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thebigbiwolf · 6 months

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Spittle - Part 2/2 (Astarion/F!Reader)

Summary: The chocolate seems innocent enough - if you look past the Infernal writing on the wrapper, and with so few pleasures in the wilderness, you all but jump at the chance to sneak yourself a small treat.

Unbeknownst to you, the bar is infused with succubus spittle. Just one square is rumored to contain enough potency to send a mortal into the throes of ecstasy.

This is what happens when you eat half the bar.

Fic Tags: Sex Pollen (kinda), aphrodisiacs, a bit of dom!Astarion, unprotected piv, overstimulation, he talks you through it (iykyk),

Fic Warnings: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), Language, No use of Y/N, magical influence

Read Part 1: Here

Read on AO3: Here

Word Count: 4k

A/N: Wow. I'll try to make this brief. First of all, I just want to say thank you all so much for your continued support. I know this took me forever to write, but I've been going through a lot of emotional turmoil with school and some health issues with my animals. Your patience means so much to me, and I can only hope this lives up to everyone's expectations! This is my first time writing smut, and ngl I feel a bit like Icarus, so let me know if y'all liked it. Last, but not least, thanks again to my bestie/beta @imaginarydromedary for holding my hand through the shame.

Astarion sits quietly beside the fire, absently picking the dirt from beneath his manicured nails. The night had unfolded like countless others before it: boring, mundane. Uneventful.

Perhaps he should retire early. The Realm According to Bumpo sits patiently atop the desk in his tent, and if he heads to bed now, he could potentially finish a chapter before his watch begins.

He stands, patting the dust off his trousers, just as Shadowheart emerges from your tent. He initially doesn’t pay her any mind - fails to notice the concern etched across her face.

“Astarion.”

He snaps to attention, recognizing the fear in her voice.

Astarion’s stomach sinks when their eyes meet. Shadowheart isn’t normally one to succumb to panic, but she looks as though she’s just stumbled out of a wolf’s den.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. She - I’ve never seen…” Shadowheart pauses, taking a steadying breath. “She’s feverish. She was fine only hours ago. I heard a cry from her tent and feared something was amiss. When I found her, she…” The cleric hesitates, eyes contemplative - as if weighing exactly how much she wants to reveal.

“Out with it, damn it!”

“Is there any chance she’s been poisoned? You two stayed behind, back in the village. Did she come into contact with anything that might have pierced her skin?”

“Poisoned? No, she -” Astarion retraces the events, turning over your brief conversations in his head before landing on the only noteworthy detail he can think of.

He taps a finger on his chin, a thoughtful smile creasing his face. “Unless, of course, the Infernal chocolates didn’t agree with her.”

“I’m sorry, the what?”

“The chocolate she found at the apothecary. I assumed she hid it away so she could enjoy her little treat, unbothered. There was Infernal text on the wrapper.”

She stares at him with wide eyes, jaw slack with disbelief. “And you didn’t think to mention this earlier?”

Astarion shrugs, unfazed.

“Where’s Wyll?”

He rolls his eyes. “How should I know? I’m not his keeper.”

“Astarion!”

“Oh, come on. That chocolate must have been at least a decade old. Are you certain this isn’t just some sort of stomach bug?”

The cleric shoves past him, groaning in exasperation. She shoots him a glare and mutters, “I’m certain,” before jogging in the direction of Wyll’s tent.

“Infused with succubus spittle. Just one bite will have you and that special someone rolling around for hours. Consume responsibly."

Astarion giggles boyishly. “An aphrodisiac? How fun.”

Wyll squints as he silently reads the next bit to himself, fingers tracing the text. He turns to Shadowheart, jaw tightening, "How much of this did you say she ingested?"

"I only found half the bar."

Wyll’s expression grows more serious. "This says the recommended serving size is one square… How many squares were left?"

“Oh, gods…” she breathes, "Six."

The three exchange silent, worried glances.

“Could she die from this?” Shadowheart asks, her voice trembling with uncertainty.

Wyll’s lips press into a thin line. In truth, he doesn’t know the answer. He could ask Mizora for guidance, but the devil’s been awfully silent after his recent failures. He isn’t sure she'd be willing to answer him, let alone grant any favors. Still, it may be worth a call.

Just as Wyll’s about to suggest it, Astarion heaves a deep, dramatic sigh, throwing his hands up in defeat.

“Alright, I know what we’re all thinking. I’ll take care of this.”

The other two regard each other, thoroughly confused.

“Look," Astarion explains, I may not be well-versed in magic, or magical remedies, for that matter, but now that we know what’s causing this… I think it’s obvious what needs to be done.”

“You’re joking.” Shadowheart laughs, incredulously.

“No,” he continues, “We can’t just sit here and hope for the best. We need to act quickly, and let's just say, this fits into my... skill set.”

“So, you’re going to, what? Have sex with her? You think she’ll be capable of saying anything but yes, given the state she’s in?”

Astarion shoots her a glare. The mere thought that he’d ever so much as suggest doing something like that - bedding you when you’re too weak to reject him - the very idea of it makes him sick.

He isn’t that evil.

“Watch your tongue,” he spits at her, “before I do us all the favor of removing it.”

“Hang on, you two,” Wyll interjects, “Astarion, I think you might have a point. You would know better than anyone whether she’s in a right enough state of mind to… consent to this. You’re closest to her. She trusts you.”

He turns to Shadowheart, “It’s worth a try.”

Astarion notices two things as he pulls back the flap of your tent.

The first is that it is unseasonably warm. Scorching hot, like summer. A stark contrast from the welcoming cool of the early spring night behind him.

And second, that the air in the tent is heavy - heady with the scent of sweat and something else he can’t quite identify. It's clouding his senses, making his head swim. The taste of it settles on his tongue, like salt on the rim of an otherwise very sweet drink.

The moonlight at his back casts a dark shadow over your sleeping form. Astarion hesitates for a moment, taking in the sight of you, vulnerable and oblivious to his presence, feeling too much like a wolf looming over a snared rabbit.

You twitch, grimacing in pain.

He frowns. This wasn’t the way he wanted to go about seducing you. His plan was much more sophisticated: a carafe of wine, a few honeyed words leading to a night of passion, your endless thanks, all culminating in some well-earned release and his assured protection.

