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brain-rot-central · 4 months

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Pegging Your Vampire Boyfriend: A Beginner's Guide

A/N: This is exactly what you think it is. Kudos to @kittenintheden & Shaurbox for teasing this pegging idea with me over a month ago. It hasn't left my head since.

Rating: E, a very hard E Words: 5.3k Pairing: Spawn!Astarion/Fem!Reader Warnings: 18+, pegging, bdsm- soft!Dom Tav & sub!Astarion, bottom!Astarion, praise kink, ear play, size kink if you squint, inappropriate use of magical scrolls, oral sex - fellatio, anal fingering, anal sex, trauma mention, intimacy issues, verbalized consent, blood warning

Summary: Astarion has been on the receiving end before, but not since he's gotten with you. Wanting to try it again, he propositions you in a rather intimate way.

“Darling?”

A soft, questioning voice calls out from the living quarters of your shared home.

“I'm in the kitchen, love,” you respond. You're standing before the countertop, fileting a roast of beef into smaller portions for easier storage.

Wisps of bergamot fill your senses as the inquisitor reveals himself, arms wrapping gently around your waist. His nose dips into the crook of your neck, cool lips planting chaste kisses upon your skin.

“Oh, that smells divine,” he comments. Of course it does - it's a blood-soaked slab of beef. You laugh and lean your head into his, carefully slicing another steak from the meat. He covers the hand holding your knife and brings it carefully to his face, tongue lolling out to drag across the flat of the blade. He sighs in contentment as the blood soaks into his tongue, lavishing the flavor.

You wince as he releases the grip on your hand, gently placing the knife off to the side. I’ll need a new one, now, you comment to yourself.

“Is there something you needed, Astarion?” you ask him.

He hums low in his throat. “Hmm, yes, there was something I wanted to ask you.” He peels himself away from your back and stands straight. His hands are still on your hips and you feel his forehead fall against your back.

In a whisper, he asks, “How do you feel… about taking the reins?”

You turn your head to the side, cocking an eyebrow as you ask, “What do you mean? I was on top last time.”

Astarion laughs against your back, a puff of cool air passing over your clothed skin. “I know, love,” he begins. “I mean to suggest that… you play the part of me. And I… well, you.”

It takes your brain a few seconds to interpret his words, but once it finally comes together, you feel a blush beginning to creep up your chest.

“Oh!” you exclaim, now with full understanding. “A-are you sure? I'm not opposed to it, but I have to admit… I've never done it before.”

Astarion chuckles lightly, tightening his grip around your waist, placing soft kisses along the side of your neck. “Neither have I, my dear.”

You peel yourself out of his embrace, turning your whole body toward him. A scowl lines your face; you know of his history.

“Well, I-” he stammers. “I've been with men, yes; laid on my back a number of times for them.” Astarion casts his eyes to the floor before continuing, “I have never done… this, though. With a woman.”

Expression softening from his explanation, you turn your body again toward the counter, moving yourself over to the sink to begin washing your hands. “Are you sure you want to explore this?” you ask, concern evident. “That it won't bring back… memories?”

He leans against the opposite end of the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. “There's no way to truly know unless we try,” he explains. “Though, I must admit, it's been on my mind incessantly, as of late.”

It's your turn to laugh, grabbing a hand towel to dry your hands. “Really?” you ask. “You've been thinking about me fucking you?”

Astarion scoffs, a scowl forming on his face. “Must you be so vulgar?”

You smile, moving toward him to place a soft kiss on his cheek. “I'd be your first?”

He sighs with an eye roll before saying, “Proverbially speaking, yes, you would be my first.” Astarion's hand comes up to hold your chin fast as he captures your lips in a chaste kiss. “My second first.”

You hum in satisfaction, wrapping your arms around his waist. He releases your chin and you rest your head against his chest. “So, how do we do this?” you inquire. “I wouldn't even know the first place to start.”

Leaning his cheek against the side of your forehead, he replies, “Not to worry, I've taken care of that already.”

“Astarion!” you exclaim, lifting your head from his chest.

He smiles as he meets your gaze. “I already told you I've been thinking about it!”

You lightly tap on his chest in a scolding manner before asking, “How did you know I'd even be okay with this idea?”

“I didn't,” he explains, shrugging his shoulders. “But even if you weren't, I'd still have something to play with later.”

Your face burns at his bold admission, images of him sinking said something into himself flooding your vision. You've never thought of him in that way before, but you quickly admit to yourself just how much it excites you.

“Hello?” Astarion asks innocently, waving his hand over your face. “Are you still with me? Have I given you too much to think about?”

“You're terrible,” you tease, peeling yourself from his embrace in a huff once again. Your face is as red as hot coals, head swimming. “When did you want to try this?”

Astarion cocks his head to one side in thought. “I was thinking tonight?” he answers. “Or sometime soon. Whatever works for you, love.”

Nodding your head in agreement, you say, “Alright, then. Tonight it is.”

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

Evening has fallen and you're fresh from the bath. You walk out into your shared bedroom, bathrobe wrapped snugly around your form as you dry your hair with a towel. Astarion bathed earlier as you cleaned the kitchen, telling you he would use the opportunity to prepare for your night ahead.

“Ah, there you are!” he exclaims in joy. “I've been waiting for you.” Dipping down into the drawer of the end table next to the bed, Astarion says, “There are a couple options we can choose from, darling.”

Astarion is dressed in nothing but his ruffled white shirt with the front laces undone, and his favorite pair of baby-blue and gold underwear. The hem of the shirt covers his underwear, giving off the illusion of wearing nothing underneath.

Standing up straight, he's now holding a tube of rolled parchment in one hand and a phallic toy in the other. “We have a scroll of Mystical Phallus,” Astarion explains, “or, your more traditional approach.”

You smirk as you run the towel through your damp hair, letting your bathrobe fall to the floor. Lifting your chin toward the direction of the parchment, you ask, “What's the deal with the scroll?”

Astarion clears his throat as the robe falls off your form, eyes quickly roaming over your newly exposed skin. He turns to place the toy back in the drawer, returning to meet your gaze before saying, “The shopkeeper explained it as ‘granting the caster a temporary phallus that's as close to the real thing.’ Not quite sure to what level it goes, but I'll admit - I am curious.”

“Alright, let's go with that one, then,” you decide, walking over to take the scroll from his hand.

You're not too familiar with magic, being a soldier and all, but you've used scrolls before. Opening the paper tube, you're relieved to find that the spell is a rather simple one.

As you recite the incantation etched within the scroll, a faint blue light envelops the room for a mere moment. The light fades, the scroll disintegrating, and you can't help but notice an unfamiliar heaviness between your thighs that wasn't there before.

“Oh,” Astarion comments, shifting his weight onto one hip, accompanied by a hand. “Well, that's rather generous.”

Looking down, your eyes drink in the source of your discomfort. Glowing blue, and well endowed, lay a cock. Your cock, at least for tonight. It juts up proudly in the air from between your thighs, seeming like an extension of your clitoris. Other parts, thankfully, have remained unchanged.

“...Oh,” is all you manage, continuing to survey the mystical length. “This… this is mine?”

Astarion walks over, lowering himself onto his knees in front of you. “It would appear as such,” he states. “And my, oh my, how beautiful it is.”

You scowl, meeting his gaze. You're suddenly uncomfortable, his eyes flitting between yours and your newly summoned appendage. “I don't know what to do, Astarion,” you admit in a hushed tone.

He chuckles lightly. “Touch it, love,” he says, reassuringly. “Don’t be afraid. It's your cock.”

Nodding your head, you bring a hand up hesitantly to brush over your new addition. “Ah!” you exclaim in shock, your fingertips passing over the bulbous tip. A familiar pulling sensation in your groin begins to stir as you bend slightly inward.

Astarion, looking up at you with wide eyes, asks, “So? How does it feel?”

You can feel everything, as if this has always been part of your anatomy. Each feathered touch sends sparks of electricity up and through you, snagging behind a peculiar spot in your lower stomach.

“Real, Astarion,” you sigh in disbelief, giving yourself a few more tentative touches along the shaft. “I feel like this is my cock.”

“Do you, now?” he quips in a sultry tone. “Is it okay if I do this, then?”

Your mind barely has time to register what he might be implying before Astarion drags the flat of his tongue up the underside of your ethereal summon. Your vision blanks from the sensation, nearly toppling over had Astarion not been bracing you.

“Wh-what was that?” you yell, nearly breathless.

Concern outlining his face, Astarion asks from below you, “Too much? We can stop, if you want.”

You shake your head in disagreement. “N-no,” you respond. “No, that's not it.” Placing a hand on his head, you brush his fallen curls out of his eyes, meeting them with yours. “If this is even remotely close to how you feel when it's me doing this,” you explain, “then I appreciate the level of self-control you maintain over yourself.”

Astarion hums in satisfaction, placing a quick kiss along your shaft before rising to his feet. “It's a lot, I'll admit,” he tells you. Your length jumps in response, and he smiles. “Especially how you suck my cock.”

You're barely able to respond before Astarion’s kissing you; soft, but passionate. His hands grab hold of your hips, drawing you in closer until your centers meet. You moan into his mouth as he repeats the motion a few times, your jaw going slack under his ministrations.

His arousal is evident through the fabric of his undergarments, though not quite there just yet. Slipping your tongue into his mouth, you roll your hips into his with vigor, a bolt of pleasure pulling behind your pubic bone. He groans, tangling his tongue with yours, and begins walking you back until you hit the wall behind you.

Astarion asks, “Do you want me to do that to you, darling?” breathily, breaking the kiss. A hand winds in your hair, pulling your head to the side as he licks a stripe up the side of your neck.

You shudder under his touch, grinding your length against his clothed erection again, searching for friction. “O-oooh-nly,” you groan, “i-if you want.”

Astarion pulls himself back entirely, tapping a finger lightly on your chest. “Ah-ah-ah,” he chides, “I asked you. I already know what I want.”

You close your eyes in frustration, hips involuntarily lurching forward in an attempt to catch more contact. You feel how heavy your cock is - painfully hard between your legs, desperate for release. It throbs in time with your clit, and you feel the wetness of your arousal beginning to gather at the apex of your thighs.

“Y-yes, please,” you gasp, thighs rubbing together in a hopeless quest for relief.

Satisfied, Astarion plants a kiss along your jaw, placing his hands on either side of your shoulders. “Good girl,” he purrs as he begins to kneel again. Tracing a line of kisses down your body, starting between the valley of your breasts, his hands move down to cup each within his palms.

Rolling the sensitive peaks of your nipples between his fingertips, your body jerks again, cock brushing ever so lightly against his chest as he continues kissing down the plane of your abdomen. Astarion, now sitting on his heels, braces his hands against your thighs.

He looks up to meet your eyes through full lashes. “Please tell me to stop if it becomes too much,” he tells you, genuine concern lacing his tone.

You hum in agreement, a hand coming up to tangle within the silver locks atop his head. Watching as he closes his eyes, Astarion licks again at the underside of your cock, base to tip. You shudder as his hand wraps delicately around your shaft, peeling the foreskin back. He takes a few tentative passes with his tongue along your frenulum, meeting your eyes momentarily to gauge your reaction.

Your hips buck and stutter under his tongue, a string of pleasured gasps and guttural moans slipping past your lips. The hand in his hair tightens as he takes the head of you past his lips, suckling softly on the sensitive gland.

It takes a world of restraint not to shove the rest of yourself into the inviting cavern of his mouth. Astarion must know this, however, as the hand still planted on your thigh moves to your hip, holding you still. He doesn’t leave you wanting for long, passing as much of your length into his mouth as he can manage, his hand following you down to the base. He flattens his tongue on the way back up, hollowing out his cheeks as he reaches the tip, only to do it all over again.

Knees growing weak, you push your back into the wall behind you to hold yourself steady. The hand in his hair slips, pads of your fingers passing just over the tip of his ear. Astarion moans at the faint touch, the vibration shooting up through your cock and spreading like wildfire throughout your abdomen. You perform the same motion again, and Astarion begins craning his head into your touch.

“A-ah-” he gasps, pulling himself off of you. “Darling, if you keep doing that, I-”

His mouth falls open in a delicate pant, eyes flitting closed as he works his spittle over your length with his hand. You continue toying with the outer shell of his ear, intrigued at this new discovery, and he rests his forehead against your hip.

“I never knew you had such sensitive ears,” you comment as you look down, watching him rub his thighs together as his hips buck up and down into the air.

With a drawn out groan, Astarion explains, “I’m an elf, my love. We all have sensitive ears.”

“Noted,” you respond, shakily bringing a hand down to join him along your shaft. You softly peel off his touch, lacing your fingers together. “I-I think I want to try something else, now,” you admit.

Smiling, Astarion slowly rises to his feet, cradling your jaw within his hand. His lips, swollen and soft from his prior activity, find yours; his kiss is desperate - hungry. “What do you have in mind?” he questions between quickly stolen breaths.

A fire swells within your core, and you're suddenly met with the same raging intensity and desire displayed in Astarion's kiss.

Hand tangling within his mess of moonlit curls once again, you pull Astarion’s head back, exposing the marble column of his throat. He groans when you drag the flat of your tongue over the apple of his throat, hips jerking into yours.

“I want to try fucking you,” you whisper into his skin, grinding your conjured length against his concealed erection to punctuate your intent. The coiling in your core winds tighter, but not enough to snap just yet.

As his weight presses into you, his hands grip your biceps for stability. Another roll of his hips and he sighs, dropping his head down to catch your eyes. “Are you sure?” he questions, breathless. “Because I'd really like that.”

With a nod of your head, your hands travel up under the hem of his shirt to settle on strong, narrow hips. Your lips meet again, the kiss just as ravenous as before, and begin walking you both toward the bed. When Astarion’s knees hit the edge of the bed, he gently falls back, with you quickly closing the distance above him.

“You needn’t worry about preparation,” he reveals as you lavish attention on his neck. “I took care of that earlier.”

