#all i was trying to do was take this detail about his reminder of the promise that i thought was interesting and have some fun writing an
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𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐲?
✰ characters ✰ 𝐆. 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮, 𝐆. 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮, 𝐅. 𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢, 𝐒. 𝐑𝐲𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧, 𝐍. 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨, 𝐊. 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨
✰ summary ✰ them overhearing you say you can take all of them at once (f!reader)
✰ tags/warnings ✰ kissing, teasing, biting, nipple play, biting, pussy licking
✰ kyun’s note ✰ this took a lot out of me, part 2 will be posted when I wake up because apparently there is a word count and I’m too tired to do anything about that right now. the tags will correspond to what part they are in so that’s why the tags look different than in the original outline. the taglist will stay the same with each part
maybe you should have been quieter
maybe you should have make sure nobody was around to hear you
maybe you should have declined their offer and went home to complete your assignments
maybe you’ll regret it in the morning when the pain settles in but that’s a problem for the you of tomorrow
it all started with a whispered comment you shared with your friends, while you watched gojo and geto walk past, you had said that you would let their whole friend group have their way with you unknowing of gojo’s impeccable hearing. you went on a tangent going into detail about all the things you would let them do to you letting the list drag on, shamelessly sharing your desires of all of them. that is until you felt an unfamiliar presence behind you placing their hands on your shoulder causing you to stop your rambling.
not daring to turn around after seeing the long nimble fingers resting on your shoulders as well as the way your friend was looking up at him with wide eyes, there was no doubt in your mind that the sweet scent coming from behind you belonged to gojo. “oh no, don’t stop on my account keep going. I’d love to hear more about what you’d let me do to you” the playful tone in his voice has you thinking that maybe he’ll let you off and move on. its not until he sits down in front of you, one leg over the bench mirroring your position, that you realise he wont leave without getting what he wants.
you try to slide back from him only to collide back into what you can only assume is geto’s firm chest. you have no clue as to when he sat behind you and you barely have to time to process his closeness before he speaks “theres no need to run away from us, we only want to hear what you have to say” his hand snakes around your waist holding you in place his low voice almost hypnotic as his friend flashes his pearly white seemingly innocent smile at you. you’re basically sandwiched in between them and you’re sure that your heart is beating loud enough for them both to hear.
your tongue is dry inside you mouth as you slowly start running out of ways in your head to avoid having to continue your speech. “I’m sure you’ve heard enough already I doubt theres anymore you’d wanna hear from me. I was finished anyway” you hope that’s enough for them but with the way gojo’s smile turn into a devious smirk you can tell they’re not gong to let you off the hook so easily. “oh really, cause if I can recall I remember you saying you’d let me use my fingers to choke you while I fuck you from behind, isn’t that right?”
he doesn’t even blush at his your vulgar statement while holding up his fingers in front of your face curling them into a c-shape as if to act out what he said, his predatory smile back in place. your eyes follow his hands as they drop back in front of him, he gives you a moment before turning his head to the side reminding you of his question but his companion answers for him. “i know what i heard, she also mentioned being spit roasted by both of us, if I’m not mistaken” he’s not and you’re starting to winder just how much they heard you say, you wouldn’t be surprised if they has heard all of it.
without at moments fail they begin to recite you every word, gojo making all sorts of obscene hand gestures while he speaks and you try to hang your head down in shame but gojo’s surprisingly warm hand lifts it up by your chin a small pout on his face “no need to hide princess, we’re only teasing. we’ll stop if you don’t like it” it kind of shocks you that he’s being considerate, considering all the stories you’ve heard of him have been about him being selfish. “not to say that we wouldn’t take you up on your offer is that’s what it is. i’m sure the others wouldnt mind either”
if gojos hand hadn’t already lifted you head you’re sure you would have gained whiplash from the way his friends statement has you turning your head to him with wide eyes. surely he must be joking right? theres no way that all of his friends would agree to live out all your fantasies with them. however the look on his normally impassive dace tell you that he’s serious, he was never known to be a joker anyway leaving all of that to gojo. “he’s serious ya’ know. I’m sure the others would be up for it, however it’s all up to you of course,” he waits before rephrasing his question “so? you up for it?”
you’re unsure as to whether you should accept his proposal or not but from what you’ve heard you’ve sure that you would regret it for the rest of you life if you rejected them now. “I mean if you’re really willing to then I guess I’m okay with it” you shrug and gojo’s toothy smile was back on his face in a flash as well as the hand behind you squeezing your waist gently, you had almost forgot that it was there. “perfect just give me your number and I’ll sort out the details” he hands you his unlocked phone and you type your number in it before handing it back to him. “perfect, I’ll see ya later princess”
he’s up and off just as quick as he came to sit down his companion following in suit both of them walking away side by side unknowing of the mess they just created in you head. it’s not a second later that you remember your friend and turn back to she see her sitting there with the same shocked expression as you except while your mouth was left gaping hers was raised into a crazed grin. having sat there throughout the whole interaction, you’re surprised she didn’t interrupt. the two of you leave your spot fawning over your predicament until you get a message from an unknown number with an address and time sent off with a blue heart emoji blue.
you quickly save his number and part with your friend leaving for your last lesson of the day, anticipation killing you all throughout the lecture. it’s no lie to say you almost run outside the room when the session finishes making your way home to freshen up and get ready. gojo had told you to be at his place by 4:30 earliest so you still had some time before you had to be there, plus you didn’t want to arrive early and seem to desperate even though you were. so you took your time getting ready making sure everything was making sure to pick out something comfortable to wear.
you had spent part of your afternoon in the shower making sure you were smooth as silk, washing yourself off with your favourite scented soap. making sure to rub cream into all parts of your skinthe time went by quick and before you knew it it was 4:28. you didn’t realise how long it took you to get ready but at least you knew that your were prepared enough. you search up the address gojo gave you and make your way there with slow steps giving yourself enough time to think through your life choices. you manage not to talk yourself out of it and soon enough you’re standing in front of their house.
before you chicken out at the latest second you quickly ring the doorbell and seal your fate, it’s not long before you hear steps coming your way making your heart beat faster. the door soon swings open slowly to reveal geto smiling down at you “glad you decided to come, have any trouble finding the house?” he steps aside you let you in closing the door behind you. in all honesty your surprised with the state of the house, you would expect it to be messy considering all the parties they’re said to have but it’s relatively clean bar a couple of cups on the living room table that geto leads you to.
“no it was a quick journey. why wouldn’t I come?” who in their right mind would turn down a chance to fuck the hottest guys on campus. you take a seat on the black leather sofa positioned in front of the wide inch tv and almost flinch when geto sits almost directly next to you. “it didn’t seem like you were to keen back at the table, I thought me might have come on to swing and scared you off” he picks up the remote from somewhere and turns on the tv, flicking through some channels he looks back to you with a reassuring smile. “you can still back out it you want the guys won’t mind”
“no, I’m sure. I’m just a little nervous is all, it’s my first time doing something…” you trail off at the end not sure how to phrase it but geto picks up for you “you mean you’ve never fucked this many people at once?” you can hear the smirk in his voice without looking at him and it’s clear as day that he’s teasing you “yeah, exactly that. but I’m sure you guys will make it worth my while won’t you?” you turn to look at him with an unwavering and seductive stare not planning on letting have all the fun. it’s seem to have caught him off guard with they way his eyes widen a little bit at your boldness.
seeing that your earlier nerves have dissipated he seems a little more eager to get started on your plans, placing your legs over his spread ones massaging his hand over your inner thigh slowly edging his hand further up. you part your legs a little to give him more access and use your arm to bring him into a kiss which he more than happily accepts. your lips melt against when he begins to deepen the kiss licking his way into your mouth. it’s only a second later that you realise the cold sensation you feel is his tongue piercing, which you didnt realise he had, mapping out the inside of your mouth.
he soon becomes impatient and pulls you on top of him without breaking the kiss, leaving you flush against him full body pressing down on his. he sucks in the small moan you let out when you fell his erection through the fabric of your clothes pressing directly into your cunt. even without opening your eyes you can feel him smirk into the kiss knowing that he’s having an affect on you. deciding that you won’t let him be the only one unaffected you roll your hips down into his, threading your hand into his tied up hair gripping onto it tightly and it’s a delight to hear the sharp “fuck” he lets out.
you pull back from the kiss leaving small trail of saliva connecting both of you lips for a second as you let out a small yelp when both his hand come down and slap your ass. the both of you are now breathing heavily trying to regain some air, staring at each other with lust blown eyes when he recovers. using his hands to keep you still he grinds his hips up into yours. “it’s cute that you’re trying to take control but just leave everything to me princess, I’ll make you feel good” you have half a mind to nod your head when he uses both his hands to grip your ass, squeezing sporadically.
just as you’re about to lean down and kiss him again you’re interrupted by an exaggerated gasp behind geto only to find gojo standing by the stairs surely hiding a grin behind his hinds that are clasped over his mouth. “how could you two start without me” you’re about to apologise but geto stops you, “ignore him” pressing kisses into the side of your neck while sliding a cold hand up your shirt sending a shiver down your spine. you’re so distracted by the feeling of geto’s soft lips on your skin that you hardly notice when gojo ends up kneeling next the the two of you on the sofa.
you’re startled by the sudden contrast of geto’s cold hands to gojo’s warm ones turning your head to his direction, looking at you with his now familiar predatory grin, “I could hear your cute little noises from upstairs, is he making you feels good?” your response is cut off by a moan as geto rolls his hips into yours again, “stop talking and make better use of your mouth” he says without his lips leaving your neck and you watch as gojo rolls his eyes playfully but complies with his friends command with a silent whisper of “so bossy” before leaning down and latching his lips onto yours.
unlike geto whose kiss was more rough and impatient, gojo focuses his attention on teasing you endlessly. gently brushing his lips against yours slowly pulling away, revelling in the way you try to chase his lips with a whine only to be pulled back by an annoyed geto. “I thought I told you to be useful?” he spans his attention back to you gesturing at your top lifting it slightly, agreeing you lift your shirt off and throw it behind you. gojo’s quick to unclasp your bra, taking it off to drop on top of your shirt. “yeah yeah whatever” he makes quick work of sucking your nipple into his mouth, biting down hard.
you arch into his touch while geto holds you down by your hips, flicking your other nipples while he watches your face contort into pleasure. it’s like the both of them are competing to see who can get the better reaction out of you, the near constant rolling of geto’s hips into yours versus how gojo relentlessly bites and sucks on your nipple. their more than experienced hands start to roam your body and you’re now starting to believe all the rumours that were said about them. if it feels this good with just the two of them you wonder what it’ll be like with the rest of them.
just as the thought passes you hear someone come through the front door and you try to look but you’re stopped as geto pulls you into another sloppy kiss. “impatient fucks, I thought you said you were gonna wait until we all got here” the voice comes closer but getos lips are still locked with yours and you cant bear to break the kiss. that is until a thick hand hooks around your neck from behind you pulling you away from geto’s lips. he turns you to face him and youre met with toji’s mocking grin. “she looks gone already, fuck what did you two do to her” he inspects you face for a second before letting go.
“nothing she hasn’t thought about before,” gojo smiles as he turns to you “isnt that right princess?” you don’t trust your voice enough to speak so a weak nod is all that you can manage, seeming to have accepted the response toji lets go of you neck and you already miss the heated grip around your neck as you subconsciously try to lean back into the touch which earns you a laugh from the trio. “seems like she’s tired of you two, how about you come upstairs with me?” not that you’re given a chance to answer as he effortlessly picks you up from geto holding you bridal style in your half-naked state.
you can feel his thick muscles flexing under you as he adjusts his hold while he ignores the protests from the other two men trailing behind him. he makes sure to watch where hes going when he walks so it gives you a chance to study his features. this is the closest that you’ve ever been up to him, sure you’ve seen pictures and caught glimpses of him around campus but seeing something in person is different, especially the fact that you cant smell through pictures. god he smells so fucking good. you can even see the thin layer of sweat over he exposed neck, probably having just come back from exercise.
I wanna lick the sweat off him, wonder if he’d let me. due to your gaze being lowered you failed to notice him smiling down at you. “I’d let you do anything you fucking want sweet cheeks, s’long as you let me get a taste of you first” your head snaps up to him, eyes widening in shock not realising you had said that out loud. ‘I really have an issue keeping my mouth shut don’t i- hold on’ “sweet cheeks?”. he chuckles deeply and you can fell the vibration coming off his thick chest. “s’there a problem? anyone with eyes can see a great piece of ass, I’m just the lucky guy that gets to have it”
in the few seconds the interaction had happen toji had managed to open a door, entering a room and practically tossing you onto the edge of a neatly spread bed. looking around you can gather that it’s probably a guest bedroom. the other two enter only shortly “we weren’t doing with her yet” gojo complains. “not my problem, it’s my turn now” in a quick motion he pulls his tank over his head snd gets down on his knees in front of you. “now how about we get rid of these,” without asking he pulls down your joggers and panties in one fluid motion leaving you bare in front of them. “that’s better”
you try to close your legs in modesty but toji stops you by spreading your legs wider than before with both hands “keep ‘em nice and wide for me,” he lets a hand slide down almost reaching your inviting pussy “keep ‘em and I’ll stop yeah?” you not airily hoping he’ll finally start but he doesn’t move clearly waiting for something else “I need words cheeks” you let out a frustrated groan before complying with his request. “I won’t close them just fucking do something already” his eyes look shocked but he grins at your boldness, however both geto and gojo, aquatinted with you sass, just laugh.
“such a needy cunt you have, can’t wait to be stuffed full” he slides both hands under your thighs and pulls you directly in front of him, leaning back and resting on your elbows waiting for what he’s for what he’s going to do next. you let out a whimper, relieved to finally be touched, when he runs two fingers up your pussy collecting your juices on his fingers and sucks them into him mouth ands moans at the taste while maintaining eye contact with you. “tastes better than I imagined, ‘toru come here” you’re suddenly reminded of the other two’s presence at the mention of his name.
its takes a second for you to notice that geto isn't standing were he was before until the bed dips behind you and your raised to lean against is chest, trying to look back at him but his cold hands lower your gaze down to were gojo is not knelt between your legs alongside toji. "keep your eyes on them, don't pay attention to me" his sonorous voice sends chills down your bare neck while you turn your attention back to the, now two, boys below you. gojo starts tailing kisses up your thighs looking up at you through his platinum lashes until toji pulls him back with a firm tug of is hair that as him letting out a grunt
"i didn't say you could touch did i?" watching as the two men stare at each other, you let out a whine at the sudden loss of touch but its quickly replaced by geto's cold fingers tweaking your nipple "be patient you'll get what you want soon enough" you're now left with both legs spread wide over geto's, almost begging for someone to do something, anything at this point. luckily your prayers are answered when geto runs a ands down your abdomen pressing a wet kiss to your neck "you do know its rude to keep your guests waiting right?"
at his reminder both men turn back to you with similar grins on their faces, though toji doesn't release his grip on gojo's hair he quickly whisper something into is ear that you cant hear before turning back to you "my bad, 's just that this little bitch as no patience 'n doesn't know how to listen". geto ignores then and turns your head towards him while the other one pinch and roll your nipple between is fingers, latching his lips onto yours in a wet kiss eliciting a moan from you, which distracts you from the other two. your eyes shoot back open, a hot tongue is presses flat against your pussy.
𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
✰ taglist ✰ @lik0 @yaygurist @dvarlinggg @valleydoli @yeet-ur-feet @silkija @nuggetalli @zillahgocrazy @satoryaa @yaya4thawin @nowhoremones @yeetlixs @happy2delivur @heliumshorns @chocopuchino @luvv4lurd @sorceira @maniaerodesi @chysalxsm @cobraisveryhorny @servalswifey @chrissysblog @futureittomainn @zacatecanaaaa @ichikanu @ameeeeeliie @bluupen @prettybakerswife @blankwashed @klumrine @chadychadyy2k @hantenguclonesimp-minuszoha @dl-yum @jalepp @kibananya @jjksimp3579 @xemmysblog @shawnberry @bleachisfood @barryatsumu @zennyxxy @dyeforkenma @bloomingheartss @sousblogga @alluresenses @zwmbizz @queenkassradite @dawnhero @xthatpottahfanx @loavibeycipoosan
#✰𝐊𝐘𝐔𝐍 𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐒✰#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk#gojo satoru#gojo x reader#gojo smut#geto suguru#getou x reader#geto smut#toji smut#toji fushiguro#toji x reader#nanami kento#nanami x reader#nanami smut#choso smut#choso x reader#choso kamo#sukuna smut#sukuna ryomen#sukuna x reader
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Book rant? Anthropology, apes, and racism discussion.
I started reading a book titled "Bonobo Handshake" by Vanessa Woods. I picked it up because a) I want to learn more about bonobos since my knowledge of them is minimal. b) the author had interacted with bonobos in person so it's an interesting perspective to read. c) the book had positive reviews.
I was not expecting the author to start off telling us about the 'discovery' of bonobos in this way.
W-what do you mean, in Belgium? The author makes it clear that bonobos live in Congo and she gives us a few examples of local bonobo lore. Meaning, people in Congo know the bonobos very well. Way to go to give a colonizer the credit??? wtf. In this perspective, she is letting us know THAT was the moment when Bonobos entered western science, which is true. But I was really hoping the author would give it a more holistic view than this, but it seems she really believes in this??? And let me tell you, from what I am picking up between the lines, she ONLY accepts western science. Here is an example:
This is the page that confuses me immensely. I don't know if she is trying to come off as sarcastic or not. She sets out for us that Takayoshi Kano is the star of Bonobo research, but in the next paragraph says there is no one studying Bonobos. "there was never a Jane Goodall or Dian Fossey for bonobos." UHM NO? YOU JUST SAID THERE WAS???
[highlighting and writing over a picture of the page (32) since it's a library book and I can't write on it.]
She says Japanese researchers are responsible for all we know on Bonobos, but then starts talking about de Waal's zoo discoveries in detail, and they seem pretty minor compared to Kano's work with wild bonobos. She did point out that scientists don't take de waal's observations seriously because it's from a zoo, but she doesn't remedy that by telling us if it can be supported by Kano's work or not when compared. Kano is ignored. He does have one book available in English, so it's not like we can't ever learn about what he observed. you said western mainstream media don't want to listen to a man who only spoke Japanese??? UHM. You are too??? Why did you jump to de waal? If it's a book about bonobos, then please give Kano a little spotlight and tell about his research. (I actually want to read Kano's book now but I can't find a borrowable copy of it. It's a complicated long loop to get one. But it's possible T-T!!!!)
I very much dislike her tone in 'oh it's the Japanese that tell us about bonobo'. It is as if no one is actually researching them at all. They are 'foreign' so it doesn't count. Meanwhile, if it's a white person's discovery, it is humanity's. But if it's someone else theeennnn well we are not sure if it's actually real :/ Not until a white person observes this can we really put this into humanity's archive of knowledge. Otherwise, whatever they learnt is not very important or worth talking about.
I'm not gonna drop the book, because it does get me thinking about stuff and that's what I read books for. I guess it reminds me of University days, of how irritated I get when we are assigned a problematic reading to pick apart and present to class. I hope I'm not picking this apart too much 😭 I'm not sure if I'm enraged and reading too much into it. I might be totally wrong.
idk... I think I need to join an anthropology book club to have people to talk with about this. Only way for now is to share on the internet and maybe a discussion starts. Want to see what others think of this (especially if they read the book).
#anthropology#Bonobo Handshake#apes#bonobo#racism#reading#sorry I haven't posted are in a while. It's because.... I haven't drawn kdsjghsdkjgnsj#I do have a chimpanzee acrylic painting I'm working on slowly! but i've never worked with acrylic so it's just experiments#no sharing yet#and concept art for my story... that I am also not sharing yet.#well that's all. bye!
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Darling, Never Stop Haunting Me (Spawn! Astarion x F! Ghost Reader) MDNI 18+
Chapter Six: Four Clerics and a Vampire Spawn Enter a Tomb
Synposis: Astarion is struggling to adjust to not having you around for a little bit, but he amends this quickly. Astarion takes a moment to explore his own wants and needs while you are asleep.
CW: Mentions of torture, gore, m! Masturbation, Astarion being a lovesick mess
I just had this, “oh Astarion and Tav were never together so he has no baseline for sexual touch.”
And my brain went, “HE DOESN’T HAVE A BASELINE FOR SEXUAL TOUCH” and well- here we are. I hope you enjoy! I have put markers for when smut starts and stops for anyone who isn’t into it :)
Disclaimer- put together the picture for the banner, but I do not own any of the pictures. I did take the picture of ‘Birdie’ and Astarion on my PS5
Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are always appreciated! Thank you for all your support and love!
Chapter 5: Chapter 7: AO3
Astarion sits and stares at your broken, crumpled form. He had closed your eyes already and he had dug a hole to bury the cat that so graciously let you inhabit it for so long.
He recognizes the country bumpkin arrow as one of Leon’s. How could this happen? Astarion had searched the area high and low for signs of the Bastard and didn’t find a thing- where the fuck did he come from!?
Astarion lets himself cry as he buries the cat.
He can’t feel your presence around him and that terrifies Astarion to no end. He can’t lose you- you are both supposed to be ‘stuck’ with each other forever.
Astarion has hopes, dreams, and stupid fantasies about what kind of life you could live together once they were able to resolve your incorporeal person problems. He really just knows that, as long as he’s around you, life will be fun. Hard sometimes, but nothing that couldn’t be talked about or handled.
You have given him a rather large lesson in communication and the importance of it- after about six months, you had both celebrated Astarion directly telling you that something you said bothered him instead of lashing out.
It had been something stupid- he can’t even remember what it was. He was jealous of some man that you said was very attractive as the two of you peered over the railing of your inn in a small town around Amn.
That all feels so trivial now. You could be with anyone if it meant Astarion could have you back right now. He may kill the person and cry, but that’s beside the point. <
The sun is suddenly embracing him and Astarion feels his body become reinvigorated.
You never gave up on him or finding a cure so that he could walk in the sun. You also expressed having hopes and dreams amongst other what-nots. You wouldn’t give up this easily on him and he sure as hell won’t give up on you.
You have to be out there somewhere. If you aren’t around him that you had to be teleported somewhere else and if that means storming the Heavens- so be it.
Astarion immediately begins flipping through Volo’s book- rubbing the stupid pink tulle tutu material between his fingers.
It’s a stupid thing to keep- he admits it to himself all the time- but it was such a hilarious sight to see and you had said you hope one day he sees how much you mean to him. Astarion will mess with the crappy material whenever he needs the reminder that he has worth and you are busy doing something or sleeping. It’s helped him a significant amount during the night time- the happy memory soothing his soul.
And he desperately needs that reassurance and soothing right now.
Thankfully, Volo’s book wasn’t totally filled with bullshit- the back detailing a City that is not that far from his current location.
It’s about two and a half days away. That’s entirely doable and you are more than likely perfectly safe, exploring the city and, with any luck, you are hoping he’s trying to get back to you.
He can’t get himself to stop- not even for a moment. He finds himself absentmindedly humming various violin pieces you have played for him since you learned you could be an incorporeal person.
He feels border line delirious and he’s pretty fucking hungry if he’s being honest with himself- the creatures he’s finding as he goes aren’t filling enough, but he doesn’t have time to properly hunt.
You would be worried and upset with him for not taking care of himself, but he won’t feel okay again until you are back in his sight and within arms length again.
The trek is horribly boring- he has become so accustomed to even your little snores during travel that the silence is uncomfortable and wrong. Astarion can’t even begin to imagine how his heart would feel if he tried to fall asleep and stay asleep without you near.
The hour he tried to trance out of sheer exhaustion had been full of every nightmare imaginable, but it was a dream of Leon killing you- taking away the only person in the whole world that Astarion would gladly lay his life on the line for.
He should have killed Leon the moment he suggested you become a sacrifice for him to get Victoria back. Astarion would sooner go back in time sacrifice him and the other spawn than hand you over if that’s what it took to keep you safe.
At least in that reality, you could both be together and he would never have to worry about losing you because he wouldn’t have to worry about fucking Leon.
He just knows Leon is involved- he can feel the irritation in his bones grow with each minute he walks.
Astarion races through the forest- being mindful enough to not go barreling through some poor soul just minding it’s own business.
For once, he isn’t looking for a fight. He just wants to get to you and leave- get far away from this Gods awful place and begin your lives together somewhere far, far away.
The second day feels even worse than the first- twenty four hours was far too long and he was growing more worried by the second stint of his journey.
What if Leon finds you before Astarion does?
Astarion is worried that Leon will convince you to sacrifice yourself for his daughter if he gets to you first- something he knows you would do without a second thought.
Astarion finds himself begging the universe that, for once, he is good enough for someone to stay for him- wait for him.
Worth someone being a little bit selfish for once.
What if he isn’t? What kind of life could a transient vampire spawn offer you? Would you willingly remain a ghost if you had the choice or would you pass on?
He attempts to trance again when his thoughts become overwhelming. He continues, however, to refuse sleeping for very long or take the time to properly hunt.
He knows what his needs are and he will take the time later. However, time isn’t a luxury he thinks he can afford right now.
Astarion needs you- he’s doing this for himself more than anything.
His second hour long trance is much better. He dreams of you in his arms, held tightly to his chest- your hair fanning out on a plush pillow while he leaves gentle kisses on your face and you giggle happily. You are here again and everything is okay.
Astarion wakes up crying when he realizes it’s only a trance- a trick of the mind. His lips yearn to know how your skin feels underneath them.
Astarion needs you back by his side yesterday. One day was unacceptable as is, but two? His world feels tilted.
He feels like he can breathe again when he spies the massive Watch Tower in the distance- the black, oddly shaped tower looms over the other buildings and it’s presence demands to be seen.