A mutual exchange.

But, this?

He’s roused from his thoughts by another grunt, escaping from between your clenched teeth.

Whatever you’re going through, it looks like hell.

Ugh. You know what? Fine. Maybe this isn’t the way he envisioned it, but when has life ever blessed him with a perfect scenario? He’ll offer his… services, and respect whatever answer you give him. If you refuse him now, he can always try again later. Under less perilous circumstances, provided you survive the night.

And if not, well, he's never been one to play the hero, but at least he tried.

He steps further inside, closing the entrance behind him. The moment he seals the tent shut, there is a palpable shift. The space feels infinitely heavier, laden with unnatural energy, reminiscent of anticipation, but just slightly… off.

He breathes, trying to focus on anything but that intoxicating scent. The haze of it is maddening.

The elf sits on his knees beside you, hands resting in his lap.

He clears his throat, hoping the sound would be enough to wake you.

There’s no response.

He whispers your name.

Nothing.

No choice, then.

He drums a finger against your bare arm.

The cleric was right. Your skin is so hot, it borders on scalding.

Finally, you begin to stir.

Again. It happened again.

As soon as you closed your eyes to rest, you saw him - That thing that wore his skin. You felt his hands and mouth as he ravaged you until you fell apart beneath him, above him, wrapped around him, like he was everywhere all at once.

He was demanding as he took pleasure from you. Ravenous. Mocking your cries, your begging.

The hours stretched into what felt like lifetimes, and you’d nearly given up hope, resigning yourself to the idea that this was your new, endless reality.

Until suddenly, you hear a voice that pulls you from the dark recesses of your subconscious-- the very voice being used to torture you

Your name, uttered quietly by Astarion. Just Astarion. No second, more sinister layer beneath it.

Your eyelids flutter, then widen as a chilling realization washes over you.

He’s touching you. The pads of his fingers are both a balm and an irritant, soothing and igniting the flames licking at the corners of your mind.

“You look like you’ve seen better days.” He teases.

You recoil from his touch, sitting upwards and crawling back away from him.

He can’t be here. He, of all people, can’t be here.

And yet, something within you is screeching in delight.

'That’s him, isn’t it? The object of your desires? How fun!’

You swallow. Hard.

“Astarion, I -”

He holds up a hand, silencing you. “I’m aware.”

“Shadowheart informed us of your… predicament,” he continues, “I can’t help but feel partly responsible, seeing as I was there when you found the chocolate -”

“The chocolate? Is that - wait, what?”

Shit. Your head is pounding.

You press your palms against your eyes and groan.

“I’ll spare you the details, but that chocolate was laced with succubus spittle - a highly potent aphrodisiac - and you, my dear, have consumed enough to bring an entire brothel to its knees.”

Your eyes snap open, meeting his own. There isn’t an ounce of humor in his tone. No sign of his usual mischief.

Gods, he’s being fucking serious.

“Now, as amusing as this might be if it were anyone else, I’d prefer it if our party’s leader made it out of this alive, and that leaves us with a choice."

You gaze at him silently, waiting as the candlelight paints his sharp features in warm hues of amber and honey.

'He’s quite handsome. I see why you like him.’

“You can ride this out alone,” Astarion explains, “Shadowheart will return with her best salves and more potions for the fever. We’ll hope this passes quickly, but Wyll’s translation suggests the amount you consumed could leave you in this state for up to a week.”

Your stomach churns. You’re going to be sick.

“And the alternative?” you manage to ask.

His hand finds yours, fingers intertwining with your own. Your skin prickles at the contact.

“The alternative is that you let me help you through this. Consider it a repayment, of sorts, for gifting me your blood. I’m somewhat of an expert on… well,” he lets out a humorless laugh, “let’s just say, I’m the best chance you’ve got.”

Maybe it's the blood roaring in your ears, or maybe you’re still dreaming, but it sounds like Astarion is offering to… fuck you?

“I’m sorry, what?”

He groans, visibly frustrated. “Sex, my dear. If the magic is compelling you to have it, I think we should listen.”

‘Handsome and smart.’

You hiss, “Would you please shut up?”

Astarion squints. “What was that?”

“Nothing, sorry.” You clear your throat. “Listen, I - I get what you’re trying to do. I appreciate it, really, but -”

Pain lances through your abdomen, a sharp, icy shard that interrupts your words. You clutch at your side, releasing Astarion’s hand before falling helplessly on your back, twisting in agony.

He inches closer, voice tinged with urgency. “We’re running out of time. If you want my help, it's best to ask now, because as much as I love the idea of you begging for me to bed you, I won’t be comfortable doing this unless you agree to this while you’ve still got your wits about you.”

Tears sting the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision at the edges. He’s right. You don’t think you can endure this alone, and as much as you fucking hate to admit it, the damned succubus magic - that thing - is right.

You do desire him. You’ve wanted him since the moment you met beside the nautiloid. Now here he is, offering to alleviate your suffering.

There’s just one part of his offer that you can’t quite come to terms with.

“I didn’t let you drink from me because I was hoping you’d repay me.” Your voice warbles, wet and stressed, “I can’t have sex with you if it’ll just be part of some ridiculous transaction. Not with anyone, and certainly not with you.”

His expression softens as your words sink in. It’s a confession, of sorts. The kind he’s wholly unfamiliar with. It stuns him almost to the point of speechlessness.

“My apologies. Believe me, it was more of an excuse than anything. I didn’t mean to suggest…” He lets his words trail off, shaking his head. You two can revisit this conversation later, when time isn’t of the essence. “It doesn’t matter. I want to do this. Let me help you.”

The sincerity in his voice sends a shiver up your spine.

It’s clear he means this.

He means every word.

You nod. “Okay.”

Astarion clears his throat, rolling the tension off his shoulders.

“Good. Now that we’ve got that taken care of,” he says as he throws one of his legs over your waist, straddling you, “Why don’t you lie back and let me take care of this, hm?”

His posture is relaxed. Confident. He regards you with hooded eyes and the faintest hint of a smirk. It’s quite the sight, one you’d enjoy significantly more if your body wasn’t busy screaming for his attention.

His deft hands make quick work of the laces of your shirt, and with every string that loosens, your composure unravels further. You squirm, unable to resist the heat that teases your skin and the growing itch beneath it.