He shudders beneath you as you mouth his scars. “Isn’t that part of this whole process?” you ask while hooking your hands into the waistband of his underwear, slowly tugging them down.

Astarion lifts his hips up and laughs, providing enough space for you to slide the cotton fabric down and off his form. “It is, but I figured it was gracious enough of you to entertain this idea,” he explains. “Prep for this is… well, intimate.” He averts your gaze for a brief moment, drawing a large breath in before continuing, “I would understand if it didn’t appeal to you.”

Removing yourself from his reach, you sit back over your legs. His face shifts uneasily at your sudden withdrawal. “Astarion,” you begin to tell him, “I’m not ashamed of your body. I want to explore this as a couple.” He’s drawn his legs together in a likely attempt at covering himself. You place a hand atop one knee, rubbing soft circles as you say reassuringly, “All of it, together. So, please. Let me?”

Astarion sits up with a smile, and rests his forehead over yours. “If you keep being this nice to me, I may just return the favor,” he says, light-heartedly.

“You already do, Astarion,” you tell him with a laugh. “Always the gentleman.”

His kiss is a quick peck over your lips as he tells you, “There's a bottle of oil in the bedside drawer. Grab it, and I'll show you what to do.”

You nod, sliding off the mattress and doing as instructed. Astarion moves himself higher into the center of the bed, sinking into the comforter and pillows. The bed dips below him as you climb back on, bottle of viscous liquid in hand.

“Pour some into one palm and rub your hands together, love,” he instructs. “This helps warm the oil.”

Popping the stopper off the bottle, you pour the cool, thick, opaque fluid out into your hand. You reapply the cork, placing it face up on top of the bedside drawer, rubbing the palms of your hands together. It takes a bit, but inevitably your body heat begins to seep into the oil.

Astarion lay before you, eyes beginning to hood over as he follows your hands. His legs fall silently open as his breath hitches for a mere moment. “Good,” he says encouragingly, his voice an octave lower. “Now, come here. Between my legs.”

You move in closer and note how the hem of his shirt is obscuring his cock from view. You can just make it out, though - it pushes against the fabric of the shirt, tenting it slightly and you swear you see a small darkened spot right where the tip of his cock lay hidden. Looking up, your eyes drink in how his collar has fallen to one side, sliding down and off his right shoulder, exposing his collar bone. Astarion normally wears this shirt with the sleeves rolled up tight, yet today, he's chosen to wear them loose.

His hands, half covered by the cuffs of his sleeves, envelop yours in a gentle embrace as he guides your slickened fingers to his core. Astarion stills for a moment, and you look up to find him staring back at you.

There's an expression on his face that you’re not immediately familiar with - it's not fear, excitement, or lust, really. Yet, the longer you study him, recognition begins to dawn over you.

It's the same look you've given him countless times before on this very bed, having thrown caution to the wind as you entwine the very fabric of your souls together.

Astarion is… submitting himself. To you.

Something majorly delicate, knowing his past.

You know of what he was forced to endure while being compelled into submission.

The barrage of lovers who cared not for the person below them; who saw him only as a means to an end. A quick pump, a cheap lay, a tool to scratch a nagging itch.

“Some people refer to the moment of climax as ‘a little death,’” he’d once told you. That was before you knew just how many he'd lead to their actual deaths.

True to form, Astarion's words are often double-edged blades. His mind dances constantly on the edge of pleasure and shame. You see it in his face, now. He’s standing on that precipice, knowing not whether to jump head first or step back.

You swallow thickly and stare back at him, unblinking, before saying, “You can always tell me if it becomes too much, and I will stop.” You pause for a brief moment before adding, “Pleasure is my only intent, Astarion.”

A smile graces his lips as he welcomes your fingers to make first contact with his entrance. “Oh, my dear,” he says with a sigh, “I’ve never doubted that about you.”

Leaning over him as you press the pads of two fingers teasingly against his tight ring of muscle, you kiss him. Astarion groans softly into your mouth, his hands coming up to cup either side of your face as he arches into the kiss. He’s grinding down lightly into your fingers, meeting each of your chaste touches against him.

“How many should I start with?” you ask softly, breaking the kiss for a brief moment.

“Two,” he answers, voice but a whisper against your lips. “Whichever ones you want.”

Humming into his mouth, you begin pushing your fingers into his entrance. Astarion’s breath hitches as you breach the perimeter, shoving his head back against the pillows. He instinctively tries closing his legs around you, though you hold one open with your free hand.

You still your movements, giving him a chance to adjust to the intrusion. “Is it alright?” you ask him.

Astarion nods his head as he moves a hand under his shirt to toy with a nipple. “Yes,” he huffs out. “I'm more than fine, love.”

Emboldened to the task at hand, you move, gently pushing and pulling your fingers within him. You feel his muscles contract around you and you briefly wonder if this is what he feels when he's inside of you. The thought sends a bolt of pleasure to your cunt, reverberating as a twitch of your cock.

You look down to watch your fingers as they work him open, and finally see his cock laying against the plane of his abdomen. Compared to the pallor of the rest of him, his length is flushed pink and red, and you can make out the labored beating of his undead heart as his cock thumps softly against his stomach. Pre-fluid seeps from his tip, gathering in a small puddle just below his navel. Bending down, you catch a small rivulet rolling off his hip with your tongue, tracing it back to the source. Astarion shudders under you, threading his free hand through your hair as he pushes down onto your fingers.

You're beginning to understand that this isn't too different from your usual sexual encounters with one another. It's truly just a mirroring of your typical positions. Out of curiosity, you curl your fingers upward in one particular pass, and his entire body spasms beneath you.

“Fuck, darling, yes… You've found it,” Astarion groans out, labored. The grip in your hair tightens and he begins fucking himself in earnest on your fingers, a string of moans falling from his lips as he passes that same spot over and over again.

Your cunt aches and your cock throbs watching the scene before you. To see him unraveling before you, submitting himself to the pleasure of the moment is intoxicating. His legs have fallen open again and you watch, diligently, at how easily your fingers glide in and out of his core.

“I- I need more,” Astarion suddenly chokes out. You meet his gaze and through lust-hooded eyes, he says, “Please… let me ride you.”

He's pleading, you notice. Begging. Your eyes travel down his form again, drinking in the wanton display of him splitting himself open over your fingers. Your cunt throbs; you think of nothing else in that moment but pulling out your fingers and replacing them with your cock.

To hear the delicious whines, the sobs, the cries that would surely tumble freely from Astarion's lips as he came undone around you. You want this, just as much as he does.

Pulling your hand free from his entrance, Astarion sobs as you crash your lips into his. “I'd love that,” you tell him, honestly.

Astarion begins to sit up, concentrating on never breaking the kiss you share as he aids you both in switching positions. You lay back, him straddling your lap mere moments later. He grinds his taint against your conjured appendage, your shafts brushing, and he cries out in a gentle moan against your lips. He breaks the kiss, reaching for the bottle of oil on the bedside table, dribbling some onto your cock.

With a few languid strokes of your mystical length to spread the oil and he lines himself up over you. Your eyes meet and you hiss through clenched teeth as your tip kisses his entrance, feeling the pressure slide over your glans as he slowly begins to take you.

“A-ahh,” Astarion pants from above you, still holding your cock steady in one hand. You sigh as you feel yourself push past the first ring of muscle, throwing your head back against the pillows. Your hands grip at his thighs as the sensation threatens to overwhelm you, fingertips likely to leave bruises that will be gone come morning.

Once he feels confident that you're nestled far enough inside, he releases his hold on your shaft, resting the palms of his hands against your lower stomach. He continues to slowly take you further in, words in a language you're unfamiliar with spilling from his mouth, until he's flush against your thighs.

Both of you freeze in that moment - you struggle to control your ragged breathing as he flutters around you, Astarion taking a moment to adjust to this foreign, but not unpleasant, sensation.

“H-how do I feel?” he asks in a hushed voice.

Truthfully? He feels… astounding. Tight, wet, and warmer than you would have thought for a vampire. When he lifts his hips, you feel the air being pulled out of your lungs. His walls drag deliciously along your shaft, and a nagging pull starts to build behind your navel.

Your mouth drops open in a silent gasp as your eyes meet his through hooded lids. “A-amazing,” you pant out. “You feel so good, Astarion.”

He moans above you, his head falling to one side as he rolls his hips over your cock. His shirt hangs off one shoulder, the hem obscuring his cock again from view. Though, you feel its weight slap against your stomach with each lift and drop of his hips.

Astarion’s voice comes out strained when he says, “Tell me again… please.”

You feel your cock twitch within him; he clenches around you as he locks eyes with you, waiting patiently for a response. Strands of sweat-soaked hair stick to his face, and on one particular stroke of his hips, you brush up against that place inside of him that forces his vision to blur at the edges. His mouth begins to salivate.

“Please, please, please,” he begs impatiently, voice an octave higher now. He's practically sobbing, spearing himself over your cock so each roll is angled to hit his prostate. You meet his thrusts from below, coil winding tighter within your abdomen as his walls continue to massage your cock.

You're not going to last much longer.

“You're so good for me, Astarion,” you say, obliging him. “You're being such a good boy.”

Astarion's mouth drops open as he bows his head forward, his entire body dipping down over you as a shudder passes through him. “Yes,” he whines, rocking back on your hips with renewed vigor. You feel his cock lay flat against your abdomen in this new position. It drags over your stomach, pre-fluid dripping from his tip and onto your skin providing an easier surface.

I am! And beautiful - not enough people mention that.

His words from long ago echo in your mind as you drink in his expression. He's gorgeous above you; handsome to begin with, but as he slips further toward toppling over the Cliff's edge, his beauty is quickly becoming amplified as he continues to lose composure.

“You’re beautiful like this,” you coo to him, lifting a hand from his thigh to rub over an ear.

Astarion's body is wracked by yet another tremor as he cries, “Darling, if you don’t-, I will-, I'm going-!” His head nestles into the hand toying with his ear and his hips pump erratically over your cock, having lost his prior rhythm.

You suck in a sharp breath, jaw clenched as Astarion becomes impossibly tighter around your shaft, and you groan. You're so close, so very close that all you need is one more thing to push yourself over the edge.

“Let go, Astarion,” you say, somehow finding the rhythm in his desperate rutting. The sound of skin slapping roughly fills the room as your hips meet his on his downstroke. You wrap a hand around the outline of his cock tenting his shirt, and jerk him in tempo with your thrusts.

He’s sobbing, loud and unabashedly. With one particular pass of your fingers over the outer tip of his ear, Astarion suddenly unwinds. He yells his pleasure above you, collapsing onto your chest as wave after wave overcomes him. You feel his spend seep into the fabric of his shirt and onto the skin of your abdomen in a small warm pool.

It doesn't take long for the involuntary spasming of his core over your cock to send you spiraling into your own completion. Moans slip freely past your lips and you feel your folds become soaked, drippinh down the cleft of your ass as your relief washes over you. You bury your face against Astarion's hair, breathing in his soft silver curls and the signature cologne you know so well.

As you both begin to come down off your highs, you wrap your arms around his back and hold him tightly against your chest. You feel the spell of the phallus lift, Astarion whimpering softly as it vanishes from within him. You both lay on the bed, panting, trying to catch your breath for what feels like ages.

Astarion is first to lift up his head and say, “That… that was amazing.”

“Mm,” you hum in agreement. You can barely open your eyes as fatigue begins to set in.

Taking a finger, Astarion traces circles absentmindedly into your skin as he rests his head back down over your chest. “Darling?” he asks softly. “May I tell you something?”

Sleep almost has its claws in you when you jolt back awake, forcing your eyes to snap open and find Astarion. “Hmm?” you groan in question.

With a quick huff, Astarion says, “I just wanted to thank you for doing this with me.” He places a quick peck below your jawbone before adding, “It was really nice.”

You sigh audibly, and say “It was, we should do this again.” Your eyelids are impossibly heavy; sleep is threatening to claim you and will do so in mere moments. “I love you,” you manage to mumble out before slipping gently out of consciousness.

Astarion smiles into your skin as he says, “I love you, too,”

I love this, he thinks.

I love us.

#astarion smut #astarion x reader #astarion x female reader #astarion x female tav #astarion x tav #astarion x oc #astarion x female oc #astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion fanfic #bg3 #fanfiction #writing

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neonovember · 1 year

Note

Hello! I hope you’ve been doing okay! I saw that you had requests open and I also saw that you take requests for Carmen? If it’s totally okay of course to request for him! I got into the bear a few days ago and my brain has been filled with nothing but thoughts of Carmy. Would it be okay just requesting something that’s just Carmen being worried/concerned about the reader? He just always sees whenever there’s that tiredness to them when it looks like it’s a bad day, that slump in their shoulders that all too much reminds him of him a little sometimes, just bringing them into the office and his eyebrows are furrowed with that look of concern and his eyes the same, maybe unexpectedly just wrapping them in a hug (Your writing is so cute btw!) 💕

to carry and to bear

ask, it will be my infinite quest to fulfill! love this request so much and i loved writing is even more. i'm going to be so annoying when s2 comes out, especially since i love carmen's character so much! thank you for your request anon <3

carmen berzatto x reader

warnings: richie (yes he’s a warning), unresolved anxiety, horrible customers, fainting

word count: 5k (short for me lmao)

a/n: you know i love a character when i'm completing fics in under a day..lets pray this momentum keeps going

Wrapping yourself tight against the chilly wind of the unforgivable Chicago weather, you watch the city coming alive in the early morning as you walk down the concrete sidewalk of the Beef’s city corner.

Merchants and gazebo have begun to set up shop, their bright red vendor stands a stark contrast to the grey haze of the windy city. Corner stores and cafes have begun to uncover their blinds, dusting away the sliver of droplets that had long since evaporated after a heavy downpour the night before.

it’s slow though.

The mass of cars and yellow cabbed taxis haven’t yet filled the gravel roads, and the surging rush of traffic and uncontrollable road rage the beef windows have been accustomed to viewing hasn't filled the air.

