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leclercsainzz · 6 months

Text

ILLICIT AFFAIRS PART 2

PAIRINGS: lando norris x gf!reader / tom blyth x fem!reader

TYPE: social media au

WARNING: // cheating implied

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5

yourusername

liked by landonorris, tomblyth and 671,810 others

yourusername: the film is out! ❤️

tagged: @tomblyth

view 5,018 comments

user: seeing it tonight!!!

user: ya’ll see that kiss or??? 👀

oscarpiastri: do i still get those free tickets? 🤔

↳ yourusername: of course!

↳ landonorris: and me?

↳ oscarpiastri: you’re rich, shut up

user: wonder how @landonorris felt seeing his girlfriend kissing another guy like that

user: watched the movie last night and OMG

user: yn, do you prefer buzz cut or long hair on coriolanus?

↳ yourusername: buzz cut all the way!!!!!

↳ user: mother knows what’s up 😌

user: LOVED the movie!!

tomblyth: you’re truly phenomenal! ❤️

↳ yourusername: right back at you, my love ❤️

↳ user: STFU NSPAKSNDBFD

↳ user: @landonorris WHERE U AT, BRO???

user: “love” 😭😭😭😭

↳ user: not just “love” but “MY love” like?? 😭😭

user: watching it tomorrow, cannot wait!

user: her bf is stronger than me bc i would’ve been crying

user: DID YA’LL SEE THE KISS SCENE??? 🫣🫣🫣

↳ user: i was like 😮‍💨

↳ user: he kissed her like she was air 🫠 like the air he needs

user: the way tom’s looking at her in that third slide 😩😩

user: you both killed it, omg!!

↳ user: pov coryo took that personal 🤪

user: SNOW LANDS ON TOP, MF!

↳ user: on top of me, yes!

landonorris: you killed it, pretty girl ❤️

↳ yourusername: 😊

user: the difference between her responds to tom vs lando

↳ user: she’s over here calling tom “my love” while lando just gets some bs of emoji, i CANNOT 💀

user: lando be fighting for his girl’s affection, i swear

user: yn with tom 😩🥰🥰❤️😊😍😌😍😘🥵🥵😍🥰

↳ user: vs yn with lando 😊😊😊😊😊😊😊

↳ user: i feel like she’s definitely in love with tom

↳ user: he’s also in love with her, its so obvious

user: tom NEEDED that kiss in order to breathe, i swear

↳ user: dude he kissed her with so much hunger and desperation had me giggling the whole time

↳ user: convinced that was just tom and yn

user: HAPPY RELEASE DAY YA’LL!!! ❤️❤️🐍

user: you and tom were truly phenomenal as snow and lucy

↳ yourusername: ❤️❤️

landonorris

liked by carlossainz55, yourusername and 698,974 others

landonorris: fun times with MY girl! 😘

tagged: @yourusername

view 5,274 comments

user: he really said, “my girl”

user: is she attending next race??

user: he saw all the yntom shippers so he had to shut them up real quick, honestly as he should!

user: PARENTS ARE BETTER THAN EVER ❤️❤️❤️❤️

user: what about tom? 😭😭 @yourusername

↳ user: girl, bffr

user: idc i’m still shipping yn and tom

user: lando said, “everyone can sit tf down bc she’s my girl”

yourusername: love yaa 😘

↳ landonorris: i love you too ❤️

↳ user: yntom shippers how we feeling??? 😭😭

user: idk why but her comments/replies to lando seem so dry??? like before she’d say the cutest shit ever and now it’s like she just comments bc she has no other choice

↳ user: seems like she’s falling out of love to me

user: @tomblyth GET YOUR GIRL, DONT GIVE UP

user: everyone who is constantly shipping yn and tom need to move on!! she’s literally happy in her relationship with lando

user: are they officially back together??

user: @tomblyth

user: she’s soo beautiful!!! 😍😍

user: lando really said, “if she’s anybody’s girl she’s MINE”

user: ynlando nation rise!!!!!

user: i know she’s clearly happy with lando but her and tom are honestly just the cutest

user: @ everyone who still ships tom and yn

user: not “my” but “MY” 👀

user: he got tired of ppl shipping his girl with someone else

user: mate, you’re stronger than bc the way yn talks about tom is just INSANE! she’s in love with him .. open your eyes

carlossainz55: 🤩🤩

user: the emphasis on the “my” 🤭🤭

oscarpiastri: this is cute or whatever

↳ user: my fav boy

user: wait!! does that mean we will be seeing yn in the paddock again???

↳ user: i hope so!!! 😩😩

user: idk about you all but i feel like her smile/face glows more whenever she’s with tom …….

↳ user: definitely, i agree!

↳ user: that’s bc tom’s her ✨daylight✨

↳ user: shUT uP OMG OMG, YESSS

↳ user: i foUnd my people

user: i missed her, omg ❤️❤️😭😭😭

user: will she be at the next race???

user: i feel like if she’s in love with tom, she should dump him

↳ user: that’s harsh, damn 😭😭

yourusername

liked by landonorris, joshandresrivera and 678,739 others

yourusername: a small bts photo dump:) 💗

tagged: @hunterschafer @tomblyth @joshandresrivera @the.sofia.sanchez

view 6,016 comments

user: hunter’s soo gorggg 😍😍😍

user: “a small bts” but it’s just tom

↳ user: it’s her excuse to post tom 🤣

user: the 6th photo was so unnecessary napaksns

hunterschafer: 😘😘😘😘❤️

user: wovey 🥺

user: yn’s down bad for tom, huh???

user: the chemistry they have on and off the screen is just unbelievably insane, omgg

user: 6th SLIDE??? HELLO??!!? MA’AM??!!?

user: I SHIP I SHIP I SHIP I SHIP

user: lando 💔💔💔💔💔💔

user: her and tom are DEFINITELY more than just friends and ya’ll CANNOT convince me otherwise

↳ yourusername: we’re just friends

↳ user: yeah and i’m jlaw’s daughter, but good try babe

tomblyth: my favorite girl!! ❤️

↳ user: SIR???

↳ user: bitCh what???!? 😳

↳ user: your what????

user: not him calling her his girl, BYE 😭😭😭😭

user: THIS LANDO MF BLIND ASF OMG 😭 iTs cLEAR THAT THERE’S MORE TO THIS WHOLE “friendship” BS

user: tHe 6th slide napaldndnfnc

user: not her posting the lake scene

user: wAit- are they about to kiss in the 6th slide??? bc i don’t remember no kiss in that scene

user: everyone is freaking over the 6th slide but the last one??? HELLO????? the hand on the chin?? 😩😩😩😩

↳ user: i thoUght i was the only one laswowhrbd

user: wovey, my love ❤️❤️❤️

joshandresrivera: love you, loser ❤️

user: their chemistry bro 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

user: its the way he’s looking at her in the last pic

user: tom and yn took their “relationship” to the next level

user: patiently waiting for lando’s comment

↳ user: i don’t think he knows what to comment 😭

user: she looks so much happier with tom, i swear

user: yn, be honest, are you in love with tom??!?

user: nah i feel bad for lando, bro 😭😭😭😭

↳ user: bro is clueless

user: lando losing on and off the track

↳ user: 💀💀💀💀💀

user: i genuinely want to know what type of relationship her and tom have cause???? it’s def more than friendly

user: @landonorris

user: i feel like she’s cheating on lando 😬

↳ user: 100%

user: they weren’t acting in the movie 😭 they were just being themselves, i swear

user: lando is one of the strongest soldiers i know!!!

user: i feel so bad for lando 😕😕😕😕

↳ user: he deserves better (me)

user: if you don’t want lando, i’ll happily take him

user: genuine question are they dating?? tom and yn, that is??

↳ user: no, but they might as well be dating atp

user: ya’ll gotta understand that a male and female can be close friends without having to be involved in a romantic way

↳ user: PREACH!

↳ user: there’s a thing called cheating, yk????

↳ user: with the way these two act there’s definitely more going on than just a friendly relationship

imessage

yourusername

liked by carlossainz55, oscarpiastri and 674,836 others

yourusername: NUMBER ONE?!!?!!?????!!!!!??

view 4,946 comments

user: gagged the hater with this one!!

user: your singing had me captivated

thehungergames: ❤️❤️❤️❤️

user: CORIOLANUS >>

user: you were amazing

user: proud of you!!!

tomblyth: you did that!! 🤩

↳ yourusername: no, babe, WE did that!! 👏🏼

↳ user: “babe” 😭😭😭😭

↳ user: ma’am just say yall together atp

user: well deserved

user: singing was phenomenal, omggg

user: that’s what happens when snow lands on top!! 🤩

📌 pinned

user: number one in the world and in my heart ❤️

user: you and tom were absolutely phenomenal

↳ yourusername: 💗💗💗💗

landonorris: you deserve it!! ❤️

↳ yourusername: ❤️❤️❤️

user: lucy gray is stronger than me bc personally i would’ve sat down with coriolanus and talked it out

↳ user: no bc same!!!! 😩 like i can fix him

↳ user: i would’ve ran away with him, idc

↳ yourusername: babes, are we just forgetting that he’s the reason finnick’s dead???? or the fact that he’s crazy???

user: SNOW LANDS ON WHAT EVERYONE??!!?

user: proud of you, my love!!! ❤️❤️

user: not her holding a grudge against snow for killing finnick she’s so real for that LMAOOOO

↳ tomblyth: 😩😩😩

user: the real question is did snow ever love lucy gray??

↳ yourusername: i like to believe so, yes! but he definitely loved power more:(

↳ tomblyth: lies 😑 (i agree)

↳ user: please 😭😭 he’s so unintentionally funny

user: you guys all deserve it, each one of you was amazing!!

user: my snowbaird heart ❤️❤️

user: best movie this year, i don’t make the rules

songbirdsandsnakes: thanks to our favorite coriolanus snow and lucy gray!!!! 🤩🤩🤩🤩

user: the movie was amazing, well done!!

user: I NEED MORE OF SNOW AND LUCY GRAY 😩😩

↳ user: i think we all do!!!

user: well deserved, pretty girl!!!!

carlossainz55: proud of you, yn! ❤️❤️❤️

↳ yourusername: ❤️ thank you, carlos

↳ user: missing this duo 🥺

user: ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

user: you and tom smashed it

↳ user: they took the “smashing” part too serious 🫢

↳ user: you did not 💀

user: my lucy gray 🤩

user: I NEED A PIC WITH THIS CAST AND THE OG’S

↳ user: yn met jennifer, i believe .. but same!!! 😩😩

user: your singing was phenomenal, babe!!!

user: why’d you leave snow at the end??? 😭😭😭😭

↳ yourusername: cause he’s crazy??????

↳ user: he just wanted to talk tho????!!? 😩 all you had to do was sit and talk with him and apologize to him????

↳ yourusername: so he can kill me after????

↳ user: he would do NO such thing

tomblyth

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 684,830 others

tomblyth: it’s crazy to think tbosas is currently number one at the moment! this was such an unforgettable experience and i’m grateful i got to experience it with @yourusername ❤️

tagged: @yourusername

view 5,101 comments

user: I CANT, OMG

user: THE FIRST POST 😭😭😭

user: lando being in the likes??? 👀

yourusername: wouldn’t have wanted it any other way

yourusername: ❤️❤️❤️

songbirdandsnakes: snowbaird lives with you both ❤️

user: you both deserve it!!!

user: you killed it, mate! ❤️

user: they were both phenomenal, i cannot

user: both were incredible leads

user: it’s hard to tell if they’re just affectionate with each other or there’s simply more

user: if they aren’t dating, i NEED them to date 😭😭

user: they’re in love and nobody can convince me otherwise

↳ user: it’s so obvious

user: amazing leads!!!! 🤩🤩🤩

user: not lando liking 😭😭

user: SNOW LANDS ON TOP

user: you were amazing as snow! 👏🏼

user: does lucy gray haunt your dreams, be honest

↳ tomblyth: always

user: phenomenal actor

user: lucy gray or lucy gray??