As if Astarion can sense your rising panic, he places a cool palm against your burning cheek, his touch both gentle and practiced as he rubs smooth circles at the dip of your temple.

“Relax, dear,” he whispers, both a request and a command. The gentle lilt in his voice masks the underlying authority, but your body obeys all the same, tension releasing from your muscles. “I’ve got you.”

Astarion quickly rids you of the offending fabric, chest and stomach now bared to him. His eyes scan over your form with focused intensity, lips pinched between his teeth, like an artist deciding what to make of their blank canvas.

“Normally, I’d take my time with this,” he admits, “but given the circumstances…” He swiftly undoes the buttons of your trousers before yanking them off along with your smallclothes. One single, fluid motion.

He can’t hide the mild shock that follows when he sees the state of you - dripping wet, red and pulsing with need.

He dips the tip of his finger between your folds. It glides over velvet skin, coating the digit in warm, wet slick. A strangled, pitiful noise escapes from your throat.

For a moment, Astarion’s calculated expression falters, surprised by the rate at which your body opens itself up to him. A glint of hunger lurks beneath the surface.

“This may be easier than I thought.” He says with a smirk, more to himself than to you.

He presses two digits in, slow and intentional. There’s no resistance; A knife through warm butter. You’re dripping down his knuckles, gripping around him like a vice. He slides all the way in until the heel of his palm meets your clit.

“Breathe.”

Not even realizing you’d been holding your breath, you release it with a shutter.

“Very good.” He punctuates his words with the slow drag of his fingers. Long, languid movements. He’s taking his sweet time with you, pulling scandalous little cries from your lips. It’s like he’s toying with you - seeing how long you can hold out before breaking.

It doesn’t take much time at all.

“Astarion -”

“Yes?”

“Please.”

“Please, what? What do you need, darling?” His eyes are fixed on your own, grin tugging at the edge of his mouth. A cat playing with a cornered mouse.

“More. Anything.”

He hums in approval, then wets the pad of his thumb on his tongue before drawing circles exactly where you need. Heat coils at the base of your spine, forming a ball of tension that threatens to snap.

The sheer intensity of it is enough to scare you, caught between the urge to chase the sensation or flee from it. “Astarion, I -”

He ignores your warning as if he hadn’t heard it, plunging his fingers into your heat and curling them - expertly caressing a spot that threatens to shatter you. Your hands fly out, gripping the fabric of his shirt, the sheets beneath you, anything in a desperate attempt to ground yourself.

“Go on, love. Let it out. I’ve got you.”

Your body seizes as your orgasm tears through you, igniting every one of your oversensitive nerves. Back arching off the bedroll, several strangled sounds - almost pained - rip from your throat. The pleasure threatens to tear you apart, but the thick fog of lust occupying your mind begins to subside, offering the slightest bit of clarity as you twitch beneath him.

Astarion grabs you by the jaw, tilting your head this way and that, admiring his handiwork. He's quite pleased with himself, with the mess he's made of you - jaw slack and brows pinched. He coaxes out the aftershocks, watching you squeeze around his fingers.

"There,” he gives you a playful pat on the cheek, "You're looking better already."

"You're - agh - enjoying this too much."

"I never said I wasn't going to enjoy it."

A beat of silence passes between the two of you as he allows you to catch your breath. For a moment, you think the coast is clear - that maybe, this was as far as things had to go. This was what the magic was compelling you to do, or at the very least - it was close enough. You fulfilled its wishes. Surely.

But then he pulls out of you, and the second you feel the vacuum of emptiness where his fingers once were, that voice in your head is screeching like some sort of petulant child. It pouts, waggling its non-existent finger in your direction. The demanding bitch.

Part of you, instinctually, realizes that this is just the beginning - that you’re simply at the edge of the shore watching the tides recede while a devastating wave builds somewhere in the distance.

“What is it? Does it still hurt?” Astarion asks, breaking the silence, and you realize that no, it doesn’t. Not like before, at least.

You shake your head.

“Good. I’d wager that means this is working.” He smiles triumphantly, working the laces of his own clothes, and ridding himself of the final layers between you, revealing an intricate network of muscle beneath. For a man who’d supposedly been starved for the last two centuries, he certainly doesn’t look the part.

Astarion nudges your legs apart with his thigh, then settles between your knees, dragging the head of his cock between your folds. He hums in approval, admiring the sight as he coats himself in your slick. It practically drools out of you.

There’s no resistance when he dips himself into your entrance.

His eyes scan over your face, searching for any discomfort, but all he finds is need.

So, he presses in further.

“Shit, you -”

He hisses, sucking in a sharp breath as he bottoms out, then takes a moment, eyes pinched shut, collecting himself.

He slides out, just an inch or so, before plunging back in, buried as deeply as he can reach. It’s so damn easy, the sinfully wet mess you’ve left all over his cock allowing him to glide in and out, tilting his hips with each thrust.

The stretch of him is perfect, like you were made for this - made to take him. His length rubbing and dragging against your walls acts like a balm, relaxing your body as you swallow and grip him in scorching heat.

He grabs one of your thighs, pressing it into your chest - the new angle allowing him to sink even deeper into your core.

It isn’t long before you’re begging him for more, digging your heels into the curve of his back.

Astarion starts pounding into you - a new, brutal pace spurred on by your encouragement and the wet, filthy slap of his skin against yours. The sounds reverberate off the canvas of your tent, blending with your choked sobs. You just know your companions are going to have something to say about this in the morning, but you honestly can’t bring yourself to care.

The only thing that matters now is the man above you - his nails digging into the flesh of your ass, whispering how good you feel. How well you’re taking him, “Like you were made for this - for me.” His grunts are like music to your ears, drowning out all other thoughts as his chest vibrates against your own.

It’s all too much.

Your orgasm sneaks up on you before you have a chance to warn him, but he feels the way you flutter around his cock and acts on instinct - snaking his fingers between your bodies and rubbing your clit in quick circles.

You throw your head back with a cry, shaking beneath him, and grip him like a vice as you come. The force of it slams into you, hot and devastating, tightening every muscle within its wake. You wind your limbs tightly around the hard planes of Astarion’s body as he rolls his hips into you, slow and deep.