The pinch of cold begins to itch against the cracks in your outerwear. Your trusted winter jacket and gloves had been left at the bottom of your laundry basket and instead you were forced to throw on a flimsy polyester jacket that provided absolutely no warmth.

Your fingers are stuffed into your pocket, trying to hide them from the cold but it is no use. They shake against the freezing air of wind as you push past huddles of men chain smoking and passing coolers of steaming coffee on street corners.

You’re about to go ask for a cup, despite Carmen's disgruntled comments of their huddled group festering near the restaurant. They were a pack of wolves, and whilst Sydney's sandwiches had fended them off for a while, the hole in the Beef’s window was still fresh. Like a cycle, more and more had begun to trickle in from alleyways, leading to customers steering clear from the nearby streets.

Carmen didn’t even like you walking to work this early, you get it, despite being daylight, Chicago had a way of defying social norms. You had paid some attention to the increase in robbing and attacks that had begun to frequent news reports.

It wouldn't have been a problem, walking was always voluntary for you as you had a perfectly fine working car that would drive you to and from your destination with as little as a rumble from its engine. And yet, that seemingly perfect car decided to break down on you this morning, leading to an overheated engine and a smoke filled hood.

So not only did you have to pay for a towing truck to drag away your car to an auto shop you couldn't afford to afford, but you were late. And you hated being late.

Not to mention your sister had called you late last night, asking to stay for a couple nights after her good for nothing boy-friend you would rather call a child had kicked her out after a fight.

She had rambled for nothing short of 2 hours after you had gotten home from the Beef late last night, and the pull of sleep had begun to weigh on you. The exhaustion and deprivation had written itself in the slug of your limbs and the slump of your shoulders.

You had to come in today, there were no rest days even if the Beef wasn't neck deep in debt and Cicero didn't have you all on a leash. Especially if you wouldn't allow yourself one. You had that in common with Carmen, you frequently ignored your own needs for your craft, the same insatiable passion and need for perfection driving you to exhaustion.

The familiar chime of the Beefs wooden doors hit your ears, and you shake off the cold of the city streets, the Beef is warm and you're grateful, sighing as the heat of prepped ovens and oiled pans defrosts your face.

It takes a second before you walk into the busy kitchen when the sound finally reaches you. The screeching sound of Richie's voice bickers with Tina about the next door convenient store being turned into a “pretentious hipster coffee shop that is legally selling dog water to unassuming Chicagoans”.

Dragging on and on about the invasion of gentrification that will soon take out all the good businesses that had been around since his grandfather had come from Sicily. Richie was not from Siciliy. In which Carmen mirrors your thoughts and yells that he is not Italian, and his obsession with the European country has been bordering on creepy.

Ebra is reciting an article about a culinary student that had gone rogue and murdered their entire class, giving pointers on how he himself had to patch up an entire unit of people stabbed by a bent corkscrew. The loud conversations and untethered yelling across the kitchen combines with the malfunctioning arcade that has begun to re-circuit the same sentence for 20 minutes now, digs a deep burrow into your temple.

You stand at the entrance of the kitchen, watching the commotion of early morning prep with a tight grimace, your head begins to vibrate a little, the start of a headache you won’t be relieved from spreading and you have to swallow down the exhaustion that begins to seep in at the sight.

Sydney brushes past you, greeting you with a hello and one of her charming smiles before muttering about throwing that arcade machine out the back. You giggle and it hurts, but you do it anyway because, fuck, you would help her.

You step into the kitchen, and the crew each turn to greet you good morning as you walk past them into the locker bay stuffing your bag and shoes into the cabinet before quickly changing.

Your phone reads 7am and you stuff it into the pocket of your hung jacket before slamming the locker shut. Carmen peeks his head around the corner, nodding at you as you put on your non-slip shoes, calling your name when you don't notice, you flinch before peering up and Carmen waves trying to get your attention.

“Mornin’ chef, didn’t think you were coming in” Carmen remarks, raising his eyebrows as he leans his shoulder against the wall.

“Morning, yeah, sorry about that, uh- shit happened and I had to deal with it all at once. Won;t happen again” You reply, biting back a yawn, before letting your feet fall to the ground.

“It’s all good,” Carmen replies, nodding, wiping his hand on the white towel hanging on his shoulder that was already smudged with stains.

“Just shoot me a text or call next time, yeah?” Carmen replies

“Will do chef” You reply, smiling, before peering out to see Sydney carrying a basket of ingredients

“New recipe?” You ask, nodding towards Sydney, and Carmen nods, running a hand through his curls as he leans forward.

“Well call it trying something. Not yet finished, just needs some minor tweaks here and there” Carmen replies

“I can help Sydney out if you want?” You reply without a second thought.

You already had prep and a marinade you had to make for Cicero’s function he had conveniently told Carmen about the night before, but helping out was second nature to you, it was a part of this family's culture.

Carmen shakes his head, his eyes falling to your slumped shoulder, and the slow but tight blinks you tended to do when you were exhausted.

The second he had peered his head around the corner and saw the slug of your limbs he knew something was up, but he also knew he couldn't force you to relax, you were worse than him, always taking on so much, filling up your cup until it was overflowing.

“No, no, it’s alright, besides, that marinade isn’t going to be easy, I should be asking if you want me to help out” Carmen replies, chuckling, scratching his neck as you curve your mouth into that smile he loves so much. You could be half-dead and he still stares at you like you were the most gorgeous thing he's ever seen.

“I think I’ve got it handled. I remember having to make something similar back at Le Bleu, you just got to get the temperature right or the entire thing gets spoiled. Having more than one person just makes it more confusing. besides, don't you have that meeting with the vendor today?” You reply, and Carmen sighs, nodding

“Yep, hopefully this place looks stable enough to get him to sign, you know I can’t deal with corporate bullshit. Sydney should’ve met up with them, fuck any one other than me” Carmen replies, shaking his head as he fidgets with the hem of his apron.

Despite his numerous accolades, and world renowned talent, he only ever felt at nature in the kitchen. High function parties and elusive dinner bars were things he despised, feeling out of place despite it being thrown in his name.

“Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself, you're the face of this place Carmen, you’ve transformed it, you oughta show them the Beef is the best investment they’ll make. Hell you’re the best investment they can make” You reply, and Carmen ears perk at your reply, smiling fondly at your comment. He didn't deserve your praise, and he hated the way the sound of your lips curving around his name shoots through him.

“Are y'all going to get to work or continue eye fucking?” Richie calls, as he passes by the locker bay, and Carmen immediately shakes his head muttering a fuck you before nodding to you, and heading back to his station. You get up from your seated position on the bench, dusting and ironing out the creases in your apron before mentally going over the things you had to complete before opening.

Prep vegetables, then start the veal stock for Cicero's marinade. You had to complete it early, since it had to be chilled for at least 5 hours, any less and the fat would congeal and turn into a complete mess you didn’t have time to fix.

You walk towards your station, stepping over sauce that had spilled onto the tile floors, this crew was amazing in their craft, but god were they messy. You bump shoulders with Sydney as you begin to grate and cut root vegetables and herbs, you have to force your eyes open, blinking several times before dipping your hand into an ice water bucket and wiping your face with it.

Sydney converses with you, and it wasn't that she was boring, in fact you both frequently spend time even out of the restaurant as friends. But you can’t even try to decipher what she says, just sounds coming out of her mouth that you pack away in order to get your job done.

Just cut the vegetables, finish the stock, cut the vegetables, finish the stock, you repeat it like a mantra in your head, unaware at Sydney calling your name. She reaches forward, pressing a soft hand to your shoulder to get your attention.

“Hey, did you hear me?” Sydney replies, concern written across her features as she peers at your disoriented state.

“Huh? Sorry, what did you say?” You reply, avoiding her gaze. You feel her penetrate through you, pitying the exhaustion on your face, probably realising you were a shit chef who couldn't even handle a couple responsibilities.

“I was asking if you could grab me some of the sauce I made yesterday from the storage fridge. You alright? You seem a bit..” Sydney starts, before you cut her off quickly

“Just had a long night, didn't get much sleep” You reply, rubbing your eyes with a hand. What has gotten into you? You weren't foreign to a few sleepless nights and a few too many deadlines you had to meet, hell your entire college and culinary life had been exactly that.

“That’ll kill you, you know” Richie butts in, reaching for a crab cake Sydney had prepared before being swatted away with a wooden spoon.

“What?” You ask, already regretting asking Richie to elaborate on what was clearly some elaborated story he had got stored away

“Go without that good old shut eye a few nights too long and you'll start hallucinating shit, not fucking with you you, don’t you know about the Russian sleep experiment-?” Richie rambles

“Ah here we go” Sydney replies, rolling her eyes

“You think because you went to Paris or whatever prestigious tight ass school you know everything? It’s real, happened right after World War 2, Russians got a bunch of people and just made them not sleep for like months, they starting turning into fuckin' aliens and shit-” Richie continues, ignoring Sydney's sly remarks about Richie's facebook usage.

“Richie c’mon, you know that shits made up” You reply

“Don’t matter, didn’t I tell you about my week long bender during college? Starting seeing my great aunt from the corner of my eye, and I swear she is still there-” Richie replies before getting cut off my Carmen calling his name

“Stop distracting my chefs Cousin”

You chuckle, shaking your head as Richie mutters about the fall of democracy and wipe your hands across your towel.

“I’ll go get your sauce Syd” You reply, and she smiles in gratitude as you turn towards the storage room. The cold air of the fridge wakes you up a little, and you rest your head against the door of the storage fridge, sighing in frustration. Talking to Richie was exhausting in itself, and when you were already running only fumes and second hand smoke you felt like it took the last bit of energy you had left.

You grab the container of sauce written with “DO NOT TOUCH” on its front, it's wrapped in cling film, with no lid and you're careful not to drop it everywhere. It wasn’t heavy, per se, just filled to the brim and without careful steps it was close to tipping out. You walk out of the storage room carefully, before turning towards your station.

“Corner!” You yell, twisting around the corner of the kitchen, before you slam straight into a tall body, jerking back and inadvertently spilling the sauce all across the kitchen floor and onto your shoes. You feel it sink into your socks and drip down your apron, eye twitching in frustration as Marcus starts apologising profusely, you ignore him, dropping down to your knees and reaching for paper towels. You start wiping away the sauce, as Marcus drops down to your level and tries to help, you shake our head looking up at him.

“Stop, Marcus, just stop. I can do it” You reply

“But-” Marcus protests

“We don't need two chefs to clean up a one person job, alright? You need to finish prep” You reply, letting the towels soak up the sauce. You grieve for Sydney, not all of it had spilt, but a quarter of a container wasn’t enough to get through the morning rush, let alone the entire day.

You ignore the spilt sauce all over your clothes, you didn’t have time to change now, rushing back to your station before telling Sydney about the spill

“You serious? I thought I could leave early today, got a friend's birthday” Sydney replies, pinching the bridge of her nose.

You instantly feel guilty, you should've been more careful, and now Sydney would have to pay for it.

“Hey, I got it, let me take that new recipe off your plate. That gives you enough time to get to the party?” You reply

Sydney looks up, rising her eyebrows “No, no I couldn’t possibly ask you to”

“Nonsense, I owe you anyway, remember when I had to leave halfway through the morning to get my sister?” You reply, with a tired smile before Sydney wraps her arms around you, you rub a hand across her back. You can’t really feel her arms around you, it’s like all your senses are delayed, you ignore it as you get back to work, now with another task on your plate.

You finish chopping the vegetables after a short while, usually you were the fastest in the house, but today you lagged behind, finally carrying the vegetables to Carmen who looked at you strange, his eyes staring through you, he swallowed like he was going to say something as you walked away, before stopping and continuing stirring the stock on the stove

By the time the Beef opens, you're still elbow deep in work, you've stayed silent most of the time, waving off Marcus’s apology and instead working, not stopping since you started. You skipped breakfast, and you hadn't gotten a chance to eat, and just when you're about to make yourself something, Richie calls your name from the front counter.

You walk towards the front of the Beef, wiping stains on your apron to look a little presentable to the outside world. Richie stands at the register, flicking a pen in his hand, a look of annoyance on his face.

“What's up?” You ask Richie, as a tall man dressed down in a polo sweater and khakis stares down at you in anger. He’s familiar, someone you had served when Richie had to take his smoke break, and he scrutinises you as you smile at him.

That’s the only way you could communicate with these people, any hint of anger and you’d be written of as angry and unable to control your emotions, you lost your last job because you defended yourself anyway.

“This guy said he came in and you made him something he apparently didn't like, but finished anyway” Richie replies, a knowing look passes between you both and you sigh, you don't have time for this.

“Morning Sir, May I ask what’s the problem” You ask politely

“You suggested to me a dish from the menu, alright, YOU, not me, so don't go blaming me for this, and look what I got, not only does it have nuts, which i hate, it's spicy. Way too spicy, I want a refund, NOW” The man replies, seething, his yelling catches the attention of other patrons, and Richie begins to reach under the table for a bat.

“Well, you finished it all so I don’t know what you-” You begin before the man cuts you off loudly

“Do you think I give a shift what you think? Huh? Jesus fucking Christ, see you just need to do what I fucking say, not argue. Give me a refund before I get you fired from this shit hole you dumb stupid-” The man yells, loudly before Carmen's booming voice cuts him off

“I wouldn't finish that sentence if I were you” Carmen replies, clenching his jaw in way that told you he was trying to hold back the rage from spilling out

“Who the fuck are you?” The man asks

“I own this shit hole you piece of shit, and if you don't get the fuck out of my restaurant I'm going to break every single bone in your face with my bare hands".

“Excuse me?”

Carmen laughs, shaking his head before smiling at the man

“I told you”

Carmen drags the man by his collar, throwing him onto the sidewalk and dragging his body to the alleyway, you fear what he is going to do and Richie raises his eyebrows in astonishment.

“Well shit cousin, you ain't a pussy after all” Richie mutters under his breath

You can faintly hear the sound of splitting skin and the crack of bone, before Carmen storms back into the restaurant, eyeing all the patrons who are following his every move.