↳ tomblyth: mhm .. none, i think i prefer lucy gray

↳ user: AS YOU SHOULD!

user: MY CORIOLANUS SNOW!! ❤️❤️ you were AMAZING

user: ya’ll cannot tell me snow didn’t love lucy bc he did

↳ user: he did love her in his own twisted way but he loved power more:((

user: i watched the move like 4 times already

user: if evil why so hot??

user: you and yn were phenomenal as snow and lucy gray

↳ tomblyth: ❤️ appreciate it, mate

user: why’d you betray my boy sejanus like that? 😭😭

user: LANDO IN THE LIKES 👀

↳ user: hes crying in a corner after seeing the first pic

user: they messed with our feelings 😩😩

↳ user: noo frr cause tell me why i was rooting for them knowing damn well how it would all end up 💔

user: i NEED them together

user: they look so good together 😩

user: you can definitely tell they love each other and not just as “friends”

user: well deserved!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

user: in my world snowbaird ended up together and are living happily ever after

↳ user: same!!!

↳ user: snowbaird and yntom

user: i know she’s dating someone but they look so good together, it’s like they are meant to be

imessage

pt3??

taglist:

@geraltwintersoldier @love4josh @dudde-44 @coconut-dreamz @newlifeforus @loxbbg @dakotali @f1footballluvverr @mountmaason19 @poppyflower-22 @magical-spit @nazm145 @nikolaros22 @sincerlymatakorama @36babyg @bucket-of-fanfiction @gyunheat @dakotali @bucket-of-fanfiction @djoenthusiast @nyraahub @miglielia @aleidag1rly (if your user is purple, it’s bc i couldn’t find you)

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zhongrin · 5 months

Text

𒆙 morax

part 6/8 of ⎡∞ / 𝟔 𝟎 𝟎 𝟎 ⁺⎦, a zhongli 2023 birthday event

𖧷 tags ┈ minors dni, gn!reader, afab!reader, biting/marking, cockwarming, choking but not really, edging, dirty talk, cervix fucking but not really ‘fucking’-, i don’t know how to tag things help

𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒻𝓊𝓁𝓁 𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓊 ❬ masterlist ❭ 𐫱 𝓂𝑒𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓅 ❬ taglist ❭

“𝓁ord morax! must you keep branding me with these marks?!”

morax blinked owlishly as you barged into his little office. he would have immediately beheaded others who would dare act so boorish, but your presence - nevermind the fact you were glaring at him - would always be welcomed into even the most private corners of his life, so he merely leaned back on his golden throne, abandoning the papers waiting for his approval as he gazed at you like you were the whole universe. his cor lapis-lined tail coiling behind the chair thumped lightly on the ground as he spotted the tokens he had so graciously placed on your skin.

“…. yes?”

the honest answer seemed to have made you double back. you could tell from his clueless expression that he bore no remorse for his actions.

“i must beseech you to restrain yourself. the adepti dare not even raise their heads when i talk to them!“

“but… unlike minerals and other inorganic materials, your skin heals, so naturally i must renew the imprints every now and then. i cannot fathom what made you so displeased? i have taken precautions so the process would be enjoyable to you at the very least… or are you saying that the act was not pleasurable for you after all?”

you had to resist the urge to facepalm, but you couldn’t help the natural reaction of your cheeks starting to sizzle with warmth. morax’s gentle smile lilted into a slightly cheeky grin, and he beckoned you to come over. you both praised and berated yourself inwardly when you obeyed his command like a faithful pup, knowing to seat yourself on his lap.

“are you not proud to bear the proof that you are mine, my dear? if it truly upsets you, i… will try my best to reign in my instincts. but you know how i always seem to lose myself in the heat of the moment…,” his kisses journeyed from your temple down your neck and shoulder, a silent plea for leniency.

it would have been a sweet and innocent gesture if his hands hadn’t wandered above your silken robes.

“my lord….”

“mmm… i’m sorry, darling, it’s the dragon instincts,” he nuzzled lovingly onto the junction of your neck, and you quickly felt both the heat and his arousal rise. quite literally, that was. “your smell mixed with mine is just too tantalizing to ignore. to illustrate, would you be able to pass by a banquet full of your favored delicacies without salivating?”

“perhaps not, but i would be able to refrain from devouring the whole banquet like some greedy buffoon,” you faked a reprimanding tone, eyebrows raised.

“which proves that you are, in some ways, stronger than me,” his arms tightened around you, geo-lined appendages sneakily slipping beneath your garment to rub your inner thighs, before trailing over your dampened underwear, “though it seems to me that you’re putting up a front…”

you were torn between rolling your eyes or blushing in embarrassment, “perish the salacious thoughts. i came straight from the bedchambers, my lord.”

“ah, so these are both your arousal and the remnants of our passionate love last night? how delightful. no wonder you smell like the most fragrant and mouthwatering delicacy in the whole teyvat,” he pressed his lips on one of the hickeys, staring in contemplation at your body nestled on his lap, an idea brewing like the freshest tea in his mind, “say, darling… i know you’re tired, but won’t you at least let this lovestruck lizard steal a morsel from the figurative banquet? just a little arrangement to tide me over until the moon graces our nation.”

“….. i will consider your proposal; enlighten me.”

you really, really should have thought twice about making contracts with a dragon.

seated snugly on top of your beloved’s lap after he had - far too easily, much to his delight and your fervent embarrassment - eased you onto his cocks, his non-dominant hand poised to lightly rub your abdomen, right on the bulge indicating the way he was all nestled inside your tight heat. his other hand had long since left your hip and was in the process of writing some kind paperwork to ensure the construction of what shall be a prosperous harbor sometime in the far future would be going smoothly — or something along that line. he might have sort of meandered about it as he worked, but alas, you were too distracted to actually listen to his words, clenching and squirming like a bunny in heat instead.

morax hummed. momentarily, he set his pen down against the polished sandbearer wood of his desk. his slender fingers reached up to lightly brush and wrap around your throat. your breath hitched, heart soaring like a hummingbird, cunt trembling. he wasn’t even putting any pressure ー just a light touch. a warning. and yet the message was there; even more pronounced with the verbal warning whispered right beside your ear.

"mind your manners, darling."

you nodded with a whimper, gulping and feeling his fingers lightly caressing your pulse point before they detached themselves from your heated skin to curl elegantly around the pen once more. the deity resumed talking as if whatever happened was a delusional wet dream you conjured out of desperation this fine afternoon, but this time, you ceased squirming. he gave you a soft kiss on your nape as a reward. pride permeated your veins, your eyelashes fluttering and fists clenching in an attempt to control yourself.

"not to fret, your patience will be rewarded," he purred, deep and velvety and smooth, his breath tickling your skin, burning your nerves and sending your arousal lurching. perhaps you should have begged for him to relent to his depraved desires and devour the whole banquet instead.

the hand on your tummy trailed upwards to settle on your chest, palming idly before rolling a painfully hard nipple between the calloused pads of his fingers, the gentle movement a complement to the cold sensation of his rings pressing onto soft, sensitive flesh. sparks bloomed like fireworks and slick trickled down your stuffed pussy. yet still, you obeyed with trembling thighs; the only body part moving being your walls, squeezing around his cock, wishing for it to move and bully your sweetest spots with hard and precise series ofー

"so well behaved for me...."

you swore you heard him chuckle.

"my good mate."

he graciously bestowed you a new mark on your neck and a teasing little thrust, just enough for the two heads to peck your cervix like a teasing lover, savoring the enchanting wail falling from your lips.

“oh, this archon can’t wait to utterly ruin you tonight.”

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #zhongli #zhongli x reader #∞ / 𝟔 𝟎 𝟎 𝟎 ⁺#rin writes #minors dni

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muneca-lemon-steppa · 6 months

Note

Mooooo ! I love you so much bby 💕 my I request one with Alfie with the touch starved prompts “you never have to earn my affection-not now, not ever” and “I’m never more at peace than when I’m in yours arms”? Thank you lovely❤️❤️

My baby girl!!!!!!! Ugh thank you so much for sending this in. Did my heart ache writing this? Yes. Did my stomach hurt? Also yes. Am I sorry for it? NO. WE DO NOT APOLOGIZE FOR EMO HOURS IN THIS HOUSE. Hehehe Anyway I love ya so much I hope you enjoyyyyyy.

100 Follower Celebration: Your Love is Enough

Alfie Solomons x Fem!Reader

There were many perks that came with being Alfie's woman. While there was certainly a good deal of danger lurking around, there was an undeniable air of safety you had due to all the eyes watching. You got access to all the hot goings on around the city. You lived comfortably. And above all, you got to love Alfie Solomons fully and purely and unabashed. There was only one downside really... the talk.

It was no secret that you were significantly younger than Alfie. It was something you and Alfie never shied away from and didn't feel a need to. Regardless of any age difference, you and Alfie understood each other on a cosmic level, a way no one else could. You loved him with your whole heart and soul and Alfie would burn down the world if you asked him to. You were one. And anyone who truly knew you and Alfie knew that this was true love. That this was the type of love and devotion that epics were written about and empires crumbled over. But there were always going to be people who didn't know. Always going to be people who didn't understand.

You were perusing fabric patterns in the shop down the street one early afternoon, looking for the final pattern to add to a quilt you were making for Ollie's soon to be born first child. You delicately touched the cotton blends along an aisle, imagining how it would look along the squares you had already picked, taking mental note as to what was available.

"I just cannot imagine what he sees in her. I mean... she is a child isn't she?"

Your ears perked up to the tone. It was Mrs. Vorsed from down the corner, the one you waved to every morning without even a smile in return. Another voice responded, "You know how men are. They just want a little toy to play house with until they find a wife."

Who on earth could they be talking about?

"Mr. Solomons needs a real woman in his home. My Portia knows what it means to be a lady of the house, and knows her place. I mean that girl he is shacked up with... I can hear her shouts and laughter from down the street! What does she know about keeping a home, much less keeping a man?"

A snicker erupts, "Well I'm sure she won't last long. He'll tire of her eventually when he realizes what he truly needs. Then Portia can swoop right in!"

The cackles fade away with the sharp chops of heavy footed steps. Despite your efforts, the knot in your throat never went down. You lungs refused to take in breath as the words spun in your mind. How could they say those things so confidently? They didn't even know you. They never even stepped foot into the house, how could they know how you keep it? Alfie never said more than a good morning to Mrs. Vorsed. How could they know anything about you or Alfie? Yet their words kept spinning and spooling around in your mind. What if... what if they were right?? What if people saw something that you couldn't see? What if you had deluded yourself into thinking that Alfie was truly happy and in love with you? What if he was unhappy but didn't want to tell you out of duty. It all became too much in your chest, and you left the store without your fabric, but the weight of the world on your chest.

That evening Alfie could not wait to get home to you. Every evening Alfie nearly buzzed at the prospect of coming home to see your face again, and wrap himself around you, getting as close as possible. You made his day better. You made his life brighter and joyful and meaningful. It made all the business and badness worth it. Stepping through the threshold with a press to the mezuzah, Alfie calls out, "Sweet girl! I'm home! You in the kitchen darling?"

He hears you call back and smiles wide, stomach growling hungry for supper and you. Taking off his coat and hat he ambles into the kitchen, watching you stir something magical in the massive soup pot. "My dove ,my angel, my joy, what are you doing? Making food for the Royal Navy are we?"

You turn to him, and he can clearly see that something is wrong. Your lips are quivering and poorly attempting to portray a smile, and your eyes are glassy and red rimmed. He feels a stab in his chest, "Now wait a minute treacle... what's got you crying?"

You wiped your cheek and turned away, "I'm not crying."

With a scoff he grabs your chin gently, turning you to face him, "I thought we didn't lie to each other my sweet. Especially since you're the worst liar since the Garden of Eden. Why are you crying? Come on now confess."

You shrugged as Alfie's hands moved up and down your arms, "It's nothing. Stupid really I shouldn't be crying."