His feet lead him through the gates of the City of Manifest and he makes a B-line to the Hall of Farewells. There are people everywhere enjoying their loved ones, but no sign of you yet.
Astarion goes to the front of the line- ready to knock whoever over so that he can talk to the teller. Your life very well could be in danger- Astarion hasn’t seen any signs of Leon in the Underdark, but you can never be too careful and that arrow was definitely one of his shitty homemade ones.
“Hey! You can’t just cu-“
Astarion gives the man a menacing, unblinking smile. The man gulps nervously.
“You were saying?”
“Ha, uh I was just saying, go right on ahead! You can cut me anywhere, anytime.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, my Boy,” Astarion says with a sneer, “otherwise you may not live to see the light of day.”
A dawning realization of horror crosses the man’s face.
“That’s not what I-“
“NEXT!”
Astarion waves, “that’s my cue- I will find your delicious self later.”
He snickers to himself after he turns around- the man was positively green-, but when he goes to look down next to him to be chastised by you as you begrudgingly laugh- he’s reminded once again of his current twisted reality.
It’s only been 56 hours and he misses you so much- there is a massive hole in his chest with every step he takes and he is praying to every God that you are here.
“Hello! Welcome to the Hall of Farewells,” an elderly woman stands behind the counter, “who are you looking for today, young man?”
If you were here? You would have busted up laughing.
“Young man, my ass!”
He can’t help, but smile slightly to himself as a tear begins to fall from his eye.
“I’m looking for Althaeastra Rothwell? She goes by Birdie,” he gestures to show your height, “about this tall, beautiful, kind, hilarious, plays the violin really well.”
“Well- that is more than enough information for me to help you!” The elderly woman states while beaming, “she must be a very special woman and how lucky of her to have such a wonderful partner.”
“I’m the lucky one, actually,” the words slip out of his mouth before he can stop them.
The woman smiles even brighter and Astarion has to try very hard to keep himself from blushing like a smitten school boy.
Good Gods, he thinks, stop being a grieving, emotional mess and focus. You can be weird and dissect your feelings later once you find Birdie.
The woman claps her hand and performs some kind of magic on a book that flips pages with the intensity of a storm. Names are jumping from the pages- sorting through nicknames, letters, dates of death, etc. until a bright DING alerts the elderly woman that the spell is complete.
“Ah yes! Miss Rothwell! She hasn’t been here too long- only a couple days,” the woman muses, “hmm well, it looks like your brother already went off to find her. My guess is that you will find her with him.”
Astarion feels his entire body become significantly colder than it already is.
No- Leon couldn’t have bested him this time. How did Leon get here ahead of him? He did so many perimeter checks before entering the Catacombs and Leon was nowhere to be found. There should be absolutely no reason for him to be here- unless he had planned to kill you so you are a ghost again? That would make sense and it would force you two apart.
“Which brother?”
The woman cocks her head at him and then a realization seems to be forming in her mind.
You weren’t supposed to be going anywhere with Leon and it’s likely this woman just directed you to your actual death.
“His name is… Leon,” she reads the name uneasily, “she wrote only your name in the registry- specifically put ‘WAITING FOR ASTARION’. Brayden tried to tell her it wasn’t necessary, but she insisted. Your brother came in shortly after and checked the registry.”
Astarion damn near loses it- screaming profanities inside his head and desperately trying to keep from exploding all together. He can’t protect you from prison so he needs to play nice.
Afterwards? Well, let’s just say Astarion may be creating a list of people he wants to Falcon punch in the throat after you are safe and with him again. You most likely won’t approve, but he told you not to go wandering off with strangers! You do not have the combat experience or street smarts to be able to protect yourself.
Astarion goes to ask another question when a man comes racing in with a very mutilated, but living ghost. An insignia with a boot print and compass rose is on the front. The man’s black, curly locks are mangled and blue stained.
The older man is hysterical- begging someone to save his son as pieces of him begin to fall away and disappear. Astarion feels a wave of panic go through his body.
“Brayden,” the elderly woman gasps, “Gods help us!”
A group of clerics descends on the men and tries to help the man who was evidently giving you a tour. Another group goes racing out the door in the direction the body was found. Astarion makes note of this “Tombyard District” and begins to leave.
His body, however, freezes as he approaches the young Ghost laying out on the floor- wheezing painfully and his eyes meet Astarion’s a look of recognition. You must have talked about Astarion a lot.
Brayden’s eyes seem to scream back at Astarion, “she’s in danger! You need to save her!”
Astarion would know that magic and knife work anywhere- Leon got to you and this poor man probably tried to defend you. It disgusts Astarion that he is grateful for a perfect stranger, but anyone who has attempted to keep you safe is okay in his books.
He will not lose you to this place and he will make sure Brayden’s suffering was not in vain or yours for that matter.
Astarion leaves the Hall of Farewells- realizing that the more he sits there and listens to that man wail for his adult son to stay with him, the more and more hopeless and scared Astarion becomes.
Leon was Cazador’s best hunter, but it was because he was an aggressive meathead about the whole thing. It irritated the piss out of everyone. He wasn’t subtle and was more than happy to swoop in and steal your mark if it meant he could get back to the Palace faster.
It doesn’t take very long for Astarion to track Leon, but he’s alarmed when the faint scent of his other siblings begins to tickle his nose. The guard at the entrance of the Tombyard warned him against going in this late, but Astarion has a feeling he doesn’t have much time.
He stole a Ring of Manifesting on the way there so that after he finds you, you can both run straight to Waterdeep. Astarion had used one of his sending spells detailing what is going on to Tav and Gale just in case you both go MIA, but they are expecting both of you to be there. Admittedly, Astarion is quite proud of himself- you are always on him for not having a plan and this time he actually has a plan!
The smell of rotting flesh and the sound of people crying over their loved ones rings through his ears. There are multiple funerals occurring at once- mostly Drow and a few Humans.
The area is not cozy nor is it an aesthetically pleasing place to rest, the buildings look like warehouses for the bored and lonely and the statues along the streets are even graveyard-esque. It makes him uncomfortable- he doesn’t necessarily care for graveyards anymore. Not that he ever did, really.
There are alleyways here and there, but only one has Leon’s scent and the other scent is Lavender and something else he can’t pick up on. It has to be you which makes Astarion feel even more sick.
What did he tell you about following random strangers places!? One time you followed a man with white hair because you thought it was Astarion and you had been missing for an hour and a half.
Now you have been missing for probably two Gods damn days!
The scent leads him to an alleyway and the stench of rot becomes worse- Astarion can practically feel the pull of the weave in the air and the dark art of Necromancy.
Wonderful, just wonderful.
Astarion creeps along the wall- grateful that he listened to your suggestion about wearing solely black armor. It made sneaking around much easier and if he’s about to face a necromancer without a Cleric around then he’s going to need every advantage he can get.
A few new scents are in the air- much cleaner than the heavy must that threatens to suffocate him.
Think before you act, Astarion reminds himself, being irrational is not going to bring Birdie back to you any faster.
As he comes around a corner as slowly as he possibly can, he pulls his daggers out with the pointed ends against someone’s throat- he is met with a set of piercing blue eyes and earthy brown eyes. Both individuals appear to be clerics and they both gesture for Astarion to be quiet- that they are not a threat. Two other people become more visible to him.
Astarion recognizes the individual symbols on their chest as Uhanam- a lawful neutral God that is about law and intelligence-, Durann- a Lawful Good God that is about healing and listening to laws, and Aluvan- protector of Ghosts. He doesn’t recognize the other God, but she has the same symbol as the poor Cleric who had been severely injured trying to protect you.
A door appears further down an alley and a man that smells of Undeath with a beating heart comes walking down the alley. Astarion recognizes him as a Shadar Kai almost instantly.
Much to his irritation, the individuals let him pass by them, but he watches one use sleight of hand to maneuver the keys off his belt. The Shadar Kai doesn’t even so much as flinch. It’s rather impressive and Astarion enjoys the shit eating grin the Wood Elf flashes at their fellow clerics.
You would really like these people. Astarion will like them as long as none of them attempt to take you away from him.
“Alright,” one of the clerics, a blonde halfling woman, releases a sigh of relief before continuing her whispering, “hello- are you friend or foe?”
“Depends,” he whispers back, “are you going to kill everyone-including the people they have held captive- or are you on a rescue mission.”
“Rescue and revenge mission- actually,” the half- elf woman with the same insignia as Brayden says, “they tried to kill my fellow Cleric, Brayden- my husband in fact, and they kidnapped the person he was showing around. We just hope she’s still alive- this Lich doesn’t hang onto people very long.”
Of course it’s a fucking Lich.
“For all of your sake,” Astarion snarls, “you better hope she is alive.”
“Your loved one, I take it?” the halfing says.
Astarion nods- they need to know there is someone here for you and if they so much as look at you funny, he will kill them with absolutely no remorse to show for it.
“That settles it then,” the Wood Elf says, “let’s go save some folks and kick some ass!”
It was like being around Karlach- the cleric has a goofy grin and an even goofier vibe.
Astarion follows them- trailing behind so that he can take more time to search and see you before it becomes a bloodbath.
You just have to find her and get out of here, Astarion repeats like a mantra in his head, she is alive, she is safe-ish, she is okay. Everything is going to be fine because it has to be fine.
The place is filled to the brim with various undead creatures haunting it’s halls. Some creatures he has never even seen before and others look like they are stitched together with mismatched parts.
Astarion tries to swallow his panic- no sign of you yet so you may just be caged some-
“NO PLEASE!” your voice screams through the air and the sound of you struggling against someone rings alongside your voice, “PLEASE! I- DON’T WANT TO BECOME THAT- PLEASE!!!!!!”
You cry out in pain and Astarion begins barrelling past the Clerics who are trying to stop him, but they can figure it out. He needs to get to you.
Astarion pushes past every individual who comes by him- some try to attack him and he is quick to rebuke them or kill them with one blow. Your screams are becoming more and more panicked- you sound like you are fighting for your life and Astarion wishes you were aware that he is right here- nothing will happen to you.
He just needs to find you and then you never have to come to this horrible place ever again.
“ASTARION!” your cries are coming from down the hall, “ASTARION, HELP! PLEASE!”
Your voice has begun to sound gargled, but he knows he’s on the right floor- the scent of Lemongrass hanging in the air like a blessing.
When he finally finds the room you are in, he watches as some kind of magic tries to contort you into something else entirely. You are fighting to prevent it- tears streaming down either side of your face.
“Astarion- please hurry,” your anger and your voice being reduced to a tearful whisper, “I’m not ready to die.”
And he’s not ready for you to. In fact, Astarion feels positively homicidal.
Within a millisecond, Astarion is shoving his daggers between the Lich’s ribs and it cries out in surprise- Astarion uses an arrow of Thunder and sends the Lich crashing into the wall- one of it’s arms dislocating in the process.
The Shadar Kai descend on him and you struggle against your restraints- trying to get away from the ones that are trying to hold you back down and keep him from getting to you. They are unlatching your restraints and dragging you towards another hall. The Lich waiting like a coward behind it’s soldiers.
“ASTARION!” you scream, “BEHIND YOU!”
He sends another Shadar Kai to the Shadowfell thanks to your warning, only to have one of the Shadar Kai holding you cut your throat, an angry growl leaving Astarion,and he cuts through every creature his blade can get it’s sharp edge on.
A crash from behind him and the horrific creature that comes racing into the room distracts Astarion and he’s grateful that the Clerics had caught up with him because he wouldn’t have been able to save himself from the oncoming Ghoul running towards him otherwise.
He makes eye contact with Dalyria, but it’s not her eyes. The sight of his siblings and their fate makes Astarion feel ill- the Lich gestures and suddenly they are collapsing to the ground in a ball of red magic. The blood curdling scream of anger that leaves Astarion’s mouth scares him.
The Lich looks like he’s about to shit himself.
Not only had this horrible, unnatural creature taken you and harmed you significantly- it had destroyed his family. The only one he knows and remembers. The only people in the whole world who know what it means to suffer just as well as he does.
The creature gets back up and the Lich doesn’t have time to dodge before one of it’s unnaturally strong hands grabs it’s face and sends it’s flying away from the hall- it’s skull begins to crack the moment he makes impact with the wall.
The Lich uses shadow step to retreat down one of the hallways as his siblings run at him again- looking rather pleased that they chased it off.
He feels angry- it won’t be safe for you or his siblings here or anywhere with that Lich fucking off. Astarion wants to go after it- desperately and end this once and for all, but he knows he can’t.
Instead, he returns his attention back to the battle and getting to you as you continue to struggle against your captors. He’s over there in seconds- uses Dimension Door to put you in a safe corner and then using Misty Step to get back into battle. The creature that is his siblings stand protectively in front of you- waiting to destroy anyone who dare harm you. Their eyes meet his and they nod- we’ve got her.
He tries not to cry from sentiment alone- they care about him enough to keep you safe so he can focus on killing the other enemies in the room and Astarion never thought he would see the day where that would ever happen. It’s a shame it’s probably too late now to try to start over with each other again.
The remainder of the creatures are destroyed and Astarion personally mutilates the individual who decided cutting your throat was a fantastic idea.
Once it all calms down and everyone is dead- the Clerics lock the hallway door where the Lich had run away and they gesture for the mix and match of his siblings to follow as they exit the building.
The Aluvan Priestess, the Halfing, is the one to assure them that they would reverse their condition, they’ve apparently done it before and he hears your choked sigh of relief. He’s surprised to see the monstrous versions of his siblings look at you with hopeful eyes and you back at them.
It must have been a horrible 56 hours.
Brayden’s cleric in arms and wife comes over and heals your throat, your wrists, and offers you a clean outfit. You are shaking as you take the clothes and you look at the woman with your lower lip trembling.
“Is Brayden okay? He was trying to keep me safe.”
The woman nods and smiles, “he’s in rough shape, but nothing he won’t be able to come back from- thank Wyst.”
That seems to make you cry harder and Astarion is quick to scoop you up into his arms now that the initial shock of everything he has just seen has worn off. You cling to his neck, your arms wrapped around him tightly, and he just rubs soft circles into your back.
“It’s safe now, Birdie,” he whispers, “I will never ever let anyone harm you again.”
*****************************
It’s later in the evening when you seem to finally be more yourself again, but Astarion can tell that something horrible happened to you at the hand of the Lich. He is refraining from asking- not wanting to upset you or push you too hard.
You are drinking the honey mead in your hand heavily- eating bread and cheese along side it. Ghosts can’t get hung over so you took it as an opportunity to try to drown out the events of the last couple days.
It’s when you look at him with tearful eyes that he knows you are truly, honest to Gods suffering.
“Darling?” He gently takes your hand in his, “what is it?”
You look up at the ceiling with a trembling lip before looking him in the eyes again.
“He cut me open,” you choke, “he- he took out my organs and put them in other bodies before putting them back in mine.
“Then he was going t- to,” you shake as you try to get through your next sentence, “he was going to turn me into a Necroplasm. A horrible creature only made of bone and ectoplasm. Lifeless; thoughtless.”
Your face is back in your hands and Astarion is feeling an incredibly confusing amount of emotions right now.
He wants to hunt down that lich and destroy the bastard limb by limb, over and over again until he finally shows the last bit of mercy he could- breaking the phylactery.
But he also wants to get out of the City of Manifest entirely. His siblings are all separated again- temporarily Ghosts, but incredibly happy to not be melded together while the Clerics search for the remainder of their bodies to reconstruct. He has no idea how it works, but apparently the Gods over manifest are much kinder than the ones who dominate the rest of Faerun.
Leon is the only one who hasn’t come back, but he’s dead to Astarion either way. He was quite impressed with the amount of damage you had been able to inflict. Once he teaches you how to use a dagger, you could truly be unstoppable.
However, that’s for a later date when you become settled.
Gale sent him two tickets to teleport to Waterdeep and you seemed to be relieved that you wouldn’t be staying here- you want to come back, but after you feel more confident in your ability to protect yourself.
Tav and Gale are getting married in a few weeks- Waterdeep will be good for both of you. It will be familiar and comfortable.
You can stay together in the room you usually occupy, he will keep watch if that’s what you need to sleep for a while.
Anything to make you feel safe again.
“I feel so violated,” you sniff and laugh sadly to yourself, “I have the worst luck. The first touch I receive in three and a half centuries and it’s while I’m being cut open and fit to others like a puzzle piece- like a thing.
“I could feel it,” you wipe your eyes, “every horrible thing those people felt before they died. I felt their love and misery for the people they were never going to see again-“
This was not how Astarion wanted this reunion to go- Leon is dead, but it would never feel like enough.
Leon took honest, innocent moments you deserved to have and tainted them- all for something that was never going to happen anyway.
A Lich is a Lich and he’s going to hunt the bastard down- you were just a victim of opportunity in his eyes.
“I wish I had gotten there faster,” Astarion whispers, “this isn’t how I imagined this going.”
“What do you mean?” You ask, wiping your eyes.
Does he tell you that he envisioned at least kissing you? If you wanted? Now it feels like it would be pressuring you.
“It’s not imp-“
“No- enough about me,” you say, “I want to know what you’ve been doing and how life in the sun has been!”
Astarion smiles softly, “there hasn’t been a life in the sun without you. I barely noticed- I was focused on getting here to you.”
“Wait, really?” he nods in affirmation, you smile widely at that, “I’m glad I wasn’t the only one who missed hanging around.”
You look so happy looking at him- you are wearing his shirt since your own clothes had been practically destroyed and the clothing that was lended to you was uncomfortable.
“I’m going to wash my face and all the ick from these last couple days off real quick- I’ll be back.”
He couldn’t help but miss you- even a room away when you go to wash off. Astarion had braided your hair back afterwards.
Every part of you is beautiful and lovely- he was so scared he lost you without ever getting to see what would happen between the two of you. He hates how gushy and mushy he’s become over the last two days- at this rate, he’s just going to embarrass himself when you ultimately don’t return his feelings.
“Be my date for Tav and Gale’s wedding,” he blurts out of nowhere.
Nice going panty dropper- you call that romantic?
“What?”
You literally said one sentence and blew up the whole thing, Astarion scolds himself.
Astarion clears his throat, “I couldn’t think of a better plus one nor anyone I would want to suffer through the cheesy affair with.”
“Yes!” You exclaim, jumping up, “one hundred thousand times yes! Oh my gosh!!!!!! We will need to go shopping or thieving- who cares- I GET TO GO TO A WEDDING WITH MY FAVORITE PERSON!!!!!”
Oh thank Gods.
Your once melancholy mood has shifted and Astarion feels a warm glow in his chest. He can already think of what cut would fit you best, what colors, how your hair should look, etc.
You ask him so many questions- what color does he think would be best? Will you match with him? What color would be best for both of them? And “GODS ABOVE HOW WILL I DO MY HAIR AND MAKE UP!? I’m out of practice!”
Oh and you made it very clear- absolutely no tulle or crowns.
You both somehow decide on lavender and silver. Astarion figures he’ll wear silver with lavender designs and you will do the opposite.
“What if I don’t remember how to dance!?” You say, mortified, “I’ll embarrass us both!!!”
“Oh the horror- to be forced to save my darling damsel in distress from tripping over her own heels,” he teases, pushing a stray hair out of your face, “I’m sure I have more than enough dancing experience for both of us.”
You look at him and bite your lip- a little bit of worry in your eyes.
“What is it, my Sweet?”
He struggles to stop his smile at the nice blush that courses under your skin at the term of endearment.
“I- I know you hate parties,” you start cautiously, “are you sure you want to dance and everything? We don’t have to if it would make you unhappy. Just being there with you would be more than enough. Unfortunately I can’t offer not going, I think Tara would murder me.”
Well that is… unexpected. Astarion’s body feels like it’s radiating with happiness and affection- you are quite literally perfect.
Pull yourself together.
“I’ll be fine, my Dear,” he says with a slight dismissive wave of his hand, “besides, this is my first party as a free man- who knows? Maybe I’ll become a party fiend.”
“Ha! I don’t think you like people enough to do that.”
“But I like you enough to,” he states, “so if you would like to go to them from time to time- I have no qualms.”
Gods when did he become such a romantic?
You, on the other hand, look like you might explode and he can’t tell why, but he hopes he hasn’t pushed it too far. Astarion is quickly reassured when a coy, mischievous smile passes over your face.
“I promise I won’t make you go to too many parties,” you tease, “one too many and one might end up being a funeral.”
“Ah see, that’s my kind of party!”
“Oh my Gods,” you shake your head, giggling, and put it in both of your hands, “you don’t even like cemeteries.”
“You don’t need a cemetery for a funeral if you are creative enough, Darling,” he smiles cheekily, “I do put the fun in funeral after all.”
You roll your eyes and shake your head with a smile at his Gods awful pun- he learned it from Shadowheart on their adventures and he loves to sprinkle it into conversations.
“Fair.”
Somehow, you eventually end up asleep in his arms in the plush Inn bed like he had dreamed about the other night. You snore softly as Astarion holds you closely to him- making a point of looking at the door and windows frequently enough so there aren’t any surprise visitors.
Astarion has never actually cuddled with anyone (willingly, at least). Anyone who’s ever been in a bed with him has been condemned to becoming Vampire spawn (he almost wishes they had all just been dead). It was just sex, nothing more or less. Sure people offered, but it never felt right.
This? This feels right and like you were made for him. It’s a miracle truly- Intimacy without any sexual touch and he has the choice to be there, curled up around you.
It feels heavenly- better than his trances could have ever imagined.
You are both the same temperature so you almost feel warm to the touch. Your eyes are moving back and forth as you dream, he is relieved to see a content smile on your face.
Astarion is prepared to be there for you if you have nightmares. You have taught him that just having someone to comfort you is enough. He just wishes you didn’t experience any of it in the first place, but he won’t be keeping you too far out of reach or unguarded so hopefully it will never happen again.
Eventually sleep takes Astarion too and he’s grateful for the somewhat peaceful rest- until it turns into a full blown fucking sex dream.
Astarion tries not to jolt you awake- somehow aware enough of his surroundings to know you are still there. You are still fast asleep- dawn is coming and Astarion is not, which could very well be a problem if you wake up while he’s hard.
He sneaks away to the washroom- making sure to lock the door.
He will just take a bath, cool himself off, and then go back to bed for a cuddle. It’ll be like this never happened.
(Smut begins)
He’s never actually masturbated and there is a significant amount of weariness when he thinks about the idea. Sure he’s done it for show, but never in a private, alone moment.
Astarion has basically been celibate for the last nine months and of course, now that you are a ghost person again, his libido decides to rear it’s ugly head.
He doesn’t even know if you actually want him that way!
The water is lukewarm and Astarion leans back against the tub- willing his hard on to go away already. It feels almost impossible to forget his trance- the way your pretty mouth looked around his cock, the way you keened when he filled you for the first time, the dance that takes the act from slow and romantic to something else entirely.
Wild, passionate- unrehearsed.
Astarion wraps his hands around his cock- desperate for any release he can get at this point. He isn’t going to be able to will this trance or these desires away and he is entirely in control of the act- if he becomes uncomfortable or begins to dissociate, he can stop.
“You don’t have to sleep with these people,” you reminded him softly, “Hells- you don’t have to do any of it at all if you don’t want to! Even if you are both naked and you’re already inside the person- you can stop. A good person, a person worthy of you, will respect your needs and be understanding.”
Astarion can stop. You helped him with this realization nine or ten odd months ago.
He strokes himself slowly at first, trying to mimic the movements of the trance- starting with your mouth. You are inexperienced and Astarion imagines teaching you how to suck him off- your wide, beautiful eyes looking up at him eagerly as he praises you for being such a good girl for him.
His breath hitches when he runs his thumb over the head and applying a bit of pressure over his slit, his hips bucking upward and his brain paints the beautiful picture of him thrusting into your mouth- guiding your movements by grasping your hair as gently as he possibly can as he gets closer and closer to his peak.
In this fantasy- you moan around his mouth and you are touching yourself while taking his whole length until he hits the back of your throat. You wear his shirt like you are now- nipples pert, your breasts swaying as he thrusts into you. Your eyes are lustful, hazy, and wanting.
Astarion’s head goes back by instinct- a breathy moan escaping his mouth and he’s thinking about what it might be like to be inside you. What it would be like to finally connect with someone he adores intimately.
He imagines exploring every single inch of you- finding what makes you wet and wanting for him. Astarion will ruin you for any other lover- his tongue teasing your clit and lapping up your juices like a man dying of thirst.
Astarion wants- no, needs- you to be crying out his name and telling him how you will only ever be his like he will only ever be yours.
(Smut ends)
He reaches his peak much faster than he anticipated- the release feeling like heaven. Astarion pants as he stares up at the ceiling, entirely blissed out.
Now that was incredible. He can understand why people enjoy it from time to time.
His mind continues to think of you and it gets caught on the words the elderly woman had said earlier today- about how you were lucky to have him and vice versa. Astarion let’s his brain indulge for a millisecond before locking the thought back into the “we aren’t going to talk about this right now, self!” box.
Althaeastra “Birdie” Ancunín. She would want a nice, but simple ring- nothing gaudy, he pauses his thoughts, or maybe she needs one simple ring and one gaudy one. Especially with her ability to pick up music again. What if she has to dress especially nice for an occasion? The ring should at least be able to tell people all the way out in the courtyard that she is spoken for.
He pushes his guilty pleasure thoughts aside. You are his dearest and closest companion- he will not screw that up by making you feel like you have to be in a relationship with him or like you have to jump into something right away. You just started your life and why would Astarion be your top pick? He’s a disaster- with or without you.
Well, the bliss was wonderful while it lasted. Now he’s just sad.