“Y'all got that? Anyone mess with my people hear and your walk out on a fucking stretcher” Carmen replies still seething with anger, before Richie claps loudly as Carmen walks back behind the desk.

“Call a fucking ambulance” Carmen replies, rolling his eyes at Richie before he walks towards you, the the tension immediately leaving him as he find your safe and away from that man.

“You alright? He didn't hurt you or anything?” Carmen asks in concern, his eyes darting across your body to see any imagined injuries

“It seems you should be asking him that question” You reply, nudging towards the alley of the Bear, chuckling as you shake your head.

“You didn't have to do that you know, iIcould have-” You start

Carmen looks down at you in concern, shaking his head as he places his hand on you shoulder

“Could've what? He was screaming in your face and I wasn't about to let him think that shit was okay, god, how could you not react?” Carmen replies, looking down at you in concern, shaking his head as he places a hand on your shoulder.

“I’m just so busy, I still- Fuck, i still got to get Cicero's marinade in the fridge, and i need to start on Syd’s broth” You mutter pressing your fingertips to your temples.

“What? You’re doing Sydney’s load as well? Hey, you need to sit down a second” Carmen replies, as you begin to walk back towards the kitchen, with Carmen hot on your heels, asking you to stop and turn to him.

You hear him call your name, but the mountain of tasks that were now even later due to that customer had begun to seize your consciousness.

All you could focus on was the dishes you needed to make and the pain in your temples that had begun to spread down, your vision getting fuzzy around the edges as you try and shake yourself awake.

“Dammit, listen to me! Stop cutting fucking vegetables and listen to me” Carmen yells at you for the first time, twisting your body to face him and you spit out in anger

“What?!”

“What’s gotten into you today?” Carmen replies, yelling

And you don't know why, but that question breaks something in you, and you can't help but let out a short chuckle. Carmen looks down at you in horror, trying to reach for you, to catch you when the inevitable happens and you look at him once before it does.

Before your vision begins to blur and the edges begin to burn like a flame, you try and catch yourself, but it’s too late and you fall into Carmen's arms, wrapped up against his chest as you crash.

Carmen gathers you in his arms, his heart breaking beneath his breasts, holding his sweet girl in his arms as the streams of tears dampen his shirt. The rest of the crew watch on in concern, and Carmen shoes them away as he carries your unconscious body to the office.

“What the fuck Cousin?” Richie calls

“Hey, hey, is she alright? What -what happened?” Sydney replies in horror as she watches Carmen carry you from the kitchen.

“What happened was, ya'll did fuck all when she was practically breaking down trying to finish everyone else's fucking mess. What happened? Are you fucking serious? If i wasn't there, she would’ve fainted into a burning skillet of your fucking vegetables Sydney” Carmen replies, shaking his head, the entire crew goes silent, the only sounds coming from the beeps of ovens and stove tops, and the sizzling of burning food.

Carmen goes quiet, as he assesses your state, there is something unwritten in the way he holds you, and he blinks tight, his face twitching a little as if he had to make sure you were in his arms, the only place he wanted you to be.

“Get back to work” Carmen replies, quietly, a stark contrast to his rage from before, the crew has never seen him like this, his eyes and focus on you, as if he has been seized by this responsibility and dying need to protect you. He can hardly breathe, his arms shaking as he stares down at your sullen and tired face.

“We need-” Marcus starts before Carmen shakes his head

“No, no, enough. Sydney will hold down the fort, this is my responsibility. Get. back to work.” Carmen replies

—-

Carmen wastes no time to gently place your body onto the scuffed office couch, pressing a hand to your head, before reaching for an ice cold container of water, dipping a towel into it before gently pressing it to your forehead.

Carmen shakes his head in anger, he should've seen this coming, he should've noticed from the slump of your shoulder and your one word answers that you were stretching yourself too thin.

Carmen tortures himself as he replays the moments before you fainted into his arms. The way your features twisted into a sob, and the lasts shred of resolve snapped, and you had reached for him, you had reached for him.

You had reached for Carmen when you fell, and something in him broke when he had caught you.

Carmen had been used to his own self-destruction, but as he rested his thumb, rubbing circles and wiping away the tears on your face, he wished himself to change, not just for him, but for you. How could he? How could you be such a poor example to you? This was his own fault, and the reality of that conclusion twists like a knife to his gut.

His sweet girl, his Sunshine, who had thought the needs of this goddamn sandwich shop was more important than her own. You begin to stir in his arms, and the tension and shake of his arms begins to release as you wake up, Carmen eases you into consciousness when you begin to panic.

“Hey hey, I’m right here, you're okay, you're okay” Carmen replies softly, and you squeeze your eyes tightly, trying to understand what had happened and why you felt like your body was filled with lead.

"What, what happened” You reply, looking across the location of the office.

“You fainted, and I carried you to the office because you are not going back into that kitchen” Carmen replies, sitting up from his slumped position.

You stay quiet, confusion lacing your features as you shake your head. You fainted? How did that even happen? You had never fainted in your entire life.

Carmen peers at you, his eyes dancing across your face as your silence frightens him, he wouldn't even recognise you, your usual bubbly, and incredibly chirpy self was not replaced by someone who was so exhausted they couldn’t stay conscious.

“You gotta talk to me baby girl, please, look at me, you can tell me, you can tell me anything” Carmen replies, softly, caressing your hand with his thumb when it begins to shake.

You look up at him, his expression of worry and concern causing your features to twist,

“I um, I’m just a little tired” You reply, the beginning of tears choking you, causing your words to rush out as you try to stop yourself but it is fruitless, and Carmen eyebrows kind of pinch, he kind of frowns a little as he looks at you in that way.

It's all it takes before you sob, and sink into the coach. Carmen gathers you once again in his arms, and scoops your legs so that they lay across his thighs, and your head rests against his collarbone.

“I know baby, I know, I’m sorry, Oh honey I am so sorry” Carmen replies, rubbing your back as you let the last of your resolve sink into his chest, the cry of your tears leaving you speechless.

You can’t stop crying, the cup spilling over and making a big whole mess, snot and tears and heartache and exhaustion dirties Carmen's chef whites and you can't help but grip onto him like he is the only thing tethering you to Earth.

You don’t have to tell Carmen then, he knew the second you walked in, and he knows now when you hold him. There's a certain grief Carmen feels when he looks at you and sees himself, and in a way this is for Carmen too.

You sit like this for a while, you and Carmen. Wrapped in his arms as you lay across his lap, long after the tears had run dry, where you are left with hiccups and the soothing touch of Carmen's hand across your back.

It feels like you two are the only people on earth. Everything is Carmen; its all you smell, all you feel against your skin, all you hear as he whispers into you ear. No one dares to step into the office doors, even when an hour ticks by, even when the trickle of customers turns into a downpour and the orders never end, the family knows that you need this, that your health was better than money, or happy customers and fuck all.

Even after you have cried your eyes out, the responsibility of work begins to weigh on your body, you still had so much to do with so little time

“But the marinade, and- and Sydney's” You begin before Carmen cuts you off with a soft squeeze.

“Richie’ll handle it, and if he doesn't Cicero can go fuck himself. You really think I’m going to let that override you right now? Just forget about the kitchen alright, can you do that for me, pretty girl?” Carmen replies

You nod, the burden that had exhausted you to sickness lifted from your shoulders. You look towards the clock and realise the vendors were coming soon to meet with Carmen, something he couldn’t miss.

“The vendors, aren't they-”

“They came in 3 hours early, it's why it took me so long to get to you when that asshole was throwing a fit” Carmen replies, knowing what you were asking for.

You peek at him in question “Well?”

“They signed.” Carmen replies, rolling eyes and smiling at your delighted squeal

“What did I tell you? Carmen Berzatto is more than-” You start before a yawn stretches through you.

“Alright, alright, enough talking from you. When’s the last time you ate?” Carmen asks

You stop and scratch your head, trying to think and you laugh a little when you can’t remember.

“I don't know” You reply

Carmen’s eye twitches, and he smiles down at you before easing you off his thighs and onto the coach.

“What- what are you doing?” You ask, not even trying to hide the sadness in your voice. You already miss the heat of his chest warm against your cheek.

Carmen smiles softly as he looks down at you, threaded a hand through his head as he wipes down the creases on his apron.

“I’m making you something”

“What? No it’s- it’s okay I’ll eat at family” You reply, reaching a hand out to him

Carmen reaches for your palm, pressing a soft kiss on your the skin of your knuckles before reaching down to kiss the top of your head.

“No you need to eat now, alright? You're going to sleep the rest of the day, and then, and then, you're coming back to my place so I can keep an eye on you. You gonna listen to me or protest?” Carmen replies, eyebrow raised as he crosses his arms. His voice drops down an octane, like it was a command, and you have to bite back the desire floating in your stomach at the way he looks down with his eyes all heavy from above.

“Okay, alright, whatever you say Chef” You reply with a smile, and Carmen sinks his teeth into his bottom lip when you say it like that.

“Just wait a sec” Carmen replies, and as he is about to leave you call for him again

“What are you even making, half the ingredients are gone”

“It’s no problem, it’s your recipe anyway” Carmen replies, with a hint of a smile on his face before he leaves the room. It takes you a while, half because you're exhausted and the other half because you're hungry before the realisation hits you that he's made a recipe for you, about you.

You can't help the smile that stretches across your face, goddamnit Carmen Berzatto, and you say you aren't a romantic.

2K notes · View notes

sleekervae · 6 months

Text

New York Romantic .1

Masterlist

pairing: Tom Blyth x ballerina!oc

summary: a young actor moves across the hall from an aspiring ballerina. (college au kinda)

word count: 1562

a/n: i've had this idea knocking around in my brain for a few days and finally got to penning it down -- enjoy!

August 2016

The sun stretched its golden rays across the morning sky in New York City, the last embrace of summer's fading heat lingered in the air. The city bustled under a whispering breeze that carried the promise of change, as tree leaves, once adorned in vibrant green, began their slow transformation into a canvas of crimson and gold. Amidst the streets, a serene anticipation filled the air, capturing the essence of a city transitioning as the summer activities came to a close and the kids were dreading the return to school.

The wheels on Tom's luggage clacked against the cracks and bumps in the concrete sidewalk, bleary and tired eyes scanning between his phone and the address placards on the various condos. He knew he should've taken a cab, but the bus was so much cheaper and Google indicated it was only a five minute walk to his new living quarters anyway.

He finally stopped in front of a brick building, the address placard worn and rusted from the elements but the numbers matched up with that on his itinerary. The other cue that gave it away was the variety of art pieces in windows and hung over bannisters and fire escapes. Tom lugged his bag up the three stone steps and ducked inside.

The lobby was pale, dingy and in dire need of a fresh coat of paint; not to mention the air held hints of mothballs and burnt microwaved popcorn. An older woman was sat behind a desk, reclined in her chair while glazed eyes were focused on her computer screen. Tom approached slowly, hoping his smile could cover the exhaustion hiding in his face.

"Hello,"

The woman's eyes were the last to focus when she turned her head, blinking over her glasses and a warm smile graced her face, "Oh, hello! You must be... erm..." she suddenly grabbed a clipboard and scanned the tiny text, "... Jacob Nielson?" she spoke in the classic Brooklyn accent with exaggerated vowels and nasally undertones.

"No," he shook his head politely, "My name's Tom. Blyth," he replied.

She scanned her list with her pen, gasping aloud when she found his name, "I see, now! Very nice to meet you, my name's Doris -- I'm the super here. You're my renter from London, right?"

"Yeah. Well -- Yorkshire specifically,"

"I didn't do so well in geography, honey. Have mercy," Doris replied as she stood up, heading for the wall of cubbies behind her, "So tell me, which insane asylum are you checking into?"

" -- Excuse me?"

"What school are you attending?" she asked again, her fingers flourishing across the cubbies.

Tom nodded, "I'm starting at Julliard next week. I'm an actor," he replied.

Doris scoffed, "Yeah? You and everybody's dog, honey," she pulled a key from a specific slot and returned to the desk, "But you got a nice face, maybe you'll luck out,"

Tom wasn't sure whether or not he should've taken that as a compliment, so he simply smiled back and accepted the key, "Um, thank you,"

"You're on floor three, room 14. Your roommate should already be moved in, he can give you a tour of the place," she explained, "If you need anything, leaky faucets fixed and whatnot just come down and see me,"

"Thank you, Doris," he took his bag and started for the elevator on the right of the room, but Doris called out to him again.

"Hold on, handsome! Elevator's broke! Hasn't worked since Giuliani was mayor," she pointed to the left, "Stairs are over there,"

Tom huffed under his breath; he was tired and the last thing he wanted was to lug his suitcase up three flights of stairs. Nevertheless, he gave Doris one more polite grin as he started for the staircase.

The sun cast stark patterns across the stairs, the skewed silhouettes of the window panes interrupted by Tom's own shadow as he made his trek up. He hadn't at first registered the thundering of footsteps above him until a group of kids rushed passed him.

"C'mon! We're gonna miss the bus!" The stairwell was relatively narrow, arms and bodies knocking into Tom until he nearly slipped and his grip loosened on his suitcase. The suitcase went tumbling down the stairs, smacking hard against the opposing wall and the latches burst open. His belongings spilled everywhere.

Tom grumbled to himself, trekking down the stairs again to clean up the mess. One of the kids however hung back, trailing behind her group but she'd witnessed Tom's misfortune. She double backed up the stairs, staring in astonishment at the clothes and knick knacks, then at him.

"Jesus, I'm so sorry! Are you okay?"

Tom was crouched over the ground when he looked up, coming face-to-face with the concerned expression of a young brunette. She was lean and petite, dressed down in denim shorts and black tank top. Her converse had two different coloured laces, one red and one yellow. He found that peculiar.

"I'm alright," Tom assured her, "If this is the worst thing that happens to me today, then it's not such a bad day, right?" he tried to laugh it off.

The girl simpered, "Sure," nevertheless she crouched down to help him. One of her friends called out from below.