You can feel him twitching inside you, his rhythm suddenly stuttering with each thrust. Something tells you he’d come now, if you’d allow him.

But where?

'Where else?'

The very idea of him not spilling every drop he has inside of you disturbs you nearly to the point of panic, and with that, you finally understand what this damned succubus has been demanding of you this entire time.

“Astarion, please. I need you.”

“Where?” he asks, voice muffled, panting hot and open-mouthed against the swell of your shoulder.

“Inside,” you beg, “Please. Please - It’s alright.”

He shudders, surging up into you one last time with a strangled grunt. Holding onto your hips, he pulses within you, the warmth of his release filling you to the brim, until a thick white ring of come forms at the base of his length. You can’t help but clench around him, moving to match his previous pace and trying desperately to wring as much out of him as you can, until it begins to seep out onto the sheets beneath you.

It isn’t until he stills inside of you that you release your hold on him. The two of you take a minute to collect yourselves, waiting for your heart to settle and listening to Astarion’s ragged breaths.

He lifts his weight off of you with a grunt, settling back on his knees.

“That was - agh,” he shivers as he pulls out of you. You don’t even want to look at the mess.

“I’m going to have to burn these sheets, aren’t I?” you ask, sitting up on your shoulders.

He throws his head back with a genuine, hearty laugh, and cards his fingers through his dampened hair.

This is the most relaxed you think you’ve ever seen him - not a scowl line in sight. He rolls his shoulders, and sighs at the subsequent pop before turning his focus back on you.

“I’ll have you know,” Astarion muses, “I’ve done this more times than I can count— but this, my dear,” he chuckles, “This was one for the books.”

“So, was sleeping with me everything you could have possibly imagined?” It’s an obvious joke, given your tone. An offer to squash any chance of this happening again, should he wish to. An exit.

He hums playfully. “Well, next time I think I’d prefer the subtle influence of wine over a mind-altering aphrodisiac, if it's all the same to you.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Did he just offer to do this again? Well, not exactly, but -

“And how are you feeling?” Astarion asks.

Better, is the honest answer. Slightly confused and deeply embarrassed, but better.

The apologies you’ll have to make after the night’s over seem endless, both to him and to Shadowheart for all the trouble you caused. Not to mention the others, who’ve probably had the sound of your squealing burned into their memories forever. The idea of it is daunting.

“Because if you’re still reeling from any nasty, lingering effects,” he continues, “I’m sure I could be… persuaded to help again.”

Oh.

Hm.

“Well, now that you mention it…”

Tag List (sorry if I missed anyone! I only added you if you explicitly asked to be tagged): @daedriclys @captain039 @sushiumex @sugasweettea @marauders-moon @starlightelegy @ablxssm @the-lake-is-calling

#bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #astarion #astarion acunin #astarion bg3 #astarion x reader #astarion fanfic #astarion x you #spittle

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love-belle · 3 months

Text

we caught that holiday glee !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which it doesn't take a genius to know that they're actually the icons.

for when you want to spend all of your christmases with them. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

social media au // charles leclerc x fem!reader

prequel - you got me thinking nonsense ⋆·˚ ༘ *

warnings - language

author's note - hahahahaha hiiii!!!! im so SORRY for being absent i've been going insane over school 😭😭😭 it's all just a mess rn (IM IN LOVEEEEE I MET THIS GUY) and hopefully, i can post often but still, i can't promise anything!!! HAPPY NEW YEAR MY LOVES <3 i hope ur all doing okay!!!! i love u all so much :)

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by charles_leclerc, lewishamilton, carmenmmundt and 2,417,916 others

yourusername here's a lil carol i wrote it's abt u and me 🎀

11,628 comments

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≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

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charles_leclerc we caught that holiday glee

tagged yourusername

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#f1 x reader #f1 x female reader #f1 imagines #social media au #fake instagram imagines #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fluff

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campingwiththecharmings · 7 months

Text

Can't Fight This Feeling

AN: In a bit of a writing slump so I went back and finished this WIP I've had sitting in my google docs for almost a year lol. Hope y'all enjoy~ (based off of a prompt from this post).

(Un-beta’d)

You and Santi have been dancing around your feelings for each other since the day you met.

Rated: T Words: 2,171 Pairing: Santiago “Pope” Garcia x F!Reader (wrote with a F!Reader in mind but since there's no smut, it can probably be read as GN) Warnings: alcohol consumption, unresolved sexual tension, probably way too much banter, LONGING, friends who are secretly in love with each other. AO3

——————

“Oh, come on, Santi, it’s my turn,” you pout, slouching against the wall where the dart board hangs.

He takes a sip from his beer and chuckles, throwing one of the darts in his hand at the board by your head. You yelp in surprise as the loud thunk resounds in your ear and shoot him a glare.

“Probably not the best place to lean, cariño,” he smirks, taking another sip.

Frankie claps him on the shoulder, turning Santiago’s attention to him. “Hey, I’m callin’ it a night, man. I’m beat.”

“Yeah, I think we will too, for obvious reasons,” Will says, gesturing to his brother who’s half asleep in the booth beside him.

“But we just started another game, guys, you can’t leave yet,” you argue before stealing a swig from Santiago’s beer and giggling when tries to take the bottle back from you.

Will shakes his head fondly, shooting Frankie a look you and Santi both miss while he’s chasing you around the pool table. You steal another sip and raise your eyebrows in challenge, giggling when he grumbles something under his breath.

“What was that, Pope? Didn’t quite catch that,” you call, holding his beer bottle up tauntingly.

He rolls his eyes.

“Goodnight, kids. Be good,” Frankie calls, waving at the two of you.

“Night, Fish!” you and Santi yell at the same time, sending you into a fit of giggles.

There’s a chance you might be just a little bit tipsy.

Santi shakes his head, raising an eyebrow as you absently take another pull from his beer.

“You realize you owe me a beer now, right?” he asks, gesturing to the bottle in your hand.

“Nope,” you say, popping the ‘p’ before chugging the rest of Santi’s drink. “I won this fair and square.”

He scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “More like ‘stole.’”

“Like you stole my turn, you mean?”

“I didn’t steal your turn.”

“Yeah you did, I was supposed to go first.”

“Says who?” he scoffs, leaning against the pool table.