After cleaning up- Astarion finds himself leaning against the door frame, jealous of the warm rays of sun that get to kiss your face first thing this morning. You are still asleep and don’t stir when Astarion climbs back into bed behind you.
One day, he will tell you his feelings, but for now? Astarion is going to try to go back to sleep.
***********************************************************************
Author note: Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are always appreciated! Please let me know if you would like to be on the tag list! I am using the Ghostwalk campaign for NPCs, locations, etc. It is a 3e Campaign and doesn’t mirror 5e Ghosts. I have tweaked some of the ghost powers and such for the sake of the story, but if you would like more information on Ghostwalk and the City of Manifest, there is a PDF online that is free to download :)
Tag List: @n3rdybirdee @fandomarchiveilyd @dajeong @hotmesshobbit @godoffuckedupcats @bitchstarion @hereliesblackdragon @pebble-bb @preciouslittlebhaalbae @lavvyan @beepersteeper
#baldurs gate 3#astarion#astarion x reader#baldurs gate astarion#bg3 spoilers#astarion x tav#astarion romance#astarion x you#bg3#karlach#astarion x f! reader#astarion x female tav#astarion x female reader#astarion ancunin#astarion angst#astarion fanfiction#astarion smut
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I've been wanting to do this forever so why not now
RATING SPYRO'S MODELS IN EACH GAME (these are the models themselves, not like his designs outside of the games in like promotional materials and stuff. That may be a later post idk yet)
Spyro 1
The classic Spyro design. The small line of blue scales. The little yellow gradient on his cheeks and snout in cutscenes. The brown horns and big, expressive eyes. Oh yeah, this is prime Spyro right here. Will take points because the wings are very small and awkwardly shaped, which to be fair it is 1998 playstation so like. What can you do.
9/10
Spyro 2/3
Now this? This is perfection here. Takes everything the Spyro 1 model does and does it better. Still has the little blue scales I love so much and the brown horns, but with much better wing shape and size. Top tier Spyro model. Might be my favorite of all of them, even.
10/10
Spyro: Enter the Dragonfly
I like how they decided to texture in more scales during the jump from ps1 to ps2. Sadly this may be the only thing i like about this model. It's not the worst thing i've ever seen, but it looks so... gummy? Some of the details look kind of odd to me, like the yellow claws and unevenly spaced lines along his chest. This also removed the blue scales lining around his underbelly and adds the yellow horns which I'm not crazy about. A few points for still trying to be mostly loyal to the ps1 designs shape wise.
5/10
Spyro: A Hero's Tail
Now this is a pretty good improvement from the enter the dragonfly model. I'm not crazy about the snout shape, looks a bit too round and i think the nostrils are a bit too high on his face, but overall a good spyro! the introduction of the purple eyes is cool too (personally im a red eyed spyro truther but still)
7/10
Spyro: Shadow Legacy
HAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHA HOLY FUCK HAHAHHAHA. okay okay okay to be fair this one is a ds game and spyro himself is suuuuper small on the screen so like. of course he'd be low poly. does get some points for spyro having sharper and more mean features. though you probably wouldn't notice in the game
4/10
Legends Spyro New Beginning/Eternal Night
Might be nostalgia talking but I actually still really like this design. I like his snout shape and more lightning bolt shaped horns, and i find his head and back spikes kinda cool, even if i like the classic shape of them better, it works for this design. His horns are a tad bit more brownish (it's more visible in the game), which you know I love. This spyro is overall very cute!! Maybe a bit too cute, but I enjoy him
8/10
Legends Spyro Dawn of the Dragon
I don't. like him.
the back legs look fucked up, the wings are way too thick at the base by the shoulders and then they're so small but then get so long by the end. i like the little added scales along his underbelly. that's about it. you would think taking the previous model and making him older would be easy but i guess not. a point because you can tell he's older and if you only look at his head the model is nice. not the rest though. god.
2/10
Skylanders
This might be controversial but i dont care. i actually like the skylanders spyro design. he leans more into the cool factor than cute, which i can appreciate, and he kinda reminds me of a pug a little bit and i really like pugs. he's got kind of a beast/monster factor i really like. i love love love the horn shape and the big claws, and the yellow claws dont even look awkward here!! the red eyes really pop too! i think he's really fun
7/10
side note i also LOVE spyro's design in the skylanders show too ESPECIALLY HIS COLORING LOOK HOW NICE HE LOOKS it takes the best parts of the game model and improves it. i know this isn't from the game but it's too good not to include.
9/10
Spyro Reignited
I do really really really love this model, it's near perfect. perfectly balances the cute/coolness factor. the shapes are all good, the wings are small but not too small. love the darker scales across his body. his little thumbs are so fun too. honestly this is the best they could have done for a remodel of the first 3 games. only taking off a point because im not crazy about the colors, i prefer the darker purples and brown horns.
9/10
BONUS: CRASH ON THE RUN
Im so torn on this one because on one hand the cartoony stylization really works in these models. i love the bigger snout, i think it's fun, and i LOVE LOVE LOVE taking his head spikes and kind of splitting them up like hair. that's so fun! but on the negative end I HATE THE WAY HIS FEET LOOK SO MUCH OH MY GOD. they're like wretched lumps of clay with little claws jammed into them. granted this was for a mobile app BUT STILL. the feet really just fuck me up a lot
6/10
Okay that is all thanks for reading <3 maybe next time i'll rate spyro renders or something <3
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Holy fuck, man. What a trip Fearne has been on, huh?
You tell her how grateful you are to have her in your life, you flatter her, you tell her you need her, that you have to do this together. You have her make a promise that has this woman, born of chaos and fey, agreeing through shaking hands and a trembling voice.
You make her deceive your friends; you make her follow where they cannot know; you make her help you into this contraption; you make her feed this thing into you despite the fact that you both have been warned extensively of the risks. You make her watch you crumble and splinter and shatter and fracture and burst and implode. You make her watch you die, over and over and over and over, for a minute in agonizing bullet time.
You make her do all these things, because when she tries to back out, when she tries to not be the one who let you do this—how could you do this—
you tell her, "YOU PROMISED."
Because if there's one thing you know, it's that the fey do not break a promise.
#cant wait for her to fucking pissed for a very long time. shes really packing the entire human experience in a very short period of time.#critical role#cr spoilers#c3e77#fearne calloway#ashton greymoore#bells hells#just gonna get ahead of the um actually mfs and state that i am aware that its not confirmed that thats why ash brought up the promise#but boy howdy would it make for some great drama down the line huh?#edit: apparently i did not get ahead enough cuz ive had to turn off replies#since ppl were somehow interpreting this mini introspection piece as me infantilizing fearne??#anyway the first line is now changed to something a bit more neutral. after sleeping on it i do see how it was a bit aggressive at the top#other than that im not sure how else to reword without completely disregarding the core of the post#i might make more posts addressing this but im not sure yet. i wanna try to approach it in the best way possible.#but if it helps any the point of the post was not to say fearne had no agency. she had plenty of moments where she tilted one way or the#other. the POINT was to just shine some light on the emotional pressure she had been put under.#hasnt your friend ever asked you to keep a secret or promise that felt wrong or unsafe or made you anxious?#it has nothing to do with the amount of agency she had. ash wasnt holding a knife to her throat and forcing her to follow against her will#all i was trying to do was take this detail about his reminder of the promise that i thought was interesting and have some fun writing an#overview of the kinda stress she was under BEFORE theyd reached that scene. this entire ep was everyone discussing how grateful they were#for this family theyd made. and while im not saying ash was PURPOSELY emotionally manipulating fearne..#there is a level of unintentional manipulation when you pair the severity of his request with the convo theyd had 2 seconds prior#as well as the desperate need they all have to save each other NO MATTER WHAT.#ash was giving incredibly strong energy of a friend who peer pressures you into helping them do something that you know in your gut WILL#cause problems. hes a fucked up guy. theyre all fucked up guys. even if he didnt mean to “force” her into anything the pressure was THERE.#<- i feel like all of this overall gets my message across. i think maybe ill clean it up later into its own post.#im gonna try not to rush myself to get it done tho.#im under no obligation to explain myself. especially when ppl approach the misunderstanding by being rude af. but i do think it CAN#be clarified so id at least like to try to some degree
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Helloooo~!! Could I request the men in honkai star rail with an s/o who makes various different plushies for themselves and the men?
Just imagine Dan Heng getting a chonky dragon plushie version of himself.
✩ ‒ You guys have the most creative ideas sometimes lmao I would’ve never thought of this and it is such a cute idea!!
✩ ‒ I wasn't going to do everyone but they came out really short so I made it up by adding more characters ^w^
✩ ‒ Characters: Caelus, Dan Heng, Welt, Gepard, Sampo, Luocha, Jing Yuan, Blade
✩ ‒ Caelus
He’s not the biggest plushie guy out there, but come on. You made it so cute and all.
He keeps it safe in his room and does a pretty good job at keeping it clean. Like dust free and all.
Caelus isn’t ashamed of it by any means, everyone knows about it. He just doesn’t want to end up tearing it or something which is why it's always in his room.
Big fan. You made a couple of yourself and he keeps them together. They're together like the two of you are. He’s debating on getting a dedicated shelf.
✩ ‒ Dan Heng
He originally received two. One of his normal self and then his Vidyadhara half. It’s so accurate, too. He definitely spent a few hours analyzing them both.
He wasn’t sure at first but the longer he had it, the more he began to like it. He kinda sleeps with it now. I mean... they're just on his bed and that's where he sleeps...
You’re welcome to make more but he doesn’t have room to place them. Besides… how many could you possibly make?
He actually likes the little dragon one. It’s so cute, the details are well done, and you seem to really like it too.
✩ ‒ Welt
Aww, a plushie for him? It was so cute! It even had his lil cane and all. Honestly, Welt loves it.
He keeps it with him all the time. When you often go off on missions, he likes to hold it for comfort.
When you made one of yourself, he decided the plushies could never be separated- much like you two. So, basically now he carries two plushies with him at all times.
Pom Pom and Himeko gush over the cuteness of the plushie. You’re really talented, why not start a business at this point? You'll definitely get March or Stelle asking for one too.
✩ ‒ Gepard
He was confused at first. Why did you make a plushie of him? But he really liked it. You even got the shield right.
He prefers it to stay at home where his fellow guards can’t see it because it’s a little embarrassing. He’s a grown man and all.
Ok, but it’s so cute. The little hair, the outfit- the shield! Come on? How is he supposed to remain composed? He will stare at it sadly when he has to go to work.
He had to admit, when you made one of yourself it felt complete. The plushies are always sitting together on his bed. Sometimes, he'll even put a blanket over them to keep them warm.
✩ ‒ Sampo
Omg once he gets one, it's on his person permanently. He loves seeing you work on them, too. It gives him a perspective on how much work you put into them
He’ll give suggestions all the time and you do make most of them. You often make yourself as well and it leads to lots of matching plushies.
Sampo did try to make one himself but it looked horrendous. He tried to throw it away but you wouldn’t let him!
That thing haunts his dreams but you like it for whatever reason. Honestly, Sampo takes that thing everywhere and even learned how to wash it properly.
✩ ‒ Luocha
The accuracy. His hair, eyes, outfit, the coffin- it even opens! Like, the effort that went into that was phenomenal.
Luocha is a big fan and does keep the plushie with him during his travels but keeps it hidden. It's something that reminds him of you (ironic since it looks like him).
He’s rather protective of the plushie. Someone once tried to take it and well… he almost stuffed them in the coffin. Lmao jk.
… ok, he did it once and never again, you can’t judge him, that’s his plushie. You gave it to him, not that rando. And no, it wasn't a kid! Why do people keep asking him that?
✩ ‒ Jing Yuan
Mind blown. Seriously, the talent that took was incredible! You even made a Lightning Lord plushie which attaches to the Jing Yuan one.
He keeps them on his desk at work and no one is allowed to touch them. He's worried others might damage them, but he wants to show them off at the same time.
He keeps the one you made of yourself with him though. It’s his good luck charm. Much like you.
Secretly hates tearing apart the plushie version of you and him. Heartbreaking when they have to see each other go. Sniff.
✩ ‒ Blade
Ok, listen. This is Blade we’re talking about. He can’t just be seen carrying a plushie- and of himself, no less. It’s embarrassing.
Is what he thought until he saw how sad you got when you found out he left it in a drawer. On the pain in his heart…
Now he keeps it on his person all the time. He even learned how to wash it because it’ll get dirty sometimes. No blood gets on it though, don't worry. Just some minor dirt or something.
For tougher missions, he puts the plushie in a plastic bag to keep it safe. It’s like a good luck charm of his. He lost it once and he almost had a heart attack.
#honkai star rail x reader#hsr x reader#caelus x reader#dan heng x reader#jing yuan x reader#blade x reader#hsr luocha x reader#sampo x reader#gepard x reader#welt yang x reader#hsr jing yuan#hsr blade#hsr sampo#hsr caelus#🖊─ pocky’s writings#gender neutral reader
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I wish I had a smitten Bucky. Just sees me and wants me. 🥺
I know the feeling, nonnie.
Check Yes or No
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Summary: Bucky instantly falls for you, but waits to ask you out.
Word Count: Over 2.1k
Warnings: Fluff, could be seen as instalove on Bucky's side, attraction, slight insecurities, minor time jump, Alpine being the best, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).
A/N: I can't send Bucky your way, lovelies, so I hope you enjoy this short, surprise fic! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
Bucky wasn't looking for love the day he met you, but it found him anyway.
“Hey, Buck,” Steve greeted from his seat when he walked into the conference rooms and nodded to the spot beside him that you occupied. “I’d like you to meet our newest transfer. She’s also moving into the Tower.”
He was a changed man the moment your eyes met. Breathtaking was a word to describe you given how he had forgotten to breathe. He had witnessed many sunrises and sunsets in his life, a kaleidoscope of colors painted in the sky to both soothe and awaken the soul. They paled in comparison to the beauty before him.
One glance and he belonged to you completely.
“Hi, Bucky. It’s nice to meet you.”
While he wasn't sure if Heaven existed, you speaking his name was like hearing the voice of an angel.
“I’m Bucky.”
Of all the things he could've said, reiterating his name was what his mouth went with.
Instead of giving him a weird look or brushing him off when he scowled at himself, you smiled. “I look forward to us working together.”
Bucky couldn't tell you what the meeting was about that day, but he remembered the details about you. The way you leaned forward in your seat to pay extra attention when someone else spoke, also giving him an ample view of your chest before he reminded himself not to stare. The slight crease in your forehead when you jotted down an important note. And the soft giggle you let out when Steve cracked a joke.
He suddenly wished he was funnier.
“Have a good rest of the day, Bucky,” you said when the meeting ended.
Bucky didn't have to try to smile with you. It just came naturally. When you smiled back, it was easy to imagine what it would be like if you were his girl.
“You, too,” he replied, giving himself a mental victory for not screwing up his words this time. “Wait!”
You paused and looked at him expectantly. “Yeah?”
Bucky realized he had no reason to keep you from leaving. He just didn't want you to go. “Do you need help moving your stuff in?”
“I actually got my things moved in late last night, but thanks for the offer,” you replied, checking the time with wide eyes. “I'm so sorry. I have to go. I’m in 2L if you need anything!”
“Bye,” he called after you, turning in his chair to watch you go.
How did he miss you already?
Though Steve had a knowing look in his eyes, he graciously kept his mouth shut as he left the room. He reminded him an hour later that he wouldn't break any bylaws by asking you out. The punk somehow knew that you weren't seeing anyone.
Which made him happy.
While he appreciated Steve looking out for happiness, he still had to get his head on straight.
“Once I completely trust my own mind, maybe I will,” Bucky said, even though the stuff was already out of his head. He owed it to himself to take his time. And you.
Imagine his surprise when he found a note from you on his door the next day.
Hey, Bucky! Lunch on me today? Check YES or NO.
The lopsided grin on his face wouldn't go away when he read it again. You must've been interested in him enough to ask about him. How else did you know his apartment number? Why else would you ask him to lunch?
He nearly shouted “YES” in the hall before he came to his senses and simply checked the option before he returned the note to your apartment door.
When he met up with you later, he told himself it wasn't a date. It couldn't be, right? It didn't keep his heart from stopping when you answered your door. Dressed down and casual, you looked like an angel went to Earth just for him.
“Hey, Bucky,” you smiled. “Ready to go?”
He hadn't said much on the way to the cafe since he was too busy hanging on to your every word, but it was like he had known you for ages as you carried on the conversation. Your questions weren't invasive and you didn't seem to mind the occasional short answers. It was also the shortest meal of his life, over too soon for his liking, and he also refused to let you pay for his meal.
He wanted to show you that gentlemen still existed.
“Lunch again next week?” You offered.
“Sure,” he answered, his head spinning from giddiness.
But it wasn't a date.
It was time to change that.
Today was the day. Six months from the day he met you. Six months of chatting with you between missions and slowly getting to know you over weekly lunches. Six months of falling for you more and more each day and he finally worked up the courage to ask you out.
But falling was the easy part. Confessing was an entirely different story. He would either crash to the ground and hope his wounds would later heal or you’d catch him as he fell. No matter what, he wouldn't let his nerves get the better of him.
“Just like we practiced, okay?” Bucky asked.
“Meow.”
Alpine nuzzled her head against Bucky’s with a gentle purr when he huffed. She was his little partner-in-crime through and through. Like you, even though you didn't realize it, the little white ball of fur helped save him. He was fairly certain he wasn't supposed to bring her to this floor, but any reprimand would be worth it.
Besides, the Tower, office, anywhere they operated should allow them to have their pets with them, especially for emotional support.
“I'm counting on you,” he teased, placing the folded up piece of paper in her mouth. “Go.”
He peeked around the corner when he set Alpine down. The sun illuminated you from where you sat in the lounge, curled up in your normal spot on the sofa. You liked to relax there occasionally to read. He wondered what book you had with you today.
Thankfully, no one was around to disturb you.
Except for him.
“Alpine, is that you?” You asked when you looked up, closing the book as the cat approached you. While the feline was cautious of some, she warmed up to you immediately when you met and solidified that you were the one for him. “Whatcha got there? Where’s Bucky?”
His name spilling from your lips was still one of his favorite sounds.
He held his breath when Alpine jumped up beside you, opened her mouth, and dropped the paper in your lap. He immediately began to second guess himself when you unfolded it with a furrowed brow. Why did he think this was a good idea? Why didn't he just ask you like a normal guy?
To be fair, he hadn't been normal for some time.
“Will you go out with me? Check YES or NO. Love, Bucky,” you read out loud with a huge smile, which was enough to make his heart race. You giggled a moment later when Alpine bumped your hand, the soft noise making his stomach do a funny sort of flip. “Okay, okay. Let me get my pen out of my bag.”
Bucky exhaled a little as he moved to stand in the doorway. You didn't toss the paper away, so that had to be a good sign. He carefully kept himself from showing any outward emotion when you met his gaze, but his knees nearly gave out. His palms also began to sweat when you gave him a half smile.
Just when he thought you couldn't look more beautiful than you had the day before, you proved him wrong.
He ran a hand through his hair and hoped he looked halfway decent since he hadn't brushed it. But you commented a few weeks back that you liked it long when you saw an old photo, so he wanted to grow it out. He lost count of how many times he imagined your fingers in his hair
Maybe one day.
Watching you grab your pen, it was like he was drowning. The tide pulled him under as you made a mark on the sheet. His lungs burned when you handed it back to Alpine. He couldn't come up for air. He couldn't breathe.
Until you smiled again.
“Thanks, Alpine,” you said.
His cat gracefully walked back to Bucky and he swore he caught you trying not to giggle as she climbed up his leg. His heart hammered in his chest when he took the slip of paper from her mouth. Meeting your tender gaze, he couldn't bring himself to open it though.
After he told himself he wouldn't let his nerves get the better of him.
“Not going to see what my answer is?” You asked as he carried Alpine into the lounge.
“I want to,” he replied, sighing as he took a seat beside you. His cat was perfectly content to lay in his lap. “But I’m questioning if I did this the right way.”
The note you gave him for a simple lunch request may have been a small gesture in your eyes, but it meant the world to him. He thought by asking you out this way that he could give you something meaningful in return. Something that only the two of you shared.
That was all he wanted.
You turned toward him, your knee touching his. The small touch sent heat down his spine. “Open it and you’ll find out.”
He nodded, thankful that his vibranium hand didn't shake as he lifted the sheet. “Wait, let me say something before I do.”
The corner of your lip tugged as you tried not to smile. “Bucky-”
“I like you. I really like you. I have since the day we met. And I'm going to like you tomorrow. And the day after that and the day after that,” he admitted in a rush, catching your sharp inhale as he looked into your eyes. “But I know my past isn't easy to deal with. If you just want to be a teammate or colleague, that’s okay. Just. Being a part of your life in some way is more than enough.”
Alpine lifted her head and looked between the two of you, as if she was waiting with baited breath to see what would happen next.
Bucky felt a crack in his heart when you didn't speak or react, his body slumping slightly into the couch. It was okay. He took a chance and told you how he felt. He wouldn't force you to reciprocate.
“Bucky?” You asked above a whisper, reaching over to help him unfold the paper. He gasped when he saw the checkmark beside “YES”, blinking rapidly to make sure you picked that box. “I really like you, too.”
“You do?” He exhaled, grasping your hand with renewed joy. He was careful not to squeeze too hard. Hurting you was the last thing he ever wanted to do.
“Yeah. Pretty much since the day I met you,” you admitted, glancing in your lap before you met his gaze again. He saw stars in your eyes. “And your past isn't your fault, Bucky. You aren't something to ‘deal with’, okay? You’re a good man. I can give you a whole list of reasons if you need it.”
Physically, Bucky’s body was in peak condition. Your confession, however, caused all of the air to leave his lungs and made him weak in the best possible way. A familiar warmth moved through Bucky’s veins as he breathed again and it dawned on him at that moment that he hadn't felt cold since you walked into his life.
Not once.
Your faith in him gave him strength. Your mere existence gave him the courage to try. And he didn't have to go it alone.
“Wow,” he breathed, relieved and elated as he gave you a small smile. “How about tomorrow night?”
“It’s a date,” you smiled.
“Great,” he smiled back. A date. He couldn't wait to see the look on Steve's face when he told him that he finally asked you out.
“And I think the note was purrfect,” you teased at Alpine before you scrunched up your face. “I ruined the moment, didn't I?”
Bucky brought your hand to his mouth, kissing it as gently as he possibly could. He could hear your heart race. So was his. “Not at all.”
He knew it was too soon to say he loved you and it was likely too soon for you to feel that way about him, but he felt hope in your smile that you would one day.
For now, he had a date to plan all because you checked “yes”.
We know it'll be the best date ever, right? Love and thanks for reading! 💙
Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi
#navybrat writes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x female!reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x fem!reader#bucky barnes x f!reader#bucky barnes#bucky x reader#bucky x female reader#bucky x you#bucky x y/n#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes fan fic#bucky barnes fan fiction#bucky fic#james buchanan barnes#james barnes#james bucky barnes#james buchanan barnes x reader#james bucky barnes x reader#james barnes x reader#sebastian stan x reader#sebastian stan x female reader#sebastian stan#bucky barnes fluff
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kiss it better | oscar piastri social media au
pairing: oscar piastri x first responder!reader
when oscar crashes into the barrier at monza, he thinks he sees his guardian angel, in reality he's just got a concussion and that's a first responder, but it's the thought that counts.
f1
liked by arthurleclerc, liamlawson and 1,206,700 others
tagged: oscarpiastri
f1: woah. huge shunt for oscar piastri in turn three. the australian was pulled out of the car by first responders and is getting treatment. red flag for now.
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user1: omg like my breath was completely gone, i hope oscar is okay
user2: holy shit that's the worst crash i've ever seen i'm so glad they aren't replaying it
user3: i tuned in late and i knew as soon as they didn't replay it it had to be bad
user4: thank the lord for the first responders, they were so fast i hope oscar is good
user5: i'm gonna need netflix to take the backseat on this one i can't take the dramatic editing this is already stressful enough
user6: the grosjean crash was bad enough, i can't deal with it with oscar
user7: are there any updates yet?
user8: not yet.
user9: i'm sat in the grandstand right where this was and it was literally so scary, the first responders literally had to jump on the car
user10: so so lucky that they were stationed so close to where he crashed
oscarpiastri
liked by landonorris, yourusername and 1,309,761 others
tagged: yourusername
oscarpiastri: first of all i'd like to thank everyone for their support and well wishes, i really appreciate it. it's actually thanks to y/n and the rest of the first responders that i'm back on my feet as fast as i am. big thank you to y/n for sacrificing her ability to shower comfortably to help me out of the car and avoid the flames, i am eternally grateful and mama piastri would like you over for dinner to thank you.
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user9: i'm so so happy he's okay, that crash was so scary
landonorris: glad to hear you're okay mate !
oscarpiastri: you can't get rid of me that easily norris
landonorris: woah, no joking about dying when you've only been discharged for 24 hours
oscarpiastri: sorry, skipped over that one in my contract
danielricciardo: make sure you always read that mclaren contract carefully
user11: thank you y/n for your service
user12: for real she put her leg on the line for oscar she needs a raise
yourusername: it was my pleasure to do my job and help you out oscar. and i'll always take up an offer for a mum's dinner
oscarpiastri: she'll be very happy to hear that
yourusername: text me the details and i'll be there
user13: it's so crazy to me how f1 drivers just get up and walk out of crashes like that
user14: no for real how is the medic more injured than him 😭
logansargent: you are so lucky there were no cameras when you were on painkillers cause you were talking some shit
oscarpiastri: please don't remind me
logansargent: just because there weren't cameras in the room doesn't mean i didn't record you, i look forward to my birthday present this year
oscarpiastri: you wouldn't
logansargent: you wanna bet?
user15: so like how bad do we think what oscar said was?
user16: and how much do we need to pay logan to release it?
mclaren
liked by oscarpiastri, yourusername and 609,778 others
tagged: landonorris, oscarpiastri & yourusername
mclaren: after her heroics in the first half of the season, y/n finally took oscar up and is a guest of mclaren this weekend. as a medic, y/n is one of the most important aspects of a race weekend, and it's an honour to host her!