"Noelle! C'mon! We're gonna miss the bus!" she shouted.

The girl -- Noelle -- shouted back, "Go ahead, Bianca! I'll catch up with you guys!"

"But the movie starts in an hour! It's take forty five minutes from here, man!"

"It's twenty minutes of previews, anyways!" she turned back to Tom, her cheeks tinting bashfully, "Sorry about that,"

"Don't worry. You should go with your friends, I'll be fine," he replied.

Noelle scoffed, "Can I trust you with a secret?"

"Sure,"

"I hate horror movies,"

Tom smiled, "And lemme' guess: they're going to see a horror movie?"

"Don't Breathe. Some kids break into a blind guy's house and he ends up killing them all and quite frankly -- I can go my whole life without more nightmares," she replied, a coy smile playing at her lips.

"Don't half blame you. I'm not the biggest fan, myself," he said, "Do you live here?"

"Yep. That nutcase shouting at me was my roommate," she replied, "Sorry, I didn't get your name,"

"Tom,"

"Very nice to meet you. I wish it was under better circumstances," she chuckled back.

"Don't worry about it -- Noelle," he grinned.

She helped him clean up and pack his things, leading him back upstairs to his room. He assured her he could manage but Noelle insisted, saying it was the least she could do for his trouble.

"Room 14?" she cocked a brow when he told her, the corners of her lips pulling back to bare her clenched teeth.

"Yeah. What's wrong?" Tom asked apprehensively, "I don't have a serial killer for a roommate, right?"

Noelle shook her head, "No, no, you get Sunny. And he's just like his name -- absolute sunshine human being,"

"... I sense there's a 'but' coming," he trailed.

"He's a scholarship violinist, he's brilliant. And he's so brilliant because he practices at all hours of the night," she explained, "... All hours. You might wanna invest in some noise cancelling ear plugs,"

Tom nodded, relieved that at least his new roomie didn't sound like a dickhead, "Thanks for the advice,"

They stopped in front of the door, a worn brass 14 glinting subtly in the light. Tom fished out the key from his pocket, "I guess this is me,"

"Oh, damn," Noelle huffed, glancing at the door across from them, "You get the insane neighbours,"

His eyes flitted between her and the door, "... Whatcha' mean by that?"

Noelle pulled a key from her pocket, "Well, they're dancers for one. So they're always playing music, talking shit, burning their instant noodles because they're half-daft," with that she shoved the key into the lock and twisted, and sure enough the door opened.

Tom glanced at her, sheer amusement crossing over his face. He simpered under his breath, "You're my half-daft dancer neighbour who burns her instant noodles?"

"Unfortunately for you," she confirmed, half smirking.

"And how does one burn their instant noodles?" he asked.

"Don't worry about it," she closed and locked the door again, "But I'll let you get settled in. If you need anything at all, you can just pop over,"

"Thank you, Noelle," he smiled, "And thanks again for --" he stopped suddenly when he heard a faint violin melody from the other side of his door. It was a beautiful melody nonetheless, and it had him intrigued, "I suppose that's my roommate?"

Noelle nodded back, "Yep. I promise you, he's a sweetheart," she started walking backwards towards the stairwell, "I'm sorry again about earlier,"

"Don't give it a second thought. Have fun at your movie," he replied.

She giggled sardonically, "Oh trust me, I'll have a blast. I'll see you around, Tom,"

Tom gave her a small wave, watching her until she disappeared around the corner, could hear her shoes squeaking as she trotted down the stairs. He couldn't deny he found her quite a looker, a small part of him giddy with excitement at the prospect of getting to know his new neighbour. The violin melody continued to play on the other side of the door, and taking a deep breath for confidence, he pushed the key into the lock and opened the door...

#tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #tbosas #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus imagine #the hunger games #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #ballad of songbirds and snakes #original story #original female character #imagine blog

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saturnsorbits · 4 months

Text

Limitless

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen, Warnings: Suggestive, Word Count: 1k.

Summary: All you want is for Gojo to turn limitless off, even if just for a moment.

A/N: This is my first time writing Gojo and it was kinda fun, I'm ngl.

'Turn it off!’ You whine, eyes wide, lips already pulling out of their forced frown. In your hand a paper ball is hidden, it's yellowed edges sticking out from between your fingers as you coil back your arm and prepare to throw.

You'd only come into the classroom to see if he had planned next semesters syllabus (he hasn't), but he has a way to bring out the inner child in everyone.

Reclining in his chair, Gojo lifts one of his ankles to sit atop his knee. His limbs are long, stretching out impossibly as he tips back and balances the chair on it's back legs. He folds his arms behind his head and grins. 'And why would I do that?'

You tilt your head and attempt to growl. 'Turn it off.'

'Nope.' He pops the 'P' in his mouth like a piece of bubblegum.

'Satoru.'

He licks his lips, bringing a fresh blush to the skin there. 'Mmhmm?

'Turn it off...' You pout, crushing the paper projectile in your hand. '… Please?'

Even underneath the blindfold you can tell he's rolling his eyes. His eyebrows shift, rising up on his forehead. 'You're just going to throw it at me.'

Letting your hand drop, you toss the paper ball in the air and catch it. 'But what if I don't, huh? What then?'

Another roll of his eyes.

'Oh, come on. I didn't take you for such a chicken.'

A devilish smirk takes your lip, one Gojo's not too sure he likes, but before he has time to bother to come up with some witty, off-the-cuff retort you're... Clucking, at him.

'Bawk... Bawk, bawk, bawk.'

He laughs. The noise bubbles up his throat and trickles over his lips, floating through the air like a ribbon of smoke that threatens to sink into your lungs with each inhale. Your silliness makes something twist in his stomach. It's something he hadn't thought could be elicited by someone else, not since he'd called one of those shabby old dorm rooms his own. 'Seriously -.'

'Bawk!'

Gojo rocks back on his chair. 'You know...' He hooks a thumb under his blindfold and lifts, exposing one frozen eye. 'I could just turn it back on as soon as you throw it.'

You shrug. 'So turn it back on when I throw it then.' Looking at him has always been hard. You'd compare it to looking up at a Greek statue, if you didn't know it would inflate his ego impossibly. Still, the metaphor fits. There's a beauty about him, that's hard to deny, but there's also an... Emptiness. A bone-deep chill of stone sadness, a prison – one you're not sure he's all too thrilled about being trapped in.

He tips forward, slamming the front legs of the chair on the floor. Throwing out his arms, he barks a laugh. 'Fuck it. Go on. Hit me...'

The silence that follows makes him nervous, despite the Six Eyes telling him you've yet to raise your hands to throw your projectile. He waits, something he's never been good at, with a breath locked in the back of his throat. He'll have time to thwart whatever you have planned. He's more than sure of that.

It takes a particularly skilled sorcerer to be able to gradually, undetectably, channel cursed energy into an inanimate object, but it's hardly difficult for you. The energy tickles as it leaves you, bringing goose-flesh to the surface of your arms.

Gojo knows what you're doing. He's not stupid. He could detect the slither of energy dripping down your arm if he were fifty more miles away.

But, you know that too: Don't you?

His brow creases, mind whirring as he tries to fathom what hair-brained scheme you were coming up with. Letting his head loll back on his shoulders, he snorts a laugh. God, he really did fucking love it when you were up to no good.

Readying your arm, you slip your left foot forward in what could be considered a throwing stance. You wind back, let your weight sit in your back foot and then, you toss the ball of paper.

Gojo bites the inside of his cheek. As soon as the paper leaves your hand, he's reaching to catch it. He keeps his posture deliberately relaxed, knees parted, legs spread, spine curved into the cushion of the chair. So what if he wants to look cool. There's no rule saying he can't want to impress one of his fellow teachers: he's checked. The paper hits his palm as planned, his hand closing around it like a claw. He's about to laugh, to toss his head back and deliver a witty retort about your throwing skills, but he's not given the chance.

'Turn it off, Satoru.'

You're so close he can feel the breath you use to say his name on the rim of his ear. There's a pressure on his shoulders, your hands curled around him as you settle more firmly in his lap.

Or you would, if he would just turn that damn...

Gojo turns off limitless.

He's bonier than you'd expected. His thin limbs covered with a healthy, but scant layer of muscle that twitches when it finally bares your weight. So, too are his shoulders. The bulk at his back provides a cushion, while you thumb brushes clean over the jut of his collarbone.

You press closer, rolling your hips up and into his pelvic bone. Already you can feel the soft swell of his cock as it twitches, roused by the heat of your cunt.

He drops the paper, choosing instead to take hold of your waist. His hands flatten, palms flat as they slide down, down, down and cup your ass. Kneading at the flesh, he takes hold of you like he owns you, delivering a healthy slap to your left cheek as a wide grin takes his lips.

'It's off.' He cocks an eyebrow, licking over powdered sugar lips. You raise your eyebrows and wriggle your hips to check, making sure to show him just how wet the few drags of your cunt across his rapidly hardening cock has made you.

The muscle in his jaw tenses. He can smell you from here – your desperation - as it drips from you and soaks your underwear. If he plays his cards right, which he always does, he'd bet he'll be able to get a taste of you in the next ten minutes.

He smirks 'So, what now?'

-> Masterlist

#gojo x reader #gojo satrou x reader #jjk x reader #saturnsorbits #saturnscribbles

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kichiyosh1 · 1 year

Text

Deceitful youth

Modern au! scaramouche x f! reader

w//: yandere themes, suggestive, cross-dressing, obsession, photographs of you and your stolen things

summary: When you finally transfer to an all girls school, he was left with no choice but to take on a false female identity. Just so he wouldn't have to be separated from you, he'd do anything.

< previous | Masterlist | next >

He was obsessed with you from the start.

That day in grade school when you found him playing alone in a corner and you came to offer your hand out for him to take, inviting him to play with the other kids with a cheery smile on your face.

"It must be boring playing there by yourself, come on! i'll introduce you to the others!"

He only stared at your outstretched hand, before looking back up to meet your eyes, his eyebrows drooping before he averted his gaze a few seconds after.

"I don't like playing with the other kids, they think i'm weird..."

"What do they think they're talking about? there's nothing wrong with being weird! I mean, i think i'm weird, but there's nothing wrong with me, see?" you then proceeded to flail your arms out in the air, thinking that'd somehow convince him of your point.

'nope, there's definitely something wrong with you' he wanted to say, but he decided ignoring you would be the best course of action. Unfortunately, you weren't going to let him.

"Let me play with you then! whether if you're called weird or not, I dont mind, because you're definitely much cooler looking than the other kids!"

Cool? you think he was cool? better than the other kids even? he went silent after that, a little too flustered to say anything, but didn't make a move to pull his hand out of your grasp as you led him to who knows where.

if only those times with you could've lasted longer

As time went on you became more distant with the people around you, especially when it came to the opposite sex. He knew what your reasons were, you had told him before you decided to cut all ties.

"My mom... doesn't like the idea of me hanging around with other people, especially boys for some reason. Ah, it's not that I don't like hanging out with you! but, I'm really sorry."

Despite this, that didn't stop his on growing obsession for you. From grade school all the way to high school, he was content knowing you were still in the same school as him. Even if he had to keep a good distance away as to not scare you off. How his fingers nails would dig deep into the wood of the outdoor table when he sees you all buddy, buddy with your friend group, and to no ones surprise, only consisted of girls.

Your mother really did engrave it in your brain, the 'all men are evil' kind of saying, annoyingly enough. The way your face would deflate whenever a guy would walk by a little too close to you. Seeing you fear other guys brought a strange feeling of delight and relief to him. The chances of you getting a boyfriend was beyond negative and non-existent.

Maybe your mother wasn't all that crazy and weird after all. It's true, had it been anyone else, any other guy, they were undeserving of your time and attention. Who knows how they would have treated you, but not him, because only he could treat you right.

You had befriended him first, and in return he will continue to watch over you, as the loving boyfriend you didn't know you had and needed.

So why.

Why did you leave?

"It's been a week since [y/n] transferred to that all girls school."

A week? he's surprised he hasn't spiraled yet into madness.

"Tsk, she thinks she's better than us that she can just up and leave like that?"

'Annoying wench, of course she's better than you, in fact, you're not even close to her league'

"Man, good thing I'm a guy, If I wasn't I'd probably be there too."

'ugh, nobody's forcing you, who the hell cares what—'

he nearly choked

eyes bloodshot when he scanned the room, his bedroom. Why was he here? shouldn't he be in school? Wait, you didn't attend the same school as him anymore, so what even was the point of going?

He layed there with his arm over his forehead, his eyes devoid of any light, the same ones that were present whenever you'd step into a room.

If only he could follow you, he would, but how? If only the world would bend down to his wants, and rules be damned when it came to you. He zoned out the knocking at his door, faintly hearing the jingling of keys when his sister stepped into the room.

"Really? getting all worked up because of some girl that you can't even bother with your attendance anymore?" Raiden Mei, better than being scolded by his mother atleast.

"You're trespassing." said in such a robotic and raspy voice, his glare was received unfazed by mei. "Relax, I've got today off so I decided to be the oh so kind sister that I am and do everyone's laundry. Unless you want to continue living like the hermit that you are under all this pile of trash." He didn't bother replying, and neither did mei want to continue the conversation further, so silence enveloped the room as she rummaged through the pile of clothes that were on the floor.

but something caught her eye, at the foot of the heep was a pretty [f/c] t-shirt that had obviously no business being there. "This-","Don't touch that!" the grip he had on her was inhumane, he hovered above her with a look that clearly said 'don't'. Despite the burning sensation on her wrist, there wasn't a single sign of discomfort shown, instead it was disgust.

"So not only are you a creep," Her eyes wandered to the many pictures of you he had on his wall, she tried to the best of her ability to ignore whenever entering his room, "you're a thief too." She jerked her hand out of his grasp, leaving the t-shirt alone before quickly finishing up collecting his dirty clothes.

"Mind your own damn business","if it would make you feel any better, mom thought you were gonna be a girl, atleast she hoped you would be."

she rested her hand on the doorknob, pausing for a moment, causing scaramouche to raise a brow. "and that's going to help me feel better, how?"