You pause, your brain sluggishly searching for a response. “The…gentlemen’s code.”

He snorts, eyebrows raising in amusement. “The gentlemen’s code?”

You nod, crossing your arms defiantly. “Yeah. You know, chivalry or whatever.”

“Right,” he says softly, mischief in his eyes as he saunters over to you, invading your personal space. “And who said I was a gentleman?”

There’s a heat flickering in his eyes as he holds your gaze, a small smirk on his lips. You swallow thickly, unable to look away, the spicy scent of his cologne making you feel lightheaded.

“You want another round?” a voice says suddenly, dragging you both back to reality.

You both jolt, jumping back from each other as if you’d been caught doing something you weren’t supposed to be doing.

“Yeah,” Santiago says, nodding at the waitress. “Thanks.”

She nods distractedly, scribbling something on her notepad as she heads back to the bar.

The dull thud and subsequent clatter of a dart bouncing off the wall brings his attention back to you.

“You gotta be kidding me,” he says, watching unamused as you randomly toss darts at the board.

“What?” you scoff, clutching the remaining darts to your chest.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

“What do you mean? I’m playing darts.”

“No, you’re throwing darts. Playing implies that you have some kind of game plan or general knowledge of the rules.”

“Oh. Wow, I am so sorry. Please teach me, oh, Master of the Darts.”

He scoffs. “If I thought you were even remotely serious, I might consider it.”

“Who says I’m not serious?”

“‘Master of the Darts?’”

You shrug. “What? It’s a better nickname than ‘Pope.’”

The waitress returns with two more beers, setting them on the high top next to Santi. He thanks her, covertly slipping her a few bills as a tip.

“Hey,” you say, bringing his attention back to you. “How come I don’t have a nickname?”

He chuckles, twisting off the top of one of the bottles and handing it to you. “What are you talking about?”

“You and Will and Benny and Frankie all have nicknames. How come I don’t have one?”

He gazes at you in silence for a moment, opening the other beer and bringing it to his lips. You’re pouting, leaning your elbows on the high top.

“Half a minute ago, you were going on about how stupid my nickname was.”

“It is,” you say matter-of-factly.

Santi laughs, coughing a little as he chokes on his beer. “Then why would you want one?”

You twist your lips, putting your hand up to cradle your chin. “Better to have a stupid nickname than no nickname at all.”

He contemplates this for a moment and then nods. “Fair enough. Want me to give you one?”

You scoff, taking a pull from your bottle. “I don’t want a pity nickname, Garcia.”

“Better to have a pity nickname than no nickname at all,” he teases, raising his eyebrows.

You roll your eyes at him, biting back a smile. “Whatever.”

He chuckles, taking another pull from his bottle.

The night continues, and so do the drinks, the alcohol making you both klutzier and even more giggly. On your third round of darts, Santi takes it upon him to correct your (apparently) improper form when your dart bounces off of one of the framed photos on the wall and you dissolve into a fit of laughter.

“C’mere, I wanna show you something,” he slurs, waving you over as he takes another swig from the bottle in his hand.

You roll your eyes with a huff, but humor him nonetheless, shuffling over and giggling again when you trip over nothing. He waves you over again, this time more impatient and makes a weird flourishing motion with his hands when you stop in front of him.

“Turn around,” he clarifies when you simply gaze at him in confusion, and you sigh again, doing as he asks.

You wait, facing the wall with your back to him. After what feels like an eternity, you turn to glare over your shoulder at him. “Any day now, Garcia.”

He scoffs, moving closer to you, so close he can feel the warmth of you through his clothes. He cups your elbow and moves your arm so you’re holding it at a 90-degree angle. Your hand with the dart is up by your head and his fingers are gentle as they shift yours, changing your hold around the dart. Your skin is smooth and soft and suddenly he wishes he could trace every inch of it. He pushes the thought away, grunting when you fight him a little, chuckling at his frustration; the sound sends a pleasant shiver through him. When he’s satisfied, he releases you, his hand coming to rest on your shoulder.

He leans in closer with the intention of matching your eye line, but instead ends up with his nose against the side of your neck, the intoxicating smell of you invading his senses. The urge to drag his nose along the shell of your ear is so strong he almost gives in, his breath ghosting over your skin. Instead, he halts, taking a step back, suddenly far more sober than he had been a moment ago.

He looks up at the sound of his name, your face concerned as you gaze at him over your shoulder. “You okay?”

He nods, running a hand through his curls. “Yeah, just, uh…got a little dizzy.”

You turn toward him, now even more concerned. “Do you wanna sit?”

He shakes his head, smiling slightly as he waves you off. “Nah, I’m good. We should probably call it night though…it’s late.”

You study him silently for a moment, swaying slightly, before nodding and blinking at him blearily. “Yeah. I’m tired.”

He smiles, grabbing your arm as you trip over nothing again. You snort, winding your arm around his and laying heavily against his shoulder. “Take me home, Pope.”

Santiago grunts, stumbling a little at the vice grip you have on his arm, and moves to leave, throwing a few bills onto the table as he walks by. The night air is cool and crisp, sobering him even more, making it hard to ignore how good you feel pressed against his side. You both walk in silence, his brain replaying pieces of his night with you.

“You’re quiet,” you say, eyeing him suspiciously when he turns to look at you.

He forces a smile before looking ahead of him again, afraid he’s going to trip over something. “Just tired, like you said.”

You nod, sighing as you lay your head against his shoulder. “I could fall asleep right now, to be honest.”

His lips twitch, his actual smile threatening to spread across his lips. “Don’t let me stop you.”

Your shoe catches on a crack in the sidewalk and you stumble a little, pulling on Santi’s arm and throwing him off balance. He grunts, and you giggle, somehow leaning into him even more than before. When you’ve both found your footing, he shakes his head, a soft smile on his lips.

“Let’s get you home, you trainwreck.”

Thankfully, your apartment isn’t far and you both make it safely to the door without further incident.

“Sure you don’t need help getting up the stairs?” he asks, that crease between his brow deep with concern.