"Nah nah. It ain't stupid if it's got my sweet girl crying like that. Out with it."

The tears kept falling, though you tried to keep an even tone, "I just... I heard some women talking. Mrs. Vorsed and another lady."

Alfie rolled his eyes, "Always a bad sign. C'mon what else."

You sniffled, "And... well... they said that... I wasn't good enough for you. That I didn't know how to be a good woman to you. And that you would be better off with someone else. That you would soon grow tired of me. That I'm not deserving of you, and Portia Vorsed would be a better match for you."

The tears started coming harder, and you couldn't help the shaking of your body. Alfie's stomach dropped, and rage replaced it. Alfie shook your shoulders a bit in his passion, "What the fuck is wrong with them? Treacle, Mrs. Vorsed is the worst gossip in Camden, and doesn't know anything about anything. She hasn't got anything better to do but talk absolute shit. Portia, right? She is the silliest woman in town, she can't even do basic arithmetic because she's too busy being an idiot. I mean fuck me treacle I can barely say good morning to Mrs. Vorsed without getting proper fucking agitated!"

Alfie kissed your forehead and brought you to his chest, "YOU are the one for me. I don't give a shit what Mrs. Vorsed or what any other decrepit woman or idiot man thinks. You are my life. You are my stars and my moon and my sun alright? You don't have to be 'good enough' for me. Fuck you just are. You never have to earn my love. You've always had it. Even before I knew you my old and brittle heart was yours. You got that?"

You nodded, the tears pooling in his shirt. Alfie pulled you away from him to look into your eyes. "And treacle I don't even think Mrs. Vorsed can see more than a meter in front of her so she probably has no clue who she is talking about."

You laughed despite the tears and Alfie grinned. All he wanted to do every day was to make you smile. He was convinced that was what he was put on this earth to do. You put your hand to his face, feeling him lean into the warmth of your palm. "I just want to love you and care for you like you do me. I just worry that I don't do enough sometimes."

He grabbed your hand, kissing your fingertips, "Ah my sweet. I'm never more at peace than when I'm in your arms. I'm never more at home than when you're next to me. The whole business could go to shit and I'd still be the richest man in the world because I have the greatest treasure in you. And I mean that my love. You believe your old man right?"

You nod. The lump in your throat finally dissapated and the weight melted away. There was truly no love like Alfie's and yours. People could talk all they want. People could make any assumptions they wanted. That didn't change what was true. And what was true was that you and Alfie belonged to each other and would for all of eternity.

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons x you #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons x y/n #peaky blinder fanfic #100 follower celebration

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thenextdawn-backup · 1 year

Text

1621-2023

Word count: 2.7K

Summary: you were a vampire back in 1621, and you were Goody’s girlfriend. When she dies, she promises she’ll come back and find you and she does so, coming back as Wednesday Addams.

Warnings: mentions of blood, death, angst?

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Fem!Vampire!Reader

———

Jericho, 1621.

A vampire. You were born as a vampire coming from a long pure line, one of the original vampire bloodlines in Jericho, and in the whole continent. You and the other types od outcasts lived in peace with one another, that is, unless no one bothered other species. There were lots of wars going on between you vampires and the werewolves, mostly because of the preys you two hunted. At first, vampires couldn’t drain blood without killing people or animals. That’s why the werewolves always found no animals to hunt down, because your bloodlines had killed them all, you killed them, they killed you. But this aspect of yours got better with time, when finally someone figured out a way to drain blood without killing people.

Ever since you could remember your family was really good friends with this psychic family, the Addams family. Their daughter was born the same year as you, so you could pretty much say you grew up together. She was a really smart girl, and unlike her family, she had learned to control her visions, which was good, really good actually. Back then the two of you realized that you were in love with one another. You would sneak away together, as to not be seen because homosexual relationships weren’t something good. You would hide in the woods, spend time together, cuddle, and god you loved braiding her hair, she loved letting you do that. At times, when the two of you kissed it was usual for her to get visions, and you learned to understand that she gets them when touching something or someone. You also learned not to be scared when those happened.

Recently though, it started getting harder for you to spend time with each other. Some Americans had come settle close by to your village. And even though it was harder, that didn’t stop the two of you to sneak away, even with your parents not knowing anything. Though today, was the ice on the cake that led the hunters to hunt the two of you down. You were in “their” territory, which was truly the outcasts’s, and had come looking for you to hunt you down. You were running through the woods, Goody having to wait for her as you couldn’t leave her behind. “Goody, Run!” You told her after the millionth time of her staying behind, but she was getting tired “I cannot, I’m tired my love-“ she said as she stopped to catch her breath, falling to the ground. “No no no! You cannot stop!” You rushed to her and helped her up, just then as you took a hold of her, she had a vision.

“Now it is not the time to have a vision goody! god damn it!” You said and sat on the floor with her laying in your arms, eyes wide open and head thrown back. You knew not to move her when she was having visions. The hunters were quickly getting closer and you just waited for her to get back from her vision. When she did she looked at you “you are back! come on we have to run” you said and she stood in her place. “I shall not run with you. They will catch me, you need to leave” you walked over to her and grabbed her face in your hands “I don’t know what you saw in your vision, but I am not leaving you behind” you said, with tears in your eyes “(Y/N). In the vision you were saving me from being burned like a witch. Not in this moment. You know how risky it is to alter visions, if you save me now we might both die. Just do as I say, please” she said pleadingly. You looked at her not knowing what to say before leaning in for a short but urgent kiss that she reciprocated. “I trust you, my love.” You said and stood back from her “I will come for you!” You said and ran away.

Days passed of people being catcher, from your family as well, as you hid and watched everything, waiting for some clues on when to go save Goody. You had found out that all the outcasts had been locked up in the meeting house and that they were waiting for the right moment to burn it down. Then it happened. When they caught what they thought was the last outcasts, Crackstone set the meeting house on fire. When they were distracted from the flames, you jumped on the house, breaking the roof so you could get in and find Goody. “GOODY! GOODY WHERE ARE YOU?” You coughed because of the smoke and searched for her everywhere, only to find her half passed out and chained to the floor. “(Y/N)….” She whispered as you grabbed her hand “come on, let’s get you free..” you said and used your strength to break the chains. “S-something was wrong with my vision- this wasn’t how it was supposed to go” she said weakly, you looked at her as if inviting her to speak.

Unluckily she didn’t say much else. “In another life… I’ll find you, my love. I promise you” she said as she closed her eyes and started losing consciousness. “Goody? Goody wake up!” You said and shook her body. The smoke inhalation too much for her lungs. With everyone already being dead by now, you freed her and left with her body in your arms, crying your heart out as you walked in the woods, burying her in what used to be her favorite place to be with you. She said something went wrong with the vision. Were you supposed to save her sooner? Were you the reason because she had died? Now you were alone. Crackstone had burned every outcast except from you, because he forgot about you, you had no one, nowhere to be. Yet on the other hand, you were a vampire. You’d live forever with the remorse of not being able to save the people you loved. No, you couldn’t live like that.

You weren’t one to give up easily. You needed to avenge your people and your partner, you couldn’t just let Crackstone slip away. This is why you decided to go back to the now burnt down meeting house. “Looks like you forgot one of us, Crackstone” you said and saw how he smirked “It will not take thee much to take thy heart out of thy body” he said and you smirked as well. “I’m not like any other Vampire, you know. You underestimate us” you said and started attacking him and his people. Useless to say your attacks were stronger and soon enough you had killed them all, blood on your whole body as you walked away victorious.

Jericho, 2023.

You have been going to Nevermore ever since it opened. You knew everyone there, including Weems that was now your principal. You were stuck in your teenage form so you had to go to school like a normal teenager. It had been 402 years since you killed Crackstone. At first you were known as the girl who killed him, but with time the story amongst people changed and changed, until everyone thought and said That Crackstone died peacefully after having killed every outcasts. Too bad you were the only one who knew the truth. That is, you and the few vampires you had befriended the last years. Yoko was your best friend. She was the only one who knew the full story, she knew about Goody, and about you being the last of a pure bloodline from 400 years ago. Ever since the day you lost goody, you were a complete different person. You were pretty straight forward with others, saying whatever came to mind even if you ended up offending people. It was hard seeing you smile unless you were with Yoko, and even then your smiles weren’t the brightest.

These past two years you had also became really good friends with Enid, a werewolf. She also knew about you being the last from a pure bloodline, but she didn’t know the whole crackstone and Goody story. You had to thank Yoko for that, because if it were for you, you only had her. She pushed you to make more friends and introduced you to her own. But today at lunch Enid wasn’t sitting with you and Yoko as her usual, because she had a new roommate and had to show her around. A few minutes after you sat down to eat, Enid came into the quad with her new roommate, and it was her. “Goody” you whispered as you dropped your blood sack from shock, Yoko saw and heard you, turning to look at the ravenette girl. “Is that her?” She asked, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder, having seen tears forming in the corners of your eyes. “Y-yes, yes it’s her. Goody was blonde and didn’t have bangs, but her features ade the same… same braids, same eyes, same freckles, same height, lips, dimples… it’s her, I’m sure. She’s found her way back to me”

You had to know her, you had to get Enid to introduce her to you. You found yourself staring at the ravenette girl even when her eyes met yours. “Enid, who’s that over there staring at me?” The ravenette girl asked, and Enid looked in your direction. “Oh That’s (Y/N). She’s a vampire, the last of a pure bloodline from 400 years ago.” The girl raised her chin and looked away from you “interesting.” She said and with Enid she continued her tour, and then came to your table with the new girl. “Hey everyone, this is my new roommate” seeing her from up close only made tears come to your eyes again, she looked as beautiful as ever. However you got up and walked towards her. “I’m (Y/N), nice to meet you” you said, holding your hand out for her to shake. You secretly hoped for her to get a vision when shaking your hand.

Your felt almost as if your dead heart has started pounding again and it would explode soon. She looked at your hand and then back up at you. “I’m Wednesday, Wednesday Addams.” Smart on her behalf not shaking your hand, she had probably already figured out that touching people or things would get her to have visions but yeah it was definitely her and you had the confirmation by hearing her surname. “Great, uhm-“ you pulled your hand back. “It’s good to have you here Wednesday, I hope you fit in well” you said and sat back down next to Yoko, sighing of relief. It will be really hard to get her to have a vision. That day like every day you went to the woods, to that exact spot where you buried Goody. “Hey my love” you said and sat down next to the “grave”. You recognized it because it was the only spot where black dahlias grew in the whole forest. They started growing ever since you buried her there and you would take care of those flowers like they were your own kids.

“Looks like you finally found your way back to me… thank you. Wednesday doesn’t know who I am yet. I need to get her to somehow touch me so she can get a vision, I know she’ll get a vision but I need your help Love… just send her towards me somehow. I’m begging you Goody, I just need you back. I miss you so much.” And it looks like your pleases worked, because eventually you started spending more time with her thanks to Enid. You ended up explaining everything to her about Goody with Yoko’s help, and even though it took her a while to understand, when she did she ended up doing whatever was in her power to leave the two of you alone. Wednesday also felt very drawn to you even if she never admitted her own feelings nor touched you, but there was something familiar to you, she couldn’t actually pinpoint what it was.

On a particularly cold day, you went out to Goody’s grave, scared that the dahlias would freeze and you wanted to make sure that didn’t happen. Though when you arrived, you saw Wednesday sitting against a tree next to the black Dahlias, Reading. “Wednesday… what are you doing here?” You asked, getting closer as you tended to the dahlias, making sure they were okay. “So you’re the one who’s taking care of these flowers.” You nodded, and then she decided to answer your questions. “This has become my comfort place. I come here and I relax. Plus, Black Dahlias are my-“ you interrupted her. “Your favorite flowers, I know that” she looked at you quizzically, deciding not to interrogate on how you know that, choosing another way instead. “You’re a vampire, right?” She asked and you nodded, going to sit next to her, though not too close, knowing she wasn’t a fan of physical contact.

