself, his thumb brush over his tip and gathering up the pre cum that had started to gather and spreading it down his cock. It would be a lie to say he hadn’t been thinking about this the whole drive over here. Was it fucked up to admit he actually looked forward to these sessions? Yes he was helping Lex, his best friend, but damn, being balls deep inside of her was the most fucking perfect feeling in the world. Having her just sitting on his cock, her velvety heat, wrapped around him, leaning back, practically throbbing, sometimes he swears he can fucking heat her heartbeat in her pussy through his cock.

It was fucking surreal and he absolutely loved it.

He was going to hate it when she finished her degree and didn’t need to study anymore.

This was her final year.

Had he made sure he was going to be home, and ready and willing for her to use him all the way through when she needed to study for finals? Fucking, hell yes he had!

As he held himself, Lex hiked up the skirt of her loose short dress, and leaned her ass back, with Chris’ hand on her hip, leaning forward a little against her desk, backing up, he lined himself up to her pussy and moaned as she felt him run the head of his cock along her slit. With that she lowered herself down, slowly pushing him inside of her, and groaned as he filled her, inch, by inch, and it was perfect, he was perfect.

It was like that big cock, filling up her cunt, just pushed every other thought from her head, and wiped everything from her mind that she didn’t need. Letting all the mess, all the chaos flit away, and she leaned back against his chest with a sigh as she rocked back against him as she settled for just a moment.

“Time to study Lexi Baby.”

That was how it went, Chris let her use him, and his cock, to study. Ever since the time he’d literally fucked all the thoughts out of her head, and she’d had the most perfect study session in the world. So far anyway. Since then, they’d just gotten even better, at least the ones when Chris was involved.

So Lex set to study, Chris kept his hands to himself, he knew better than to distract her while she was studying, he was so handsy, and the moment he touched her he’d be gone. Like this, he behaved, like this, he knew what he was do, he behaves, and he was so fucking good for her. Truth was, he needed this, realizing how much he enjoyed her using him like this, he didn’t tried it with other girlfriends, but it just wasn't the same. It was good, it was fine, it just wasn’t… Lex.

An hour passed.

Two.

Chris was sitting back, his eyes closed, still as anything. His hands gripping the chair, swallowing at the way he felt every pulse run through her in his cock, fuck…

Finally, Lex dropped her pen down to her desk with a sound of victory, and was clenching around him in reaction to her enjoyment drawing a fucking loud groan out of Chris when she did.

“Go on, have your fun, I know you’re just desperate to, by now.”

Oh, Chris was desperate, in so many ways, but she had no clue really what for.

“Fuck, anything for you Lexi Baby.”

She had no idea. He didn’t get up right away though,

“Arms up.”

She did, lifted her arms, and he was lifted up her dress, tossing it aside, and just like that she was left without a stitch of clothing on her body, and he groaned,

“Fuck, not even wearing a bra for me, Suck a good girl, arn’t you.”

His hands grasped her hips as he stood up from the chair, bending her over the desk,

“Hands.”

They were immediately flat on the desk by her books to support her as he started to fuck into her, as hard, and as deep as he could fucking go. Fingers dug deep into her hips, there was no way he wasn’t going to be leaving marks on her perfect milk skin, he might have perfectly illustrated skin, but she was an almost pure canvas. Chris loved it though, watching the bruises bloom over her skin from his fingers, his lips, his teeth.

Pounding his cock into Lex, she cried out at the sheer force in which Chris claimed her body. He’d gone from one extreme to the other in seconds, and if anyone asked her how much she loved it, there would be no words. He could fuck her hoarse and she would thank him. More than once she’d gotten warnings from the RA on her dorm floor when they did this, which was why when a scream slipped out this time he pulled her up and shoved two fingers into her mouth.

“As much as I like those screams, you’re going to pass those exams like a good fucking girl, and one more reprimand and we’ll both be in trouble, wont we, Lexi Baby?”

Whimpering around his fingers as he continued to fuck into her from behind, his other hand reaching around her, rubbing furiously at her clit, fuck, she wasn’t going to last.

“Go on, cum on my cock, that pretty pussy is fucking prime.”

That was all it took, she shuddered as she clenched around him, cumming around his cock, sucking on his fingers even harder with a moan as she did, keeping her mouth occupied so she didn’t scream out yet again.