You shake your head absently, your eyes trailing over the rest of his face—his strong brow, stately nose, chiseled jaw, and plush lips…

He’s talking but you’re not sure what he’s saying, completely caught up in how gorgeous his face is. Is it weird that you want to touch it? Probably, you decide, yet still you can’t help but imagine whether his scruff would feel scratchy or like velvet against your fingertips. What would his lips feel like if you dragged your thumb across them? Would his chin feel as sharp as it looks if you cradled it in your hands? You want to know, need to know, the desire to touch him overtaking every thought or impulse in your brain until you finally say—

"I like your stupid face.”

He pauses, taken a little aback at the admission. After a moment, he snorts, brow furrowing as he chuckles. “Uh…thanks?”

“It’s just so stupid,” you continue, trying to make sure he really understands. “It’s so…I like it. Can I touch it?”

Santi chuckles again, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “You…wanna touch my face?”

You nod, chewing your lip as you step a little closer, devouring him with your eyes. He swallows thickly, your suddenly ravenous gaze causing something warm to pool in his gut.

“Can I?” you ask again, your voice soft, like a whisper.

He shouldn’t, shouldn’t entertain this, especially with the state you’re both in right now, but damn if he isn’t curious to see what happens. So he nods. You smile at him almost dreamily and reach up with both hands to cup his cheeks. Santi’s breath catches a little at your touch, and it takes everything in him not to completely melt into it.

His stubble is a tad prickly against your palms, yet somehow still soft as you swipe your thumbs across his cheekbones. It tickles in such a delightful way; you can’t help but smile. Santi’s lips part as you gently caress his face, drawing your gaze to his mouth. His breath puffs against your skin as you drag your thumb over his bottom lip, unconsciously pulling your own between your teeth. It’s so soft, so pillowy. Your finger catches a bit of his stubble on one of your passes over his lip and your breath catches, the combination of soft and sharp sending a shiver through your body. Suddenly, you wonder what it might be like, how it would feel, to have his lips pressed against yours, his five o’clock shadow scratching against your skin. What would it feel like elsewhere? Against your neck, perhaps or…between your thighs? Unable to stop yourself, you lean in and press a soft kiss to his cheek, your eyes fluttering slightly as the hair on his face tickles your lips.

You swallow thickly as you pull back, your skin warm, heart beating wildly in your chest. Santiago’s eyes are heavy, pupils wide and dark as he stares at you, your hand still on his face. You sober a little then, shaking your head slightly with a breathy chuckle as you release him and step away.

“Well, uh,” you say, clearing your throat as you awkwardly shove your hands in your pockets. “Goodnight then, I guess.”

Santi can’t find the strength to do much more than nod, his mouth still slightly open as he watches you walk up the steps that lead to the front door of your building.

You wave before you head inside, cringing a little at yourself as you turn away, hoping he won’t remember any of this tomorrow.

If you enjoyed this, please let me know! I appreciate every single reblog and/or comment. Thank you. 💖

🌟 Masterlist 🌟

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#santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia x you #santiago pope garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia x you #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier fic #my fic

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oonajaeadira · 5 months

Text

Tree's up.

Hazel (@grogusmum), you're gonna like this.

OH I'M SORRY

DID YOU NOT EXPECT MARI LWYD?

GET OUT THE TREATS IT'S TIME FOR HAVOC.

EPIC RAP BATTLE STARTS NOW.

Okay, so it's not a horse skull, but the sentiment stands.

But for reals, yo, I was WFH today and didn't have much on my plate so I decided to finally start cleaning up the house (it's been a shambles since September because rehearsals then shows then vacations then a busy week). The ofrenda got packed away and the tree came out...

And I gotta be honest, kitkats. I just didn't have it in me this year for the huge roll of lights and all the bulbs.

I'd just done some organizing of my craft stuffs lately and didn't have a place for this mask I got for my Halloween times and absently wondered if it would be fun to put it on the tree.

And then I was like....WAIT. I just unearthed a shitton of ribbon I stashed lately. And recently got all these keys in an auction. And I've had this weird LED light strip forever and haven't put it away or done anything with yet (OMGS Y'ALL, THE COLORS IT CAN DO). So I only dug out my animals and woodsy ornaments, strung up some shiny things, and there you be. Pagan Yule Tree.

Just nobody tell my sister and we'll be fine.

Also, nobody inform my family that the tree wasn't Christian in the first place. It's not gonna go well.

Flashback to my mom visiting once: "Why do you have a menorah? You're not Jewish."

"I have a nativity set and I'm not Christian. I have a tree and I'm not pagan."

"A tree isn't pagan! I have a tree and I'm not pagan."

"You could try."

" And yes you are Christian."

"Make me."

#just felt like a shake up

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edgyandoverzealous · 2 years

Text

Bacause Cringe culture is dead and I am back in my FNAF SB phase. Explaining your Kins as the therapist friend but I'm feeling salty so it's all just calling you out. Except I felt bad after a little bit so they each have a funny/lighthearted one calling me out.

Glamrock Freddy

How's those daddy issues doing?

Was he emotionally absent, physically absent, or was he just distant and unaffectionate?

I'm willing to bet he called you superstar once and you immediately started kinning.

Additionally how're those abandonment issues treating ya?

On a scale from 1/10 how displeased were you when Freddy got dragged away by moon 'cause he powered down before he got to the charging station?

You know he originally was gonna turn on you right? That would worsen your abandonment issues, you should thank Scott for that one.

You are the parent friend btw, Ily please bring bandaids and painkillers I'm accident prone and ignore pain until it's unbearable. We may be going to the ER</3

Glamrock Chica

Are you a Lesbian? Or are you the oldest child who uses gentle techniques of sibling-parenting?

How do you feel knowing you probably aren't listened to?

How's your mommy issues doing?

Do you mayhaps think that people won't want you unless you give them something?

Do you feel like no one takes care of you but you always have to take care of everyone else?

How's your relationship with food going? Yeah, me too. Note that chica physically can't eat by the end as well.

Do you even speak/Do you ever shut up?

Scared of overcoddling but also terrified of taking a step back and away because you feel like if you stop they'll all leave you much?

Choir/Band/Theatre kid or grandparent friend with hard candies in their purse that I would eat wrapper and all because intrusive thought said to and shiny.

Roxxane Wolf

So are you a Lesbian, furry, or e-girl simp? Or are you the oldest child who uses more forceful/low-key mean techniques of sibling-parenting?

How's the crippling self doubt and God complex treating you?