"maybe if she continued believing you were a girl, maybe you would have been, if that came to be then i guess you would have been able to follow her." His breath hitched, the cogs in his head finally starting to turn.

The door to his room was already closed when mei let out a sigh, 'Could have been blessed with a sister, but I've been cursed to have this gremlin for a brother' she'd be lying if she said she wasn't concerned, whether if it was for you or for him, that was none of her buisness.

"poor girl".

Back in his room, he was already plotting what he'd do next. The answer was so obvious, so easy for him to achieve, that he's wondering why he hasn't thought of it sooner.

"Being a girl, huh," it wasn't impossible for him to do, he already has feminine features, as he wasn't blessed with a muscular body. He knows how to do make-up, and it would probably be best if he wore a wig to add on to his girly appearance. He'd need to change his wardrobe too, he'll have to do a little bit of research on what girls usually wear depending on what occasion. He's not worried about changing his identity, he's had experience before when making fake accounts and id's. The transfer won't be a problem, he can use his mother's connections to get him in, quite the convenience. You probably already forgot about him, as much as it hurts to say, but it's for the best so you won't be able to recognise him.

He's already getting lightheaded at the idea, giggling to himself imagining all the things he could get away with. Visiting your room wouldn't be weird, sleepovers? he gets to sleep next to you? he's shaking at the idea. Maybe even borrow each other's things, make-up, clothes, food? If you saw him as a girl then you wouldn't have to be afraid of him. It wouldn't be weird if he got all touchy with you, I mean your friends do it all the time, right?

something was starting to rise between his legs, he cringed at the motion. He better keep that in check if he doesn't want his secret to be revealed once he gets close to you.

He's sighing dreamily, his hand going over the framed photo he has of you on his desk. It was the one his mother took when the both of you were still in grade school.

"My [y/n], my darling [y/n]." His gaze softened at the idea of finally being close to you, once again.

"Let's start over."

pt.2?

#kunikuzushi #kunikuzushi x reader #wanderer x reader #wanderer #kabukimono x reader #kabukimono #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche #genshin impact x reader #yandere scaramouche x reader #yandere scaramouche #I forgot secret alliance existed damn

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cyberkitty1 · 1 year

Note

Hi can I ask for a miles 42 x telekinesis reader

Like she and miles got in an argument about how he hasn't been around and not making time for her at least

Miles knows she has powers

She knows he's the prowler

She gets mad and the objects in the room start flying around

She doesn't notice and keeps ranting to him about how he's shit and she slowly lifts herself from the ground

Still not noticing BC she's angry

Make the ending fluffy and cute

I tried, I got lazy because ive been getting similar asks with the same character so im trying!!!

“ So where have you been?” You say leaning against the doorway looking at Miles who came home at 2 am in the morning. You closed mouth smiles at you “ I’ve been out ma, you know.”

You sigh resting your face in your hands “ Miles no I don’t know, where have you been? You keep leaving early in the day and coming home next day at like 3 am!” Raising your voice a little.

“ Chill out I’m home right?” he says shrugging you off. “ No I’m not going to “chill out” how am i supposed to when i never see you. Why are you always gone?”

In the moment you are able to see what he’s thinking “ It might be time for me to tell her, shes getting suspicious.” You tense looking at him in his eyes, feeling like you could see his soul.

“ Time to tell me what? What are you hiding from me Miles” He sighs looking at the ceiling muttering “shoot.” So you do it again, if he’s not going to tell you, you will figure out on your own.

“I am The Prowler”

Those words in bald pounded though your brain. “ Why? why would you keep something this big from me? I told you about my powers yet you cant tell me that you are a gauntlet, mask wearing vigilante? or what are you?” He opens his mouth to say something. “No stop! stop talking! You’re telling me you have been lying to me this while time? how long have you been this” making hand motions everywhere.

“ Miles I have always been there for you since day 1! ok?! Day one! and now your going out killing people?!” everything in the room starts to shake. Miles looks around realizing what happening “ Please calm down, mal explicar todo.” (ill explain everything)

“No you cant just explain and everything’s all better! Miles this is the biggest lie you have ever told me? Do you know how i feel?” The tears start to fill your eyes, vision becoming blurry. Everything around you was floating even your hair. Miles was freaking out.

“Please please calm down ill explain everything” when those words left his mouth you felt your body get lighter.

“Miles there is nothing you need to explain! I get it; you are the prowler! Someone who kills people robs people and does it with no remorse! How could you keep something that big from me?!”

You were about 1 foot above the ground when you finally realized, am I in the air? Everything around us is in the air. You see the fear in his eyes, maybe you do need to calm down.

Taking a deep breath you release everything including yourself, you take a deep breath eyes closed. “ Im going to give you 10 minutes to tell me”.

“ Desde que murió mi padre, mi madre ha estado trabajando turnos extra, llegando a casa cansada y sin energía. No podía soportar verla así. ella es mi mamá, me ama pase lo que pase!”

(Ever since my father died, my mother has been working extra shifts, coming home tired and drained. He couldn't bear to see her like this. she is my mom, she loves me no matter what!)

“El tío Aaron consiguió un trabajo en el que pudo dejarme participar para que pudiera obtener más dinero para ella.”

(Uncle Aaron got a job that he was able to let me participate in so he could get more money for her.)

“Hice algunos y obtuve mucho dinero, pero cuando traté de retirarme, no me dejaron. Si me iba, te matarían a ti y a todos los que amaba. No puedo perderte.”

(I made a few and got a lot of money, but when I tried to withdraw, they wouldn't let me. If I left, they would kill you and everyone I loved. I can not lose you.)

You just looked at him taking in everything, you overreacted most definitely. “ why didn’t you tell me? I could have helped you” “ No it was easier that you didn’t know i didn’t want you to worry mi vida.”

He continues to explain his troubles to you, telling you what he’s been thinking when he pauses.

“Sabes que te amaré siempre ¿verdad? Todo lo que quiero es que estés segura”

(You know that I will always love you, right? All I want is for you to be safe)

“ I know Miles and I thank you for everything you do for me”. You say kissing him on the forehead.

“ And I love you so much” you look at him with the most loving eyes you could muster.

—————————————

A/n: Guys I think i’m going to finish my last 1-3 requests about earth42! Miles Morales and not take anymore for a while because I feel they are getting repetitive and I don’t want you guys to get bored of what i’m writing so if you would like to request other characters i would love that so much!!!

#earth 42 miles #earth 42 miles morales x reader #atsv x reader #earth 42 #earth 42 miles morales #fluff #miles morales #miles morales x reader #angst #fight #reader has powers!

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americas-ass-writing · 29 days

Text

Drunken Nights

Steve Rogers

Words: 1.6k

Summary: A bet has unforeseen consequences that drive Bucky Barnes insane.

Warnings: drinking, violence, swearing, mention of abortion rights, this is such a crack fic I'm sorry, reader insert mention at the end

Author's Note: This is my second entry for @stargazingfangirl18 and @labella420 Cum Together: A Community Revival Extravaganza I used the prompt: "You are such a fucking menace.” and kinda sneaked it in because I've been sitting on this fic for at least a year 😅 The idea sparked because @rogerswifesblog and me had a conversation about this 🤭

Divider by @saradika-graphics

It started out as a joke. It started with the Avengers discussing what kind of drunk Steve would be. Tony firmly believed he would be embarrassing, he would spill all the secrets he kept. Natasha thought he would pass out after two drinks. Clint was adamant that Steve would be a very touchy drunk. Thor believed that his friend would be as normal as ever. And Bruce honestly didn't have an opinion but after some pressing said Steve would be a dance machine when drunk. After a while Sam and Bucky were pulled into the discussion. As his best friends they had to know but they didn't. Bucky saw him drunk once, in the 40s, before the serum. And Steve honestly was just paranoid his mom would find out they drank a whole bottle of gin.

Steve was so annoyed with the topic and bets about his drunken state that he didn't say anything for the entire two hours this was passionately discussed. But he did agree on testing the theory. He hasn't been drunk since that one time Bucky mentioned and he was honestly intrigued. He had so many things he wanted to forget, even if it was for just a few hours. An empty brain for once, wouldn't that be nice?

Which is what brought him here. An Avengers party organised by Tony with a shit ton of guests. Three bottles of Asgardian liquor in front of him and his friends staring. The first bottle left a slight buzz. Steve could feel the effects of the alcohol but his brain was still functioning normal. The second bottle made him forget his worries. He had an easy smile on his face as his friends all surrounded him. The third bottle? He took along after his friends got distracted. They left him alone for a few moments too long. The senator he was verbally fighting before stood at the bar alone and Bucky's brain brought back an alarming feeling he hadn't had for a long time. "Fuck... We gotta find Steve!" He said, his voice panicked as he looked at the group of Avengers.

It was a quick search but they were fairly sure Steve wasn't here anymore. "Friday?" Tony's voice quibbed, all of the others’ eyes were on the brown haired man. "Captain Rogers has left the building with a tall male, identified as Jason Smith, bodyguard of senator Ernst, about five minutes ago." The AIs voice gave back, without even being asked the question.

"Told you he'd be very touchy." Clint says with a shrug and a grin. Natasha rolled her eyes at that but didn't seem that bothered. "No... No no no." Bucky rubbed a hand over his face. "fucking hell. He's gonna start a fight. He probably went outside with the bodyguard to start a fight in an alleyway." He grumbles. This couldn't be happening to him. Weren't all those years he had to pull Steve's asthmatic ass out of fights enough?

"Are we talking about the same Steve Rogers? He has a stick so far up his ass he even shook Rosses hand with a smile on his face." Tony quibbed. "He's just reverting to the idiot that couldn't stand back from a fight. I'm telling you." Bucky gave back, throwing his hands up in the air. "No way. Capsicle wouldn't. Even when shit faced drunk he's too righteous." Tony crossed his arms.

"Boys... I really hate to interrupt your little banter here but Smith is back... And... He doesn't look like he had a fun time with Steve." Natasha quirked an eyebrow as she took in the senators bodyguard. Bloody nose, already forming bruise under his eye and a limp in his step that hasn't been there before. "Fuck" both brunettes let out at the same time.

"Hey Captain. Maybe you wanna lay off the liquor?" the tall man's voice interrupted Steve's rant about abortion rights. "Leave this discussion with senator Ernst for another time huh? We don't wanna run into any problems do we?" Steve's eyes took in the man in front of him. He's a professional sure but Steve had fought fucking aliens before. "Wanna take this outside?" It slipped out before he could even think about it. The bodyguard laughed, one hand landing on Steve's shoulder as if it was a joke. Funny banter. But Steve was serious. He was in the middle of telling senator asshat why abortion rights are important. Why women deserve the option to be safe and protected and to choose for their own bodies. Why his fucking religion has nothing to do with an uterus. And this guy has the nerve to think Steve's invitation for a fight is a joke? "I'm serious. Let's take this outside. If I win, senator a... Ernst changes his vote." Steve's voice was dangerous. If Smith hadn't seen him down two and a half bottles of liquor he'd believe he was sober. "Captain... By all means I'm working. I can't just go outside and start a fight over silly little matters." That got Steve's blood boiling. Of course that guy was also stupid. "Ah yes of course..." Steve gave back dryly. His hand moves to shove the senator next to them just a nodge. "And now? Now you gotta do your job and protect senator asshat. I can do so much worse than that." His blue eyes flickered, a smirk on his lips. Just a few minutes later Steve had handed Smiths ass to himself in an alleyway close by.

While Smith stomped off, fuming, Steve downed the rest of the bottle and threw it into a bin. He's drunk, he starts fights but he'll still recycle. Taking a deep breath he looks back to the tower. He couldn't be bothered to go back there. Maybe he could go for a walk? Maybe he could let out all this pent up anger and frustration and do something good with it. This is New York. There were enough criminals for him to use as punching bags right?

"Captain Rogers. Can you please give us a statement as to how you took down this robbery all by yourself?" The blonde in front of him asked, holding the mic a bit too close to his face. He still pleasantly smiled. "Oh uh... I was just in the area and saw it happen... So I swooped in?" He explains, that stupid smile still on his face. As the women asks the next question he just starts to giggle. He runs a hand through his hair. "Sorry... Sorry... It's a serious topic but man Bucky is gonna be so mad at me" he giggles again.

"Damn right I will." Bucky mutters at his phone. There had been several reports of Captain America stopping crime in the last hour and every time one of the team got just a little closer to Steve's apparent location he somehow ended up in a different part of Manhattan. Bucky doesn't even want to know how many fights Steve had started tonight. Never again, he swears. Never again he'll let him get drunk.

After another hour Bucky finally had the blonde in front of him. He was yet again sucked into an interview and passionately ranted about how racism and Nazis suck when Bucky managed to approach. His arms were crossed, his face was stern.

"I think it's important that we show racists... Oh my gosh Bucky is gonna be so mad at me... Uh that we show racists that they're not welcome." Steve says before his eyes find his friend. "Shit." He curses, eyes wide before he runs off. Bucky lets out a sigh and follows him.

To everyone's surprise Natasha managed to lure Steve back to the tower just two hours after Bucky had initially found him. She sets him up with the hangover necessities and leaves him to sleep the alcohol off. Tomorrow would be a big day of fixing whatever mess Steve got into. But that never came. Surprising to everyone Steve did a damn good job and the only 'scandal' that came off this was him saying shit on national TV. Which quickly became a meme.

"I don't regret it. And to be fair this is all of your fault. You wanted to see me drunk and then you invited senator Ernst? You know I hate that guy." Steve said, his arms crossed, his face pouty like a toddler. "Steve you can't just... You ran off and fought people on the street!" Bucky threw his hands in the air. "You shoved the senator so his bodyguard would fight you!" He adds, hoping his friend would see how crazy this was. "I'd do it again." Steve mumbles and looks away from his friends. Bucky lets out an exasperated sigh. "You are such a fucking menace.” He mutters to his best friend who proudly smiles, before addressing the group. “We can never let him get drunk again."