“I feel… weirdly drawn to you. I can’t explain myself how, and these feelings I feel are pure torture I have to admit, and not the good kind.” You chuckled at her words, she truly did sound like Goody. “Did we perhaps know each other in a past life? Were we close?” She asked, god she was even as smart as she was. You stayed quiet for a while. It was finally time to tell her everything. “Do you trust me, Wednesday?” You asked her. She stayed quiet for a while before giving you an almost imperceptible nod. “Hold my hands” you said and held them out “I know you avoid physical contact because you don’t want to get any visions, but trust me when I tell you I have experience with this stuff” you said, and watched her sigh nervously. “you’re gonna get a vision when you hold my hands. Then you’ll know” you said And she sighed once again, taking a hold of your hands as her head immediately shot back.

She stayed like that for a couple minutes, quickly relieving her past life and especially the moments with you. She saw how close the two of you were, she saw the cuddles, the kisses, the sneaking out, and it made her feel good. The last thing she saw and heard, was herself saying “In another life… I’ll find you, my love. I promise you” before she came back and looked at you, shock sprawled all over her face as she tried catching her breath, still holding your hands. “So?” You asked her and she tried to acknowledge everything. When she did, she raised a hand up to caress your cheek “I finally found you again” she said hinting a smile. You sighed of relief and leaned in for the touch, crying as realization hit you. She finally came back to you. She left her hand there before speaking again. “And what happened here?” She asked, looking at the dahlias.

“When… you died from smoke inhalation” you said and looked at her, watching her nod remembering this part from her vision “before you turned to ashes I freed you, took you here and buried you here. This was our favorite spot 400 years ago. From the day after I buried you here, Black Dahlias started growing here. Just in this spot, nowhere else. They were your favorite flowers back then, too. That’s how I knew. I’ve been coming here ever since, after I killed Crackstone, that is. I’m the only outcast remaining from those days” you explained briefly, but she understood everything. Then you looked back at her, and she quickly leaned in to kiss you. The kiss was soft, yet so urgent and passionate. Hot breaths being exchanged between the two of you as she moved to sit on your lap, you put your hands on her waist bringing her closer to you as she kept her hands on your cheeks.

Eventually both of you pulled back, foreheads attached and tears leaving both of your eyes as she spoke. “Now we don’t have to hide anymore, My Love.”

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #wednesday #wednesday x y/n #wednesday x you #wednesday x reader #wednesday adams #wednesday adams x reader #wednesday addams #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams x y/n #wednesday addams x reader

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sameschmidtdiffname · 3 months

Note

heyyyy can I pls req something where Mike tries to make it up to the reader after he says something wrong in their 1st fight as a couple? like “I don’t want to lose you” as an apology and they get back together or something along those lines? tysm I really enjoy ur work :))

But of course!!!

Wanting, Waiting

Mike Schmidt x Gender Neutral! Reader

Summery: Overworked and underfed, you'll go to sleep once some decent work is complete. However, a late night turns into a day long fight.

Tags: No use of Y/N, no gender specific pronouns for Reader, pre-established relationship, argument, cursing, Reader and Mike both got some shit going on, hints of an eating disorder, overworking, hurt/comfort, crying, mentions of: suicide/death, depression, drugging, and kidnapping. Vulnerability is gross.

Notes: 'Slip' walked so this could run full speed into a brick wall. I feel as though I may have redeemed myself.

▪︎◇{¤♧■♧¤}◇▪︎

This page is mocking me.

The hour is late. I stopped checking the clock around 2:00 A.M., and there's a cup of cold coffee right next to me on this table, several rings on the inside from where the coffee had been left sitting far too long. It's cheap, the flavor sticking to my teeth in a way that settles my lips into a slight grimace as I try to convince my hand to move my pen across the just as cheap notebook paper that has been sitting in front of me since I came home.

Come on. It's words. What the fuck is hard about this?

'It's not hard if you can actually get your head out of your ass and do something,' I think to myself. Not helping.

I have an irritating collection of drafts. Oh yes, I can start them and I can certainly plan out the works before me. But actually writing is somehow impossible, and even though I can feel how thick the block is in my mind, preventing me from communicating my feelings properly, I just can't get break myself out of it.

Come on. Finish one draft. Then everything will click together for the rest.

For the past few weeks it's been just like this. Come home, sit down with projects, and try. But no matter what I do, I just can't focus. It's as though my head simply won't allow it. And this house, quite frankly, isn't helping. It's admittedly unsettling atmosphere, the loud noises born from nothing. It's as though I can feel the weight of the dead that used to sit at the same glass table as I watching me over my shoulder, pressing their non-existent weight against me, making my chest tight with pressure I cannot voice because that's not fair to the ones still here truly haunted by their presence. I'm just a guest who overextends their stay, quite frankly.

Just a page. Just write a page and you can get up for a moment. Ignore how loud the fridge is at something clunks inside of it.

A page. Get a page. Come on, you imbecile, how hard is a fucking pa-

"I thought we talked about this."

It's a testament to my mental state how high I manage to jump in my chair, my tired and over-caffinated heart set off to make me dizzy with over exertion from fear, turning to see who has come to voice their thoughts and damn us both with them.

"Mike," I sigh. I place a hand on my chest, rubbing slightly at the spot where I feel my heart pounding against my sore ribs. "Don't do that."

"Have you slept at all?" Mike asks disapprovingly. His arms are crossed against his chest, heavy bags under his eyes from another night of restless dreams. He can't sleep, I won't sleep. If he'd allow it, we could actually get shit done this time of day.

"A little," I lie. He's just worried. About everything. He always is, which at first was something I loved about him. And usually I still do. It's an admirable trait, to care about someone and love them so much it's only natural to fret over them, to check and make sure they're taken care of properly.

Except it makes me feel guilty.

"Oh yeah? What time?" He asks, narrowing his sleep swollen eyes at me.

Details. Fuck.

"Ah, uh- I don't know, I wasn't looking at the clock," I say sheepishly, trying to flash a disarming smile and make my own bags look like ones of bare minimum rest instead of self neglect. Mike's jaw tightens slightly.

"Oh?" He says in a dull voice that is not raised, yet managed to ring throughout the room nonetheless.

I hum affirmatively, pressing my lips together and fiddling with the cheap pen in my hands, glancing down at it in an attempt at trying not to give myself away.

"Yeah, I don't know. Just like, laid my head on the book and... y'know... drifted off for a couple hours," I try to say casually.

"Ah," he says as though that were enough, leaning now against the doorframe of the hallway, looking at the other wall as though the paint were interesting. "How long after I went to bed, do you think?"

Keep your breathing even. He can smell fear. "Like, a couple," I answer with a shrug.

"Or, like, not at all," he says, turning his head back to stare down at me with a glare.

"I slept," I insist.

"Bullshit. You give me unnecessary detail about your shits post mexican take-out, but you can't tell me what time you fell asleep?" He says accusingly.

"I was asleep! I'm sorry, do you want me to lie and give some time because you need it for some reason?" I ask evenly, shrugging as though to ask what he'd like me to say, blinking at him and adding a tired tinge of a croak to my voice to match his.

"I'm sorry?" He asks, eyes still in narrow slits yet somehow widening slightly, his leg uncrossing from over the other and planting firmly on the floor as he stands straight.

He's not that tall. Kinda short. But he looks much bigger when mad. Kinda like an iguana. I told him that one time and got bit. Jokingly, of course. It's not like he'd just reach over and sna- You know what? Irrelevant.

"I'm just saying," I say, starting to turn back to my notebook as though the conversation were finished.

"No-no, I'd like to hear that again," he says. I can hear his footsteps pad against the flat, tan carpet, my shoulders stiffening slightly as I train my decreasingly neutral eyes on the wrinkled, lined paper in front of me. "I liked the part where you made me sound like some insecure teenager for calling you out on your shit. Very original."

My lips press into a thin line, my grip on my pen tightening slightly.

"It's not that serious, Mikey-"

"Don't bullshit me, and don't use some cheap nickname as a cop out via sympathy," Mike snaps, standing now on the opposite side of the table, pressing his hands now against the glass surface that dirties so easily. Trust me, we've had to clean some prints off of it.

There's a line, and at some point I'm going to cross it. The problem is it's hidden under mental sand that makes me unclear of exactly where it is.

"Michael-"

"That's formal," he says, leaning forward on the table, his tone the same as an interrogating mother just waiting for the moment where no one will blame her for finally tearing you to shreds for what you've said to her outwardly innocent statements. A trap.

"I'm sorry, I thought you didn't like cheap nicknames?" I say, fighting the irritation in my voice, barely managing to remain even as I click my pen to begin writing.

"What's wrong with just Mike?" He asks. He reaches across the table, placing all five of his fingertips on my paper firmly and dragging it back across the table towards him, withholding it from me.

"Would you like me to use just Mike?" I ask.

"I'd like you to make eye contact while you lie through your fucken teeth," he says calmly, not moving as he continues to stare me down.

"Okay, Mike. And what exactly does my sleep schedule mean to you?" I ask slowly, trailing my eyes from his hand, slowly up his arm with pronounced veins and muscles, to the white cotton shirt that was two sizes too large and usually what he wore to sleep in, until I meet his dark and slightly hateful eyes.

"We had a conversation," he starts.

"A conversation," I repeat.

"About a month ago, do you remember?" He asks, cocking his head slightly in that way it does when we both know I'm not going to dare to answer with anything other than he wants.

"You ha-"

"I had a concern," he interrupts me, now looking down at the notebook and studying it as though it were a piece of fine art. "Which involved how absolutely awful your ability is to take care of yourself properly."

"Mike-"

"Shut. Up." Mike says with disturbing calmness. "I'm talking."

Fine.

"It's fucking rude."

Not saying it's not.

"Like your attitude when I try to just help you because clearly, you can't help yourself," he says, now slapping down the notebook to gesture at me as though it were obvious why he was concerned.

I could speak. I'd like to. And he gives me a long enough silence I could. But instead I decide I will simply give him the floor.

"No opinion on this?" He asks shortly.

"No," I say with a dismissive shrug. "You seem to have them for me."

Mike laughs at this statement, and if the sparkle in his eyes didn't seem to have the same dull shine as the glass table between us I'd feel a bit better about it. But I think there's a six foot hole in the backyard I just signed a lease on that makes his disturbingly convincing smile much more worrisome.

"You're funny," he says affectationately. "Get up."

"What?" I ask, blinking.

"Are you deaf now? Up," he says in irritation, beginning to cross back around the table. "This isn't a negotiation."

Before I can speak his hands dig in under my armpits, roughly pulling me to stand and bringing me close to his chest. I should have energy to fight back, I've only been sitting after all. But a physical confrontation would be too loud, first of all. Abby is asleep in her room, and I don't want to make a scene to wake the poor child. Number two, my bones are sore, my head is aching and I generally just do not feel well enough to protest. Physically.

"Put me down, you son of a bitch!"

Verbally, I'm fine.

"You're going to bed, that's final!"

"I have twelve drafts due that I have to get done or else this project-"

"You have four hours of sleep you can get before you have to take your candy ass to work in the fucken morning, or else I'm gonna beat it into you," he hisses directly in my ear, his breath cold and loud so close to me. Jesus, fuck. What did his parents feed him as a child? It shouldn't be this easy for him.

"Oh, I don't do what you want and now you threaten physical violence. Very mature," I mock, reaching out to grip the doorframe of Mike's bedroom, purely to piss him off.

"Save me the dramatics," he snaps in a whisper, wrapping one arm tighter around my waist and using the other to bat my hands away from the frame. I can tell he's genuinely trying not to hurt me, his grip on one wrist firm but careful.

"Just let me write one page," I try.

"That's what you said last night," he says, still trying to pull my hand away. My nails have dug into the frame, making it slightly harder. I can sense his irritation growing. "You got two hours of sleep."

"That's not going to kill me," I argue.

"You haven't slept for more than two hours in a week," he says.