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user17: did oscar write this caption? that man was BLUSHING in the fan questions video
user18: awwww mama piastri is also there this weekend and in a load of the pictures in the paddock they stuck together
oscarpiastri: so happy to see you again y/n !!
yourusername: my pleasure, oscar. racing is a lot more fun from the garage
oscarpiastri: i'll try my best not to crash this time, i know my favourite medic isn't on duty
yourusername: oh wow what a title, i'll wear it with pride
user19: they're such dorks i love them so much
landonorris: can someone get me some popcorn, i'm enjoying watching oscar squirm and blush all weekend
oscarpiastri: i am NOT !!
landonorris: don't worry i'm sure y/n finds it cute
oscarpiastri: can you please STOP !!
yourusername: not to prove lando right but it is very cute
user20: lando is taking his big brother role a bit too far
alexalbon: you were right @logansargent this is fun to watch
logansargent: oh just you wait until you find out the stuff he was saying in hospital
oscarpiastri: please stop telling people
alexalbon: from what i heard she was right there @yourusername what did he say logan is being a good friend (for now)
yourusername: considering i literally fried my leg getting him out i don't remember most of that day
alexalbon: UGH you people are no help
yourusername: ???
oscarpiastri: ???
yourusername
liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 2,560 others
tagged: oscarpiastri
yourusername: no pulling this one out of a burning wreck this weekend 👍
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user21: omg oscar's smile ??? i am faint
landonorris: do i mean nothing to you?
yourusername: i am literally oscar's guest let me rep him in peace
landonorris: booooooo if you're going to wear his number might as well ask him out while you're at it
yourusername: mind your business, i know what i'm doing
user22: Y/N?????????
oscarpiastri: i see you know my angles already, can you come every weekend?
yourusername: i'd love to but i have a lil thing called a job :(
oscarpiastri: boring, can't you be my full time personal photographer?
landonorris: and his girlfriend?
oscarpiastri: do you mind?
landonorris: what? i'm just trying to help
oscarpiastri: you are MEDDLING
yourusername: you guys done?
oscarpiastri: yes
landonorris: NO
user23: lando is a no 1 y/n x oscar shipper he's so real
user24: y/n is so much stronger than me i'd hand in my notice right this second
yourusername: believe me i would if i could
landonorris: to both options?
oscarpiastri: LANDO STOP
yourusername
liked by alexalbon, oscarpiastri and 19,056 others
tagged: oscarpiastri
yourusername: happy to be your guardian angel baby x
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user29: new f1 parents just entered the chat
landonorris: i'm taking responsibility for this happening, you’re welcome
yourusername: stop right there buddy, this was all ME
oscarpiastri: nuh uh it was ME
yourusername: i asked YOU out?
oscarpiastri: technically yes, but i asked you to dinner first
yourusername: actually, if i remember correctly that was your mum
oscarpiastri: FINE you asked me out and i'm very glad you did and you ARE my guardian angel and you ARE way out of my league
landonorris: you said it i didn't
oscarpiastri: LANDO LET ME FLIRT IN PEACE YOU NUISANCE
landonorris: woah, you've changed bro
yourusername: are we finished boys?
landonorris: yes, and for real i am very happy for you guys
user30: lando saying he made this happen is the most lando thing ever
logansargent: can you tell him to stop ignoring me now?
yourusername: soz under strict rules not to fraternize with a traitor
logansargent: I'M SORRY BUT I CAN'T HANDLE SPICE
user31: at least logan is self-aware
oscarpiastri
liked by aussiegrit, yourusername and 702,443 others
tagged: yourusername
oscarpiastri: sometimes all you need to do is flip an f1 car into a barrier and burst into flames to meet the love of your life (and give her third degree burns)
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user32: OSCAR WITH A BACKWARDS CAP TEACHING HER TENNIS SOMEONE CALL 911 I AM NOT OKAY
landonorris: okay we get it now you guys are cute
yourusername: for someone who was 'the reason we got together' you've changed your tune
landonorris: yes i am glad you have each other but that doesn't change the fact that i am LONELY and don't need to see gross couple stuff
oscarpiastri: you poor baby
landonorris: NO SYMPATHY?
oscarpiastri: i'm gonna cite all of your tomfoolery in the other comment sections
landonorris: okay fair
user33: okay but can we promise to never have a crash like that again?
yourusername: agreed
aussiegrit: happy for you kid
oscarpiastri: thank you mark :)
yourusername: so this is mark... hi?
aussiegrit: don't worry i've heard nothing but wonderful things about you, i look forward to meeting you at the next race
user34: y/n already has all of the approval oh wow
yourusername: i love you dummy (never do that again or i'll never talk to you again)
oscarpiastri: you got it, wins only from now on 🫡
yourusername: ur the champion in my heart
oscarpiastri: 🧡 🧡 🧡
logansargaent
liked by alexalbon, yourusername and 304,788 others
tagged: yourusername, oscarpiastri
logansargeant: public shaming is good sometimes. though now i third wheel with only a fish by my side
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user35: i am SCREAMING
yourusername: oh florida boy, your time will come (don't put that fish pic on your tinder, i know you want to)
logansargeant: girls love fish?
yourusername: trust me they don't
logansargeant: is this just because oscar is bad at fishing?
yourusername: DELETE IT FROM YOUR TINDER PROFILE NOW OR THIRD WHEEL FOREVER
user36: what is going on here?
alexalbon: god logan this is tragic, how did you expose him and end up with a fish as your date
logansargeant: but is the size of the fish not impressive?
alexalbon: no, take y/n's advice
oscarpiastri: fine, you're forgiven. only because y/n found it cute, if she found it weird it would be you found at the bottom of a lake
logansargeant: ???????????? there was a chilli oscar
oscarpiastri: stop hiding behind your american passport, i'd eat that chilli for you
logansargeant: but it all worked out?
oscarpiastri: thankfully for you
yourusername: is it bad that this is kinda sexy?
logansargeant: he threatened to murder me?
yourusername: he's so protective 🫶
oscarpiastri: hehehehe thanks babe x
logansargeant: i give up.
note: WOAH two in one night? i am on a roll. anyhow, do enjoy, i love oscar so much so glad he extended !! xx
#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 instagram au#f1 x you#f1#oscar piastri instagram au#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri#oscar piastri imagine#oscar piastri x reader
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Haha ok I wanted to do this for a while actually, but I've been having trouble drawing (particularly continuing the comic) but I've decided to take it a little easy (again). And I just really wanted to write out my concepts and ideas of the bishops as followers!! so here is Heket & Leshy!! woohoo
Kallamar and Shamura
Summary:
Okay so although Heket is not hard of hearing she uses ASL to communicate !! In particular with the Lamb, since they're one of the few who also understand ASL. She is able to speak (at some degree) whenever the Lamb is present in the cult grounds and grants her (temporary) ability to vocalize (such things that the crown(s) have shown to be able to do before the bishops got dethroned). Despite this she prefers not speaking/communicating, since it still strains her throat. She prefers to keep to herself, and so she often goes (on her own accord) on expeditions.
Smaller character details:
•When trying to communicate with someone who doesn't know ASL, either the Lamb translates, Shamura, or she simply writes it down for whoever she needs to talk to. Which rarely happens.
•She lets a lot weigh on her shoulders than she lets on, constantly trying to help with the burdens of others she cares about, in an attempt to make their life easier.
•Most of her time is spent either outside or with Shamura. They simply sit in silence and just seek peace, and overall just checks on Shamura a lot.
•Heket actually thinks that Kallarmar is also an idiot alongside Leshy, but does not disregard that he has a TON of potential if he just stopped being so stubborn as well. They work together quite well.
The lamb is actually quite fond of Heket to a degree, her boldness and assertiveness when placing boundaries is something they admire, in a way. And they're often reminded of a handful of people from their past, hence why she might get special treatment.
Summary:
Alongside Heket, he's one of the most active members in the cult, and interacts with the Lamb a LOT. But he barely respects their boundaries and does not pay any mind to the damage caused by him. However he's not intentionally being foolish when it comes to his actions. He just doesn't realize what it can do unless he's explicitly told, to which he surprisingly listens very well. He's, SUPER expressive, he cannot hide his thoughts nor expressions well if at all, and although he lacks tact he's very honest, most of the time.
Smaller character details:
•His spikes on his "fur" are highly venomous, don't pet the worm.
•Yes, his little antennas are used for hearing, they often twitch whenever he hears the smallest of sound. He also twists them like they're TV antennas as if that'd help him hear more.
•Although his arms and legs don't have green fur, it's still fairly hairy, and has leaves EVERYWHERE, especially on the armpits and below his knees.
•Despite what I said earlier, the Lamb does not dislike, nor hate Leshy. In fact they're also quite forgiving with him, for more reasons than one. The Lamb surprisingly allows him to cross his boundaries, to an extent. They still find him quite exhausting when exposed to his overly energetic and unpredictable nature.
For him to navigate through cult grounds (and beyond) he leaves marks, little drawings/symbols to indicate what a place is, or simply a signal (each mark has a distinct meaning, which I already have covered).
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You don't fool me
A/n: two thing- first this took me forever to write, I kept having to go back and scrap ideas 🥹 second, I did not know just how down bad I was for this man until I had to sit down and write this so.
Also friendly reminder- if your age isn't easily accessible on your profile I will not be tagging you! That said if you'd like a tag in future works let me know and I'll add you to the list!
bestie beta reader: @yukios-medic you are really the best ma'am I appreciate you so much 🥹💙💙💙
Pairing: Sukuna x fem!reader, Yuji pining
cw/tw: minors/ageless blogs DNI, all characters aged up, dub-con that becomes enthusiastic consent, unprotected sex, cream pie, fingering, oral sex (female receiving), oral sex (male receiving), rough sex, dirty talk, threats of killing
Word count: 5k (ish)
This wasn't the first time they'd been paired up and sent off to find and kill a curse, but it was the first time Yuji was weary of the whole thing. They were both strong, that wasn't an issue – he'd been on back-to-back missions for weeks and it was starting to take its toll, that was the issue.
Of course, it didn't help that whenever he was around her, Sukuna would become an even bigger pain in the ass (than he already was).
They'd been sent to a long-abandoned warehouse, falling apart as it was, and radiating with cursed energy. Yep, whatever it was they were after was definitely in here.
"Split up to cover more ground?" She suggested as she looked up at him, but he shook his head.
"We can probably exorcize it quicker if we come across it at the same time, we should just stick together for now." It was a simple enough explanation, not a hint of 'I'm pushing my limits just being here with you' or 'it's easier to know you're safe if you're by my side' detectable.
To her, at least. Yuji chooses to ignore the scoff that resonates in his head as they cautiously enter the building. They walk side-by-side down the hallway, ears and eyes analyzing every detail of their surroundings.
"Must be one pain in the ass curse to send the both of us. I can feel the cursed energy everywhere, I just can't tell exactly where the source is." She filled the silence, wringing her hands together nervously.
"Yeah, I know what you mean. It’s out there, but it's all about the same output. We'll just have to watch our backs." Yuji said with a nod.
"Hey, what do you think Nobara did when she found out Gojo canceled movie night to send us after this one? I can see her practically popping a vein." She laughed softly, moving around a stack of boxes to find any sign of their curse.
"Fushiguro is probably wishing it was you that got left behind right about now." Yuji guessed with a small chuckle, suppressing the thought that he might have wished for it, too. A faint gurgle sounded at the opposite end of the hall, cursed energy seeping into every corner of their bodies as it grew closer.
Yuji covered her mouth with his hand, keeping her scream muffled as he tugged her against his chest and pulled them into the shadows.
"Shh, I think I hear something." He murmurs, squinting in the darkness. He doesn't feel the mouth form on his hand, not until her lips are moving against his palm as she makes a noise.
She's gagging; trying to pry Yuji's hand off her face. And he's going to – until Sukuna's voice rings in his head.
'Pull away and I'll bite her tongue off. Try to keep her quiet while she's drowning in her own blood'
Yuji froze as Sukuna cackled, and she still struggled in his grip, now like iron to keep the curse from making good on his threat.
His name was muffled when she frantically tried to call it, but it only left her mouth open that much more for Sukuna to swipe his tongue along the inside.
If they could conceal their own cursed energy for just a second, then it would keep going on its path to the left of them, and probably wouldn't circle back around for a while. Yuji set his jaw, glaring up the hall as he spoke.
"Conceal your energy, then we'll deal with him. One curse at a time." The only confirmation she gave that she heard him was slightly loosening her grip on his arm.
The curse slunk away and Yuji held his breath, waiting to hear any sign of it coming back. When he was sure it wasn’t, he let out a sigh and threw his head back against the wall. Taking a moment to realize the situation they were still in he looked down at her.
He couldn’t see the blush in her cheeks, but he could feel the heat on his fingers. She shifted her body against his, letting out a whimper at the awkward kiss she was still locked in.
Yuji swallowed hard and took a deep breath. This was so not the time to be letting the sounds she was making go straight to his cock.
'You want her so badly, take her.' Sukuna taunted.
"No." Yuji snapped his response, trying to think of a way out of this (and the boner he was starting to sport against her back).
'Fuck her, brat. Or I'll kill her the next time I get the chance, and I'll draw it out while I make you watch.'
Sukuna knew well what he was doing, keeping this conversation in Yuji's head. She had no clue what he was trying to shield her from. Of course he wanted her, but not like this. Not when Sukuna was all but forcing his hand on the matter, not even giving her a choice.
“I said no! Knock it off!” Sukuna just chuckled, and she turned her head to look up at him with worry in her eyes.
'Or perhaps you’d like me to put us both out of commission. Tell me, just how long do you think she’d last against this curse on her own?'
Yuji’s heart dropped to his stomach. There’s no way Sukuna hated her enough to let her die like this, not with the way he found her so entertaining to him. Not with the way he currently had his tongue down the back of her throat- right?
'No, but if it would cause you everlasting turmoil, I’d jump at the chance.'
Could she ever forgive him for doing this? Would Sukuna even drop this after all was said and done?
Yuji was exhausted, and Sukuna knew it too. It was only a matter of time before he could slip out and swap places.
'I could always assist instead. After all, one wrong move and she’s on her own anyways. Go ahead brat, ask me for my help.' He grinned.
“No, last time I let you out you were a dick.” Yuji snapped, but he was running out of options here. How long until that curse realized where they were and turned back around? He could always make a deal with Sukuna, if he would agree to it was another question though.
At the sound of Yuji’s words her body tensed, blood running cold. There was no way Yuji was actually thinking about letting the king of curses out into the wild, especially when he already had her in this position.
'Tic-toc punk ass, this offer isn’t going to last forever.'
“Promise you won’t hurt her first.” Her eyes went wide and she began to struggle in his grasp again, body going hot. Screaming through his palm and Sukuna’s tongue as well as she could manage in protest.
There is no way he’s about to offer his body over to Sukuna right now, and all she could think about were all the previous times he’d spoken to her – though, at her might be a better word. Everything he’d said up to this point, his promises to absolutely wreck her- all came flooding back. Could they really not handle this job any other way than to bring Sukuna into the mix?
'You humans are so predictable, really fucking takes the fun out of everything. I’ll get rid of the curse. Just say you aren’t strong enough, you need a real man to do your dirty work for you.'
“That’s not-”
'Going once…'
“I don’t-”
'Going TWICE...'
“Fine! I need your help, please.” She was hysterical at this point, thrashing in his grip as much as she could, grinding her ass into him harder every time she moved.
'That doesn’t sound like what we agreed to, try again.'
Yuji groaned, thankful he could use that as an excuse to let out some of his frustrations.
“Sukuna please, I’m not strong enough and need a real man to do my dirty work for me.” Yuji bit out, and she stilled at his words, stomach knotting. Any minute now, Sukuna would be breathing down her neck. Months of sexual tension, mostly from his side - would it finally come to a head now? Or would he leave it and just get the job done, let Yuji take back over when it was safe–
A low chuckle rumbled from behind her, and the sound ran straight through her body to her core. She swallowed, realizing the tongue down her throat had finally disappeared.
Sukuna ran a hand up her chest before resting it on her throat.
“Well, well, this is certainly a turn of events, isn’t it?” She whimpered, frozen in place. What the hell was she supposed to do now?
“Sukuna…” She breathed his name warily.
“Surprised to see me? I did tell you I’d have you some day. So, how was I? It’s been a few hundred years. You’ll have to excuse the fact I’m a little rusty.” Sukuna filled the silence, not waiting for an answer.
“You weren’t too bad yourself; I think I even felt you participating at the end. Care for more?” He whispered in her ear, tongue flicking out to lick her lobe. She bit back her moan, clamping her knees together as she gently rocked back into him. He laughed, moving his hands down her body to grip her hips and pull her in closer against him.
“Oh, don’t be shy now, it’s just us. The brat won’t even know, it can be our little secret.”
“I-” She stammered, face hot. So what if she’d gone back to her room at the end of a long day full of Sukuna teasing her, and closed her eyes while chanting his name under the sheets? So what if being the object of the king of curses’ endless teasing was what she used to push her over the edge some nights? That was all by her choice - she was in charge.
Currently having Sukuna’s painfully rock-hard cock prodding her ass while he held her tight against him? She was so clearly not in charge, and to make matters worse? The realization sent her core gushing.
“I can smell you,” he continued, taking in a long breath. And this time she couldn’t bite back her moan.
“Sukuna!” She gasped, feeling the blush run up her ears.
“I think you should really stop being such a cock-tease, woman. No wonder Yuji can’t help but fuck his fist most nights. I bet he can smell you too, he just spares your feelings by not saying anything.” The fog he’d brought with him was starting to clear, and she tried to pry his fingers off of her.
“Stop! You’re lying!” But Sukuna just threw his head back in a cackle.
“I actually don’t care if you believe me, do you want to know why?” He stepped out from behind her so quickly, shoving her back against the wall, it made her head spin. Looking up at his tattooed face and red eyes only solidified how real this situation was for her - and her mouth went dry. He grinned down at her, gripping her chin to hold her in place.
“I’m going to fuck you through this wall. You won’t be able to look at that stupid brat without thinking of me inside you ever again. And he’ll never know because he’s out cold.” Using his free hand, he ripped off her skirt. She cried out, trying to grip his wrist and stop her panties from meeting the same fate.
“Aww, still shy, are we?” He teased as he examined the red lace, running his fingers down to the ever-growing wet spot on them.
“N-No!” Sukuna just chuckled, watching her face morph from flustered to pleasure at his touch.
“And look, you even wore red just for me. How cute of you.” She moaned, closing her eyes. The physical and mental teasing was too much. If he wasn’t going to kill her, she was going to die of embarrassment. He sucked his teeth, hooking his thumb into her mouth and tugging her face.
“Look at me while I touch you, I won’t tell you twice.” He snapped, and her heart thrummed in her chest. It felt so good to finally have him touch her after all this time, she’d forgotten just how dangerous he was in the moment. She nodded sheepishly.
“Good, you listen well for a sorcerer. I don’t believe in praising those beneath me, but I think I’ll make an exception just this once.” He pressed his fingers against her core, watching the way she squirmed under him.
“You’re so wet already and I’ve barely touched you, was my tongue down your throat just what you needed?” Her head was spinning, his hold on her jaw rough, but all she could picture was wrapping her lips around him.
She slid her tongue around his thumb cautiously, watching his reaction for any sign that she’d miss-stepped.
He groaned, smirking down at her as he leaned closer.
“And here you’d have everyone believing you’re too innocent for such filthy things.” Finding the edge of her panties, he pushed them aside, running his fingers through her slick folds. He watched as she moaned, satisfaction settling on his face as the moan grew louder when he pushed a finger inside of her.
“God you’re so tight, there’s no way that brat could stuff his cock in you.” Her walls flexed at his words. Sukuna’s one finger was already so thick, and now her mind was swimming with the thought of having more.
“But don’t worry, you’ll take it from me.” And then she felt a second finger at her entrance, making her eyes open wider. She tried to speak as best she could around the awkward hold he still had her in, but it didn’t matter.
“Suku-na!” She cried out as he forced another finger into her.
“I’d be thanking me if I were you. I’m feeling generous enough to stretch you out before I ram my cock into your stomach.” He offered, grinning as he watched her try and hold herself together.
He didn’t wait for her to adjust to the feeling, why would he? Fucking her open on him was all he could think about while he sat bored on his throne - not that he was admitting it aloud.
So many days, weeks, months, of him wrapped up in her. He knew exactly what she was doing to him, even if she didn’t.
“Was it worth it to parade around like a whore in heat around us?” He asked as he began to slide his fingers in and out of her.
“You know I offered him the chance to have you first. Humans and their virtues though, so fickle. Of course, the brat couldn’t do this.” He pressed his palm against her cunt, and her back arched off the wall as his tongue shot out to flatten on her clit.
Letting go of her chin he wrapped his hand around her neck, giving it a testing squeeze before trailing down to her chest. Groping over her top, and then easily ripping the buttons away.
“Not my clothes!” She protested, but if he heard, he ignored her. Choosing instead to knead her breast as it spilled over her matching bra. Sukuna chuckled, looking back at her.
“The matching set, I’m starting to think you really did wear this just for me. Is that what you do? Under all those clothes you put on, you wear red hoping I’ll catch a glimpse. Hoping I’ll come out to rip it off of you.” He spoke as he rolled her bud roughly between his fingertips.
“God!” She cried out. He was everywhere. Pumping his fingers further inside her walls, tongue abusing her clit-
“I’ll be your god.” He hissed, before leaning down to suck her nipple into his mouth.
She was fast approaching the edge, gasping for air as he shot her towards her peak.
He curled his fingers inside of her, reaching a new angle that sent white hot pleasure shooting through her body.
“Sukuna!” She choked out, reaching up to ball her hands into his top. She was wary of touching him at first, opting to press against the wall instead. But it was all too much. She needed something more to try and ground herself through the first orgasm he was going to rip from her body.
“You gonna cum, little sorcerer?” He hummed around a mouthful of her breast, looking up at her expectantly. She already looked so cute and fucked out for him; grinding into his hand to push him further inside, face flushed as she whimpered his name over, brows pinched up while she looked down to him with a breathless nod.
“Please Sukuna...” If he wasn’t so pent up himself, he might have stopped what he was doing, but edging her would only edge him, and he had no interest in prolonging his own pleasure any more than being stuck in the passenger seat of his vessel already had.
For this encounter, anyways. So, he gave her what she wanted, driving his fingers faster into her cunt, biting down on the nipple currently still in his mouth, while his other hand roughly pinched at the other.
He could feel how close she was. It was getting harder to slide his fingers back into her, and he couldn’t wait to sink into her.
When he didn’t slow down or stop, she took it as permission, though, the tip of the iceberg was so close that even if he had told her no, she wasn’t sure she could have stopped, anyway.
It crashed over her in waves, throwing her against the wall as she cried out his name. Everything was gone - her sight, her hearing, all she could do was ride against his hand, and hope that their grasp on each other was enough to keep her standing through the intensity of it all.
Even when her high started to ebb away, he was still lazily pumping his fingers inside of her. Slowly the world came back to her, heartbeat pounding in her ears, and she whined.
“Aww, is someone sensitive?” He pulled away from her chest with a grin, red eyes glinting as he stared down at her dazed expression. She weakly pushed against his chest, trying to get him to stop while she regained some semblance of normal breathing.
“Sukuna…”
“Well, aren’t you going to thank me?” She swallowed hard, still trying to find her way out of the haze.
“I- thank you...” He pulled his fingers out of her, chuckling at the whimper that left her lips. Raising his hand to his mouth, he kept his eyes on her as he sucked his fingers clean.
“Mmm, I don’t think so.”
“What?” Confusion crossed her face, and he pressed the same two fingers against her parted lips, looking on in admiration as she opened them without question. Sukuna pressed his fingers against her tongue, pulling her mouth open as he did.
“Those red panties you’re wearing will be sufficient.”
“What?” The word left her mouth again, and he raised an eyebrow, dragging his fingers down her tongue and out of her mouth. She stared at him for only a second more before leaning down to slide them off her hips. She looked down to keep from fumbling, but he hooked his finger under her chin, tilting her face back up to him.
“I didn’t say you could look away.” She bit her lip, shimmying awkwardly to slide them down her knees. Stepping one foot out of them at a time, she began to lift them up. He grabbed them from her, large fingers brushing her own as he did.
She moved to stand up again, but he stopped her, shaking his head.
“On second thought, I don’t think one pair of panties is worth a mind-numbing orgasm, do you?” But it wasn’t really a question, not when he was already guiding her to her knees in front of him. The floor below her was cold - a shock that her core, still radiating heat, could feel.
“Be a good girl and open wide,” he said, reaching into his pants to take hold of his neglected cock. Pulling it out, he ran his thumb over the tip, smearing his precum up and down his length.
Sukuna groaned, gritting his teeth. The brat could imagine all he wanted; it would never compare to having her right here in front of him. Small hands braced on his thighs, eyes blown wide as she took in just how fucked she was about to be.
“See something you like?” Her breath hitched as he knocked his fat tip against her bottom lip. She slowly opened her mouth, tongue sliding out and against the underside of his cock. He groaned again, grabbing the back of her head as he forced himself into her mouth.
She dug her nails into his thighs as he did, trying in vain to pull her head back so she could breathe.