How's crying in your room because you yelled at them and said something mean but don't know how to say sorry going?

What about that inferiority complex?

Pushing everyone away because they'll only leave you? Ding ding ding we have a winner.

Burnt out perfectionist?

You're the type of friend whose love language is bullying and play fighting. Be careful you don't make your friend cry, I am the friend that'd cry.

Monty Gator

Self-destructive behavior, pent up aggression and always looking for a reason to fight?

Anger issues much? Or do you just simp for Bonnie's replacement because you saw one too many human Monty edits?

You're probably short too, huh? Just like the fuse you have when given a chance. Or your big and burly which also is terrifying.

How's your constant existential crisis going?

Do you feel like there's a looming expectation that's too big for you to fill over your head?

Do you feel like you're never first choice?

That you're simply a replacement for everyone else?

How about respect? Do you ever give or receive it? No?

Are you always restless? Yeah? Thought so.

You're the protective friend who is willing to throw hands with anyone who disturbs their friends. Me too honestly, I've been held back on multiple occasions because I'm a short queer man and it's in my veins.

Glamrock Bonnie

So are you still sobbing over that one line, you know the one, or are you living on fan theories? Like how are you still kicking?

How's your mental health? Bad? Yeah I thought so.

Anxiety and depression kin you honey? <3

Disasciotiating royalty, you.

You long for something in your past that cannot be changed.

You fall for what you know you can't have and never will be obtained, don't you?

You felt robbed by the game and that's okay. I miss him too.

Sun/Moon

You scare me, legitimately you scare me. Y'alls fandom is legitimately impressive especially for insert types. You have one of every flavor and are insanely good at drawing the skrunglies less skrungly. Good for you.

Additionally how's healing your inner child going?

And those mommy and daddy issues?

I'm sorry you weren't held as a child?

Too busy parenting everyone else to have been cared for the same?

Forced to grow up too fast?

You were definitely a traumatized child. Adults let you down and now you seek comfort in a robot of two extremes as unstable as your adolescence.

You're the "childish" friend. Silly, sweet, and full of fun but you are by no means innocent. That was stolen from you a long time ago.

Also you either can't sleep or you oversleep or both.

Mapbot

You scare me, legitimately you scare me. The scariest bots in the game??? Really??? Those buddies??? Okay???? Honestly the healthiest option tbh.

You are either a troll or a disaster bisexual or an enby.

You cling to people because you don't want them to leave you, but that pushes them away more often than not.

How does it feel to be so underated and the "side character" in your own life?

You blend in wherever you go even when you want to be seen or when you want someone to help you.

By the way how's the constant desperation going? Aren't you tired of being sane? Don't you want to go absolutely feral?

#fnaf sb #glamrock freddy #glamrock bonnie #glamrock chica #montgomery gator #roxxane wolf #kin assigning #mapbot #sundrop #moondrop #this is meant to be lighthearted #im sorry in advance #my entire blog is going to be things like this and im sorry if it's inaccurate #im sorry that Bonnie's is short but the man literally died before game #like what was i supposed to do make them more sad???#don't hurt me im on your side and in the fandom #sorry if this is incomprehensible #im exhausted

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sp00kycrumpet · 4 months

Text

Paradise (10/10)

Pairing: Javi Gutierrez x f!reader

Rating: E

Tags: Javi is baby, fluff, holiday romance, Nick Cage is Nick Cage, reader is bilingual

Warnings: swearing

Summary: Working as Nicholas Cage's personal assistant was your favourite job; so when he asked you to accompany him to Mallorca for this birthday party he'd been invited to, you were more than happy to go. What you didn't anticipate was the host himself.

Will also be posted on my AO3

(Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three) (Part Four) (Part Five)

(Part Six) (Part Seven) (Part Eight) (Part Nine)

Hello!! Thank you so much for your support this year~~ I have a handful of more works I've been sitting on for a while (writers block, am I right?) So watch this space!! I'm open to ideas, inputs etc~

Happy Holidays and have an amazing new year! See y'all in 2024!! 💚✨

In the months that followed, you split your time between New York for work and Mallorca to see Javi. Everyone back home was an equal mix of surprised and happy when you told them of your relationship, proudly showing off photos of your gorgeous boyfriend whenever you got the opportunity. Every time you visited, Javi would spoil you with gifts and romantic dates.

But your favourite thing was to curl up on his couch together and watch movies, he always had one of your hands in his. Playing with your fingers or pressing little kisses to your knuckles. You would never grow tired of his constant physical affection, you craved it just as much as he did and you would always do the same with him. Always needing an arm around him or just to touch him in some way. Sometimes he'd still have to work while you visited, and you'd lounge around in his office with a book or doing your own work. It was getting closer to his and Nick's movie finally being made, and he was pouring over the final draft of the script one afternoon when you were over. You'd tried reading but found your gaze kept wandering over to him, the little frown between his brows as he concentrated or the way he'd absent mindedly chew on the end of his pen he was making notes with. You couldn't believe this wonderful man was all yours, it pulled a smile over your lips as you watched him. Even focussed on his work, he looked beautiful. He paused after a moment, lowering his pen like he was about to write when he spoke.

"Cariño. You're staring at me again." He muttered before glancing up to you from under his lashes. You tried to quickly hide your face in your book but he'd caught you red handed.

"Can you blame me? You look so handsome being all serious." You grinned, Javi chuckling as he shook his head. You pushed yourself up, wandering over to stand behind him before sliding your arms around his shoulders after pressing a kiss to the back of his head. He lifted a hand to rest it against your arms, his thumb stroking your skin. "You must be bored." You shook your head, resting your chin lightly against the top of his head.

"I could watch you for hours. But I don't want to keep distracting you… I might go take a bath." You hummed, Javi making a noise of agreement, clearly lost in his reading again. You smiled and kissed the top of his head. "Yeah, I'm going to go do that then I'll make dinner for us okay?" Javi leaned back against you, tilting his head as you ducked down to rest your head against his shoulder.

"That sounds wonderful. I'm sorry I'm so distracted today, Nick wants this back by the end of the week so I wanted to do as much as possible so I can give you the attention you deserve." You grinned and pressed a kiss to his neck before pulling away to head out of the room.