One nail breaks against the frame, making me lose my grip and sending pain down my arm from the awkward angle at which the pressure had snapped it off. I wince slightly, which gives Mike slight pause as he checks my hand, but decides I'm alright before he begins dragging me towards the bed in earnest.

"Why is it so hard for you to just take care of yourself?" Mike asks in frustration.

"I take care of myself!" I say defensively. Mike drops me onto the bed, standing in front of me to prevent any new attempts at escape.

"No, you don't," he says, quiet but firm. "You sit and stare at your notebook and you don't do anything else if you can help it. You sleep for two hours, you go to work, you hardly eat, you don't have energy anymore." Mike's hands are planted firmly on his hips, his nostrils flailing as he tries to take collected, calm breaths. "I care about you. Why can't you?"

"Michael-"

"Stop!" Mike snaps, groaning and turning away from me with a sharp spin on his heel. He buries his hands in his hair in frustration, now pacing between the bed and the door, quietly shutting it so we can argue in peace.

"Why are you so upset?" I ask, genuinely confused.

"Because I don't want to see you live like this. I am concerned and every time I bring it up you dismiss me, you joke, you don't care and I hate that," Mike says, temporarily stopped in his tracks to point at me as he seethes. "I'm watching you waste away and you know what? I'm starting to think part of you likes it."

"Excuse me?" I say, astounded. I cross my arms in front of my chest, cocking my head at him in a way to say 'I dare you to repeat that.'

"You heard me," Mike says, taking a step towards me. "It's like you cannot for one iota of a second conceive of some world where taking care of yourself is a good use of your time. You work, and work until you've burned yourself out so horribly you rot in bed for a month. And unless you're staying here, I hear nothing from you. Not a call, not a fuck you or whatever. It's like you're punishing yourself."

"Now who's being dramatic?" I say.

"See? I can't even point this out without you getting defensive, which just shows you know you're in the wrong!" Mike turns away from me once more, resuming his path of restless walking.

"Why do you even care?" I ask genuinely. This makes him pause again, his glare once more returning to me as he mentally questions my intelligence.

"You know what, I don't know!" Mike snaps, his voice gaining volume. "You are insistent in this fucking- slow method suicide and I'm trying to help you, but you won't let me!"

"I never asked you to care," I scoff, rolling my eyes.

"I never asked to care!" Mike nearly shouts, leaning in close to my face and sneering at me.

This breaks the tension.

His face falls as soon as the words are out of his mouth, his eyes widening slightly like my own eyes. This comment shouldn't really sting. I shouldn't let it. But it does. And for a moment, I do. And he sees that clearly.

"... oh," I say softly, my arms relaxing and shoulders sagging ever so slightly as I drop his gaze, trying to shut off my emotions before they're obvious.

"I'm sorry," Mike says quickly, stumbling to his knees in front of me. "I didn't mean that-"

"It's fine," I say, trying to remain as blank as my pages on the kitchen table.

"I just said it to be hurtful," Mike says quickly, his hand reaching up to cup my face. I take it away, turning my head to the side slightly. There's a new chill in the air, one I can feel seizing my chest.

"You weren't," I say. "I'm going to sleep."

"Please, I don't want-"

"I'm going to sleep," I say forcefully, shoving him away and turning to begin undressing from my work clothes that I still wore. Mike is silent behind me, probably thinking, and I'm close to not being able to hold myself together anymore.

"Get out!" I snap, flinging my shirt at him in a rage and beginning to stand from the bed to chase him out. He doesn't need anymore prompt, quickly scurrying out from the room to wherever it is he'll sleep now. Probably on the couch even though there's another room down the hall. A self induced punishment. Knowing him he probably won't even allow himself a blanket or pillow, feeling the cold air fitting for his selfishness.

Good.

When I wake that morning, I can smell breakfast in the air. My stomach hurts from skipping meals, but I don't want to eat. First of all, I haven't worked for a meal. There's still plenty to be done with my drafts. And food is a good encouragement to keep working. Second, I didn't ask him to care. And he didn't ask for it either. There probably isn't enough for me, and if there is, he and Abby can debate between the two who will have it. I need to shower.

I take forever washing myself. If that's what you want to call it. It was moreso standing under hot water, letting it run cold until I couldn't stand it anymore and hoping my deodorant is able to do some heavy lifting today. I barely have enough time to get to work, passing silently by Mike and not turning when he calls my name, walking out the door as fast as I can without running.

He follows me outside, something shaking in a bag behind me. When I finally open my car door I'm forced to have my gaze in his direction, his body between the door frame and my car door, presenting me with a bag of lunch.

"Please eat," he begs, placing the bag in my lap unceremoniously and then quickly stepping away and shutting the door himself.

There's a small moment where he and I just share at each other through the glass, time slipping away without notice. He hasn't slept, he'll be late for work if he doesn't get dressed soon, and the bag on top of my thighs is warm. Fresh. A petty part of me wants to roll down my window and throw away the meal, back out of the drive way and let that fester in his mind out of hate. He thinks words can hurt? Actions are so much worse.

But there's something in his eyes. Defeated, resigned. Childlike is almost the word I could use. In front of my car is the 12 year old boy who tried to chase down his brother, the 18 year old who decided to sacrifice his life raising his little sister while saying goodbye to his parents, and the 27 year old man who's just trying to keep everything together.

I don't know what to say to this child. Or to the man.

So, with the turn of my key in the ignition, I don't.

It's late when I come home. When the manager had asked me to stay late I almost called Mike to break the silence and tell him this. But there was still a part of me that didn't care whether or not he knew. Really, I didn't have to return home tonight. I could go back to my apartment and just let him rot in bed the way he claims I do. How could he say such a thing, anyways? I rot in bed? What about the days I've walked into the house and he hasn't slept all week, where he's claiming he's trying to kick his medication and he'll get the hang of it soon. Where his sister is eating every meal almost burnt because he can't think straight enough to remember time. Where I've had to coax, beg, demand of him that he just takes a pill because he's laying on the side of the bed, small and curled in on himself, dead eyed and obviously tired but still not sleeping. One time I slipped it into his food. And I felt awful. Do not think for a moment I wanted to do that. There was a betrayel in his eyes when sleep began to overtake him. I hoped he wouldn't notice, but he must've. Some tell in the drugs effect that made him aware his rest was not voluntary. But I didn't care. I stroked his hair through the night, and I'll do it again. He could hate me however long he needed to, he just needed sleep first.

The irony still hasn't struck me when I walk through the door of his house, well past dinner, Abby in the bath. The door was left unlocked, which is unusual for this time of night. Mike jumps from the couch the minute I open the door, standing with his hands by his side anxiously pulling at the edge of his oversized sweater.

Everything's oversized with him. The thought occurs to me that his father was slightly bigger.

"Don't leave me," he says quietly, his voice small and pathetic like him. But I don't say that with hate.

"I just got home," I say. "Be a bit odd to leave again."

I try a smile, but it's artificial and we both know it's only for his comfort. It doesn't touch him, his eyes glassy and lips slightly parted the same way a child's is when they're trying to breathe as their sinuses spring to life in wake of forming tears.

"I didn't mean it," he says, still standing in the same place. If I was a better person I'd probably run to him. But I'm not.

If I were a better person, I'd say I believe him. But I don't. And suddenly my throat is swollen with hurt, my own bottom lip is sticking out and now we're both trying not to cry because this is so overly taxing. We're adults but emotions are hard. Vulnerability is hard. It is a damnation that we both detest, both avoid. In better states we would joke about this, would laugh and tease the other for not having the emotional capability to voice our thoughts. But we're not. So we don't. And now we're crying openly in the off-putting, attempted to look cozy living room that we can never fully relax in.

"I don't wanna lose you," he says between small hiccups, hands now balled into fists that he buries under opposite armpits, shifting his weight so that he doesn't look so small. His glances bounce between me and the hallway table, never fixing on either of us as he tries to state his mind like an adult. "I've barely had you."

In my heart there has been a constant ache, hurt flowing and pumping through my veins like the blood that ran cold last night at his hurtful words. His apologetic words make the ache somehow worse.

"I don't mean to be a burden to you," I say softly, feeling a small, stray tear break the fluid barrier of my waterline to race down my cheek, allowing a pathway to the fatter drops that threaten to quickly follow.

Mike's face shifts, stepping towards me and holding out his arms.

"No, never," he says just as soft, trying to comfort me. I freeze as he approaches, my body stiffening as I try to swallow the lump and convince myself that I can survive his touch. His touch that I normally crave the moment I'm around him, that I seek in the dark of night even when the bed is overheating, that I'd go insane without.

"I've never asked you to care," I say, voice breaking and tears rolling freely now.

"I know," he says into my neck, which is wetting as he shakes around me, his grasp firm and careless of whether or not it's too much.

"I don't mean to cause problems. I just...." I don't know what I mean, how I wish to finish the statement. If I was clever, I could. If I was clever, I wouldn't even be in this problem to begin with.

"I'm just scared," he chokes out, his breathing horrible as he struggles to keep his crying from being obvious. "You look sick all the time and I don't want that."

He's told me the story. His mother wasting away, thinning and slipping, starving and dying. How he'd returned home to a baby wailing in her crib as their mothers body lay in a pool of blood he never really got out of the carpet. He lied to me initially when I saw it the first time, said it was wine. It wasn't until we had a few glasses ourselves that his eyes glazed over and he told me. It was disturbing how neutral he kept himself to the subject. A habit he'd developed much too long ago to break.

"Mike-"

"I try, and I try and if something doesn't give soon I'm gonna fucking lose it," he sobs into my skin, arms tightening around me.

"If what doesn't give?" I ask softly, trying to pull him away to look into his eyes. But he doesn't budge, sobbing a little bit harder and gripping a little bit tighter. He doesn't respond, simply shaking as he breathes heavily against me through his mouth.

"Hey," I say softly, trying to wrap my arms around him, failing and giving up as I realize his grip is too tight. "I'm not going anywhere."

His mouth closes a little, quieting his breathing slightly as he sniffles.

"I'm an idiot, but I'm not suicidal," I say softly, trying again for a joke. He doesn't laugh, but he does pull away slightly to look at my face, lips swollen and quivering as he blinks at me.

"You scare me," he says quietly, not quite meeting my eyes. He's watching my lips, but I think that's because that's the closest he can get to making eye contact.

"I scare you?" I ask, furrowing my brows. I lick my dry, cracked lips for comfort. "Why?"

"Because I love you," he says shakily, sighing as though it were exhausting to admit while still holding that nervous flicker in his eyes. "Because when I think about not being with you the house seems colder. And I can't go back to hating this house."

I open my mouth to respond, but there's more.

"Because I love your stupid smile when you're excited, or how you do that cricket leg thing when you're falling asleep. Or how if you want my attention you'll bury your head in my chest and pretend you're doing it in your sleep even though I won't judge you for doing it while you're awake."

"I don't-"

"I love how defensive you get over things like that," he says, bringing one hand to cup my cheek, resting his thumb that smells like the creamy lavender handsoap next to the bathroom sink on my lips. "I love how you look waking up next to me, how you play with Abby. And for a really long time I didn't see myself ever having kids, but when I see you curling her hair at the kitchen table I think maybe it wouldn't be so bad if I just took up another job and saved money so that we could-"

"Mike-"

"Stop cutting me off," he says gently, his eyes finally meeting mine with just the smallest smile. "It's rude."

At that I do stop, my body finally relaxing into his grasp as I lean into him and his touch.

"I want things I haven't wanted since before Garret went missing," he says, stroking my lip. "And I want them with you."

Dinner was just as delicious as lunch, even if it was late. And the bed is soft like our voices as we make plans for years down the line. And after a week long break, the pages are finally filled once again.

Just like us.

¤▪︎{♧}▪︎¤

Literally had a come to Jesus moment while writing this that not only do I fear being vulnerable irl, but in writing too. Nearly threw up while writing this. Book aable feet.