“Such a good girl. Keep going.”

His fingers stayed hooked into her mouth as he continued to fuck into her, his thrust becoming harder, and a bit sloppy as he got closer until he could barely hold back and then with a last shuddering shove of his cock he was cuming inside of her. Lex could feel him, feel the warm of her filling her with his cum and fuck, when he pulled out, she knew it would start spilling between her thighs, she’d be a mess, and enjoy every second of it.

“Fuck.” Chris hadn’t even pulled out of her yet when he was sitting back in the chair, and bringing her down with him, enjoying being inside of her, just like he was earlier. Nuzzling the back of her neck with a groan..

“Same time tomorrow, right?”

Humming, her head tilting back against his shoulder a little as her hand settled against his bare thigh and her fingers squeezed lightly.

“Yep.. but maybe I’m not done with you tonight. As good as your body is Cerulli, how bout a movie?”

Feeling his lips curl into a smile against her skin against her neck,

“Sounds good to me, Baby.”

#chris motionless #chris cerulli #chris miw #miw #miw band #motionless in white #chris motionless x ofc #chris cerulli smut #chris motionless smut #chris motionless fanfic #smut #fanfiction #motionless in white fanfic #motionless in white smut #miw smut #miw fanfic

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wyvernquill · 7 months

Text

Finally some more Dreamling Anastasia AU!

(Obligatory link to the masterpost with all the other posts in this AU - it's also pinned at the top of my blog!)

So, it's been... a while... but I've recently finally got some motivation to write a bit more of this. Apologies to everyone really looking forward to the finale/resolution - I've decided to go all the way back to the start of the story, instead. I hope you'll enjoy it nonetheless!

(Tag list: @10moonymhrivertam @martybaker @globglobglobglobob @anonymoustitans @sunshines-fabulous-legs @dreamsofapiratelife @malice-kingdom - since it's been a, uh, really long time, please let me know if you're no longer interested in this AU/fandom and don't want to be tagged anymore, I won't mind! On the other hand, if someone else would like to be tagged in future updates, please let me know!)

---

“Sister… it’s me.”

The man on the dilapidated theatre’s stage shrugs a heavy, moth-eaten velvet coat off his narrow shoulders. It crumples into a dark semi-circle around him, releasing a dramatic cloud of dust.

“Dream… of the Endless~”

“Ah. Hm.” A somewhat fussy older gentleman in the empty space usually reserved for the audience adjusts the small circular glasses on his nose, grimacing in a polite and distinctly English way - which he has, once, after first coming to this realm and taking this form, spent hours practising in the mirror - while checking a long list in front of him. “Mr… Carter, was it…?”

“Oh, please.” The man on stage flicks back his white-streaked bangs. “Call me Hal.”

“Yes. Of course, Mr. Hal.” The gentleman purses his lips. “That was… not, er. Not terrible, I suppose. And we’re pleased to note that you appear to have… brought your own cloak.”

“Don’t get used to it. Zelda and Chantal only let me borrow it for the audition.”

“Well, it is a lovely cloak. Only, ah, while Dream of the Endless was known to have quite striking eyes, I do think that, perhaps a little less eyeliner…”

“I could tone it down, I suppose, but I really think the performance would lose something without the makeup.” Hal sighs melodramatically. “I can sing and dance too, if you need it for your… what is this audition for, actually? Play? Music hall show? Ooo, one of those moving pictures?”

“Er.” The gentleman fidgets with his cane, grass-green eyes flickering around the empty theatre. “Well-”

“Thank you, Hal.” The younger man beside him interrupts with a winning smile that only barely covers the boredom and frustration lining a rather ruggedly handsome face. “We’ll let you know.”

“Hm.” Hal, clearly enough of an old hand in the acting business to know a polite “you’re not getting the role, piss off” when he hears one, frowns, and bends down to gather up the borrowed cloak, stalking off towards stage exit right with his head held high, not deigning either of the two men with even one more look.

“...I really do not think this will work, young Robert.” The older man mutters, decisively striking through Hal Carter’s name on his list. It is the last. “None of them look even remotely like him. And the voice-”

“I know, Gil. I know.” The younger man, Hob - only Gilbert is proper and precise enough to call him Robert - rubs at his temples, as if to stave off a headache. “They never manage to get the voice right, do they.”