“You’re not acting very grateful. Don’t make me fuck your throat, I’ll end up hurting your feelings.” He chuckled. Tears were already welling in her eyes as she choked on what he could fit in her mouth. Slowly, she removed a hand off from his thigh, reaching down to run her fingers through her folds. When she’d gathered enough of her release, she reached back up to pump the rest of him with it.
“How resourceful of you. Makes me want to fuck my cock down your throat all the more.” She moaned around his length, gently rocking him as far as she could take him. Part of her was screaming for air, the other wanted to make him feel just as good as he’d made her feel moments ago. The fog was back, and she blinked the tears away as she looked up at him.
His jaw was tense, one hand still at the back of her head, the other balled in a fist and braced against the wall. Before this she’d only seen him when he was a mouth and one eye, stirring up chaos on Yuji’s cheek. Looking up at him now, though, red eyes trained on her and black markings all over his body - he was breathtaking.
All-powerful and terrifying as hell, considering that he could kill her in an instant, but breathtaking, nonetheless. She let her other hand slide down his leg to rest between her own, pressing her fingers into herself - only to whine in disappointment when it felt nothing like him.
“Needy little thing, aren’t you? I’ve gone hundreds of years without, and you just can’t wait for another.” She breathed hard through her nose, trying to take in as much air as she could before he hit the back of her throat again. Black dots buzzed at the corners of her vision, the sound of her choking on what she could take echoed through the hall.
Her jaw was pried open at a painful angle to accommodate him, and he wasn’t showing any signs of stopping. Her grasp on his cock grew slack, and she wasn’t fighting him every time he knocked his tip just a little further into her mouth. Her own fingers stilled in her aching walls, eyelids fighting to stay open.
Sukuna huffed, sliding his hand around to smack at her cheek.
“Don’t go passing out on me now, I’m not finished with you just yet.” And he pulled out of her mouth with a loud squelch as she gasped for air. The lightheaded feeling slowly dissipated as she looked up at him, tears and spit covering her face.
“You did okay. For now. We’ll revisit that later, get up.” She didn’t have to be told twice, rising on wobbly legs as quickly as she could. The thought occurred to her, that she was practically naked in front of him, while he was still fully clothed. She swallowed hard, trying to wipe away some of the shame along with the tears.
But he didn’t give her much time to wallow in her self-pity, quickly turning her around and pinning her to the cool wall. She shivered at the feeling of his solid body pressed into her back, erection still wet with her spit as it bounced on her bare ass.
“Maybe next time, I’ll let you look at me while I fuck you.” He breathed down her neck, grabbing his length and rubbing it through her folds. She dug her nails into the wall; he barely fit her mouth, there was no way she was ready–
“Relax, I’m not interested in breaking you the first time around. It would ruin the fun in watching you look at me in anticipation every time you’re around.” And he wasn’t wrong. Hell, he was still here, and the anticipation was coursing through her. Taking a slow breath she waited, thankful that the cool wall was enough to ease the heat on her face.
Sukuna gripped her hip and hooked his tip at her entrance before pushing in. She gritted her teeth, moaning at the already over-full feeling. For the situation being what it was, he was fairly gentle as he steadily eased himself through her tight walls with a prolonged hiss. She could only stay pressed against the wall, jaw dropped in a silent moan as he filled her out inch by agonizing inch. Her eyes rolled, body unsure if she should cry out in pleasure or pain.
“God look at you, practically foaming at the mouth. What would your sorcerers say if they caught you like this, hmm?” He groaned, bucking his hips up into hers. Her voice finally caught up to her, and she cried out, nails scraping down the wall as she clawed for anything to keep her grounded.
He didn’t quite fit all the way, but it only turned Sukuna on even more. Of course, he couldn’t fit - but he would. He would break her open on his cock as many times as he needed, until she fit him like a second skin. Until he was the only thing she could think about whenever she tried to seek pleasure elsewhere.
She was playing a game she had no clue about, and Sukuna was going to win. He laughed as he grabbed her hips, pulling out to slam back into her walls. They sucked him in and tried to keep him out all at the same time.
“Sukuna, fuck!” She moaned, reaching behind her to slow him down. He said he wasn’t going to break her, but the rough pace he’d set was literally fucking the air right out of her lungs. Her walls squeezed him tighter, and he moaned.
“Too much for you already, princess? I’m just getting started.” Sukuna grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head.
“Too much, fuck, ‘s too much!”
“I’m not that brat, you’ll take what I give you exactly how I give it to you. Don’t piss me off, I’m in such a giving mood, right now!” He snaked his other hand around her, tongue darting out to swirl around her clit. Sukuna grinned. In an attempt to get away, she only managed to shove herself further onto his cock.
“Sukuna please, I don’t…Please!”
“Short circuiting, and I’m not even close yet. Shall we see just how many times I can make you cry before I’m finally satisfied?” Her mind was melting, she didn’t care anymore. What was she even begging for? Him to stop? Or maybe she was begging him not to stop. She’d never been filled up like this before; even the pain was pleasurable now. All she could do was stand against this wall and take it, anyway. Her body relaxed against him slightly, and he grinned.
“Is there something you want from me, little sorcerer?” She bit her wobbly lip hard, trying to focus on his words.
“I want- I wanna cum.”
“That so?” She nodded with a whimper.
“Beg, and I’ll think about it.” She couldn’t even be bothered with the feelings of shame looming overhead. She wanted one thing, and if begging was all she needed to do to achieve it, well…
“Please I wanna cum.” She whined, hands flexing in his grasp.
“Beg more, you can do better than that.”
“Please Sukuna please I wanna cum, never wanted to cum so bad. Please make me cum on your cock please I-” She was a wailing mess, she didn’t care who heard her pleas, only that he might answer them. His tongue licked at her folds, snaking around his length to tease her from every side.
He rocked her into her second orgasm, reveling in the feeling of her tightening around him as she screamed.
God, he needed to feel it again. The way her walls fluttered around his thickness, trying to close around the strain of taking him. The feeling was maddening, and Sukuna was sure he could pull another one from her immediately, he just needed to pick up the pace as he rammed his cock harder into her.
The wet sound of his second mouth lapping at her, mixed with her moaning variations of his name and ‘fuck don’t stop’ was more than enough to catch the attention of anyone close by, and as absorbed as Sukuna was in this little game, he wouldn’t let his guard down. He was sure she didn’t even remember what they were here for anymore at this point. If the whites of her rolled eyes and the drool currently sliding down the wall where her face was pressed against it were any indication, anyway.
He could feel her whole body start to twitch and tighten, and he knew she was close again. Two orgasms in, and he knew her body so well already. He’d put that knowledge to good use later.
“Go ahead little sorcerer, scream for me.” And she came hard, walls clamping down on him, practically shoving him out while she did. It was enough to send him reeling, too. Hips slamming up into her, he sank his teeth into her shoulder as he finished with a growl. If they weren’t both so wrapped up in each other, they might have realized he growled ‘mine.’ He painted her insides in white hot ropes, stilling when the euphoria finished washing over him.
“If you think that was mind-numbing, just wait until I get ahold of you in my true form.” Sukuna whispered against the shell of her ear.
He pulled out with a groan, watching her whole body quiver as he did.
“Clean yourself up.” She finally looked back at him, brows knit. He ripped the sleeve off his jacket, handing it over to her. When she tried to pull it, his grip tightened, and he looked at her expectantly.
“Thank you…” She said quietly as she cleared her throat.
“Such a good girl for me already, I don’t even have to train you. I’ll be back, be ready to leave when I am.”
“Wait where-”
“There’s still a job to do here, isn’t there? I’ve got a curse to kill.” He smirked as he walked backwards up the hall.
Yuji wouldn’t be awake for a while, plenty of time for Sukuna to hide his prize. One of the many he planned on taking from her, he thought as he twirled the red panties on his finger.
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𝔖𝔱𝔞𝔱𝔲𝔢𝔰𝔮𝔲𝔢 𝔏𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔰
Summary: Your relationship with Farleigh Start has always precariously walked the line between friends and enemies for years.
But maybe there's something else there, too.
Warnings: 18+ content; MDI. AFAB, Oral (f and m receiving), unprotected sex (this is fiction, please use protection in rl), hints at s and d dynamics; brief, barely there choking, outdoor/technically public sex. Sex while under the influence ( takes place during Oliver's party, so drugs for Farleigh and alcohol for the reader). Farleigh being an a*s, but what's new. Reader is American. Heavy denial of feelings in the beginning.
Notes: 14.6 k words. There is an abhorrent lack of Farleigh content on this site, so I thought I'd contribute. Not proofread, divider by @saradika-graphics
𝕻𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝖎𝖎 - 𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔦𝔦𝔦
Honestly, it's a wonder how you always manage to forget the sheer opulence of the Saltburn Estate - even when it wasn't in the throes of a celebration that costs more than your yearly salary. It's like some sort of dream almost. While you're in it the details are all startingly intense. Overbearingly so. Flaunting in front of you with all of its details and sights; like a kaleidoscope. The memories never do the estate any true justice. The soft, rolling lush fields; the crystal blue skies that loom over the tall gray spires. It's all painted behind your eyelids with a haunting clarity. But as soon as you leave - as soon as you wake up - the entire experience never truly feels real. Bits and pieces slip through your fingers. It loses its tangibility somehow and you can't help but wonder if you had imaged the whole thing, even with Felix's number programed into your phone; a physical reminder that Saltburn is indeed a real, tactile place.
But even here tonight, while walking the halls and strolling through the courtyard, it doesn't feel like reality. It seems as though you've stepped into a fever dream, crossed some imaginary threshold and entered some mirroring realm. The air is charged. Electrifying. And you swear you could feel the magnetic net of adrenaline and excitement prickling at your fingertips. A cocktail of emotions amplified by alcohol and drugs and endorphins.
Everywhere you looked there were jovial, writhing bodies. People dancing and laughing. Some full on making out - and others dangerously close to toeing the line of having public sex - and others were having a less enjoyable time by collapsing in exhaustion or blacking out in an inebriated haze. One unfortunate soul had thrown up all over the floor boards of the foyer, and you had just narrowly missed being sprayed by the projectile vomit as you had passed. It was like the Exorcist.
Thank God it hadn't been on one of the Persian rugs.
It was someone's birthday, it seemed. A little impromptu. Not initially planned. Oliver's - at least that's what you believed it was. The same Oliver that Felix had mentioned during one of your phone calls. He had spoken of him fondly, but when Felix had rushed outside this evening to greet you from your taxi and help you gather up your bags, he had seemed less interested and even a little irritated in the mention of his newest companion - or as harsh as it sounds, charity case (he seems to have a new one each summer). And he had been quick to divert your line of questioning, stopping you with a somewhat curt, "he's just a friend from Oxford. That's all." And that was that. You knew not to press him over it.
But your time with Felix was cut short when he was pulled aside by an excited Elspeth, who had spared you a quick glance and a "hello, darling," before eagerly trying to get his advice on the party preparations. Which he didn't seem particularly enthused about being dragged into. And it left you to stand awkwardly on your on in the middle of the foyer, trying to force your bleary eyes open. Jet lagged with your will to live paper thin from only having a rough five hours of sleep to back it up. And for a moment you had feared that you might actually pass out on your feet but luckily Venetia had sought you out and saved you from feeling too awkward amongst the others. Occupying the time by gossiping and interrogating you about your time back in the States. All of which, you had confessed have been rather boring. Filled with exams and dead-end dates and careless flings. And even though the initial arrival always leaves you feeling like a fish out of water, you were thankful to have been invited back over to Saltburn. The sprawling, golden fields and fresh crisp air always a welcome reprieve from the loud, chaotic clamoring and the smog blanketed horizon of Los Angeles.
Even though the wild, scattered throng of sweating bodies that were bumping into you honestly weren't all that different from the clubs you frequent back home. Of course, the sheer show of wealth and splendor that had been rolled out for Oliver was nothing that you had ever seen before with the only thing to rival it (and surpass it, probably) being Felix's very own birthday party that you had been able to take part of a few years back. One that had been themed after a strange but no less entertaining amalgamation of cowboys, space and disco, and the costumes and decorations then had left you in a state of awe, much like tonight.
Everywhere you looked there was something else to gawk at. Glittering lights, a hired contortionist and at one point you had even seen a swan rush past you out on the courtyard - which you had only felt sad and a little angry for.
It was pure, unbridled pandemonium. Noisy and cloying with the scent of perfumes and marijuana and alcohol; and you couldn't escape it. Not even when you had gone outside to take advantage of the dark, balmy summer breeze to cleanse your lungs. And everything had been going well until a drunk man had lunged out of the crowd towards you. Wobbling on his feet with a loud wail akin to a war cry as he aimed a narrow tube directly at you. And you only had a fleeting second to wish that it was one of those party canisters full of tensile when he had set it off with a loud pop! And a large, shimmering cloud of glitter had burst over you like a mist, layering across your hair, and costume and skin like a sheen of sweat. You didn't even have time to yell at him before he was scurrying off into the crowd with a demented cackle, probably on his way to find some other unfortunate person to glitter bomb.
And even worse a quick glance downward had revealed that the drink in your champagne glass had been tainted by a thin coat of sparkling silver. Even if you wanted to be lazy and drink around the floaters, the amount drifting around in the champagne was too much. You probably would have ended up choking on all of it. It was with a defeated sigh that you tossed out the remainder of your drink onto the trampled lawn.
For the first time tonight you're actually thankful that Venetia had chosen to leave you for some tall, dark, and handsome stranger that she had met near the beginning of the party. You hadn't seen her since, but maybe it's a blessing in disguise. You would hate for her to see the state of her dress. It is just glitter, easy to wash off in the grand scheme of things, and too be fair she had said that she didn't even like the garment. It was just some random piece from another one of the Catton's wild parties - themed after Renaissance art and fables, you think. And she had sifted it out from the depths of her closet with little fanfare. "It's just some old thing, " she had told you plainly, even though the dress probably cost more than your monthly rent. Clearly, she wouldn't be distressed over some glitter, but you were still having a hard time fighting the sinking feeling in your gut. It was borrowed. She was letting you wear it. And now it was covered in a dust of silver because some guy decided to be a dick.
It could be worse though. It could have been a glass full of wine that he had dunked on you instead. You suppose you should take your wins where you could get them.
A part of you thinks about returning inside the manor and calling it a night. Taking a much-needed bath to clean off the layer of glitter from your skin and just going to bed. But really, you aren't sure if you'll even be able to manage falling asleep with the sheer volume of the music playing throughout various sections of the house, and the sound of the raucous cheering and laughter. And you could imagine what Venetia or Felix would tell you, to quit being so reclusive and to get out and socialize.
You did fly all the way over here. Planned this trip for a few weeks and made preparations with your job and roommate when Felix had called to invite you over for the summer. It would be a complete waste to turn in for the night and huddle yourself up in your quarters.
And with the fog of alcohol draping over your body you know you should probably put a pause on it for a bit but fuck it, it's a party and you need another drink.
You glance around the courtyard, hoping to spy one of that servants that have been forced to parade platers of alcohol around for the many guests but all you see are the scattered throngs of people dressed in fairy wings, strange animal masks, and plastic swords. Honestly, it never amazes you how many people get invited to these events. Even with all of the family members combined, there's no way they all know every individual here directly. There's probably enough to fill a damn stadium.
In your search your gaze sweeps over the steady bonfires, the temporary lovers grinding against each other and a pair talking amongst themselves - wait. That catches your attention. You feel heat prickling at your chest; irritation rising in some subconscious sort of reaction and as if they have a mind of their own your eyes skitter back over to them to confirm if what you thought you saw was true. And lo and behold, there he is. The bane of your existence. Farleigh Start.
Your eyes flicker across him from his head to his old-fashioned boots. He's holding some sort of mask in one of his hands. A big bulky thing with long protruding ears and an equine shaped face and you have to squint to come to the concussion that it appears to be a donkey.
He seems to be talking to someone. A person that you don't recognize but they both seemed to be engaged in some sort of heated stare off from near a rotating pig on a stick. It looks like he's found another unfortunate victim to prod at and humiliate. Not that it was difficult for Farleigh. He was always eager to find someone to harass and belittle. And the more that someone fought back, the more interested he seems to become. He's been a personal thorn in your side for longer than you'd like to admit.
Of course, you knew he would be here, but that didn't necessarily mean that actually seeing him made it any easier. It had to have close to a year since you've last interacted with him, which had to have been during that awful Christmas party back in the States. Why Graham had invited both of you when he knew that neither of you get along is a mystery. It could have been some lame attempt to get two of his closest friends to finally clear up whatever animosity was between them, but in all actuality it had just made worse. All of the passive aggressive barbs and thinly veiled sneers had nearly reached a boiling point that night when Farleigh wouldn't just leave you alone. Seeming to make it his mission to antagonize you at every turn with childish insults. But as childish as they might have been, they added up over time until you were giving him what he wanted, lashing out in response to his nasty little comments.
And to think at one point you had actually been excited to meet him. As Graham's close friend and roommate, you were interested in getting to know the guy that he couldn't stop gushing about. The one who he had praised nearly nonstop. Farleigh had been nice enough in the beginning. And you even enjoyed his company for a time. His humor had always been a bit snarky, and the jokes he told were usually at another's expense. But he had been - as much as you hate to admit it, fun. And at one point, you had even considered him a friend of sorts. Or at the very least an acquaintance whose company you enjoyed while you both rambled on about nothing and everything, often gossiping about others.
It had all been fine between you. That was until Felix had come down to L.A. to visit. He had gone out with Farleigh and Graham to go and sightseeing, which eventually steered into hopping from club to club as the day wanned into night. And when the invitation had extended to you, your relationship with Farleigh had taken a turn. For whatever reason talking to Felix was easy. But that was just Felix you suppose; always able to make friends with just about anyone in the room. And the closer that the two of you had become, the more strained your association with Farleigh had grown until it was filled with nothing but sardonic remarks and passive hostility. And instead of being a sort of surface level confidant, he gradually became a presence that you detested. And your relationship had gone from a mutual respect and cordial conversations to some sort of strange cat and mouse game. The both of you exchanging snarky jabs in an attempt to see if the other would crack.
You would be lying if you didn't admit that some part of you enjoyed your little spats. And maybe you had hoped that he would be here tonight. Not that you'd ever tell him that. You'd rather trip onto the sharp end of a knife.
Suddenly Farleigh is stepping towards the stranger, shoulders rigid and body pulled taught, seeping with irritation. And he takes ahold of their face, forcing the shorter man to look into his eyes in some sort of intimidation tactic. Farleigh's nearly seething. And his expression is firm with an apparent frustration. You don't think you've seen him so visibly aggravated before. You can't help but wonder what the mystery guy may have done to warrant such a response from him.
And then Farleigh is pulling away, releasing the stranger from his grip with a smug smile. But on him it looks more like a sneer with the way his lips are stretched and showing off his teeth. He's moving towards your direction now, probably intending to head back to the house, and he's yet to notice you. You contemplate leaving. Of slipping back under the cover of the scattered crowd and disappearing before he sees you, but your body doesn't move. Instead, you're stock still. There's some awful feeling in your gut that seems horrendously akin to anticipation; fluttering and soft and nauseating.
You should just leave. You could leave if you'd just move. But it's too late. You swear there's some awful full body reaction that occurs when Farleigh's gaze meets yours and he stops in place to assess you. For a moment it's like you've been sucked into a black hole. It's like time has dilated and shrunk down around you until it's frozen solid and suddenly the lively chaos around you falls quiet, muffling down into an insignificant hum in the background. Recognition flickers in his eyes and something else crosses his face too. Something that you don't quite recognize but regardless, it feels as though the both of you are engaged in some sort of wordless exchange. There's another smile growing on his face. It's mischievous but still much more relaxed and familiar than the previous one that he had worn, and you can't help but return one of your own.
It's then that you're finally able to gain control of your own body, walking backward a few steps before you twist around to slip amongst a gaggle of passing girls with something that is suspiciously close to excitement bubbling in your gut. You briefly use them as cover to get you closer to the house entrance, and they're all too occupied with giggling and gossiping to notice your presence. But you're able to remove yourself from the cluster when one of them drunkenly trips on her skirt, and she saves herself by latching onto the shoulder of one of her friends with a wild laugh. The others all gather around her to jokingly reprimand her as they assist her in righting herself but you're already stepping through the back threshold of the manor, and you're thrown headfirst into the alcohol infused, neon casted mayhem. Party streamers, glow sticks and blaring upbeat music. It's complete madness. You can hardly hear yourself think and trying to work yourself through the tight gaps between people's swaying bodies proves to be a challenge of its own and it's a heavy reminder as to why you had even gone outside in the first place.
The atmosphere is cloying and thick; you feel as though you might actually be able to choke on it like it's a physical thing. As otherworldly and exciting as this party is, it's another experience entirely when you're being elbowed in the ribs by an oblivious drunk girl who isn't aware of her windmilling arms and all the intoxicated men who think that you're trying to feel them up and flirt with them when in reality you're just trying to get by. And for a split second you feel as though you may never make it out of the tumultuous sea of bodies. That you'll be cursed to wander around aimlessly in the wild, dancing masses for eternity. Subjected to the ear shattering music and scent of spilt wine and bourbon and sweat.
But then you hear something that sounds suspiciously like your name. It's distant and damp as though your ears are plugged and for a second you had thought that you imagined it before you hear it again. This time louder and there's no mistake that someone is calling you. It has you pausing for a moment to analyze your surroundings and then you catch sight of someone familiar at the far end of the room and for a moment you think that your eyes might be lying to you with the aid of the dim lighting. The deep, saturated, shifting hues of purple and blue and red tinting the chaotic space doing very little to aid you. But someone is waving their arm up the air for you to spot them better and a long glance confirms that you were right in your assumption. The relief that sweeps across your bones is insurmountable and the glimpse of a hand raised up in the air to beckon over you is even more incentive to press forward. And you have to shoulder past people until you enter a small break in the crowd.
"There you are!" Venetia shouts triumphantly, swaying to the rhythm of the song playing at full blast. "I've been looking all over for you!"
You don't bother refuting her. Of countering that she was the one who had wondered off without any plans to meet up afterwards. Instead, you just move up closer to her, doing your best to match her movements and energy but you're entirely too self-conscious to actually meet her. And you feel the fleeting sense of relief that she has yet to notice all of the glitter covering her dress or doesn't care.
"I had to go outside and get some fresh air, " you confess and even underneath the low lighting you can see the way that she nearly rolls her eyes at you, but even then, there's a well-meaning smile on her face.
"You're at a once in a lifetime party, and you were spending it outside?"
"Just for a minute." But she looks completely unamused by your apparently flimsy defense and suddenly she's grabbing you by the shoulders and leaning towards you like it might seal in her words better.
"Well, you're supposed to be inside. Dancing and partying and getting drunk." She squeezes her hands against your skin. "Seriously, it's like you're allergic to fun."
Okay, a little bit rude. And you try to remind yourself that she's just saying it because she's probably drunk. For the most part, all of the younger Catton's (Farleigh included) have a tendency to be social butterflies and party animals. It was something that you had struggled to keep up with when you had officially become friends with Felix. Luckily, he was typically the most understanding out of all of them, and he was aware enough to take notice when you were burning out. It was something that you had thought that Venetia had come to terms with as well, but every now and again she always makes sure to voice her objections.
And you open your mouth to protest but you hardly get anything out. "That's not tru-"
"And as your friend it's my duty to ensure that you do exactly all of the above!" She pulls away with a smirk that is entirely all too satisfied, and it immediately has the alarm bells inside your head blaring. "And maybe even a bit more."
You don't like that last bit.
"There's someone who I think you'd love to meet!" And you swear you can feel your stomach drop at those words but exasperation bleeds through the discomfort until you're holding back an irritated sigh as she practically gushes some stranger's name. "Reuben!"
And at the call of his name, the guy seems to appear from the darkness and shifting bodies like some sort of spirit. It takes you completely off guard how closely and quickly he moves, and you have to physically keep yourself from flinching back. The entire situation is jarring, and you feel like an insect pinned to a corkboard with how both Venetia and this stranger - Reuben are watching you expectantly. And it takes everything to muster up a smile that you know must look strained and unnatural. "Hi," you greet lamely, but he doesn't seem to be the least bit deterred or put off.
And he is cute, you'll admit. Kind, joyful eyes that you think are hazel but it's honestly impossible to tell in this lighting and there's a dusting of freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks. He seems inviting enough if first impressions are anything to go by, but for whatever reason you don't find yourself gravitating towards him or longing for any sort of conversation with him.
"It's nice to meet you!" He returns, loudly projecting to be heard over the stereo system. "Venetia's told me a bit about you."
"Uh-huh, " you nod for him to continue or maybe divulge, but he doesn't. He just stands there silently without removing his gaze and you can't tell if it's because he's just oblivious or if maybe he's just socially awkward, but it has you shuffling on your feet all the same, desperate to move or do anything to make this less weird. And you glance over at Venetia who still has that hopeful expression on her face, doing your best to telegraph your discomfort without tipping Reuben off. And she does seem to notice but she doesn't tell him to leave or direct him somewhere else like you had wanted.
"Reuben said that he's been to America before," she reveals. Apparently trying to salvage this little interaction and cultivate it into something more.
"Oh, really?" You perk up a bit, or at least try to. "Where did you visit?"
"Uh, New York. City, " he clarifies at the end before his demeanor shifts into something a bit sheepish and playful and the gold plastic crown perched atop his head glints in the lights. "It was a bit of a bore, I won't lie. But that was probably because I was there on a business trip and not on holiday, so feel free to put the blame on me."