Taglist:

@cassiecasluciluce @gh0u1ishly @joshhutchersons-slut @schmidtsbimbo @sugarevans @wompwompwomp57 @jhutchissupercool . Thank you for your support pookies!!! <3

•▪︎Masterlist▪︎•

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goldsainz · 10 months

Text

FLOWERS FOR YOU — one shot.

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

2K CELEBRATION. MASTERLIST.

taglist: @lorarri @lpab @whatthefuckerr @noncannonships @lunnix

summary: you miss your boyfriend, and he misses you.

request: “You got me flowers and aw did you miss me for Oscar Piastri please?”

warnings: this is very short… but other than that, none

NOTE: first writing for my 2k celly! actually feels unreal that there are 2k of you here…

[ word count: 627 ]

Oscar was often away from your shared flat. His job was demanding, and you understood why. But sometimes the bed felt too cold, or the kitchen too empty.

In every sense your boyfriend was essential to your home, which was why you were very excited for the summer break. It was almost a whole month with Oscar for yourself (of course, his family and friends too).

You didn’t want to be selfish with his attention, but the urge to have him all for yourself was very strong. Nonetheless, you waited up for him to arrive to your shared flat.

It was around one in the morning, his flight had landed a while ago but it wasn’t a quick drive from the airport to where you lived. So, you did your best to remain awake for his arrival despite having an exhausting day yourself. You couldn’t wait to see him.

The minutes ticked by, but finally the lock on your door clicked, and you knew. You knew Oscar was back to you, back in Australia.

You fought the urge to run to him. Too tired to even really muster the thought, but also, he was probably exhausted from the long flight and would not be able to deal with your over excited attitude. And frankly, you didn’t have that much energy left in you.

“Y/N?” His voice was quiet, almost as if he was wary of whether you were awake or not.

“Oscar!” You exclaim, pulling yourself up from the couch to properly greet him.

You went to hug him, but was stopped by the bouquet of flowers in his hands.

“You got me flowers?” You asked, grabbing the beautiful set of flowers he had gotten you. The smell made you smile, as you watched his cheeks tint the lightest shade of pink.

“Figured I’d bring something nice,” He says while scratching the back of his neck, “I wasn’t really sure which ones to bring so I—”

“They’re perfect.” You cut him off, placing the flowers on the table closest to you.

Oscar relaxes at your words. He puts down some of his bags, and now that his hands are truly free of anything, he takes a moment to properly hug you.

The moment he hugs you, you momentarily forget how much you missed him. You fit perfectly in his arms, his hoodie is soft against your skin and it makes you snuggle further into him. You don’t want to let him go, but neither does he.

A moment goes by, and while you know your boyfriend must be exhausted from the long flight, you don’t let go of him. You cannot bring yourself to pull away, not even when Oscar makes a move to separate himself.

“Aw, did you miss me?” His voice is a melody to your ears, one that you had been deprived of. Video calls and regular calls don’t do justice to the beauty that his voice is, the utter softness his words have when he speaks to you.

“You bet I did.”

“Yeah? Well, I missed you too.” He whispers, like it’s a secret only meant for you to ever hear, “A lot.”

“A lot lot?”

“So much. You have no idea.”

“In that case, you’re not allowed to leave me for a very long time.” You declare, pushing yourself a little bit off him to look him in the eyes. Your words no longer muffled by his hoodie and the way your pressed against him.

“How long?”

“Until you tire of me.”

Oscar smiles fondly at your words, “I don’t think I ever will.”

“Then you’re not ever leaving.” He huffs out a laugh, and you slightly shake from the rumble in his chest.

“And I’ll be happy not to, darling.”

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bunnyshideawayy · 3 months

Text

i think the way male characters interact with each other over a woman says a lot about how they view said woman.

it’s clear here Rhysand is worried not only about the political ramifications but also personal ramifications Azriel’s clear LUSTING after Elain will cause.

its stated and made obvious multiple times throughout this chapter that Az is sexually attracted to Elain….and that’s it. His lust and desire and ENTITLEMENT is made so clear that Rhysand has to step in and reprimand him before it blows up in everyone’s face.

Elain is obviously infatuated with him, and Azriel is playing off of that to sleep with her and then what? he literally doesn’t know because he’s so blinded by lust and jealousy that his brothers have mates he cannot see past getting Elain naked. i believe it’s perfectly implied here he only sees Elian as a challenge, and should he ever get the chance to actually sleep with her he will no longer be equally as infatuated. He won’t even admit to himself he’s not over Mor.

I’m just pointing this out as many people seem to have skipped half of his chapter after seeing the word “arousal” and running with it. if you actually read the chapter as it is written it’s actually pretty gross to see people justifying Azriel’s behavior and mindset.

I personally don’t really care who Elain ends up with, if i wrote the story she’d stay single and living her best life baking and gardening and volunteering in the community but alas this is a romance at the end of the day. but i will not ignore clear implications from the story, Az sees her as a sexual pursuit. i can’t wait to see how the next acotar will play out and if gwyn will receive the necklace / wear it as it would prove to the readers and Elain my point was correct, hopefully not though the “OW” trope is so icky to me, but as i said it would add to my point. If Az truly liked Elain for Elain he wouldn’t back down from her or from Rhys (although this seems to be a problem for both Az and Cass) and he wouldn’t give this necklace he meant FOR* Elain to another woman on some random whim. I could go on and on but i’m so tired of seeing shippers justify and ignore this bs. Az shouldn’t be near any woman as long as he’s got this jealous and entitled mindset- Gwyn or Elain or whoever yall ship him with.

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wosemi-sama · 3 months

Text

and the crowd went mild 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥 also no chara dividers im lazy rn

these r so short id add more but im rushing rn sorry lmfao 😭😭😭

intended lowercase!

misc. obm hcs

LUCIFER

wakes up at the ass crack of dawn every single morning.

wears those old man pjs. with the long hat and fuzzy slippers and gown. you know the one.

most bitter coffee you've ever had in your life how he can drink it is astonishing.

his bed, his mattress, his pillows are all as hard as rock how does this man SLEEP.

sleeps like hes the corpse at the funeral hes that one image

MAMMON

will pull you into a headlock and call it a hug.

LEVIATHAN

guy who had mountain dew and cheeto dust in his veins instead of blood. guy who marinates in his room for two months straight. guy who- (i am immediately shot dead).

did a collab with the anti-lucifer league to create a 100k words dialuci fic to piss off lucifer (dont worry about him he got paid in anime and tsl merch).

TRULY believes he is the #1 tsl fan. and also #1 ruri fan.

wimp who VOLUNTARILY makes you cosplays if you are a cosplayer or even if you aren't. it will happen.

vtuber fan. he was like "hey i wanna be a streamer but i dont wanna show my face but i also want to be an anime boy! wait-" and now hes a vtuber.

has accidentally referred to all of his brothers as "chat" at least once. hes never recovering from that btw.

SATAN

cannot stop annotating books he reads for the life of him.

all of his books are just filled to the brim with sticky notes because all he does is annotate.

once he has a crush he will start imagining him and them in the same scenarios as the characters in romance novels he read. (loser alert!!)

sneaking a new cat into hol like once a week (he never succeeds btw).

ASMODEUS

oh boy his room REEKS of perfume and body spray.

"i sprayed my new perfume in every nook and cranny! smells so floral and elegant, don't you think?" (it smells like a bath and body works threw up.)

surprisingly plays the trumpet and BOY is he loud. bro is absolutely blasting those notes.

worst driver ever btw.

BEELZEBUB

freckles all over!! like a lot. *im not beating the insane allegations*

ate like 27 family size dorito bags, 30 dollars worth of taco bell, and four sprites in one sitting and he still hasnt recovered.

sleeps. like a lot. not as much as belphie but enough to be considered an eepy guy.

BELPHEGOR

will randomly grab every blanket and pillow he can get his hands on and make a nest in the common room if he's up to it. and then have everyone make a dog pile in it just so they can hang out and be silly.

will NOT clean it up afterwards. lucifer will tell him to and his only response will be "im tired..."

freckles like beel too i think theyre silly.

9829364 cow plushies. (theyre all from lucifer)

SOLOMON

will randomly gaslight people for no reason

"hey did you do the homework"

homework? what homework? there was homework? my, what even is homework? never heard of that.

"hey, i heard of this animal from the human world called a giraffe! can i see a picture?"

what? what's a giraffe? oh, those!! yeah, they're just myths. they're not real. purely fiction!!

yk that one post about tumblr funnyman solomon. he is a tumblr funnyman to me. he confidently posts his exploded spaghetti and gets 10k notes i think.

SIMEON

has a book club with satan and solomon. :)

probably writes oneshots of the brothers on tumblr idfk man (sorry to the simeon fans i write like nothing on this guy bro).

LUKE

bodily six ("but didnt the devs say hes ten?" shut up. /j)

along with that, also shorter than in canon. (since hes. yk. a first grader. that BOY is not five foot hes one sauce packet long dude.)

favorite store in the human world is walmart. i like to think his human world outfit is all exclusively from walmart bc thats funny i think.

DIAVOLO

hands of STEEL. he tries to grab your wrist and he nearly crushes it by accident.

ice cream!! he loves it :) his favorite is strawberry btw.

also this boy is NOT a himbo hes a smart man.

needs like a hug and some sleep and also a friend this boy works too much!!

BARBATOS

short. like really short. especially according to devildom standards since most demons are super tall.

"but isn't he six feet?" not in my heart.

somehow always making tea for some reason?? if he's not making tea then he's making pastries.

my boy does not SLEEP. hasn't slept since the sun has been birthed and doesn't plan on ever doing it.

#a letter from yours truly!💌#obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me solomon #obey me luke #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #not tagging sim i dont wanna disappoint the fans lmao

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batwritings · 6 months

Note

I thought of this a couple days ago, and I CANNOT stop thinking about it. I saw people making fanfictions about a COD werewolf au.. and it got me thinking about Soap in particular.

Hear me out. Soap’s a werewolf, and the afab-gn! reader is his longtime best friend. Soap hasn’t had anyone to help him with his rut for YEARS, but eventually, his fellow soldier and best friend gets tired of seeing him so overwhelmed, and agrees to help him. Bonus points if they have secret feelings for each other.

Eventually, Soap’s got the reader pinned down, and he’s just taking all of his sexual frustration out on them. He means well- but he fails to notice the fact that they’re a whiny mess, struggling to take his knot and handle his roughness. After thoroughly ruining his darling reader, he feels bad, and makes up for it by cuddling them and giving them legendary aftercare <3

I 100% understand if you don’t want to do this btw, no pressure!

-Hybrid

*cracks knuckles* One Scottish werewolf, coming up! Enjoy!~

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You'd known Johnny since primary school, the two of you becoming rather fast friends. A shared interest over sports truly built the foundation of your solid bond. Finding out he was a werewolf didn't even put a damper on things; if anything, it made him all that more cool to you.

It was really you that followed him around like a puppy, even going as far as to follow him into the military. Everyone in your squad loved to poke fun at how much of a dog you acted compared to the literal werewolf, how much it had to be puppy love. You vehemently fought off the accusations; Johnny was your best friend! There was no way in hell you were interested in him romantically!

And that’s what you told yourself all up until this big bad wolf of a best friend of yours took a bullet for you. You gasped as he howled in pain, eyes immediately turning on the enemy as he lunged for them. You’d never been more worried and turned-on in your life.

So when Soap’s next rut came, your heart strings were tugging so hard you thought they might snap. He’d told you in detail what it felt like to not have a proper mate to go through those cycles was like, so when you found him in his bunk, halfway to full wolf form, sweating like he’d just run miles around the track, you couldn’t just stand idly by. You were going to help your friend whether he liked it or not.

“Johnny,” you called, voice quiet and calm. Bright baby blues that had turned a vibrant golden locked onto you. You knelt beside the bed onto the cold unforgiving cement and stroked his cheek softly.