“Ah, if it were only that…” Gilbert sighs, setting the list down. His eyes are soft and unfocused, seeing far into a past that has long since been razed to the ground. “His Lordship, he… he had a certain air about him, you understand. An otherworldly strangeness. He was the dream-maker, and dream-made, and to look at him was to gaze upon infinity.”

A soft scoff.

“Even if we claim that he has been greatly reduced by being turned into a meagre human - no offence, dear friend - as long as he does not have some spark of endlessness about him, nobody who has ever met him would fall for the ruse. And we are attempting to con his family. I simply cannot see any viable path to success.”

Hob does not respond, for a moment, picking up one of the flyers on their table.

It reads:

SEEKING Actor, slender, pale, tall, dark-haired, in the 20-40 age range to play the role of Dream of the Endless (method actors preferred). Generous pay and further benefits await. Auditions each weekday at 6pm at the Old Whickber Street Theatre, Soho. Ask for Hob and Gil.

“We’ll find him.” Hob insists. “The perfect pretender. He’s out there, I just know it.”

“We are not the first fools who have attempted a, a caper of this sort.” Gil points out, almost gently. “None of the others ever succeeded.”

“Yes. Well. None of the others managed to find and correctly identify the late Dream’s own pouch of genuine dream-sand on sale at the black market.” Hob shoots back, gesturing at the cord just barely peeking out from under Gil’s collar. (They’ve decided it would be safer if Hob comes into contact with the sand as little as possible, and Gilbert has taken to carrying it as closely to his heart as he can manage.) “It’s hard evidence, Gil, it’s a sign, it’s our chance - and it might just be enough. The trick with a good con is really making it look like you’re giving the mark exactly what they desperately want… and there’s nothing in the world Death of the Endless wants more than to have her brother back.”

(She wants it so desperately, in fact, that she’s offering immortality to any sentient being who manages to procure Dream for her.

And, well.

There’s nothing in the world Hob wants more than to live forever…)

“Your word in- or, well, kept out of Destiny’s ears, young friend.” Gil sighs, collecting his lists and notes and the remaining flyers, tucking them into his coat and reaching for his cane. “In the meantime, how about we go down to the public house and have a bit of a snifter to wash away the memories of all those atrocious performances, eh, my lad?”

“Best idea you had all day, Gil.” Hob grins, clapping a hand on Gilbert’s shoulder. “Are you buying?”

Gilbert raises one grey brow. “At the risk of provoking a joke regarding my non-human status: in your dreams, Robert.”

Hob laughs; and, together, they step out into the winter night, old snow crunching under their shoes and new flakes beginning to drift, gradually, down from the sky.

It has been a decade since the end of the Endless’ reign.

Ten years since humanity tore Destiny’s book from his hands and burned it.

Ten years since Destruction abandoned his siblings, hiding away in his own, separate exile.

Ten years since Despair’s first aspect was killed, and another took her place.

Ten years since Delight went mad with grief and became Delirium…

And ten years since Dream of the Endless was captured, bound, turned human, and killed.

People still whisper about it. Still speculate, trade gossip and hearsay back and forth. Some insist that the Dream King yet lives, hidden away, turned human, just biding his time, waiting for an opportunity to return to his siblings.

It’s a lovely legend, Hob supposes. A fitting end and non-end, for the Lord of Stories, to live on in one… but that’s all it is. A pretty tale, which will breathe new life into a myth only for as long as it’s being told. It isn’t true…

…but now, ten years later, Hob and Gil will damn well make it so.

Ten years is also, coincidentally, all that a man a few streets down from the old theatre can remember of his life.

Ten years since he was found, naked and emaciated and bleeding, in a ditch next to some countryside road in East Sussex.

Ten years of fighting his way through a life in poverty, with no family, no friends, no-one to care for him, except perhaps the birds.

Ten years of strange and haunting dreams, blurred faces calling out to him with names he can never remember later but knows are his; ten years of waking every morning with tears on his face and a longing for someplace - and someones - he wishes he could remember; ten years of a woman’s voice begging him night after night to come home to her, to them.

Ten years of being much too busy starving and freezing and barely surviving to spare even a single thought to the dying legends of the Endless.