His attempt at joking does thaw at some of the unpleasant tension that had burdened the air, but even with the initial ice broken there's still just a simple, straightforward uninterest underneath it all. You aren't stupid. It's obvious why Venetia had pressed to introduce him to you, it's obvious why he had agreed. And you don't fault him for trying to get lucky at what might just be the party of the decade (for you at least) but keeping him here and stringing him along is a complete waste of everyone's time. You aren't going to sleep with him. Not tonight or any other night. And then you go to tell him as much, parting your lips to just get to the point and lay all of your cards out on the table but then Venetia is tapping on your shoulder, making you pause to look over at her.
She has this strange, delighted smile on her lips that's even worse than the one she was wearing when she had invited Reuben over. She nods her chin over to your right, watching eyes trained on something or someone. "Your shadow's here."
You nearly break your neck to follow her line of sight and your heart skips a beat when you see Farleigh standing several feet away from a gap in the crowd and you have to wonder just how long he's been standing there for. And you don't know why you suddenly feel as though you've been caught doing something wrong. Why your body flushes and prickles with shame and you feel like cringing. Maybe it's because of the way that he's looking at you. How his eyes dart from you to Reuben like he's assessing something. Most of the emotions flickering across his face are unreadable. But for second you think that you catch glimpses or what might be anger or irritation and worst of all betrayal before it leans into something neutral and flat. And then just as you had, he's turning on his heels and vanishing. But unlike you, he doesn't smile as he leaves. He doesn't walk away with a silent invitation to follow.
And then Venetia is turning to Reuben with a sweet smile and tilting her head. "Alright, you can go now."
He looks just as confused as you do, and he turns to look at you like he's expecting you to jump in to defend him or at the very least offer an explanation, but you don't have one to give. You're just as lost as he is and when you don't speak and tell him to stay, he backs away, spreading his arms out in a sort of silent 'what the fuck?' gesture and vanishes back into the throng of bodies.
"What . . . was that?" You ask, tense with a mutated type of bewilderment and anger.
"I just wanted to see it." She says cryptically and irritatingly, begins to dance in place before finally disclosing on that little comment. "The look on his face."
"What?" You snap.
"Please, the way you two dance around each other is getting dreadfully old. It's boring and tired. I just did something to get the ball rolling."
This in particular isn't new by any means. You had heard it all before from the two Catton siblings. Their vehement insistence that you and Farleigh had some unspoken attraction for the other that you both refused to act or speak on. It had nearly become a joke for the both of them. To prod and poke at you and Farleigh with to their hearts content. It was something that the both of you had learned to accept over time - somewhat - and ignore. But this. This new and entirely strange.
"So, what? You were trying to make him jealous?" Your forehead crinkles as you watch her; incredulous and perplexed.
"Trying?" She echoes amusedly." I succeeded. Did you see the way that he was looking at you? He was practically seething."
You almost scoff. He wouldn't be jealous; he had no reason to be. And you don't know why Venetia's little ruse has pissed you off, or why that strange look on Farleigh's face had made your heart drop, but it did.
"The two of you are so dense that it's honestly as frustrating as it is entertaining," she says with pure exasperation. "I mean, whenever you're here, you're practically fused at the hip. Bickering like cats and dogs like we can't all see the truth." She laughs but it's more of a scoff really. "He speaks about you. All the time. Always whining and complaining about something you've done. But it's different. He practically has hearts in his eyes while does it. And it's exhausting." And then she's backing away from you, leaving you to settle and drown in the disarray of your own thoughts and come to terms with that. Does he really speak about you like that? Surely, there's no way.
"So can the two of you, for all of our sake's, sort whatever mess you've got going on between you and just fuck already? "
And then she's spinning away her heels, sending you a wink over her shoulder and the silver chains wrapping around her body in a delicate draped halter glint and twinkle underneath the lights; showcasing that elaborate weblike shape that they've been constructed in. And she just leaves you. Abandoning you in the middle of the temporary dancefloor while you fight with an upstream of odd emotions. You just standing there while you tussle with the urge to find Farleigh and apologize (apologize for what?) and tell him that it was just some weird joke from Venetia (why does that matter?). You don't know why you feel the need to go and try to repair whatever damage Venetia may have just done. What that said 'damage' may even be, you don't know. And you also don't know why you're suddenly heading off in the direction that Farleigh had disappeared in, scanning the crowd for him with some ugly sense of desperation that you don't want to unpack and analyze. Not even as you yield to it.
You aren't even sure how long you search for; your gaze jumping over every face and person that you see in the hopes that you find him. But the room is packed to say the least, and the odds of you actually stumbling across him must be low. He might not even be in this specific room anymore. And if that's case then you might as well as give up now. The estate is sprawling; if he doesn't want to be found, then he won't be. And you think about giving up. Of turning in for the night and trying to talk to him in the morning when you inevitably see him at the breakfast table.
But then you see him. Only this time there's no double take or reason to reconfirm that it is him, this time you spot him immediately.
He seemed to have shed his doublet at some point, leaving him in his pale undershirt. His mask is gone as well. And it takes your mind a second to realize that he's not alone. That he's pressed against some girl like he might kiss her. There's a smile on his face; inviting and flirtatious and the tips of their noses brush together as they lean in close.
You're an unintended observer. You shouldn't be here watching them in a moment that clearly isn't meant for you but it's as though your feet are glued to the floor. It's like watching a car crash. You don't want to look; you don't want to be here but some awful part of you is making you stay. Your muscles have gone still from something prickling and cold and disarming. You can feel it in your chest too. It's making your lungs seize and for one long, paralyzing moment it's almost like you can't breathe. But you don't have a right to be bothered by this. Farleigh's entitled to have one-night stands or flings or to go on dates with people if he wants to. There's no reason why he can't. And there's no reason why you should be feeling shame and betrayal and hurt right now. Absolutely no reason. You wonder if this is what he had felt just a few moments before while you were standing with Reuben and that odd little side of you hopes that he had.
God, what if Venetia had been right? What if -
Their lips brush together.
They're going to kiss, some hideous part of your brain whispers and even worse your body tenses and coils like it's bracing for some sort of dreadfully anticipated impact. This is it. The moment the car crashes and erupts into burning flames.
But then Farleigh goes still. Pausing as though someone had called his name or he's remembered something. The girl that he's pressed up against leans back with a confused furrow pinched between her eyebrows when he turns his head and his eyes land on you.
Your mouth goes dry, and your tongue seems thick and useless, and you try to swallow around it. Now that you're here you don't even know what to do with yourself. You aren't even sure what you had gone after Farleigh for. You didn't have a plan to begin with; you didn't know what to say. You have to internally curse yourself for following after him and putting yourself in this situation. It's strange and awkward and it takes everything for you to even manage a smile. To try and look casual and pretend that maybe you had just stumbled across them and hadn't intentionally tracked him down. And you lift a hand up in a lax wave while your mind ceaselessly chants for you to leave. To just go.
You can feel Farleigh's gaze searing into you, drilling holes into your head even as the girl that he's with leans towards him and you can't hear over the distance or the music, but she appears to be saying something if the way that her mouth is moving is any indication.
You're quick to turn on your heels and all but nearly speed walk away from the both of them, eager to create as much distance between you and them as possible. You don't feel like you're apart from your body. It's like you're disconnected from it, uncomfortably aware of your limbs and movements as you rush away. And it's like your emotions are stuffing your body full and threatening to tear it at the seams. Emotions that you don't recognize; that you don't want to recognize.
A warmth and pressure suddenly encircles around your wrist, much like a hand would and for a moment you think that you've imaged it. But then you're being pulled back gently by the strength of someone's grip, and it forces you to stop. You know who it is before you turn to look at them. You can smell the burn of tobacco from his cigarette habit on his clothes, and it blended with the delicate musk of his cologne. The woody notes of amber joining along with vanilla and bergamot and cardamom made your mouth water in some horrid Pavlovian response. It was humiliating.
Then your eyes are meeting his; dark and glimmering underneath the flashing, sweeping lights dancing about the room. And for one agonizing moment neither of you say anything. It's like you're both simultaneously drifting away and stuck in place. The energy looming over the both of you is foreign and strange, and Farleigh can feel it too if the blank, unsure expression on his face gives away as much.
And then he's releasing your wrist and you let your arm drop down at your side. He shifts on his feet and the weird tension in his shoulders drop as easily as if it were a piece of clothing and a smirk takes shape on his face. This is the Farleigh that you're more familiar with, with the condescending look in his eyes and a prideful tilt to his head. It puts you at ease. Dulling the nervous butterflies in your gut and allowing you to settle underneath his presence.
"Well, if it isn't Felix's favorite little pet." It's meant to be an insult. Most would read it as such, but for you it brings nothing but relief. It feels like a consolation almost. That whatever these strange little interactions have been they haven't damaged your relationship with Farleigh (what relationship?) and made things odd. He glances around the room and all of the festivities, the swaying crowd and streamers and flowing alcohol. He wrinkles his nose in a way that comes off as falsely apologetic. "Or I guess I should say second favorite now."
"Then it's a good thing that I didn't come here for him," you respond easily enough. Internally thankful that the last remaining remnants of tension in your throat hasn't prohibited your ability to speak. "I just know how thrilled you always are to see me, and so I couldn't possibly bring myself to skip out on the trip."
"Thrilled," he echoes with a scoff. "Is that what you think? Because personally I feel like drowning myself in the pond right about now."
"No one's stopping you, " you quip back easily, finally slipping back into your old dynamic.
His forehead scrunches as he pins you with an incredulous look, tilting his head as he moves in closer towards you. "And leave you here all alone? What would you do without me?"
"Thrive. Live. Experience peace."
"Sounds boring."
But you don't have time to respond. He's leaning back on his feet and stepping away from you while he digs one of his hands into the pocket of his costume's pants. And when he removes his hand, it comes out clutching a packet of cigarettes, which he's quick to ruffle around in. "Come on, I wanna smoke."
You don't ask any questions as he moves, leading you out from the dancefloor and throughout the house. Every so often he glances back over his shoulder like he's reconfirming that you haven't wandered off and left. He guides you up a set of staircases, past the couple planted by the first step who are openly making out and grinding on each other and up into the twisting, changing hallways.
"Where are we going?" You ask, nearly getting shoulder checked by a pair of girls who rush down the corridor in a fit of giggles.
"I told you, " he replies and hardly looks back. " I want to smoke."
You want to press him about. About how suddenly he's unable to smoke inside when you've seen him do at least a thousand times. Even at the breakfast table. He probably does it on the toilet too. It wouldn't be a surprise. You aren't sure how long the two of you walk for, higher up into the highest floors of the house until he's finally stopping and opening a door at the end of the hall. He pauses in the threshold, dipping his head in and looking in like he's checking to see if it's occupied. He could have just knocked. It would have been an unpleasant surprise for the people inside if it actually had been unavailable. But the coast must be clear because he's slipping inside and nodding his head for you to follow after. He shuts the door behind you, closing it with a click and gives you a passing smirk when you shoot him a curious glance.
You follow him into the room, vacant apart from some paintings and a few pieces of furniture - an old office maybe, and he leads you across the floors towards a pair of large glass double doors.
He tugs on one of the handles, swinging it open, revealing what appears to be one of the balconies. He's outside before you. And by the time you slide up beside him he's already leaning against the chiseled stone railing on his elbows and the cigarette perched between his lips is lit and smoldering.
The air outside is still warm, sweet and earthy with the scent of moister in the air, like some distant, unseeable storm is brewing. And you can see so much of the estate from this high up. The frolicking people down below in their costumes and those massive, glowing lotus lamps drifting in the pond. But even with all of the guests down on the courtyard engaging in various kinds of trouble; drinking and shouting and singing amongst themselves, up here their voices can harldy reach you. It sounds like a faint murmur on the soft summer wind. And for maybe the first time tonight you actually feel a sense of calm.
"He's a selfish lover, " Farleigh says randomly, flicking the butt of his cigarette to sprinkle the dead ash onto the far grounds beneath. "And a notoriously fast one too. Eliana Merrick said he busted as soon as he put it in."
He notices the lost look on your face and sighs, twisting around on his feet to lean his back against the railing instead. "Your little boytoy from earlier. Reuben Amory." He spits his name out with something that sounds suspiciously like contempt. Venomous and irritated and he lifts the cigarette up to take another drag. "His father's a friend of the family. To James specifically. That's how he always manages to weasel his way into our parties."
"I guess I dodged a bullet then." You joke, absentmindedly fiddling with one of the elaborate pearl earrings dangling from your ear.
"What? He didn't scratch your itch?"
"No," you shake your head with a light shrug. "He was fine. It's just . . . I don't know, I wasn't interested."
Farleigh snorts, making you glare at him, eyebrows furrowing. "What?"
"Nothing." But his tone is a little sarcastic, and unconvincing and the nasty smile on his lips reveals as much. "He just seemed to fit the bill of your type pretty well. Well-meaning, polite and a little pathetic."
You nearly laugh but it comes out as more of a scoff. "That is not my type."
"Oh, really?" He challenges, moving closer towards you and you can smell his cologne again. The vanilla sticks out the most this time. Delicate and sweet. "What about that guy you used to flirt with at IHop? "
"He was a server. It's literally his job to be nice-"
"And then there was your neighbor back at the apartment. The one across the hall with the abysmal amout of plants. And then who could possibly forget, what was his name? Adrian? Who you dated for all of four weeks."
It has you falling silent, unable to counter his argument even though you have a remark waiting on the tip of your tongue. You've never realized that Farleigh had ever paid that much attention to you and your affairs. It has that syrupy, fuzzy feeling pooling in the center of your chest despite that fact that you're actively telling yourself that it doesn't actually mean anything. It's normal for people to notice things about people that they're forced into proximity with.
"Wow, I never knew you were so interested in my love life, " you say, gripping onto the rough texture of the railing. Stroking your fingers over the soft groves and bumps. "Maybe you should get one of your own."
"But yours is always so entertaining," he snuffs out the cigarette and carelessly drops the butt onto the ground near his feet. "You know, with the way that it always seems to crash and burn."
It probably would have stung to hear if you weren't able to say that you were the one to end all of the relationships that you had been in. That you were always the one to take the first step in severing ties. Even with Adrian you had been the one to sit him down and explain that you just hadn't been able to see it progressing anywhere. The both of you were too different. Your goals and wants in life were polarizing and the only things that had brought you together were superficial at best. You just weren't built to last.
"Please, like yours has ever been any better." But he doesn't look the least bit offended. Instead, there's a satisfied quality to his expression. Your lips purse and something akin to defeat weighs down your shoulders. "Besides, they were all too sweet anyway. A little too nice. They could never keep up. I'd always end up saying something to hurt their feelings on accident and they would think that I meant it and then I'd get the silent treatment."
"Not like us, huh?" Farleigh responds a little softly. And he was right. There was always something about your dynamic with Farleigh that you had never been able to achieve in your relationships. The constant push and pull. The competition of your endless banter and insults. The way that you could be completely bare and unrestrained with your words without putting your standing with him at risk. There was . . . an intimacy in it that couldn't compare with anyone else. You had seen the worst of Farleigh. The sneers and jabs and heated sarcasm. And in turn he had gotten the brunt of your own ire and jokes, but it still didn't change a thing. Neither of you ran from it. Instead, you both seemed to revel in it. To seek it out even. It was a type of security that you had never found with any other friend or lover.
And you don't know what it is, but some invisible element shifts and rises between the both of you. Something that's always been there. Simmering and quiet, building up underneath your every interaction like water boiling on a hot stove.
"No. Not like us," you admit in a near whisper like if you spoke to loudly that it might disrupt whatever magnetic thrum has fallen over you both. So low that he might not have heard you. But then you see something flash in his eyes. Something hungry and eager and he's moving closer until you can feel his body heat pouring over your skin, seeping underneath the delicate fabric of your dress and into your bones.
"I hated all of them," he says it like a confession. Hushed and passionate. And you suppose that it is one. Told in total confidence, with a certain fervor like a sinner tucked away in a confessional booth. "I hated them because they should have been me."
It makes you gasp lowly. And your fingers squeeze around the banister like it might ground you and keep you from floating away. And suddenly Venetia's previous statements are echoing around in your skull; mocking and satisfied. You feel slightly stupid now. Blind. But never in a million years would you have guessed that Farleigh had actually ever been jealous of the men that you had dated. It seems like such a silly concept. Or else it would have in the past, but now here he is confirming the very thing that the two Catton sibling's have been vehemently trying to drill into your head for years. And you like it. God, you actually like it. Some nasty little side of you is completely satisfied and even elated that he's been seething over all of your old flings and exes. It feels good because you've been doing the same thing you suddenly realize. Every time that stinging burn had caught up in your chest at the sight of him curled up with some other person - it hadn't been irritation for Farleigh. It was jealousy. You had actually been jealous.
"Can I tell you something?" You ask.
He just hums, low and soft. You can't even glance away from him. Not even if you wanted to. Not with the way that he's looking at you. His stare is heavy and intense, and it feels like you're being held by the throat, forced to maintain eye contact with your breath steadily being stolen from your lungs. "I wished they were you, too."
It's like something breaks free from you when you say it. It was heavy, oppressive and suffocating and in its absence, it's replaced by a sense of ease and a freedom that makes you want to laugh and maybe even cry. And maybe if you weren't preoccupied with the entirety of your attention zoned in on Farleigh you might would have.
Now he's stepping even closer than before, and now you can actually feel the press of his body against yours. The pressure of it has your lips parting, and you have to angle your head to maintain your shared gaze without breaking it. Then his hand is tucking underneath your chin; the pad of his thumb lifts to brush over you, tracing the shape of your bottom lip with something that feels close to reverence.
"Can I kiss you?"
Something inside of you breaks apart at the question, crumbling and washing away like sand underneath the crashing power of a wave. You nod before you even fully register it, and your body is buzzing with a honeyed heat. And you understand that if you do this then whatever relationship you have with Farleigh is going to fundamentally altered. It will be the point of no return and the consequences, positive or negative, will be unavoidable. Maybe tomorrow things will go sour. Maybe by then you'll be back to hating each other, even worse than before. But you want this. Consequences and all.
"God, yes. Please."
His lips are soft and warm, and they taste sugary and faintly floral with what might have been the flavors of some beverage that he had drank earlier. There's the bite of tobacco on his skin too, sharp and smoky. It's usually something that you had never enjoyed when kissing people in the past, but right now it hardly even registers. You're too busy getting lost in the feel of him. The warmth of his hands framing your face, the way that he shifts you on your feet and nudges you back against the railing of the balcony. Your hands are everywhere that they can reach, stroking down his chest and dipping down to grip his hips, pulling them flush against you like any amount of space left between you might kill you.
He groans into your mouth at the gesture, nipping at you lip before soothing the sting with his tongue. It has heat, liquid and thick building between the cradle of your thighs. And you know that it's just kissing, but you can't help but internally berate yourself, because if the both of you hadn't been so horribly bullheaded you could have been doing this the entire time.
And he pulls away from you all too soon, making an embarrassing whimper bubble up from your throat, but he's hushing you with a soft coo, snickering lightly under his breath when he ducks his head beneath your chin to suck at the skin there. Taking it between his teeth and lips and you can't help to soft, breathless pants that start to leave your chest in response. It's purely possessive and you're sure that he's trying to leave marks there, and you can't find it in yourself to tell him not to. It's like your muscles are melting, going boneless at the sensation of his tongue tasting your skin, licking up the salt from it. You can feel the shape of his smug smile against your throat, and it makes you want to slap him. But instead, you're reaching a hand up to cradle the back of his neck, keeping him close to you.
You're wet already, soaking through your underwear. It's something that you would have been awfully conscious of in the past with another partner, but here and now you can hardly think around the red fog that's beginning to cloud your brain. And then he's shifting, sweeping a hand underneath the silk skirt of your dress to clasp around your thigh so that he could pull it to the side, allowing him to nudge his leg between the both of yours.
"Farleigh," you gasp, and he cruelly grinds his thigh against the heat of you, steadily feeding the pressure thrumming there but not letting it build towards anything more. It's frustrating. Mean. And it has you clawing at his shoulders impatiently.
"Yeah? What is it?" He asks, nipping at the sensitive skin on your ear, making sure to be mindful of your earring. You don't respond at first, unable to with the way that he's still steadily moving his thigh against you. It's simple, but with the way that you're already so pathetically worked up, it feels like agony. "Come on, you can tell me."
And to make it worse, that hand that had been gripped around your leg is now moving further underneath your dress, slipping between the press of your bodies to settle above where you want him. His fingers play with the elastic band of your panties, teasing, implying more. But then he hooks it in the crook of his fingers and pulls, letting it snap back against your skin. The sting is dull, but it has you gasping regardless. You mindlessly reach for his hand that's still underneath your skirt, taking it into your own. And you briefly fear that he'll pull it from your grip. But he allows you to guide him. He removes his head from your neck to look into your eyes, watching your expression when you finally slip his hand underneath your underwear, and you can feel the shocking chill of his signet ring trailing across your heated skin. He takes over from there and you can't help the way that you arch into him when his fingers finally move down to where you need him the most. His face pinches when he spreads you open, and he nearly groans at the feel of you. "Jesus, baby, you're fucking soaking already."
Your eyes flutter from the drag of one of his knuckles brushing over your clit and it's like it's directly connected to every individual nerve in your body, making you squirm and moan raggedly.
"Is this all for me?" He asks, dipping one of his fingers lower, teasingly circling the entrance of your cunt but he doesn't go any further.
"Yes." Your lungs feel tight and your nipples brush against his chest with each breath that you take, doing little to help ease the tension and desire threatening to tear you apart. "Yes, it's 'cause of you. Please, Farleigh. C'mon."
"What's the rush?" He taunts, angling his head to take your bottom lip between his teeth and biting. "The night's still young. "
He rocks his thumb against your clit, smirking at you with pure arrogant satisfaction from the way that you shudder underneath his touch. You know that he's absolutely delighting in the way that you've been practically turned into mush by what is essentially some heavy petting. Especially after all of the years of trying one up each other, you're sure that this is doing wonders for his ego. Like it needs to get any bigger. That little prickle of irritation peeks out from underneath the saccharine haze shrouded over you, and you can't keep it down. "I fucking swear, Farleigh, " you nearly hiss, nudging your hips in the hopes that it'll drag the pressure of his fingers closer. "If you don't do something, I swear I'll-"
"You'll what?" Comes his immediate reply, the low rasp of his voice sounds completely unbothered.
"I'll leave, " you say firmly. Or as firmly as you possibly can with the way that the knuckle of his thumb has begun to rotate around your clit in tight, but soft sweeping brushes. But he doesn't appear to be worried in the slightest. He just grins at you. And shakes his head as he lowers it to nudge his nose against yours.
"No, you won't." He says it so certainly. Like he's omnipresent and has already seen the decided future. Like your fate is already sealed. And he's right as much as it pisses you off to admit it. You won't leave. But you don't want to tell him that and give him the satisfaction. " 'Cause you need me don't you, baby? Need me to make you cum."
You're nodding in agreement before you even realize it, throwing whatever semblance of control that you had right out of the window.
"Yeah? Gonna let me taste you?" Just the words alone nearly makes you keen aloud like some desperate slut, and you just barely swallow the sound down. But he must see it in your eyes. The sheer want and desperation that you feel coursing through your body like a drug. The need possessing you might actually be debilitating and you're back to clawing at his shoulders and arms in an attempt to just do something. To pin your focus on something other than the heavy ache between your legs. And you can just distantly hear yourself chanting a string of 'yes' like a broken record.
He tugs his hand from your underwear, and you can't help but mourn the loss, even when he's lowering himself down on his knees and planting kisses down across the expanse of your body as he goes. But then he's rucking the skirt of your dress up over your hips and tucking his fingers back into your underwear like he's getting ready to pull them down. Instead, he's just staring, and his eyebrows are pinched together almost like he's pained.
"You really are soaked," he says with a sort of awe. A thrum of embarrassment rings through you when you realize that he's probably admiring the noticeable wet spot that has dampened the crotch of your underwear from your arousal. You try to close your legs, mostly out of reflex but the sharp, reprimanding smack on the outside of your thigh that you get in response makes you freeze in place. He glares up at you and you have to reach behind you to grip the railing to keep from collapsing from underneath the intensity smoldering in his gaze.
"Keep them open," is his only warning before he all but rips your panties down your hips. Guiding one of your legs up with a hand for you to step out of them, but he leaves your lace underwear to hang from the high heel on your opposite foot; apparently too impatient to fully remove them. And he barely gives you time to think or breathe before he's taking ahold of you by your waist and swinging both of your thighs over his shoulders.
The feel of his tongue laving over the heat of your pussy in a long, greedy swipe makes you scream, completely uncaring for all of the guests down below. And all some distant, buried part of you can do is hope that you're up too high for anyone to hear you. That no one happens to glance up and see you clutching onto the railing for dear life. There's no build up to it. He's completely unrestrained, apparently having the goal to make you cum as quickly as possible with the way that he's working his mouth on you. Swirling his tongue over the swollen, sensitive nerves of your clit and lapping at the dripping entrance of your cunt like a man possessed.
You mouth drops open with heavy pants, and your hands scramble across the cool chiseled stone for something to ground you and keep you pinned to reality. You can see the glint of your arousal smearing across his lips and cheeks and the look in his eyes is a blend of determination and a dazed kind of contentment, and you can feel him groaning against your pussy, amplifying your pleasure. And if it wasn't for the way that you could barely stop whimpering and crying out, you'd nearly think that he was enjoying this more than you with his pleased hums thrumming throughout your body.
He takes your clit into the cradle of his mouth and sucks, and you think that you actually sob but you feel miles away from your body and also helplessly, deliciously trapped inside of it. "Farleigh, " you keen, humping against his face in a debauched display of hedonism. One of your hands reaches down, gripping onto his hair when your eyes roll back from the hot suction of his mouth.