Immediately the man leaned into your touch. “Your touch is like a cool drink Y/N,” he whined. Somewhere in his mind, you were sure he thought he sounded smooth, and you didn’t have the heart to tell him otherwise. Your thumb stroked over his stubbly cheeks with a fondness only reserved for him. “How to Know You’re Getting in too Deep With Your Bestie”, a memoir by Y/N.

“You’re suffering Soap,” you told him, gently helping him onto his back so you could straddle his hips. Eyes like the full moon never left you, tracking your every movement. You were only in a regulation shirt and your boyshorts. The feel of his hard length, knot and all didn’t go unnoticed as your pussy twitched eagerly. “Quit pushing me away and let me help.”

The next round of movements were a blur to you, but you knew for certain at least how you ended up face down into the mattress. You heard the shredding of fabric as your underwear was torn with the flick of a claw. You jump a bit when you feel the cold nuzzle of his nose against your slick cunt and you can tell how he revels at your moan when he warm tongue laps some of it up.

A low growl resounds in your ear next sending a shiver down your spine. “You’ve no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this leannan,” comes Soap’s rough voice right against the shell of your ear, earning him a whimper of excitement. You can feel where his cock lines up with your entrance and the slight burn as you’re stretched in one quick thrust. It rips a scream of pleasure from your throat that seems to only egg him on more.

Between the hot panting of the wolf in your ear and the exponentially thick cock ramming into you over and over, it was no surprise that you came first. Your wet hot walls contracted around your best friend’s member over and over, as if milking it. The werewolf above you growled in pleasure, head thrown back as he could finally mate.

So many years he had been on the brink of asking you to let him mate you, to breed you, even if just once. The sensation of actually being able to do it was better than he could have ever dreamed. And you yourself certainly weren’t complaining.

It had the both of you in a fog of pleasure, your minds obscured by the haze of sex. Even in the moments you were begging, pleading for him to stop, he never slowed, orgasm after orgasm wracking your body. You were in a state of lustful bliss, simply letting your best friend take out the years of pent up sexual tension on you.

The knot catching on your inner walls caught your attention. Somewhere in the back of your mind you knew you shouldn’t be able to make that fit. You tried to babble out pleas for Soap to slow, to stop, to give you a minute to breathe. But the pleasure was bubbling in the pit of your stomach again and you knew there was nothing you could do to stop it. You felt teeth nipping at your shoulder as the wolf finally slammed his knot inside you, howling loudly as he came.

Your own orgasm, how many this was by now you couldn’t recall, was ripped from you in the form of a scratchy voiced cry. You tried in vain to link your hand with that of your best friend, only to have him gingerly help you. That wet tongue was back again, this time lapping softly at your shoulder where he’s presumable nipped a bit too hard.

You were in and out of consciousness, as to be expected of someone who was just thoroughly fucked by a werewolf for the first time. So when you truly came to again, bundled up in the lap of your best friend, it was a little surprising. Your stirring caught Soap’s attention and bright golden eyes looked down to you fondly.

“Finally awake are you?” He asks with a soft chuckle. You reach up and ruffle the little mohawk that somehow manages to show up on his fur at the top of his head. You could faintly feel the hardness of his member poking against your thigh.

“Need a hand with that soldier?” you ask, voice raspy as if you’d been shouting at recruits all day. You’re handed a glass of water before you’re given an answer which you happily sip on. The cool liquid soothes the ache in your throat.

“Later leannan,” Soap tells you. “I’m sated for now.”

“You keep calling me that Johnny,” you say with a soft laugh, voice a little clearer now. You offer him a quiet thanks when he helps you sit up and sets a bowl of stew in your lap. You hadn’t realized before you’d seen the food, just how hungry you are, how much energy you’d exerted. “What does it mean?” Your best friend huffs his own little laugh as he watches you start to eat.

“Sweetheart.”

#bat writes #anon reqs #hybrid anon #cod x reader #cod smut #john soap mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #soap mactavish smut #johnny soap mactavish smut

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acaaai-t · 11 months

Text

don’t hang up, please

[gn! reader x scaramouche]

cw: angst, hurt/no comfort, major character death, usage of the petname ‘love’

“Mm I love you…” he muttered, pressing the old telephone closer to his ears. “Can you say it back?… please?”

The other line was filled with the loud crackling noise of static, but Scaramouche could still hear you. Your voice, so incredibly faint, whispering back the words he longed to hear from you.

“I love you too, dear…”

A tear rolled down his cheeks. He swallowed back a sob.

“Don’t leave me..”

This had become his daily routine, sitting in the corner of his bedroom, the rickety telephone clutched tightly in his arms. Every morning he would ring your number, and wait anxiously for you to pick up.

“Love, you know you can’t keep doing this,” your tired voice whispered.

“I know, I just—” his voice broke off. It took a while for him to regain his composure. “I don’t want to lose you again.”

“… it wasn’t your fault, stop blaming yourself.”

His nails dug deeper into his arms, leaving tiny red crescent marks that drew small droplets of blood. It wasn’t— no, it was his fault.

If only he had arrived just a minute earlier, maybe then you would’ve been saved. If only he had gone with you, then maybe you would’ve still been next to him, arms hooked over his. If only… he had been quicker, then maybe you would’ve still been alive.

The light in your eyes dulling out as he grasped your body, your mouth forming words, but no sound coming out. The blood that seeped past his hands as he tried— tried everything he can, to give you a chance. He couldn’t even catch the person that had killed you.

He couldn’t even avenge your death.

The days without you he counted, the nights he wallowed in despair he counted. He cried, for god knows how long, going through your last few text messages, looking at photos of the two of you.

Scaramouche was at his wits end.

Attending your funeral was perhaps was truly broke it for him. The reality that he’s never going to be able to hold you in his embrace— never be able to see you again, collapsed down on him. He had held it in until everyone was gone, until it was just you and him.

It was only then did his calm facade broke, shattered into tiny pieces as the dam of tears flowed.

That night was the night he cried the hardest. Tears uncontrollably trailing down his cheeks, leaving a wet spot on the soft pillow.

For weeks he mourned. Coping your loss through cups of bitter tea he made, adding an unhealthy amount of sugar into it— just the way you liked it to be, and through his delusions, where he’d imagine you walking down the aisle, and he was standing by the altar, waiting for you.

Scaramouche had already planned to propose to you. The ring that sat untouched in the pocket of his jacket, left to collect dust.

Fate just seem to have different plans for him.

“…mouche? Love?” your voice, oh your voice. He miss listening to your mindless rambles, the way he’d take a seat next to you and offer you a cup of tea as you talked.

“I’m here,” he whispered, voice gone hoarse from the endless amount of crying.

“Love… have you been neglecting yourself again?”

He cracked a smile. “Of course not.”

“Don’t lie to me, I can hear it in your voice that you haven’t been taking care of yourself.”

He’s really got to give it to you, being able to detect his tiredness even if the two of you were literally a dimension apart.

“I promise I’ll clean myself up after this, okay?”

Maybe the heavens had taken pity on him. Whatever it may be, he had found you again. Though he may not be able to see or touch you, it was more than enough.

“You better,” there was a teasing tilt to your voice. “Or else I’ll hang up.”

No, Scaramouche cannot lose you again.

“I know, I will… just don’t hang up… please…”

✩ ·┆ masterlist

notes—

— as promised, one last drabble before I go on a temporary hiatus!

#[💫] acaaai-t #genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin angst #genshin impact x reader #genshin scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #genshin scaramouche #scaramouche #scaramouche genshin impact #genshin fanfic #genshin x you #genshin impact scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #scara x reader #scara x you

578 notes · View notes

hiddenonyx · 6 months

Text

(18+) Obey Me! Characters C*ck Warming Dabbles

Notes: haha c*ck warming, it's in the title. Each character has their one notes/warnings.

Word Count: ~5.6K | ~510 words per character

A/N: I'm not dead! Been working on this on and off for like a month and half. Lucifer's and Mammon's are bit awkward for it, but I think it's passable. Please do enjoy baby's attempt at smut. I tired to keep MC as gender neutral as possible, but there are one or two that are fem!mc :/

-------------------------------------------

Lucifer - Notes: gn!mc, the barest hint of sex

Lucifer rarely has the time to properly indulge himself in you. You sneak into his study one night, a soft beg on your lip, and sweet, sinful eyes piercing his soul, and Lucifer feels horrible telling you “not tonight”. There’s a big political meeting happening in a ten day and there’s so much paperwork that-

Seeing your gaze fall and your heart break, Lucifer sighs. Fine, he tells you. He’ll let you do one thing, but you have to promise to behave. And that’s how you end up sitting as still as you can on his lap, his hard cock buried deep within you. You’re truly dying now - you’ve been here for almost thirty minutes as Lucifer holds the small of your back, his free hand working away at his seemingly endless stack of paperwork.

Your body aches with desire and you squirm a little, desperate for any stimulation at all. Lucifer hisses through gritted teeth, his gripped on you tightens in warning, and you whine pitifully. He hushes you gently. Your gaze gently trails over his expression, and you realize that he’s not faring any better than you. Maybe if you misbehaved a little more he’d break and fuck you properly.

“Don’t.”

You whine as your idea is shut down before you even attempt it. “Lucifer~~” you whine, your voice broken. He sighs and tightens his grip on you again, his gloved hand digging into your skin hard. Another minute passes, and then, to your surprise, Lucifer sets his pen down. His now free hand joins the other before falling down to your hip.

“Alright, alright. Seeing as you've been so good…” His other hand drops to your hip and he raises your body up, dragging you until only the head of his cock remains inside, before slamming you down. The action feels so good after having to wait so long, you almost cum right then and there. “I suppose you deserve a reward..”

——

Mammon - Notes: gn!mc, existing relationship, pet names

You should’ve suspected that the Avatar of Greed would be an insatiable boyfriend; Mammon cannot seem to get enough of you. He wants everything about, of and from you. And when you tell him “no” or “later”, he pouts and whines and sulks for the rest of the day. It’s as cute as it is annoying, and today is no different.

You’re sitting on the plush carpeted floor of your room, a pillow between you and the little tray that holds your textbooks, papers, and pens. You’re attempting to make a study guide for an upcoming test in Curses and Hexes, but Mammon is insistent in poking the fat of your thigh.

“C’mon! Ya can do that later,” you don’t even have to look at him to know he’s pouting. You pause and look at him, silently counting for a minute as you give Mammon a tired stare. He gives you a confused look, before opening his mouth to say something - something that you cut off as your gaze returns to your work.

“There. Now it’s “later”. Now let me work, okay puppy?” You hear him whine and he goes back to poking your thigh.

“W-what?! The hell was that?!” He huffs, “A-and don’t call me puppy, okay?”

You can feel a vein throb in your head as Mammon continues to poke at you. You’re starting to understand why Lucifer hangs him from the ceiling so often. You’re about to snap at him, when an idea crosses your mind. It’s devious and mean, but it’ll be a compromise; you’ll be able to get your work done and he’ll get your attention…and it’ll be a suitable punishment for him.

About ten minutes later, Mammon grunts softly, his arms straining to keep himself propped up in his sitting position to adhere to the pact command. You can feel his chest heaving in effort, though he’s trying hard to disguise it.

“T-treasure this…t-this is hardly f-fair,” his voice is ragged.

“Well maybe you should’ve thought about that. Actions have consequences, puppy.” You grind back into him, and he hisses in both pleasure and the strain of obeying the pact command of “stay still”. You roll your hips again, biting your bottom lip to stop yourself from moaning; thankful that your back is to Mammon so that he can’t see. He moans softly in response.

“T-treasure p-please-“

“Aw, does the Great Mammon not enjoy having his cock warmed?” You tease him, as your pen scratches a line of text onto your almost finished study guide. “Just a little longer puppy~.” You feel him twitch at the nickname and you fail to bite back the soft sigh that escapes you.

“N-not a dog,” he growls through gritted teeth. You scratch the last line on your guide before setting your pen down. You lean back into him a little with a soft mewl.

“Alright, you can move now baby. Mm, you can fuck me as hard as you want.”