This man turns his face up to the sky, snowflakes catching in his dark hair and on his coat like stars glinting in the night; and he shivers, his breath clouding mist-white in the air, curling thin arms around a narrow torso.

(For a moment, just a moment, his eyes glow dark and infinite, a mirror to the night sky and the endless universe beyond.)

And then, he ducks his head down into his scarf, shivers again, and continues on through the snow.

Ten hard years have taught this man better than to waste his time standing about and daydreaming.

#WyWrites #dreamling #the sandman #anastasia dreamling au #it's been 84 years......#i've got a rough draft of a scene or two after this too #endlessly busy with uni of course #and getting back into Good Omens my old love #but i've been feeling like dabbling with this au again lately so why not #and i just HAD to give you Hal doing the iconic coat drop scene #he would have been iconic as drag Dream of the Endless just saying #Hob and Gil are missing out #and the first glimpse of Murphy... I can see it in my mind's eye so clearly #him looking up at the sky with the stars in his eyes and the snow in his hair #and Death forever calling out to him in her sleep #gosh have i missed this au #can't guarantee too much more #but a few more bits are definitely in the works!

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astranite · 6 months

Text

Rest

Fluff, Earth and Sky, plus Scott getting a nap. A.K.A Virgil gets Scott a weighted blanket.

EDIT!!! I used one of the Fluffember 2023 prompts in here but completely forgot to tag or mention that. Prompt is "Say: "Thank you for...""

A little inspired by the fic in where Virgil gets a weighted blanket (https://archiveofourown.org/works/23042224 Insomnia by chidoriXblossom), mine written because I think Scott would like one too. And we all know he needs more sleep. Plus soft furnishings!Scott!!!

Also- "This will be only like 500 words max," my muse lied.

So, another fic! Mostly was written on the bus on my phone, while wandering around the kitchen looking for something to eat yesterday, and on notes on my laptop when the Aussie internet and phone service met its untimely demise today.

@idontknowreallywhy With the last 2 paragraphs and hopefully less typos!! Hope you're feeling better too. SOFT FURNISHINGS!SCOTT!

-----

“Got you a present,” Virgil said, holding out a package wrapped in shiny blue paper.

Scott took it without hesitation, utterly unprepared, because this was Virgil, not Gordon or Alan or any other trouble makers.

He staggered at the sudden, unexpected weight. Scott kept fit for international rescue and lifted more than this on any given day, but dropped into his hands where Virgil made it look like nothing. Well, he nearly dropped it.

Just as Virgil lunged to snatch it back from the bounds gravity, Scott got a firmer grip on the package and hefted it up.

Virgil stepped back, grinning, nearly as excited as the day they sent Two to space. “Open it, Scotty!”

Scott dutifully sat down on the couch with the package in his lap, slipping his fingers beneath the tape.

“But why, why today?” Scott asked.

It wasn’t Christmas. He determined it was not his birthday after quickly counting out what month was it anyway because he’d lost track with how busy he’d been lately. He wasn’t forgetting something else was he? Some important event that wasn’t in his calendar? Oh damn, was he supposed to have gotten his brothers presents too?

Virgil sat down by his side.

“You’re alright Scott, no occasion. Present’s just because.” Virgil smiled.

Scott bumped his shoulder against Virgil’s in a wordless act of affection.

Then he turned to the shiny present he held, excitement bubbling up.

What could it be?

The package was soft, moving about fluidly within the paper, which would usually bring to mind something along the lines of an item of clothing. But whatever it was was far too heavy for that. Even allowing for thick denim or mission suit material, but Virgil wouldn’t wrap up a routine update, and that sort of engineering generally came under Brains’ department.

With the strange slithery, many grains of sand running over each other noise it made whenever it shifted, at this point Scott would expect a prank, even from Virgil.

Except that Virgil was right next to him, just as genuinely happy to be seeing him open the present as Scott was to receive it. Plus his brother was a frankly awful liar and trying to cover for it by, say, hiding his face in his hands while suspiciously giggling behind them had never worked once, for the record.

So Scott shook the package vigorously, when Virgil didn’t stop him assuming it was non breakable, then gave up on the whole guessing game to get to the real deal.

He tore the paper off with a grin, foregoing attempts to be neat about it because he just wanted to see what it was.