"You taste so good, baby, " he huffs, lapping at the entrance of your cunt with firm, maddening strokes. "So fucking good."
It's too much. You feel like you're on fire. Like he's pulling you apart with each swipe of his tongue and putting you back together again one agonizing piece at a time. It feels cruel but it's also utter bliss. Your thighs are shaking from how tightly they're seized, clamped around his head in a tight squeeze. But he doesn't seem to be bothered about it, because when you try to be mindful and spread them open, he just takes them into his hold and presses them back up against his ears again like he wants to be suffocated. And the thought of that alone has something sharp and electric zipping through you. You file that little theory away for later.
And that familiar ache is rising up like a high, simmering tide. Building and rushing towards you with a quickness that takes you by surprise and you can feel your entire body winding up and coiling tight in anticipation. He drags you closer to his mouth, scooting you down lower against the railing. You're pretty sure that your back is going to be covered in scratches from the rough texture digging across your skin, but as of right now you couldn't give less of a shit. You let your head loll back on the stone, unable to find the concentration or strength to keep it up yourself. You stare up at the sky sightlessly, just barely taking in the winking glow of the scattered stars above while pure, liquid heaven seeps across your limbs.
That overwhelming looming pleasure is right over you now, just a few good strokes off. And with the way that he's licking and sucking at you with his mouth it won't be long before you're breaking apart for him.
"Farleigh," you whimper, choking around a wanton moan, trying to warn him.
He doesn't give you any verbal indication that he hears you. But the grip on your thigh's tense in response, and he circles your clit with the tip of his tongue before dipping it down inside of you; fucking you with it. You can't help the way you're grinding against him, crying out breathlessly when the point of his nose nudges against that swollen bundle of nerves, urging your orgasm to rush towards you at a breakneck speed that you can't brace for.
"Farleigh!" You nearly shriek this time while that wild, rush of pleasure crashes down on you with the intensity of torrential downpour. It tears through your body in a way that's almost violent, making you twist under the heat of his mouth and the iron grip that he still has secured around your legs like you've been jabbed with an electrical current. You sob through the brunt of it, probably alarming the entirety of the Saltburn Estate of your current position. And even after the most of it has made its way across your body, he doesn't stop lapping at you, determined to make sure that he wrings every ounce of your pleasure out of you. It isn't until you're weakly nudging his head away from your sensitive cunt that he pulls his mouth away, but he occupies it by kissing at the inner stretch of your thighs. He massages your hips gently and the sensation works to help guide you back into your own body and return a sense of coherence to you.
All you can do is just sit there and catch your breath, panting raggedly into the night air. You stare up at the stars with complete disbelief while your brain tries to catch up with the fact that Farleigh had just casually sucked your soul out of your body. Sure, you had heard stories of his sexual prowess from some of his past flings before. Heard all of the people gushing and praising his technique in the bedroom, and you had never not believed them per se, you had just never imagined that he was actually this good.
"You doing alright up there?" He asks and his voice is ragged and a little raspy like he was the one screaming and not you.
"Yeah," you confirm after a brief pause. "Just give me a minute and I'm gonna suck your dick."
You can feel him chuckle against you, playful and more than a little cocky but he's more than earned the right to be. "Take your time."
Thankfully, the strength has begun to come back to your body. And even though your limbs are still a little bit shaky you're more than determined and able to ignore it and push through. You raise your head up look at him, using your arms to shift and lift yourself up. He looks up at you expectedly, eyebrows raising with amusement while he aids you in removing your wobbling legs from his shoulders.
He must notice something in your gaze; desperation, want, determination, because he just moves to lean back on his elbows with a relaxed smirk.
"Right here?" He asks. You just nod wordlessly as you lower yourself down on your knees. You could go inside. You probably should. There wasn't a bed in the room that you had entered the balcony from, but there was a couch. Hell, even the floor in there would probably be more comfortable for the both of you than the harsh rock underneath you right now, but you don't want to wait. Not even with the room being so close. Your knees are going to absolutely hate you tomorrow but as of right now, you can't find it in yourself to care.
He parts his legs for you to settle between them and you're fast to crawl over him while he lifts himself up to kiss you. Your lips connect with teeth and tongue, and you moan into each other's mouths when you reach down to cup the length of him from over his pants. He's hot and heavy, even with the layer of fabric covering him. You're still sensitive from your recent orgasm but when you feel the weight of him against your palm, your pussy flutters and tinge of heat settles in the base of your abdomen.
"Baby please, just take it out, " he whines. His voice is petulant and quivering. On any other night you would have used it as an excuse to tease him, but as of right now, you don't have the heart (or patience) to. The urgency in his tone has you thumbing at the buttons closing his pants, but it doesn't help that they're so small and that its dark. You have to squint underneath the dim moonlight to find them and your fingers slip more than once. But luckily you manage to pop all of them through their opening in the fabric; even with the way that Farleigh impatiently grinds into the air, trying to use your hand and forearm as something to grind his cock against.
It's so desperate and dirty but it's also so fucking hot. Seeing him all laid out and begging has a heavy anticipation fizzling underneath your skin, prompting you to grip at the edge of his pants. He's eagerly lifting his hips up, aiding you as you tug the fabric down, working it around the swell of his ass and his hips. And he audibly groans in relief when his cock springs free from the restraint of his clothes. It's so hard that it looks like must be uncomfortable, and there's a steady stream of precum pouring from the tip and trailing down along a thick, throbbing vein in a pearlescent sheen.
Your mouth waters at the sight, and you have to swallow it in the fear that you might actually drool if you don't. He catches the way you're admiring him, and something smug bleeds into his dazed expression. A reversal from the way that he had outright begged for you earlier. You really want to wipe that look off of his face.
Then you're giving into your basest desires and leaning forward to lick at the head of his cock with long, steady sweeps, scooping up the salt of him into your mouth. He's rewarding you as soon as you touch him, breathing out a strained, "fuck," while his fingers come up to grip your hair, already knocking a few of the fake flowers clipped along your updo free; honeysuckles and pink camellias. He doesn't force your head down, but he doesn't remove his hold either, gently urging you to keep going and you can't help but concede. Stretching your jaw open further to slip him inside your mouth before slowly pulling off of him with a firm suck, lapping at the slit of his cock when you do.
He isn't the biggest you've taken, but he's still thick enough for you to feel a slight strain at the hinges of your jaw, but it doesn't deter you in the slightest. You nod your head down to take him in your throat, making sure to be mindful of your teeth as you go and luckily, you're aided by the lubrication of your saliva. You don't stop until you feel the faintest hint of your gag reflex and even then, you have to push off the thought to just keep going, to let yourself gag on him. You'll save that for some other time. As of right now, you want to be able to savor every little movement and twitch and whimper.
You've just started and it's already so sloppy, wet with the way that your drool smears around your lips and chin, and Farleigh seems to be struggling to keep his hips still, resisting the urge to fuck your mouth. His thighs are tense underneath the palms of your hands, muscles flexing and twitching with frayed restraint and each jerky hitch of his hips is punctuated by airy sighs and moans.
A glance up from your place between his legs has you appreciating the way that his back is already arching. He looks gorgeous like this, all splayed out with the thick of his eyelashes fluttering against the jut of his cheek bones. You've always had the sneaking suspicion that Farleigh would lean a bit on the submissive side in bed. Always overcompensating with his arrogant attitude and sarcasm, but you didn't think that he'd be this sensitive. You aren't sure if it's just because he might have already been so worked up from eating you out, or if he's naturally just responsive, but either way the way that he's acting is doing wonders for your ego. The power that you're getting from seeing him already so pleased and dazed is filling your head full of a syrupy sort of satisfaction.
You pull off of his cock with a pop, delighting in the way that he whimpers in protest. You just hum in response, smirking at him while you nuzzle your nose down the line of his shaft and all of his complaints die out once you take one of his balls into the warm cradle of your tongue, reaching up to grip him in your hand while your mouth is occupied.
He moans raggedly, a string of whispered, "so good, don't stop - please, don't stop." Like you'd ever do that now that you've got him underneath you. And not to sound dramatic, but the sky could split open with brimstone and hellfire and the apocalypse could reign down on Saltburn and you still wouldn't pull away from him. Not when he sounds so sweet. Not while he tastes so good. Salty and earthy across your pallet. And the way that he pants into the balmy night air, already breathless has the heat between the apex of your thighs back with a vengence; burning and wet, and you have to rub them together in an attempt to ease the tension there.
You can't help the way that you moan around him, lightly sucking at the sensitive point between his balls and the base of his cock while you smear your thumb over his slit. You the use the fluid to aid in few more pumps from your hand before you're licking back up his shaft again, swallowing him back down while your hand switches places to fondle his sack and the cry that he lets out in response is heavenly. Urging you to bob you head down on him in a steady rhythm. You try to remember to breathe through your nose but in your fervor, you often find yourself neglecting to take in lungfulls of air and as a result an oxygen deprived haze has begun to fizzle over your head. But you can't bring yourself to be worried over it. It feels good. The fuzzy, drunken buzz stuffing your skull full while you work his cock is stupidly addictive.
He must notice the glazed over look in your eyes because he's smiling at you from around the way that his lips have dropped open to release a bout of heavy pants. He drops the hand that had been clutching your hair to sweep his fingers across your face in a gesture that's way too sweet for a guy who's getting head. And it has something soft and sweet blossoming in your chest when he strokes your cheek with his thumb; it makes you feel delicate and adored even while your chin is smeared with spit and cum and your jaw is starting to ache.
"You're already a little fucked out aren't you?" It's rhetorical, you know, but you find yourself moaning in response regardless. "You look so georgous like this."
Liar. There's absolutely you look even remotely attractive right now. You can feel the prickle of tears threatening to slip past your water line and down your face, and you're sure that your lashes have begun to clamp together from the damp. Your lips are swollen and there's a sheen of sweat glittering on your forehead. You probably look like a wreck but it still has you melting, and you begin to lick and suck at him with even more passion than before.
And it must have felt good for him because his head is rolling back on his shoulders and his elbows nearly collapse, leaving him to drop onto his back with a gutted groan. His eyes roll back, and his thighs seize. His white undershirt has ridden up around his ribs, showing off the stretch of his abdomen and you can see the way that his muscles flex and tense with the same pulse of his hips. He's close and it only has you doubling your efforts with even more vigor, desperate to taste him on your tongue, to feel the heat of him in your mouth and throat. The sound of his gasping has changed in pitch, rising into something that sounds close to a sob.
But then you're being torn off of him without warning and you can't contain your mournful whimper when the weight of him leaves your mouth. Irritation and betrayal flares and you can't keep yourself from glaring at him even while he looks close to wrecked, rambling underneath his breath something that sounds like, "I'm sorry baby, I need to feel you, " as he hauls you onto his lap.
And your scattered brain is still able to grab onto what he wants. You gather up your skirt to settle your knees on either side of his hips and you're quick to grab ahold of his cock to line it up with your entrance. Neither of you have the mental capacity to tease or draw the process out longer than it needs to be, and you're thankful that he had already ate you out earlier, giving you some semblance of prep. And without any fanfare you're sinking down onto his cock, and your pussy flutters around his girth, stretching until he's buried in at the hilt.
The shared groans that you let out are ones of relief and pure bliss. Your body shudders at the fullness nestled within the apex of your thighs and Farleigh impatiently grinds his hips up into yours, rocking his pelvis into your clit with a petulant huff. "Come on baby, ride me, " he urges. "Fucking take it."
You can't find it in yourself to deny him. Or yourself. And he lets you plant your hands onto his chest for support when you lift yourself up with your thighs to begin wildly bouncing on his cock, grinding and swiveling your hips with each downstroke. That thick, heated pleasure is already building up near the base of your spine, and you already know that you aren't going to last long. Not with how worked up you are. And you don't think that he's going to be able to hold off either.
He's watching you with something akin to wonder in his eyes and his lips are snagged between his teeth like he might be trying to quiet himself. Like he's trying to selfishly hide those punched out little moans. And you don't know why he tried to be hushed now after he's been groaning and whimpering this entire time but that petulant expression on his face tells you all you need to know. He's doing it on purpose, the brat. It has you leaning over him to pepper soft kisses over his cheeks, nipping at his chin and jaw sweetly, before you squeeze your pussy around his cock like a vice and you place your hand around the base of his throat. You don't tighten your fingers around it, but let him feel the pressure of your grip, testing the waters to see if your earlier theory had been right.
And his body goes taut underneath you while his hips thrust into you with a harsh twitch. A gutted moan follows closely behind, and he grips onto your thighs like he needs it to ground himself and keep himself present.
"Feel good?" It's admittedly a little condescending but even then, you can't help the softness that bleeds through your tone. He nods his head drunkenly, tilting his head back to bare his throat to you. The way that he's melting underneath the ceaseless roll of your hips and mindlessly fucking into you with deep, heavy thrusts is already driving you towards that tide of heat and ecstasy, and they way that you openly keen reveals as much.
Your knees are already stinging from the harsh stone floor digging into them and your thighs are already burning with exertion from the ruthless pace that you had set. But you have no desire to stop yet. To switch positions or ask him to take over, not with how beautiful and fucked out he looks beneath you.
You're both already messy and incoherent, chasing after your pleasure desperately. The noises coming from the place where your bodies are joined is filthy with the repetitive smack of skin on skin and the crude squelching of your cum echoing off of the rock walls around you. And maybe if your brain wasn't practically mush you might would have had the capacity to care, but you just can't find it within yourself while you watch every minute, rapturous expression flit across Farleigh's face. Not while his plush lips are parted for him to gasp, and his eyes have nearly gone cross.
"Baby, " he whines brokenly. A warning for the way that he's quickly hurdling towards his release from the constant rock of your hips. Yours isn't far off either, simmering and curling within the pit of your abdomen and you can already tell that your orgasm is going to destroy you. It's so close. So, so, so close and you find yourself nodding shakily in response to him.
"I know, I know, " your jaw goes lax at a partially hard thrust from his hips, muscles spasming around the drag of his cock.
"Where - where can I- "
"Inside," you answer, choking on your breath." I'm on the pill - it's safe, you can- "
He cuts you off with a gutted, shredded groan of your name and his entire body seizes up from the power of his orgasm. The warmth of his release spreads throughout your lower stomach and another choppy, wild thrust from Farleigh grinds his pelvis into the tender nerves of your clit. It just sneaks up on you. Sweeping you up and dragging you down before you can even register that it's ravaging your body and making you scream. For a second you completely forget what it means to have a physical body. You don't have hands, or feet, or a mind. You don't have a favorite song and there aren't any bills to pay, or an apartment back home in America, and the chaotic party downstairs doesn't exist. The cold stone floor beneath your knees isn't there. You're just floating. Suspended in a state of bliss and pleasure.
For a moment you just are.
And then your lungs are gasping, filling up with oxygen. Clarity comes back to you in pulses and the feeling in your limbs follows behind. Sensation returns to your toes and fingertips and then your eyes are fluttering open. The first thing you hear is the rapid pulse of a heartbeat and when you breathe the scent of something like vanilla and cigarette smoke nestles within your lungs. It has you rubbing your cheek against the heat of their chest - Farleigh's chest, your brain supplies sluggishly. You don't remember collapsing on top of him but apparently you had.
"God damn," he slurs, prompting an amused, tired laugh from you. For a moment the two of you just lay there, taking the time to return to yourselves and grasp your senses. And with it, reality rises up too. That you're laying here with Farleigh on an open balcony with his cum dripping from between your thighs. And apart from his confession earlier there's some small insecure part of you that's worried that he hadn't fully meant it. That this was just a simple fling. Something to ease the tension that's been brewing between the both of you for the past few years. But you don't get to wallow in your fears for long before he's tapping on your thigh and shuffling up onto his elbows.
You just hum at him questioningly, not yet trusting your voice.
"Need a cigarette," he answers.
That has you moving, lifting yourself from his hips and you both hiss, sensitive and raw when he slips from you. Your knees are tender too, aching and you inelegantly plop yourself on your rump beside Farleigh to give them some relief. And you briefly occupy yourself with your underwear, slipping it back underneath your dress and smoothing out your skirt as best as you can.
He works on slipping his pants and tights back over his hips, digging into his pocket as soon they've been righted for a cigarette and his lighter. You watch him with something nervous in your gut. And you tell yourself that you're being stupid and overdramatic. So, what if this was just a one-time thing? It was an amazing time. And if this turned out to be some random fling then that would just make it even more special, right? And he said that he was jealous of your past exes but that didn't necessarily mean that he had feelings for you. You had been the one to jump to conclusions and assume.
And even if by tomorrow he pretends that this never happened then that would be fine. You'd make do. You'd survive. It won't be the end of the world.
"Do you want to spend the night with me?"
The question tears you from your thoughts. Saves you from them really and pulls your attention onto Farleigh. His eyes are glimmering from the burning embers at the end of his cigarette, laying some strange quality in his gaze bare. But whatever it is looks uncertain and hesitant. And it serves as reminder that this is new territory for him as well. That he's just as unsure as you are. It gives you a little boost of confidence that you aren't alone in your self-induced doubts. It makes you smile; soft and relaxed and you hope that it helps whatever thoughts he may have running around in his own head.
"Sure," you say. "But I want to rewatch House of Wax. "
His face scrunches up in response, but he's already rising up to his feet and holding a hand out for you to take, helping to pull you up on your wobbling feet. "That movie is shit."
"Well, I wouldn't be able to tell with the way that you wouldn't stop talking the last time that we all watched it." You grip onto his forearms while you find your balance, lowly cursing your heels and unsteady ankles. The energy has shifted into place, as easily as breathing; thawing all of the worries and insecurities that had initially clattered around in your brain as though they hadn't been there at all.
"That's because the characters were nothing but cliches and one note, " he scoffs and promptly drops his cigarette on the balcony, snuffing it out by grinding it with his shoe.
"I also need a bath."
A smile curls on his lips, a little teasing. " Want to share?"
You stare at him, a little disbelieving. There's absolutely no way that you could do that again tonight. At least not so soon. You're exhausted, barley holding yourself up as it is and you're still clinging to one of Farleigh's arms for support.
"Really? After that?" You question, eyebrows raising, but you can't keep yourself from trying to joke despite your surprise. "You're terrible."
Farleigh chuckles, guiding you towards the double doors gently, "Oh, don't look at me like that," he says, purely amused. "I wasn't suggesting another round, you're the one with your head in the gutter."
You don't reply. Too caught up in the fuzzy way that it makes you feel; his request to share a bath with you. A small gesture maybe, but it also feels wonderfully domestic and intimate. It has you leaning into his side as you step into the adjacent room, breathing in the scent of his cologne, soaking up the body heat that radiates from his skin. Whatever new chapter between the both of you has opened has still left you two with a lot of unsaid questions and answers. You still don't know what you two are. If there's a label to apply to you both of it was just a one-night stand, but you don't have to get those answers right this second. For now, you can just bask in his company and come morning, once you've both had time to think and adjust you can sit him down and have a conversation. And maybe (hopefully) your relationship will finally become something more.
But as for now, you don't mind spending the night in his room. Of cuddling up underneath the covers of his bed after a nice bath and watching a movie together, even though you know that the duration of it is going to be spent with him criticizing every line of bad dialogue and griping over plot holes, no matter how insignificant they may be.
It sounds like the perfect night, honestly.
But still there is still one burning question that's searing at your brain like a hot coal, and you can't keep yourself from voicing it.
"Do you think anybody heard us?"
And his answer is blunt and honest.
"Oh, yeah, there's no way they didn't."
#farleigh x reader#farleigh start x reader#farleigh saltburn#farleigh start#farleigh start x you#farleigh start smut#farleigh catton#saltburn#saltburn movie#saltburn fanfiction#saltburn x reader#saltburn x you#oliver quick x reader
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hi @sourpatchsquids! thank you for your question.
as an artist with ADHD, i know this struggle very well. unfortunately offering advice on this kind of thing can be tricky, because what works for me may not work for you (and vice versa!). nonetheless, i can try; take whatever works for you, forget the rest, or reshape any part of it as you see fit. :)
but before i offer any actual tools, i have one caveat. i want you to take a moment to reflect and consider if you should be:
changing expectations
the timing of this question seems fated, because just the other day i had a therapy session wherein i expressed my grief and frustration over struggling to work lately due to my seasonal depression. it's not fair that i'm struggling just because it got a little darker outside! i just want the spark i had in the summer! i was so much more consistent!
my therapist's response: nothing about human beings is consistent. we get sick, we get tired, we get hungry and thirsty (and thirsty) and sad and lonely and restless and stressed and overwhelmed. this all gets amplified for folks who are atypical in some way or another.
when my therapist compared our seasonal cycles to those of plants and other animals, who wilt and slow down and hibernate, i protested aloud that i wanted to be a perennial instead. at this she said: even perennials change with the seasons. rose bushes have to be pruned, sometimes down to half their height! it was a dose of perspective i didn't particularly want, but really needed.
so when you're struggling to work through executive dysfunction, burnout, or brain fog, it can help to first check in with yourself about a few things. what do you have the capacity for right now? do you need any accommodation? and if so, what changes you might make to accommodate yourself?
with practice and self reflection, i've learned a handful of specific routines that help me when i'm struggling with creative work, which i'll detail next. note that while your question is specifically about music and i am specifically a musician, i believe that all of these suggestions can apply to most any form of digital creative work.
with that in mind:
#1: work slower
when i'm at the top of my game, i can get a LOT done in a day. but when i'm depressed, fatigued, or distracted, i just can't go full steam. sometimes i'll try to convince myself that i can if i just push harder, but what actually ends up happening is that i'm just fiddling with settings and going in circles rather than moving forward.
instead of that, when i want to work a lot but can't, i try to work slow. how slow? however slow i need to. take four hours to figure out the melody for a single verse. take all day to figure out that drum groove. yeah, i take a lot of breaks in between. who says i have to be my Absolute Most Productive Every Day Or Else? that's the puritan work ethic talking. kill it. be kind to yourself.
i'm reminded of advice i once read about some super successful and prolific author (gaiman? king? pratchett?) who said they wrote only four hundred words every weekday. that's already less than the word count of this post, and i'm only—[travels into the future to check my final word count]... 22.8% of the way through writing it!
now, i don't think i could function that way, because ADHD means some days i'm hyperfocused like crazy, and other days i just have no steam at all (more on that in #4-6). but it seems to me that if even someone highly respected in their profession can achieve what they have with only a little bit of work on a regular basis, maybe i don't have to punish myself for not pumping out a finished work every single week.
doing less work per day means you're much less likely to burn out, which does a lot for working more consistently. if that consistency still doesn't look like a five-day work week, that's okay! as long as it helps you work even a little more often when you want to, it's something worth doing.
however, if you're still feeling truly stuck, all hope isn't lost. you can still try:
#2: switch projects
sometimes the reason i'm moving slow is because of a bad brain day, but sometimes the reason is that i just cannot muster the motivation to do the specific task i'm trying to do right now. ADHD is fueled by novelty and interest, and if i'm not interested in what i'm doing, or it's feeling stale, that's a sign that i need to switch gears.
this is why first it's helpful for me to have more than one project going at a time. this might mean completely unrelated works, or it might just mean related tracks as with the music for a game like SLARPG or susan taxpayer.
the idea here is not to start a dozen different projects and bounce around them like i'm playing whac-a-mole—though i have done that. (i don't recommend it.) the idea here is to have a manageable number of different projects i can be working on so that if i get bored or stuck on something, i have fallback options.
what that number of projects is depends entirely on the week. maybe right now it's two, maybe another time it's three. i would probably be getting carried away if i tried more than that, but that's just my own limit. maybe yours is different. that's something for you to think about.
but it doesn't have to stop there.
#3: switch focus
maybe there is this one project that i just HAVE to work on, but the task i'm trying to do at this stage just isn't coming to me. okay, well, why don't i try working on a different task?
let's say i can't figure out what i want to do with the melody in one part of the song:
what if i try jumping ahead to a different part of the melody? ...no, i'm stumped on melodies today.
okay, how about working on the drums instead? ...hmm no, i think i'm just completely tapped out on writing parts right now.
alright, what if i organized my tracks, making sure they're all grouped and named in a way that i can work with easily?
what if i did a rough volume balance for the mix?
and so on. if that's not enough to shake the off stuckness, i might consider: what can i do to make this project more interesting to me?
what happens if i try using an instrument or effect that i almost never reach for?
what if i try sampling something obscure?
what if i bang out the drums using my midi keyboard instead of drawing it in on the piano roll?
any approach that breaks me out of my usual habits is bound to get that feeling of novelty and fun back when i need it.
or maybe i can't do any of that right now, and so i take the time to answer a question from a fellow musician instead. i consider that part of my work, too, in a broader sense. check in with yourself and figure out what you can do right now. the rest will still be there later.
but okay, let's say you try switching gears, and switching again, and again, and nothing is moving. you try new approaches, but that wall of awful is insurmountable in this moment. it happens! the next thing you might try is:
#4: learn something new
when you aren't able to make progress on your projects, you can still make progress on your knowledge and craft. i often find this stokes a flame of inspiration in me where there wasn't one before. and even when it doesn't, it still gets my brain out of that feeling of stuckness and dread and into one of thought and action. learning also benefits in the long term because it adds to the well of knowledge from which you draw for all your future works.
for all the awfulness that exists on the internet, it remains an absolute treasure trove of teaching. there's an endless ocean of videos, blog posts, and articles from which you might learn something about your craft. (and if you sail the seven seas, plenty of book PDFs as well. 🦜🏴☠️)
it's true that the quality and depth of information out there can vary wildly, but in my experience most resources get at least some things right. and the more you research, practice, and figure out what works for you, the better you will learn to differentiate between the advice worth keeping, and the advice to forget. (that goes for all of what i'm saying here, too!)
that said, since our shared focus is music, a few resources i would highly recommend are:
music theory and composition
music matters, 12tone, charles cornell, music with myles, 8-bit music theory, and this introduction by andrew huang
mixing and production
dan worrall (especially this series for fabfilter), kush after hours, red means recording, andrew huang, alice yalcin efe, in the mix
general inspiration
nahre sol, ben levin, david hilowitz, game score fanfare, posy, jerobeam fenderson, open reel ensemble, and ELECTRONICOS FANTASTICOS!