"I don't know, jelly shot Cap seems to be very effective. Maybe we should get him drunk before the next hydra base raid." Tony shrugs, clearly amused by the situation. "No!" Bucky groans. "No. No. No." His frustration is filling the room.

"We can be lucky that this is all he got into. Now let's stop whatever this is and get brunch." Clint suggests, sunglasses on his face, clearly hungover. Steve is very thankful for that. 'Yes Clint. Let's stop this, get brunch and I'll buy you 5 packs of premium coffee beans.' he thinks to himself. Just a few minutes longer and he'd spill what else he got into last night. And he doesn't need the jokes. He doesn't need the judgement. And he certainly doesn't want to share the cute tattoo artist with them -just yet.

#ct 2024 #ct 2024 raffle entry #captain america #captain america imagine #marvel fanfic #marvel fic #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fic #steve rogers imagine #bucky barnes #marvel imagine #avengers fanfiction #avengers fic #avengers imagine

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skelliko · 6 months

Note

Hello! I loved the "when you give him butterflies" it was adorable!! If u don't mind, could u do one for rindou? But feel free to ignore this if don't want to.

Have a good day 🌷

yes certainly! even though you requested rindou I might as well do inui too just so my page is organised :) sorry for the wait, my motivation has dropped but it's back up! for now at least.

★-Tokyo revengers

- you give him butterflies -pt 2

- pt1 -here

๑-context: your 'just friends' but after him getting those butterflies from you they realise their feelings

๑-featuring: rindou, seishu

°- Rindou Haitani

• it was a bit of a shock to him, it left a warm sensation running down his body and his heart racing making him take a quick deep breath before slowly letting go all while trying to act cool, but really deep down he was left panicked

• butterflies fluttering around inside his stomach wasn't anything new but it certainly wasn't anything he's used to and knowing that your the cause for this fuzzy feeling he's getting is making him admire you in an entirely different way than before, his eyes glimmered and he was left a little speechless.

• you both were on a little trip to get something from a shop but rindou didn't know where to go since it was in a small town that he hasn't been to yet, there was a singular moment where he lost you because he was looking at the surroundings but once you found him you chose to hold onto his sleeve around his wrist

• you holding onto rindou's sleeve to drag him around and make sure that you both don't get split up, that was all fine and whatever but it was how your hand would occasionally brush against his hand and you still didn't let go nor fumble on your words

• in that moment rindou debated in either making you let go or just straight up holding your hand, but he didn't do either

• 'please let go... no dont let go' -in his mind

• even when you let go of him the butterflies and that warm feeling when your hand brushed against his still lingered and it almost felt like you never let go.

• there's no way you can get him free now, the physical grasp is gone but mentally it's as if you're holding onto him, he's confused about how he should feel and what's right or wrong because the worst thing that could happen between you two is never talking again, for once he's afraid of his own feelings.

°- Seishu Inui

• it was a bit of a step back for him. an odd feeling known as butterflies lingering in his stomach wasn't his plan at all and all his current focus has disappeared, it became difficult to concentrate and it was as if he has just got brain fog

• seishu was fixing his motorbike but as you sat down next to him your signature scent filled his nose and he felt a little at peace, well that was until his insides became a butterfly sanctuary. and taking a small look at you as you're admiring his hard work is certainly not helping him calm down for whatever this current feeling is.

• because how can you sit right next to him and accidently brush your knees together and look all pretty and cute? your torturing him. how can you be interested in his notes that he has scattered around about how to fix certain parts of the bike as if they interest you?

• how can you do all that and not kiss his cheek? or maybe lips... I mean you might as well considering how close you chose to sit next to him. well of course you didn't but Inui certainly had that on his mind that it was hard for him to look away from you

• he tried to look back at the motorbike and comfortably hold the wrench in hand to carry on but by that point he was afraid he would mess up because his heart was pounding way too much for his comfort and just your presence right here is making the air feel both sweet but heavy. he's nervous.

• he wants to open his chest with the wrench he's holding right now just to shut up his heart and make the butterflies leave

• this is definitely the start to his feelings but when will it end? when will he have the courage to change what you both have now, to be greater? he doesn't, but as of currently he wants you to leave just so he can quickly sort himself out because if you stay any longer he'd probably just impulsively confess without much thought.

♡----

#tokyo revengers #rindou haitani #rindou #rindou x reader #seishu inui #seishu x reader #seishu #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers fluff #inui seishu x reader #rindou haitani x reader #rindou fluff #inui fluff

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veritable-trash · 1 year

Text

maybe it's never truly over

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader(nickname used but no descriptors!)

Summary: It's been a long time since you've seen each other. For you it hasn't been long enough but for Miguel things are a bit more complicated.

Word Count: 1K

Rating: E - for eventual smut, friends to enemies to friends to lovers i think??? this chapter is tame just seeing if people are interested in what i might decide to cook up <3 :)

A/N: alright alright alright like literally everyone i watched spiderverse and have now descended into the black hole of being obsessed with every character from that movie but this one right here????? yes yes i like him very much. anyways wrote this for fun think i might try another series and see what comes of it. this is not sticking to any canon(lol miguel would be PISSED but this is my multiverse bitch!) because there's such a depth to his character that i want to just play with in this story potentially.

anyways if you like this little intro and want to read more and see where these two little weirdos spin their way off to reblog, send me thirsty thoughts about this man, comment to your heart's content about how his body is shaped like a dorito and i want to eat HIM!

also @dameronscopilot wrote an absolute SPICED piece for Miguel so go read that now if anyone sees this!!!!!

enjoy :)))))))))

masterlist weeeeeeeee

~~~~~

There was something different about today.

Air shimmering like it was about to crystallize and crack at any given moment.

Like the world was gonna stop all of a sudden and dissolve into some weird cosmic puddle.

But not for you. Never for you because even when things felt like they were about to snap, crackle, pop, your life tended to stay a bit boring. It had been a long, long time since you’d felt any kind of twinkle in your life, and you didn’t mind it. The last time things had fizzled like that you’d been left a bit shattered yourself.

Even still, the niggle at the nape of your neck wouldn’t let up. even the sidewalk seemed to wobble under your feet as you traversed the packed streets of Nueva York. Your palms can’t help but start sweating, heart kicking up its pace as the people around you seem to crowd and crowd and crowd.

Alley. You need to find an alley and fucking breath.

You turn in fast on the tight corridor, the smell of garbage helping to clear the dizziness in your head but it still isn’t gone. The feelings still there. Why won’t it just fucking leave you-

“Lyla I got it. Just check the other dimensions and report back to me I haven’t seen any signs of them here.”

And now you know why this an entire day has been like walking through jelly.

Because the second Miguel O’Hara turns around and sees you, everything absolutely shatters.

It’s been years, maybe over a decade since he’s seen you, but you’ve seen plenty of him. The magazines, the news, online, every god damn street corner of this godforsaken city conveniently reminds you of this Dorito-shaped dip shit man.

Nothing changes in his demeanor, to an unseasoned eye, but you remember Miguel from before. Gabe’s older brother Miguel, mama’s boy Miguel, your best friend Miguel, and his eyes can’t hide the things you know deep in his heart.

You don’t even know what to say. There’s nothing left in your brain, just him, still staring, but now from new heights, with new scars, and it scares the shit out of you.

And pisses you the fuck off.

“So what? You go radio silent for over ten years and now you’re gonna stalk me in some alley like creep? Very on brand Miguel but I thought you would have fucking grown up by now.”

His shoulders tense and you can’t stop the way your lips curve as you sense you’ve gotten to him, even if only a little. But then he’s turning away, slowly walking down the alley towards the brick wall and you realize he’s not going to say anything to you. That he’s going to just leave again without a single fucking word.

“Miguel if you don’t turn the fuck around right now and say something to me I will beat the shit out of you I swear to god. I know your weak spots don’t make me fucking use it!”

(it’s just under his ribs, but only on the right side)

“Bichito, pleas-“

“Don’t you dare fucking call me that. Don’t you fucking dare. You lost the right to call me that when you disappeared on me. Fuck you Miguel, honestly I don’t even have anything left to say to you just fuck off.”

This time his face face does crumple just a little bit and you preen at his pain. Suck it into your lungs as the boy who trampled your heart finally gets a taste of how you bled.

You turn back to the chaos of the street and throw yourself into the people, away from Miguel and all the bullshit, earth shattering happening behind you. It’s been a long time since you’ve needed Miguel O’Hara and it’ll be an even longer time before you come back around to his antics.

Probably never.

~~~~~

He fucked up.

Miguel didn’t know how he’d dropped the ball this hard, but he’d fucked up big time and for once it didn’t involve some stupid fucking multiverse drama.

It involved you.

You, the girl from down the block who used to wrestle Gabriel and make flower crowns out of the flowers growing between the cracks in the concrete.

You, the girl who stayed up till the sky started to turn pink again listening to him rant on and on about his shitty dad and his shitty life.

You, his Bichito, his little bug, his best friend, the center of what he thought was his tiny little universe so many years ago.

But he’d left that behind. Thought that he could find something else, find something better, finally be happy in ways he’d never even dreamed of.

And look at where it had gotten him.

He wasn’t ever supposed to run into you again. He was supposed to be vigilant, cautious, knew that running into you would derail him a thousand times over and he had bigger things to be focusing on. Multiverse-altering, dimension-destroying things to focus on.

Yet the universe had dropped you both in that alley and something deep in his chest rippled with feelings he couldn’t seem to find a word for. It was fucking terrifying and he wasn’t going to let it fester.

He had things to do. Universes to fix. An ever growing mantle of responsibility hanging of his shoulders.

A constant reminder of his fuck ups and the reality that he wasn’t going to let himself slip up again.