"Don't worry. I'll be back in a bit, okay?" Javi nodded a little, disappearing back into the script.

"Okay. Love you." He muttered before you both froze, the words hanging in the air. You paused with your hand on the door handle. It was the first time either of you had said those words, and it was so casual and natural. You turned to look at him, Javi staring up at you with wide eyes. Almost looking terrified that you'd bolt from the room, never to return after he said it.

"What was that?" You asked, Javi swallowing and looking as nervous as the day you'd first kissed. His lips moved but words failed him momentarily.

"I'm sorry. I-It just -" You cut him off before he could ramble through an apology and excuse.

"Say it again." Was all you said, Javi taking a breath as he watched you. Your heart was doing somersaults in your chest, you knew you loved him but was always worried it might be too soon to say it. You'd added it to the end of numerous texts before deleting it out of fear he wasn't there yet.

"I love you." He breathed, that nervous energy radiating off of him as you moved closer to him. His eyes stayed glued to you as you stood in front of him, your hands reached out to cup his face in them and a smile broke out across your lips. You could see the worry in his eyes, how his mind would be frantically trying to pull the words together to explain himself or prepare for you saying something bad. But you just leaned down and pressed your lips against his tenderly. His shoulders finally relaxed as he reached for you and gently pulled you into his lap.

"You're not freaked out?" He asked when you leaned back, brushing your fingers through his messy hair. You shook your head.

"No, because I absolutely, undoubtedly love you too." He grinned at you, peppering kisses all over your face.

"Thank God. I was scared for a moment there, I think my heart actually stopped!" He laughed, holding you close. His work and your bath were forgotten for now as you kissed him.

"Say it again." You mumbled against his lips, Javi grinning.

"I love you. Te amo." He repeated it over and over, switching between English and Spanish as he often did, pressing kisses to your lips between each admission.

"I love you so much Javi." He grinned, cuddling you against his chest with a content sigh.

Once the movie was finally started, Javi came to stay in New York. At first he'd booked into a hotel, but that proved a waste of money when most nights he'd end up in your bed. So you surprised him by giving him a key to your apartment and told him to just stay there. It felt so nice to come home and find him there, or to see his shoes by yours at the door. Simple domestic touches that made you fall in love with him over and over again. As the movie gained attention, so did Javi. People were curious about Nicholas Cage's new best friend, his social media exploded with followers and companies wanting to work with him after Nick had informally introduced him to the world and convinced Javi to do a few interviews. He ended up doing a couple of photoshoots with brands who wanted to work with him, the internet loved him. He wasn't an actor but his charm and handsome looks meant he built up a fanbase, people were stopping him in the street for photos or to just talk to him. The world loved him. He was so open and honest constantly, even down to talking candidly about how he and Nick only met because Javi was such a fanboy and had invited him to his birthday party. That and the fact that he was so honest about your relationship. In numerous interviews, he'd gush about how Nick had made so many of his dreams come true - including finally finding true love. You'd been caught in photos with Nick in the past, being his assistant meant you were often at most events he attended; so it didn't take fans long to work out you were Javi's true love he so often spoke of. Twitter almost exploded when Javi finally created an Instagram account and his first post was a photo of the two of you at his birthday party alongside a photo of you both on a date night at his compound. It was crazy but Javi was loving it, despite constantly being nervous about events or interviews - he found it was actually fun.

The night of the premier though, Javi was so nervous he couldn't eat. He paced your apartment, calling Nick to check everything was ready to go and trying to calm his nerves. He looked so handsome in his black suit, he'd cut his hair but it still had its unruly curls that added to his look. He was standing in the living room, fiddling with his tie when you emerged from the bedroom.

"Javi, you look incredible, stop fussing." You chuckled softly, pausing to lean against the counter to pull your heels on. He turned to face you and paused, just watching you as you stood up straight and smoothed your hands over your dress. You looked up and blinked at the fact that he was staring.

"Do I look okay…?" You asked, glancing down at the floor length dress you'd bought. It was sleek with slender straps over your shoulders and a slit in the skit that stopped about midthigh on the left side. A classic red carpet dress.

"Okay? You look absolutely breathtaking." Javi replied, momentarily forgetting his nerves as he stepped closer to you. Even now, you still got shy over the way he looked at you with so much love and adoration. His hands came to rest on your waist as he pulled you close, whispering words of adoration in Spanish before he kissed your lips. You grinned and leaned into him, sliding your hands up his chest.

"Javi. We have to go soon." He pouted softly, nudging his nose cutely against your iaw.

"I'm too nervous. Can't we stay here and go after?" You chuckled, his fingers squeezing your waist subtly. Javi was already very physically affectionate, but when his nerves got the better of him, it made his need for physical affection stronger. A few times you'd almost missed interviews because that need had turned into something more.

"Javier Gutierrez. You'll be the death of me." You teased as he peppered little kisses along your bare shoulder. "You've worked so hard on this movie, you can't miss the premier." He huffed out a sigh and opted to just nuzzle his face against your neck. "You'd think with how much literally everyone adores you, you'd be insanely confident. But you're still my shy Javi. And I love that about you. Sometimes though, we have to put on a brave face and just do it." He nodded, lifting his head to look at you. He knew you were right but he was still nauseatingly nervous.

"Thank you for coming with me." You shook your head, carefully smoothing your fingers through his styled hair.

"Admittedly, I used to daydream about walking the red carpet. But actually doing it, is quite nerve wracking. But we have each other for support. We got this." Javi smiled softly, watching you before he stepped back and held out a hand to you.

"Let's go. Before my nerves get the better of me." You smiled, sliding your hand into his with a hum in your throat.

The red carpet was more intimidating once you stood at the end of it. You tried to hang back a bit but Javi insisted you were in the photos with him, your heart was pounding so loud that you could barely hear the press yelling for you both to look their way but Javi's hand against your lower back kept you grounded. Your favourite photo from the night was one where the two of you were looking up at each other and smiling, it was one taken when you were both arriving to the after-party before Javi's interview with Vanity Fair and they'd used it as the main photo on their article as well. You were living in a beautiful dream you never wanted to wake up from, as long as Javi was by your side, you were happy.

#no use of y/n #pedro pascal #the unbearable weight of massive talent #javi g x reader #javier gutierrez #javi g x you #javi x you #javi

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