(if any readers have their own helpful resources for creating music or any other media, feel free to share in the replies & reblogs! 💓)
of course, on an especially bad day, it might be a challenge to seek out information, let alone retain it. that can feel pretty bad, but remember: be kind to yourself. the next thing you might consider trying is:
#5: consume art you love
not just music. books. shows. movies. games. illustration. animation. whatever moves and inspires you.
but do it intentionally. don't just pull up some random thing the algorithm suggested! check in with yourself about what you want (or are able) to engage with right now. choose accordingly. if you get a little way into it and realize it's not scratching that itch, hit the bricks. check in with yourself again. wash, rinse, repeat, until you find whatever it is that speaks to you right now.
and do it actively, if you can. don't just let it go in one eye and out the other! really pay attention to the work. what do you like about it? what are its themes and motifs? what makes it work so well? what are its flaws, and how much do they matter? what might you do differently? you can write notes as you do this if it helps, but even simply noticing and thinking goes a long way.
what you don't want to do is come at this with a lens of shame or envy. you're not here just to say to yourself, "ugh, if only i could do THAT." it's okay if it happens. use that thought as a springboard for curiosity: "well okay, how DID they do that? do i have the resources for it? if so, how could i apply that to my own work? if not, how can i adapt it, or what do i need to learn?" keep your mind open and approach the work with a sense of wonder.
as a creative person, it's very easy to think, "i should be making something right now, not watching a movie!" but that thought forgets something vital: your art is a response in a conversation. of course the "language" you use is your own, and maybe if you're lucky you'll invent a new word. but most of the words you use have been around long before you were born. you're just one voice in a dialogue that spans continents and generations, and that's okay. it's even the whole point.
none of us is an island. we are profoundly social animals. just as we can't live without eating, we can't make without learning. so half of making art is consuming it. consider this part of the process as well.
and finally,
#6: rest, and live your life
let's say you're in really dire straits. you've tried working slower. you tried changing focus, you tried changing projects. you want to take in new information or actively engage with your favorite art, but you're not in the headspace for it. what now?
take a nap. take a walk. take a shower. eat a nice meal, or an okay one. talk to a friend. maybe even do that chore you've been putting off (you know the one).
it's human to always crave making, but you're not a machine—and even if you were, machines need regular maintenance, too! you wouldn't drive a car that's completely out of gas, and you won't do yourself any favors treating your body that way either.
i know that when you take a break it feels as though you're not accomplishing anything, but you are: you're taking care of your animal self. and while you do that, your creative brain doesn't stop working! much like windows, it has countless background processes running at any given moment, with inscrutable names like "cbdhsvc_692da" or "Microsoft Edge Update Service." it's true, i checked.
when you're stuck on a project and you step away to rest, your brain is still chipping away at your ideas unconsciously. i like to tell people, "it's percolating." much like waiting for a pot of water to boil, that idea is still heating up, even when you take a step away. just be sure to check in on it once in a while. the time will pass, and it'll be boiling again before long. :)
before i go, i'll leave you with one last thing to keep in mind as you try all of these strategies:
be kind to yourself.
being human is just about one of the hardest things you can do. let alone being a human trying to survive capitalism while living with disabilities! the last thing you need on top of that is to overwork yourself, talk to yourself negatively, or treat yourself harshly. there are plenty of other people in the world who do that to you—don't be one of them.
i'm not saying that you shouldn't try to challenge yourself, to test your limits and go above and beyond your ambitions, if that's what you want to do. just remember that hard work and self compassion are not mutually exclusive. so be careful not to bully yourself. take pride in the progress you make, even when it seems small. encourage yourself like you would a friend who's going through a hard time. and when you challenge yourself, be your own cheerleader.
i hope you find this advice helpful! remember, this is just what helps me, so don't feel like you have to follow any of it exactly. maybe taking time to learn new information helps break you out of your rut more than working slowly, so you reach for that tool first. maybe having multiple projects going at once is too distracting for you, so you prefer to stick to one at a time. whatever your needs are, feel free to alter and adapt these ideas to fit you.
thank you for reading, and i wish you the best of luck in your creating.
with care,
bee 🐦
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☆ CALL IT WHAT YOU WANT
“i want to wear his initial on a chain 'round my neck, not because he owns me, but because he really knows me” - taylor swift (1.6k)
contains: luke castellan x daughter of ares! reader. secret relationship: the three times u guys were almost caught and the one time u were. pre-tlt.
kashaf’s note: working on requests as well so dw!! again. i just like this 1 lyric from this song <;/3
1.
MORNINGS AT CAMP half-blood were both weird and normal — at a summer camp for kids with godlike abilities, you’d think that maybe they’d be cut some slack from all the monsters they’ve had to evade and maybe be allowed to sleep in some days, but no, life at camp half-blood was a regular survival of the fittest regime.
or: eat, or be eaten, as you liked to remind your cabin.
maybe that was why you were notorious among ares cabin, but to the rest of camp half-blood you simply embodied an other-worldly discipline, more of a tactician than anything, when compared to the rest of your half-siblings.
“hey,” clarisse says in an undertone, nudging you as you take your designated seat beside her, “where were you last night?”
your hand stilled as you picked up your goblet, shrugging your shoulders as the once-boisterous table came to a stand-still, eager to discover their shrewd head counselor’s indiscretions, hoping for something to loosen your high esteem for them: everyone remembered the time the entire cabin was put on cleaning detail for an entire month to repent for the mistakes of one.
your penchant for collective punishment wasn’t at all well-received among your half-siblings, but well, no one had really challenged you on your position yet, so.
“in bed,” you said, slowly, taking a sip, “why?”
clarisse shrugged, spearing a carrot from your plate, masking her annoyance with you — out of all of your half-siblings, camp half-blood, even, no one could boast of a relationship as close as yours and clarisse’s, yet no one could be more opposite. clarisse was chaotic, you were contained; clarisse was ruthless, you were just.
“i dunno, i just saw two people on the roof of hermes cabin.”
“and?” you drawled, ignoring the blood rushing in your ears, as the rest of your cabin looked on gleefully.
“one of them was castellan,” clarisse paused, searching your face for a reaction — you were grateful for all the nights spent in hermes cabin, because if not for the stolls persuading you to play poker with them almost every time, your expression would’ve never survived under clarisse’s scrutiny.
“the other one,” clarisse pauses as if thoughtful for once, then pointedly stares, pointing her fork at you, “looked like you.”
the other cabins are also looking in your direction as the dining pavilion is so quiet that you can hear a pin drop, before the table finally registers clarisse’s words, resulting in so much whooping and jeering, you’d think ares cabin won the lottery.
you snag a bite of clarisse’s pancakes, each word punctuated by a bite, “what would i be doing with castellan?” you pause, feeling the table pause with you. wrinkling your nose, you continued, “i swear, next you’re gonna say you saw us making out during capture the flag.”
you grinned as the table erupted into laughter once more, this time by your design. while everyone else went back to their original conversations, you’re summoning the memories of last night.
how luke had wrapped his arm around your shoulders and attempted to woo you with myths about the stars, how you had laughed and called him corny. how the moonlight had illuminated his face in the moment, when he laughed back, drawing you in closer, with his usual snarky response of, “you love it though.”
clarisse snapped her fingers in front of your face, bringing you out of your reverie. she frowned, whispering, “you’d tell me though, if that was you, right?”
“yeah,” you nodded, trying not to feel guilty about lying — clarisse deserved the truth. but it went against your agreement with luke. you tried not to think about how you’re essentially picking a boy over your sister.
2.
like all things camp half-blood, if not careful, could result in death — like capture the flag, but did that stop you, or anyone else for that matter, in taking it upon yourself to make winning a matter of life or death.
this week, you orchestrated an alliance with hermes cabin, because of their numbers and ability to launch unforeseen tactics, and hephaestus cabin, for their resourcefulness. it also didn’t hurt that the head counselors were your boyfriend and his friend, respectively.
you’re standing by zeus’ fist, discussing strategy with luke and charlie, while your respective cabins go off doing whatever it is to prepare, when luke’s sloppily-tied breastplate catches your attention.
before you’re fully aware of what you’re doing, you’ve already reached forward to grab it, while charlie stares at you like you’ve been cursed by athena and turned into medusa.
“so,” charlie says, slowly, “anything you guys wanna tell me?”
luke is silent, watching you work, while you’re too busy focused on fixing the breastplate to notice the knowing expression on charlie’s face, one you would’ve been irritated by if you had.
“nothing,” you say, nonchalantly, whirling back around to face charlie when you’re finished, while luke gets swarmed by the stolls, “these things just bother me.”
“in general, or luke specifically?” charlie grins, that annoying, all-knowing look is back, and although reluctantly, you can see what it is about him that has silena beauregard so hung over.
“in general,” you say as if it were obvious, as if you’re trying to convince a child that storks are the ones to deliver babies, and no, you’re not lying, (both statements hold the same level of ridiculousness), “it’s the adhd — makes it distracting.”
“uh huh,” he says skeptically, “i’ll take your word for it.”
you resist the urge to shake him and question him more, but before you can toughen up and just ask, “what do you mean?” he’s already turned away, and capture the flag is about to begin.
3.
“what’s that?” annabeth points at the tiny “L” on your necklace as it swings to and fro, finally set loose from the captivity of your neon orange camp half-blood tee, hidden under your armor.
“what?” you glance down, dropping the sword in your hand to hastily tuck it away, all the while cursing both yourself and luke for being stupidly sentimental. (it was his idea after all, though, you’re not sure how or where he got the necklace from, but you didn’t really care if it was stolen — you wouldn’t put it past him, especially since he was a son of hermes.)
“was that for luke? are you dating him?” annabeth persists, eyes widening with question after question — nothing can satiate the curiosity of athena kids, especially not annabeth, not when luke castellan, her brother, is in the equation.
“no,” you say, trying to catch your breath from the sword technique you had just shown her, and the gaggle of younger campers who have now caught on, looking at you eagerly.
“no to what? no to the initial on your necklace being for luke, or no to you dating him?” another camper chimes in with a bright grin, probably a child of apollo, and you’re so close to shooting yourself on the spot.
“no to all of the above,” you grit out, really regretting being nice for one of the few times in your life, because no one had asked you, in particular, to demonstrate sword-fighting to these kids, luke could’ve done it, but where your boyfriend was concerned, you were too.
“then, how come you have an “L” necklace?” annabeth asks again.
“it’s my mom’s,” you lie, “i’m a year-rounder, so it reminds me of her — before all this,” you waved in the general direction of camp half-blood.
the campers ohh’ed in unison, but you knew annabeth wasn’t convinced.
you sighed, it could’ve been worse.
+4.
you’re not sure when or where the whispers that your boyfriend had returned originated, but after what seemed like eons of not seeing him, you couldn’t find it in yourself to verify the rumors before dropping your sword in the middle of training and sprinting toward half-blood hill to see him for yourself.
you ignore the calls of your name from your half-siblings, as you were kind of in the middle of demonstrating a technique, instead choosing to focus on more important things, like if your boyfriend was even alive.
when you finally do make it to half-blood hill, and catch sight of your boyfriend, with chris and charlie in tow, you don’t stop sprinting, uncaring for all of the whispers from the other campers as they look on.
when you finally do come in contact with luke, you nearly tackle him into the ground, as he drops his backpack behind the two of you, arms coming to wrap around you to secure you, as you mumbled, “i missed you, asshole,” into the crook of his neck.
luke laughed, the sound reverberating against your skin, and you get off him, taking a step back. he starts to say something, “i —” but is cut off by you grabbing his wrist, and tugging him over your shoulder, his back slamming into the dirt ground. distantly, you can hear the rest of campers gasp, before buzzing with excitement. ignoring them all, you put your knee on his chest, bringing your forearm under his neck.
“i swear to everyone, if you disappear like that again—” you begin, as luke cuts you off.
“i won’t,” he promises, grinning as you pull him up. luke slings an arm around your shoulder, and you finally notice the jagged scar running down his cheek.
he catches your gaze and stares at the ground instead, avoiding you.
“you look kinda hot now with the scar,” you settle for, you know you’ll get the chance to properly speak about it later, but for now, this’ll have to do.
a light pink dusts his cheeks, and luke, looking up at the campers gathered behind chiron, then glances back at you, smirking, “looks like you gave them quite a show.”
you glared at him, shoving him, “i’m going to kill you.”
luke shrugged, wrapping the arm around you tighter, “the damage’s done, now i’ll finally be able to hang out with my girl in peace.”
© sayoneee on tumblr. do not repost, plagiarize, translate or claim any of my works as your own.
#luke castellan x reader#percy jackson x reader#percy jackson#percy jackon and the olympians#pjo x reader#luke x reader#ares cabin#luke castellan fluff#luke castellan imagines#luke castellan x yn#luke castellan x y/n#luke castellan x you#luke castellan x fem! reader#hermes cabin#percy jackson imagines#luke castellan one shot#luke castellan one-shot#luke castellan oneshot#percy jackson fluff#percy jackson and the olympians#woc friendly#kashaf ki likhai
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let me take care of it l LN4
a/n: this was inspired by the gorgeous gorgeous scene of K-mag and his daughter 💘 also, this is ALL OVER THE PLACE bc I wrote it on my phone in like 15 min but still hope you like it💘 I’ll also update dad max tomorrow 💘
summary: when papa isn’t feeling his best, baby Norris knows what she has to do.
Lando wasn’t feeling his best and everyone could see it; it didn’t matter what anyone said, whether it was his dad, mum, sisters, Zak, Oscar, even you… he couldn’t stop being so harsh on himself that every person on the paddock wanted to lay his back and tell him to catch a break, he still is one of the best.
Your arrival to Abu Dhabi has been one worthy of the last race of the season, the private flight full of the Norris family, from the little ones to the in laws, with your parents chatting and laughing with Lando’s mum as they took turns to hold Amalia.
Everything was going great, really, but as the weekend started rolling and after quali, his smile faltered, face hardened, bringing himself down for some mistake.
So you made sure the hotel room had everything he needed, left Amalia sleeping on the crib while you picked his race day boxers, McLaren tshirt and joggers, so he could just throw his body to the bed and fall asleep.
“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked him as he settled his body in front of yours, not even asking to be the little spoon.
“No, but I just want tomorrow to be over so we can go home and be alone, you know?” His voice came out muffled by the pillow and your arm. “The only thing I want is to get home and start decorating for Christmas, Amy’s first Christmas… that’s all I want,”
“Okay then, let’s focus on that,” kissing his shoulder, you noticed his breathing slowing down.
Amalia Norris was a known face around the paddock, even if she couldn’t speak or even walk, she greeted everyone with a quick movement of her hand and happy squeal, depending on who it was.
Now, she had big things to protect her ears from all the sounds, Lando’s helmet and gloves in front of her and just as she was about to reach for the gloves and get scolded by you, Lando appeared with his usual smile, chest buffing at the sight of his two girls cheering him on, both wearing papaya.
“Do you want to help me get ready for the car, bubba?” Lando asked his daughter and she clapped her hands, giggling, almost as if she was trying to say something but couldn’t. “Okay, gloves please,”
Lando supposed it was going to be a show but no, his daughter had a concentrated look on her face as her small hands grabbed the glove and put it on Lando’s hand, repeating the action.
Before putting on the helmet, Lando picked her up, giving her a tight hug and loudly kissing her cheek just to fill his ears with her melodic laugh, the only fuel he needed. He closed his eyes while her hands grabbed both of his cheeks to get him closer and leave a kiss on his forehead, and in that moment Lando thought he was capable to give up the last race of the season just for this moment to never end.
“I think you need the helmet, huh?” You reminded the pair, taking Amalia from your boyfriend’s arms.
Lando gave you a quick peck on the lips before putting on the helmet, adjusting it until it was perfect, but there was one last detail.
“Visor, baby,” Lando pointed at it and Amalia carefully closed it, now he was ready.
“Good luck, daddy!” You told him as you noticed people were looking for him.
“Daddy? I thought in public it was papa,” he cheekily added, making you blush.
“Shut up, go get second place!” You joked before blowing him a kiss.
“I’m only thinking about our Christmas tree, baby. I love you both.”
#lando norris x y/n#lando norris x reader#lando norris au#lando norris imagine#lando norris blurb#dad!lando norris#lando norris fic#f1 x you#f1 x reader#f1 fic
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What if a drabble about this https://twitter.com/bxnksi_/status/1754954693329998141?t=QfzPSplktYI04Owlt-gzSg&s=19 I just know hotch's gonna be taking that kiss IMMEDIATELY like no thoughts. He'll be like, "screw my point and kiss me".
priorities
this cw; bau!reader, established relationship, kissing, light suggestion, brief arguing into fluff, 6x22 references - this relates to aaron coaching jack's soccer team <3
the team's prying eyes couldn't help but be directed upwards as they attempted to work, due to the visual of you and aaron going at it through his office window. your hurried and raising voice also drifted out his slightly ajar door from time to time.
"it's not fair to you aaron." you insisted, mentally urging him to stop being so stubborn and understand your point. "i get that they need a coach, and it's wonderful they thought of you, but you're too preoccupied."
aaron scoffed lightly, crossing his arms as he leaned back against his desk, "preoccupied?"
you gave him a look - c'mon. it was a rather accusatory word, you'd admit it, but he knew what you meant. "the league should be resolving their own problems."
"isn't them asking an attempt to do so?"
"but it's not your problem, or is it your responsibility to accept. i know you feel obligated to and," you reached out to touch his arm affectionately, reminding him you were on his side. "it's so sweet of you to jump at it. but please think about it realistically."
aaron exhaled a breath of his own, turning his eyes away from yours in a subtle eye roll.
"aaron," you gaped at him, your frustration quickly turning into annoyance. "you're in the fbi. you're a unit chief, for god's sake. don't you think they should ask someone who's not on such a strict, unpredictable schedule? what happens when you can't make it to a practice? to a game?"
as you fired off all the reasonings, even throwing in the example that jessica did swing by once to pick up jack upon getting a call for a case - aaron fell quiet, knowing you were right.
he felt obligated; being unreservedly himself, he wanted to be the one to step up and take the initiative. jack's soccer team deserved someone willing and wanting to provide their undivided attention as coach, given majority of the parents were more preoccupied by their phones than watching their own kid. focus - he could provide such.
another convincing factor, being coach would provide him more time with jack. these days, the fact jack was growing up, rapidly, was slowly sinking in. before he knew it, aaron would blink and jack would prefer to do anything else than to hang around his father.
but again, from a realistic standpoint, you were right. trying to navigate a soccer team with his crazy schedule would be extremely difficult; the potential aspect of not being around, and then potentially not being able to find reliable cover - an inevitable, ongoing complication, despite how badly he wished he could manage it.
aaron hadn't meant for this to turn into a disagreement either. to be fair, he had just returned from a meeting with strauss, which always amp'ed up his disposition in one way or another.
but now you were getting heated, and as you thoroughly stated your case, aaron's eyes involuntarily kept flicking down to your lips. the more he attempted to avert his eyes away, they only lingered more.
and not wanting to argue further, he quickly surrendered to his own argument, the only thought beginning to maintain importance was how badly he wanted - no, needed - to kiss you.
"go ahead, say it."
your remark regained his attention, "say what?"
"i know that look, so go ahead." you crossed your arms, huffing a frustrated breath of air out of your nose. you had mistaken his lack of focus for another impending, contrasting detail of his, "say it."
"kiss me."
your expression changed at once; irritation shifting to a softened confusion. "what?"
"what? do you want me to beg?" aaron tossed out, a glint surfacing in his eyes and warming you from the middle out, "fine, you're right, forget about it. now kiss me."
you opened your mouth to respond, but aaron took that as an opportunity to weave his fingers through the belt loops of your pants, pulling you strictly against him and pressing his lips to yours.
once your initial surprise wore off, and focusing on how soft aaron's lips felt on yours, you kissed him in return with just an equal amount of gentle vigor.
you pulled away, your mind attempting to resist his everlasting temptation, bringing your index finger to his chest. "this isn't resolvin-"
but aaron chased your lips, immediately pressing his back to yours and stopping you mid-sentence. you reciprocated eagerly, sighing softly against his lips in content as your fingers found hold on the sides of his suit jacket.
"you're absolutely ridiculous." you laughed against his lips, providing one more chaste kiss before successfully pulling away, your cheeks flushed.
"am i?" he quipped back, rather playfully as his eyebrows rose, a cheeky expression plastered on his face - one of which only made you want to kiss him wildly.
"yeah, you are." you bantered back, exhaling to ease yourself back to the real world, which aaron also assisted in with his next statement, dropping the matter yet again.
"i'm still expecting your supplementary report on the houston case by the end of the day." he said, his hand sliding down your back and patting your ass, playfully urging you to get a move on. "get back to work."
you nearly released an audible groan but instead rolled your eyes, bringing yourself to peck aaron's lips once more. on your way out, you tossed over your shoulder. "this discussion isn't over, you know."
due to your restrained line of vision, you missed the small smirk of his lips. "and if it ends similarly, i'll be looking forward to it."
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fluff#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x fem!reader#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotchner imagine#criminal minds#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds x you#criminal minds drabble#aaron hotchner drabble#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds fanfiction#hotch imagine#criminal minds x fem!reader
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thinking about your husband aka mafia au!simon riley telling you he’ll be gone for a couple days, some trip for the Family in chicago, doesn’t give any details, leaving you fretting over a man you’ve kissed twice. and honestly you should enjoy the days of silence in the apartment, but instead you’re anxiously twisting your hands and wearing his shirts, worrying. your cousins don’t know anything about the trip so it’s all on you to panic when a couple days turns into a week, then two. and finally, finally, it’s midnight and you’re stress baking when you hear a key turn in the doorway.
your husband walks through, bloodstains adorning his skull mask as his shoulders slump forward. and suddenly you’re running and jumping on him as he catches your legs around his waist, pulling you both into an embrace full of too many emotions to count. the i missed you’s and i’m sorry’s tinged with your underlying fear that he’d left you for another woman who would willingly consummate the marriage.
he walks you both over to the sofa as he drops his bag on the floor. simon revels in the scent of you, the sight of you in his shirt, better than any dreams he used to keep him company while he was away. you seem to be trying to burrow under his skin and he’ll let you, enraptured with the effect you have on him. he rubs your back in peaceful circles, willing you to calm down and walk off the edge of those tears threatening to fall from your eyes. “i’m sorry”, you pull back suddenly, wiping your eyes and looking ashamed, “i don’t know what got into me, you’re probably tired and-” “don’t worry about it, lovie. i missed you too.” he’s never called you that, never spoke to you with such affection before. you realize that by jumping on him, you shifted his mask over his lips. your hand shoots out to pull it down but he traps it with a larger hand of his own, willing you to let him show himself to you. you trace his lips with your fingers, noting the small scars. he kisses your thumb, so fast you might’ve missed it if you weren’t clocking his each and every movement. slowly, like walking through molasses, you tilt your head forward, lips touching his in a featherlight touch.
you’re kissing him. simon honestly thinks he hit his head and created a delusion, because his wife is straddling him and kissing him. not wanting to scare you, he lets you take charge, his hands sliding from your back to your waist. he pulls up your shirt ever so slightly, thumbs rubbing circles into the meat of your torso as he tries to show you how much he wants this. you gain more confidence, slowly grinding on his hardening cock. he lets out a low growl, causing you to stop. “don’t stop. please don’t stop.” he whispers, desperate to not let this dream end. “i thought you died.” you whispered back, needing him to understand how worried you’ve been. “i’d never leave you like that.” he says, placating your every worry. you smile against his lips and he pulls you back, needing you on him in every way.
his hands grip your hips and move them forward, encouraging you to grind. one of his hands moves to your throat and suddenly you’re whimpering, struggling to keep going through the tightness in your core to the aching of your nipples. “gonna let you come just like this, lovie. fucking yourself on my lap, crying for me.” the seam of his jeans feels so good against your clit, hitting it at just the right angle to set you off. he grips your throat tighter, a reminder that you stopped kissing him, and you eagerly give him more, soft kisses turning sloppy.
you’re grinding faster and faster, unable to control your movements as you rut against him like a bitch in heat. all you need is to come, and the friction between your legs is about to do it. simon angles his hand on your hip downwards, thumb pressing on your clit over your pajamas. you whine, right on the edge, absolutely needing nothing more than to let go. simon fucks into you, never minding the clothes, and whispers “be a good little wife and come for me.” that’s it, your walls spasming over nothing as you come, collapsing into simon’s arms as he continues to rub your clit, prolonging your orgasm. you’re panting, delirious and tired with the emotional and physical energy of the night, wanting nothing more than to go to sleep.
“sleep with me tonight?” simon asks cautiously, not wanting to spook you. you nod against his shoulder and he takes you both to bed, stripping off his clothes to jump in with you. you stiffen beside him but he isn’t having any of that, pulling you in to be the little spoon. “night, wife.” he murmurs into your hair, placing a small kiss on your head. “night, husband.” you reply, hand covering his as you both drift off into a peaceful sleep.
#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon riley smut#cod 141#simon riley wife#mafia au#fluff#tornadothoughts
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