And yet as his claws carry him up and onto the rooftops of Nueva York, Miguel O’Hara has a terrifying suspicion that he may no longer be able to stay away.

~~~~~

hehehehAHAHHAHA god i love this twisted little sad sack man who just wants to be all rough and tough. anyways haven't written in ages and this character has gotten me at least sorta interested in writing so i just wanted to throw this out there, get something moving, even if i go back into dormancy for another millenia.

well heart eyes for you guys and forehead kisses for anyone who reads i hope your day is a dream <33333333333

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #oscar isaac characters #he is so hot yes yes yes he is so sad yes yesyes #previous tag was literally a little song and dance moment #anyways hot man i want him goodnight

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kazumist · 8 months

Text

EPISODE 5 ♡ EMERGENCY CONTACT

HOW YOU GET THE GIRL — A SCARAMOUCHE SMAU

masterlist / prev ep / next ep / timestamp doesn't matter

kunikuzushi got up from his seat immediately. luckily, the professor for this class hasn't arrived so attendance isn't noted yet. leaning towards the guy next to him, venti, kunikuzushi asked him a favor. "can you tell our prof that i suddenly got diarrhea? i need to run an errand real quick."

venti, although confused as to the sudden favor, still agreed, and kunikuzushi swiftly made his way to the clinic. it didn't matter to him if he accidentally bumped into others; what matters for him is getting you as fast as possible.

as soon as he arrived, he knocked first before going in. "good afternoon, where are they?" he asks the clinic nurse, trying to catch his breath. she then led kunikuzushi to the bed you were resting in and informed him that you fainted due to a lack of sleep and meals.

"(name), get up," he says in a soft voice—a voice that he only used for you.

"nini?" you replied, your eyes still half-closed and your body slightly turned in his direction.

it was a pang to his chest, but he paid it no mind because he had to get you home. "let's go home, hm? you're burning up here," he says, gently pressing his palm against your forehead and smoothly sweeping some strands of hair out of your face.

"i can't walk; my whole body hurts." you covered your head with the pillow you were lying on. kunikuzushi softly sighs at you. you never really changed after everything, huh?

"come on, i'll give you a piggyback ride, just like the old times."

with you on his back, kunikuzushi made his way to the parking lot, where his car was. but as he was carrying you there, he heard you slightly mumble something.

"nini? don't leave me."

he sighs again and whispers. "you were the one who left me, dummy."

it's been a few minutes since he started the drive to your place. you peacefully slept on the passenger seat when you suddenly got woken up by a bumpy road.

"kuni?" you say, rubbing your eyes a bit.

"hmm? oh, you're awake." kunikuzushi glances at you for a quick moment before he focuses back on the road. "before you ask, i'm taking you home because you got sick."

oh. there was a slight disappointment when you heard him. "can we go to your place instead? your bed is... softer."

kunikuzushi knows he can't say no to you—maybe that's why he couldn't bring himself to disagree with you when you wanted to break up back then.

"fine," he sighs.

"don't you have class today?" you asked him.

"that doesn't matter anymore."

"huh? yes, it does. we're literally exes, so why are you like this?"

"it doesn't matter if you've broken up with me; that doesn't change the fact that i still care for you." tension filled the air as he said those words.

just because we're exes doesn't mean i don't give a fuck about you.

"thank you." you breathed out.

"you should continue resting. we're still gonna drop by a pharmacy." kunikuzushi continues on driving. "i'll argue with you again when you're feeling better," he chuckled.

before you could even realize it, you eventually fell asleep again.

taglist (open): @yinyinggie @blue-b3rries @ryuryuryuyurboat @your-local-reblogging-kazoo @lilikags @haliyamori @diorlumx @mamafly @zuunotsane @iloveosamuu @featuredtofu @kanaedd @xiaoderrrr @f1orent1ne @alhaitie @yelleloww @brain-r0tt @jamieexistss @danfelions @e0nssadrift @lovemari @kunikissr @chluuvr @lazy-sanns @lxkeeeee @swivy123 @sketcheeee @quacking-simp @tiredslepz @vxcmx @kichiy0shi @yingofthemoon @feiherp @sicut-sol @mayuumine

#( smau — how you get the girl ! )#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin imagines #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche smau #kunikuzushi x reader #kunikuzushi #x reader

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spacebarbarianweird · 3 months

Note

Please do

"Look that pretty exoression. I always knew you could make one." + "Let me stay lije this in you for a little bit." 😜

I completely forgot about those smut prompts! Well, a chance to write fics about Tiriel and Astarion!

Our Firsts

Synopsis: Astarion learns some details about Tiriel's past

Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading!

Tags: smut, PIV, NSFW

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Freedom.

Astarion tastes the word on his tongue.

Freedom.

No parasite in his brain. No voice in his head.

Freedom.

He says this to himself daily, getting used to being able to do whatever he wants. Well, as long as it's dark but there is always a price to pay. Besides, he hasn't lost hope of finding a cure.

"Hm? Are you awake?"

Tiriel's voice sounds muffled as she lies her face pressed in the pillow. She sleeps naked, half of her body covered with a blanket. He can see her freckled back and the way her half-elven ears protrude a bit.

Tiriel falls back to sleep again, but Astarion puts his hands on her shoulders and kisses the nape of her neck.

"Wake up, I miss you"

"You are worse than a cat, love," she mutters. "Let me sleep!"

Astarion does mental math and decides Tiriel has slept enough—besides, too much sleep is unhealthy for non-elves.

He hugs her right below her perky tits and turns her around on her back. Her nipples immediately harden, sensing the cold air.

Astarion pauses at her chest for a few moments. He hasn't made love to Tiriel for a few months, since that night in the graveyard. He just couldn't make himself—and Tiriel didn't insist. They literally had sex only twice—back then, when he thought he seduced her and then in the graveyard.

Ever since—all these months—Tiriel has been showing him all forms of intimacy that don’t involve sex.

He especially enjoys cuddling during sleep, even though he just lays motionless with Tiriel in his arms for all these insanely long silent hours she needs to rest.

"Date a vampire, they say," she covers her face with her palms. "You will be able to sleep the whole day, they say".

Astarion leans toward her and kisses her hands. She looks adorable—puffy eyes, dark circles because of the excess ale she drank the day before, a string of drool on her chin.

"Is it night?"

"Not yet."

They sit like that in silence. Astarion looks at Tiriel—there are so many questions he wants to ask her. There is nothing about his life she doesn't know—but he realizes he doesn't know much about her.

Except for her miserable childhood and twenty years of traveling, when a runaway girl from the Sunset Mountains slowly became a furious warrior capable of challenging gods, monsters, and fate.

"Tiriel."

"Hm?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," She caresses his back scars and kisses the center of the disgusting symbol carved into his skin.

"Did you have many..." he tries to find an appropriate word. Lovers? Sexual partners? Significant others? He called his victims conquests and lovers but, gods, he wishes he never had to sleep with them. It was all dirty and tainted, and he often wanted to flay his skin himself.

Just to forget.

"I mean. Was there anyone before me? I am just curious."

Tiriel looks at him. Her eyes have different colors—the right one is closer to blue, and the left—is more green.

"No one."

"Tiriel, I am not jealous or anything. I just ... want to know"

"And I am letting you know you were my first. In terms of relationship and in terms of sex. You were the first person in this whole world after my bitch of a mother who saw me naked. And you are the first person who I am in love with."

Astarion pulls away. Memories of their first night together flash before his eyes. He remembers being prepared for a long evening of seduction and sweet words before Tiriel the Barbarian was at his side, but when he turned his head to her, she was already naked and looking at him with such defiance that he got right to the point.

"Tiriel, I am sort of a professional in these matters. You were not a virgin."

"I was. Astarion, there are plenty of ways a girl can explore her body without involving other people, especially the ones with cocks between their legs. If the matter of my virgin blood bothers you, it was spilled somewhere in Elturel. I don't remember the name of the Inn. And the stone thing of the "proper" form was left in the room I'd rented."

Tiriel touches his left ear and it sends an electrical impulse through his body. "As for my behavior, I was so afraid I would be turned into a monster, my self-control and fears had offed themselves. You had been courting me for days, saying words no man ever told me. And I decided it was my chance to finally get this...experience. And I wasn't disappointed— that night was everything. I was a bit sad you weren’t offering to repeat the experience,as if you didn't like me enough. But whatever—you are my first love, my first kiss, my first sex, my first relationship. And gods, I hope you are also the last"

Astarion intertwines Tiriel's fingers with his. Then he kisses her knuckles and she giggles at the sensation.

"My love," he manages to say.

In a way, she is also his first. Not only the first sentient creature he'd dined on—and her blood always tasted different to him—she was the first he kissed voluntarily, the first person he slept with for his own sake, the first he fell in love with and the first... he wanted to be with.

Of course, she is mortal and even though half-elves live much longer than humans they don't have much time in comparison with his immortality, or the longevity of elven years.

But he prefers not to think about it.

Tiriel kisses the tip of his nose. Her facial expression becomes playful.

"You are the only one who saw me naked," another kiss. "You are the only one who touched me. The only one who was inside me and the only one who filled me. All these years..." she kisses his lips. "I was saving myself for you".

She stops, waiting for his response. They agreed that since he has no idea when he’ll want to have sex again (but he will want to someday), she is free to initiate—and he is free to stop her.

Before now, she'd done it three times—and he never found the moral strength to let her continue.

Tiriel waits. Astarion feels her arousal. If he says "no", she will just use her fingers to pleasure herself somewhere behind a tree. She won't be angry or annoyed. She never is. For Tiriel, the relationship is so much more than sex, her focus is on other things.

He caresses her cheek, trying to decide what to do.

But his own body has already made a decision and he feels tension in his pants.

He wants her.

He wants to fuck her.

He wants her to scream his name, to scratch his back, to come because of his touches. He wants to see the red sparkles in her eyes when she rides her orgasm, a distant shade of what’s happening to her when she is in a rage.

He wants her to clench around him, to tug him so close he won’t be able to pull away by himself.

He grabs her shoulders and pushes Tiriel on the bedroll. She is already naked and he doesn’t need to waste time on dealing with her clothes.

Astarion kisses Tiriel and slips his hand between her legs.

“So wet for me,” he murmurs.

He gets rid of his shirt and leans to kiss Tiriel again. She reaches out for the laces of his trousers and sets his manhood free.

“So hard for me,” she answers and strokes him.

It doesn’t take him a lot of effort to get rid of the rest of his clothes.

He aligns himself with her swollen entrance and slips inside, causing Tiriel to gasp.

“I forgot how thick it is,” she whimpers in pleasurable pain. “Damn, let me adjust”

Her walls clench around him and Astarion thinks he is going to cum right away.

“How did you even survive the first time?” he coos, wrapping himself around her. Now his teeth are right in front of her neck and her heart is so close he can mistake its beat for his own.

“I was drunk and had a parasite in my head. Besides, you had bitten me,” she pants. “And … oh gods… I couldn't shut my legs the next morning…”

He rolls his hips, forcing Tiriel to moan, and thrusts with all the passion he’s saved in those months.

She grabs a fistful of his hair and now it’s his time to groan with pleasure.

“Tiriel,” he gasps looking into her eyes.

“Don’t … hold…yourself,” she begs.

Astarion pins her down to the bedroll.

“Don’t ask for what you can’t endure.”

“Try me, my love.”

He moves down and pierces her neck. Blood gushes down his throat. He pulls away after a few gulps and licks the skin.

Then, he goes down covering her body in bites and kisses, her blood mixing up with his saliva.

He elbows up so he can see her face and thrusts harder and harder. Her moans become cries, her fingers pierce his skin and her legs wrap around his waist tugging him close.

His mind gets blurry—his whole world is shrunk to their small tent, Tiriel’s heartbeat, and the wet warmth between them.

Astarion feels his release getting close and he presses his forehead to hers.

He finishes inside Tiriel and collapses on her like a weighted blanket.

Tiriel pants. Her face is red and her eyes are completely empty. Her mouth is half open and her whole facial expression is so stupid he grins.

“Look at that pretty expression. I always knew you could make one.”

Tirel finally makes eye contact with him and pats his hip.

“What is it darling?”

“Don’t you want to pull away?”

“Let me stay inside you for a little bit,” he places his head on her breasts. Tiriel’s body is warm and safe and he doesn’t want to move.

She kisses the crown of his head. “Then, stay.”

Time passes slowly. Tiriel draws invisible lines on his back and shoulder.

He finally releases her hips and adores her body. She is covered in bite marks, and there are bruises on her wrists. Legs are still wide open and his spend leaks on the bedroll.

Tiriel sits up and presses her knees against her chest. She doesn’t make an effort to clean the sticky mess.

“Are you all right?” She finally asks.

He nods. Gods, he wants to do that over and over again.

“It’s dark already. No matter how much I love being covered in blood and sweat, I desperately need to wash. And, I think, so do you.”

“Careful, darling, I might want to have another round.”

“Who said I wouldn’t want to?”

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athanza · 1 month

Text

Starlett - Part 2

Cooper Howard/fem!OC (not self-insert)

Tags: Hurt/comfort (sort of?), non-allowed romantic connection, lots of tention, pre and post war drama, some Cooper dad fluff because why not ♡

Warnings: Mentions of domestic abuse and (no graphic scenes or descriptions of that nature), angst, canon wasteland violence

This branches out from canon but I thought it was a cute story idea so I had to write it. Enjoy! ♡

Part 1 | Part 3 | Final part

2296

The harsh sun was setting now which meant he needed to find somewhere to settle in for the night. The rickety second floor of one of these buildings would be the best option so he'd have a good vantage point if something were to happen.

As he searched for the right building he began to hear muffled screaming coming from further in the crumbled town. At first, he couldn't give a rat's ass, but he needed to know if it was a big enough threat for him to keep moving.

It didn't take long for gunshots to begin ringing out through the ruins, but they were only from 3 separate guns...then 2...then 1.

As he reached the area where the shots were coming from, the sounds of a pissed off Yao Guai became apparent, and there was one singular person left to fight it off but she looked like she was badly injured.

"You son of a bitch!!" She yelled when her gun jammed and the wounded beast readied itself for another charge.

As it lunged at her one more time a shotgun shell slammed into the side of it's head and it went down, a pink mist left in the air for a moment as the rest of it's brains splattered to the ground.

The woman turned to where the shot came from to see Cooper walking casually towards her, unable to see his face very well in the dark. She pointed her now un-jammed rifle at him just in case.

"Those things'll kill ya." He quipped.

"Yeah, no shit." She replied, wincing at the pain from a gash on her side.

He cocked his head a little. Her voice sounded familiar.

"Why don't you put down that gun so I can cut myself some bear hide and be on my way?"

She scoffed. "So you can shoot me in the face and steal all my shit? No thanks cowboy."

That was it, the confirmation he didn't think he'd get.

"Irene?" He said.

The woman paused briefly, then aimed her gun properly. "How do you know my name?"

He stepped a little closer so that the light from the lantern on the ground could illuminate his face.

It took her a moment but she recognised his eyes and immediately lowered her weapon.

"Cooper?"

2077

A scream woke Cooper up in the middle of the night and he instinctively got up and ran to his daughter's room.

"Daddy!" Janey cried when she saw him.

He came over and hugged her tightly. "Hey, hey, it's ok, it was just a dream, you're ok."

She cried into him for a moment before spluttering "Why don't you and mommy love each other anymore?"

That caught him off guard. He had no idea what to say and it hurt so much hearing her say that.

"It's not that we don't love each other honey, it's just..." He tried desperately to search for the right words. "Well...your mom and I just disagree on somethin' really important and we tried to figure it out but it was too hard."

"What did you disagree on?"

"Well...that's grown up stuff baby girl."

She sulked quietly, putting her head back on his chest.

"We still love you very very much, that hasn't changed at all."

"Is it my fault?" She asked and his heart broke.

"No baby girl, no, not at all. None of this is your fault."

"I know I haven't been doing my homework, and I don't always feed Roosevelt when I'm told and-"

He cut her off, kneeling beside the bed so he could look her in the eyes. "Janey," he held her hands. "None of this is your fault. Your mother and I loved you since the day we found out we were gonna have you. And when you were born, we looked at you and we just cried and cried.

I have never been prouder or happier than I was in that moment. And you know what? That hasn't changed a bit, not even a little."

Janey smiled, her face still wet with leftover tears.

"Really?" She sniffed.

"Yes." Cooper chuckled, scooping her up and hugging her again and she giggled. "Now, how about a hot chocolate, with double marshmallows?"

She smiled and nodded enthusiastically.

She hugged him as he carried her downstairs. "I love you daddy." She said.

His chest burst with warmth and happiness and he smiled. "I love you too sweetheart."

The next morning, Janey was watching cartoons on the TV while eating her breakfast and Cooper sipped greatfully at his cup of hot coffee, having not gotten much sleep.

He smiled as he heard his daughter giggle at the TV, her mouth full of cereal, and sat down at the dining table with his newspaper.

But just as he sat down the loud ringing from the telephone rang out through the kitchen and he sighed heavily.

"I'll get it!" Janey yelled and ran over, hoping it was her mother. Her face dropped when it wasn't her mother's voice she heard on the other end of the line. "Yeah he's here, I'll put him on."

Cooper looked up at her tone and she held the receiver out to him. "It's for you dad."

He walked over and took it, kissing her on the head before she went back to her cartoons.

"Hello?" He said.

"Mr. Howard, it's Irene. I'm sorry to call you at home but I need your help."

Her voice told him it was serious. "What's wrong?"

"You were right. About Frank. I know we barely know each other but I need somewhere to stay for the night before I go to my mother's up in Sacramento. Lee...Lee doesn't know."

"I uh..."

"...no, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have bothered you." She said.

"No, no, it's ok. I'll make up the guest room for you."

He could hear a faint sigh of relief in her answer. "Thank you, so much, I owe you one."

He gave her his address and they hung up.

"Who was that dad?" Asked Janey.

"A friend from work. She needs a place to stay tonight so she's gonna stay in the guest bedroom. You'd like her."

She kind of shrugged in an uninterested way and took another bite of her cereal, her attention back on the TV.

He hoped no one sees Irene at his house, that's the last thing he needs in the papers, especially now.

Part 1 | Part 3