Copious amounts of blue fabric poured into his lap. Heavy, weighted fabric, trying to slither to the floor as he grabbed at it and pulled it up.

The thing was soft too, fluffy on one side and more fuzzy on the other, Scott discovered as he ran his hands over it.

A quilted blanket of some kind, a big one too. Scott hefted it and spread it across himself and Virgil to lay it out so he could see it.

It was— oh, “A weighted blanket?” he asked Virgil.

Virgil nodded, smiling widely, “I thought you’d like one of your own, since you seem to like mine so much.”

That was true. Even on the last movie night when Virgil had brought out his own green, wonderfully soft monstrosity of a blanket that practically required an exosuit to lift, Scott had ended up sharing it with him.

He never would have bought one for himself, he didn’t need it, but Virgil has seen and he had gotten him one.

Scott threw his arms around his brother and whispered a heartfelt, “Thank you for— for everything,” into Virgil’s flannel.

Virgil hugged him tight. “Glad you’re happy, Scooter.”

Scott swallowed. “Yeah. I am.”

He stayed in the hug, letting himself lean on Virgil.

Eventually he pulled away, bumping his forehead with Virgil’s briefly in another thanks, before flopping backwards onto the sofa.

He dragged the blanket over his body, snuggling down beneath it, to try it out properly.

Virgil tugged the edges out straight, patting Scott on the leg where he’d slung them over Virgil’s lap to fit onto the couch.

“‘M not moving ever again,” Scott mumbled.

The blanket’s weight pressed down on him comfortingly, like the soothing pressure of a tight hug. The fabric was soft, fluffy and warm, but not too hot for their tropical island. It covered his feet even when he pulled it right up to his chin.

Scott was in heaven.

When he shut his eyes for a moment, letting the sensation sink in, Virgil snickered. “G’night, Scotty.”

Scott opened one eye to glare, then the other. He was not going to sleep. He was just getting comfortable, that was all.

He reluctantly removed one arm from beneath the blanket, wriggling his fingers towards Virgil. He could still work if Virgil would just pass him his tablet.

Heaving a put upon sigh, Virgil reached for the side table and gave Scott his tablet, picking up his own sketch book.

Scott opened his emails, hiding a smile. The blue eyes act still worked on his brother, evidently.

Something, something, board meeting. Something, something, product development. He flicked a couple marked urgent open which weren’t even particularly important and shouldn’t have been flagged for him. He forwarded them on to be delegated to the correct people.

Learning that he didn’t have to do absolutely everything had been a long process, and he was getting better at it.

Scott continued through his bottomless inbox, so warm and comfortable he wasn’t even particularly annoyed with the uptight business people he had to deal with. Or at least he was minorly irritated as opposed to resisting the urge to throw his tablet across the room. He ran his free hand across the soft material, wound in the fluffy fabric while his other held his tablet.

The blanket was working wonders. Quiet scratchings of pencil on real paper from Virgil did aid his calm somewhat too. But the weighted blanket was definitely going down in his favourite items of soft furnishings. Trust Virgil to have gotten it for him and gifted it just because.

Scott’s blinks got slower and slower, and maybe he’d just rest his eyes for a moment, snuggled up on the couch with his brother and his new weighted blanket.

Virgil looked up from his sketchbook at his brother. The permanently stressed crinkles between Scott’s brows were smoothed out, his face lax, his whole body a loose jumble of limbs instead of a wound up ball of tension. His arm arced gracelessly off the edge of the couch, tablet fallen on the floor beside it. His other hand was still gripping the blue blanket, hanging onto it even in his sleep.

Because Scott was asleep. In the middle of the day, finally catching up on countless missed hours, even in the open lounge room, fast asleep with no signs of nightmares.

A line of pencil on thick drawing paper, and Virgil begun to sketch Scott’s sleeping form, seeking to capture such a rare moment. He had no where to be, a mug of coffee beside him, and art supplies at hand so he was content. Plus he had his big brother close, legs still in Virgil’s lap, and no way he was moving to risk disturbing Scott, even if he wanted to, which he certainly didn’t.

Virgil smiled down at Scott, infinitely glad his present of a blue weighted blanket was comforting his brother and letting Scott get some much needed and well earned rest.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #virgil tracy #thunderfluff #earth and sky #soft furnishings!scott #astrawrite #fluffember #fluffember2023

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