—-

Levi - Notes: gn!mc, Levi being Levi

You passively press the button on the controller, reading the nearly absurd amount of dialogue as it flashes on screen. You lean forward a little, the story of the world dragging you in. Levi glances up from his manga as you shift on the floor and gives you a questioning look.

“There is no way you’re reading all that. Just spam through it; it’s so boring.”

You gently hit his leg with your free hand, your gaze never leaving the screen, “Shh.” You can almost feel him roll his eyes, as he relaxes more into the beanbag you’re sitting up against, “Just read your manga.”

A few more minutes pass in silence as you read your respective media. You hum every now again, the game’s world growing more and more interesting as you continue to read. You only hear the occasional page turning from Levi as he reads silently. You settle back against the beanbag, resting your head a little on Levi’s leg as you sigh. You feel him tense a little at the sudden physical contact, but to your surprise he doesn’t comment on it. A flicker of interest crosses your mind; normally Levi would comment on any kind of touch, even casual…

Your free hand gently brushes his leg, a little higher than where your head rests, in a fake stretch. You feel a little flinch, but again, no comment. Maybe he was really focused on his manga, or maybe, just maybe, Levi was finally starting to warm up to you. You wait a few seconds before you gently rest your hand against the side of his lower thigh, your fingers reaching up.

“W-what are you d-doing, n-normie?!” He flinches away, and moves a little to escape your grasp. You tilt your head up to meet his eyes, doing your best to hide your smirk at his blush.

“Nothing, just stretching. Why?” You smirk, “Were you hoping for something?” Levi, seeming to be full of surprises of today, blushes more, stumbles over his words, and looks away. It’s at the point you read the title of the manga that he’s been reading: “My Roommate Totally Wants to Fuck Me! (18+)”.

Oh. OH.

“Levi?” You can’t hide the smugness in your voice or the teasing note. “Are you reading smut?”

“N-NO! I-I-“

You sit up and turn around, setting the controller to the side and climbing onto his lap; poor Levi is redder than a hellspiced tomato. However despite his embarrassment and your teasing, he makes no move to escape or push you off.

You lean forward and whisper in his ear, “Why don’t you show me a few pages, hmm?” You purr and flick your tongue over his earlobe, listening to his breath catch, “Maybe I can recreate a few of them for you~”

Several minutes later, you’re sitting on top of Levi, his hard cock pulsing and twitching between your walls as you pepper his face with small kisses. He claws at you slightly, wanting to bury his face in your neck and hide from your attention.

“Levi~” your voice is smug and taunting as you let him hide from your kisses. “C’mon~ All you have to do is kiss me, and then I’m all yours.”

You feel him mumble something into your skin as he hides, thoroughly embarrassed by your teasing. Ah well. You don’t mind keeping his cock nice and warm until he works up the courage to kiss you.

—-

Satan - Notes: fem!mc, rough sex, magic

You whine and squirm in Satan’s hold, only to be rewarded with a harsh smack on your ass. You bite back your moan, your body desperate for anything that can provide stimulation.

“Thought I told you to stay still,” Satan growls lowly, the vibrations making your heart beat faster, “Don’t move again.” His command carries the weight of an unspoken punishment if disobeyed. Your body aches - you’ve been sitting on his cock for nearly twenty minutes now. You had come to him after finishing a particularly spicy novel, wanting some…attention. Satan, however, was in the middle of finishing his own book. He had promised you all the attention you could ever want if you waited for him to finish his book. But you wanted his attention then and there. So here you were, warming his dick as a compromise.

“How much longer?” Your voice is a pathetic whine. You have to fight back the urge to grind on him again.

“Ten pages,” he grunts in response. He’s trying to keep his face neutral, but you can see the cracks in his facade. He’s starting to struggle as well. You feel him twitch inside you, and you break. You grind against him, rather hard.

Satan growls right into your ear and you hear his book being snapped shut, “You bitch.” You hear the book fall to the floor and feel his hands harshly grab your waist.

“You want it right now? Fine. Have it!” His voice is dark and dripping with anger. A dark, twisted part of you sings at his voice, and hopes that he’ll fuck nice and rough. And it seems like that part will get its wish.

He lifts you up, till just the tip of his cock stays inside you before slamming you down. You scream in pleasured pain. He repeats the motion again again, setting a fast pace that barely leaves air in your lung. The rough pace hurts, but it feels so good. Satan pulls you a little closer, his breath tickling your ear.

“You wanted this, didn’t you? You wanted, urgh me to fuck you till you passed out, didn’t you?” He sucks in a trembling breath before biting your ear. One of his hands leaves your waist and finds your clit. He just barely brushes it and it sends white hot shocks into your gut. Satan pulls away from your ear and mumbles something in a language that you don’t understand. He touches your clit again, pressing his thumb tightly against it. However instead of feeling pleasure, a numbness seeps into your gut, dulling the pleasurable fire.

You whine, “S-Satan-“

“That’s your punishment. You’ll get to cum when I say you can.”

——

Asmodeus - Notes: gn!mc/reader (tho implied afab), strap-on

“Aw, come now hun. Don’t hide your face~” Asmo coos at you, his warm hands brushing teasing, but soothing strokes along your side.

“This is embarrassing,” you mumble, your voice muffled by the arms covering your face. You feel him lean down and gently kiss your exposed wrist.

“And why is that love?” His voice is smooth and calming, still keeping that teasing note. But you can hear a concerned note underneath it, “Would it be better if you were on top?”

“I don’t know,” you whine a little, flustered and out of your element. You shiver a little as you feel warm lube drip onto your thigh.

“Would you like to stop dear?”

“No.” You tense a little as you feel him gently pull your arms away from your face. You blink a little as your eyes adjust to the moody light again. Sunset eyes take in your expression carefully, as though searching for anything unspoken. Asmo leans forward and kisses you; it’s a gentle kiss, one intended to soothe over your embarrassment. His hands guide your arms up, above your head. He intertwined his fingers with yours, effectively pinning your arms above you. He pulls away from this kiss, once again observing your face.

You glance down and swallow hard. Asmo’s legs are spread so prettily around yours, showing off not only his beautiful cock, but also where your strap-on disappears into him. There's an inch or so that he has yet to sink down on, and even from where you are, you see small drops of lube that’s leaked out of him. It’s obscene, dirty, unholy, but the absolute hottest thing you’ve ever seen. You whine again and look away.

Asmo, having watched where your eyes fell, giggles, and out of the corner of your eyes, you see him move a little. He moans a little, “Ahaha~ Is that it? Are you embarrassed that I’m warming your cock, hmm?”

You groan and squeeze your eyes shut, “Asmo s-stop.” You feel his skin brush the inside of your thighs, signaling that he’s moved again. He moans and you hear a soft “squealsh” from the lube.

“Aw, why? I like warming your cock. Mm, it makes me feel so good.”

You feel his breath against your face and you open your eyes again. Lust dark eyes meet yours for a split second and then Asmo’s kissing you again. You feel his thighs rub your’s - he’s grinding on you. A soft moan leaves your lips as you feel your skin grow sticky with lube. He doesn’t pull away until both of you are thoroughly breathless.

“Ah, ah, can I move now, Master? P-please?”

You groan a little, your embarrassment slowly becoming replaced with desire, “You’re going to be the death of me. Yeah, you can…m-move.”

Your comment earns you a little giggle, “As you wish, Master~”

——

Beelzebub - Notes: gn!mc, making out

You hiss slightly, letting yourself sink down a little more his cock, the burn of the stretch was painful, but it felt so good at the same time. His hands on your hip tighten their hold and Beel grunts. He exhales harshly, his eyes glued to where your tight little hole is stretched around him. He’s so big and you’re so small - that thought alone is a huge turn on for him and he barely manages to restrain himself from destroying you.

You feel his cock throb inside you, as a small gasp leaving you. He feels so good inside you, and he’s not even moving. Your eyes flicker to his face and you can’t help but frown. Beel’s face is twisted in a soft grimace as he tries so hard to stay still.

“Beel~” you purr as you lean forward, drawing his attention away from your stretched hole. You rest your hands on his chest, feeling the firm muscles underneath his skin. You plant a gentle, chaste kiss on his lip. Violet eyes hold yours as he leans forward for another kiss, this one just as gentle, but longer. You pull away, sitting upright, and let yourself sink the rest of the way onto him. You throw your head back in a silent moan, and Beel curses.

“Fuck, M-MC,” his voice is strained and his thighs are shaking with his effort to stay still. You lean forward again, panting slightly, as you count in your head - waiting for the pain to dull.

“M-MC,” it takes you a second to realize that Beel’s calling your name. You lift your eyes up to meet his. His eyes are dark with lust and desire, but love and concern simmer just beneath, “Are you alright?”

You simply nod, words too big of a demand for you at the moment. A warm hand gently guides you forward and into yet another kiss. The kiss is soft and sweet, but no less passionate. You and Beel stay like that, him balls deep in you while you make out softly. It’s a sweet moment - lust tainting some of your kisses with sharp fangs and a twitch of cock.

Time passes, you have no idea how long, but the stretch of Beel’s cock in you is no longer painful; it is purely pleasurable, and you swear if you don’t move right this instance you’re going to die. Both of you break away from a kiss, a thin web of saliva connects you, hot breath fanning each other’s face, Violet eyes stare at you with pure love and affection. He’s about to ask you something, but whatever his question is, it’s cut off in favor of a low, gruntal moan. You grind back onto him. His eyes shut for a second while he regains his bearings. When he opens them again, there is only dark lust within them.

—-

Belphegor - Notes: gn!mc/reader (tho implied afab), strap-on

You dig your nails into his hips as hard as you can as you attempt to deter him from moving, “Belphegor, stop moving. Don’t make me use the pact.”

He whines, but stills mostly - only occasionally squirming under you - and looks up at you with half lidded, lust blown eyes. His chest heaves with hard pants as he struggles to regain any of his once bratty composure. (Not that it would help - you’ve never seen someone fall apart so hard and so fast; he was begging almost as soon as you sunk the first inch of your strap-on into him.)

“M-Master p-please…I was so close…”

You shiver a little at the honorific, still a little flustered at how easily it fell from Belphie’s swollen lips. Sure, Belphie was normally a bit more on the submissive side, but he usually remained pretty bratty through your whole encounter. However watching him submit so quickly and so completely caught you off guard.

You feel him start to squirm more and you realize that you’ve spaced out for a moment. You pinch the skin of his hips again in warning, “Belphie. Stop moving.”

“Please!” He whines rather loudly and you tense, hoping no one is on the stairs to the attic. “I wanna-“

“And you’re not allowed to yet. Remember? You decided to be a brat earlier.”

He huff at that and stills completely, his gaze falling away, “M’sorry, okay? Please, Master? I’ll be good, promise.”

You shift your weight a little; having to rest on your joints was starting to become uncomfortable, but…watching him beg while cock warming your strap-on was doing something for you.

“Hmm, I don’t know…you were pretty bratty earlier.”

“Please Master, I’ll do anything.”

You have to tense a little to stop yourself from trembling as he calls you “master” again, “Anything? Very well then.” You can’t help the smirk that spreads onto your face, and Belphie swallows hard, immediately regretting his statement. “Start counting: five minutes of cock warming and then I’ll let you cum.”

His jaw drops and he whines, “Five minutes? No way.”

It seems that some of his brattiness is returning as his mind gets clearer. You rock your hips into him and grind a little.

“Fine, two minutes - that’s as low as I’ll go for you.” He opens his mouth to complain again, but breaks off into a moan as you gently rub the head of his cock with your thumb, “And any more bratty comments will add a minute. So start counting.”

He whines, but obeys. “O-One, two, three, f-four…”

- - -

“O-One hund - gasps hundred a-and nineteen… oh fuck, one h-hundred and ah~ t-twenty-“

The moment the last syllable leaves his mouth you set a hard and brutal pace, fucking into him hard enough to make his cock bounce.

And Belphie screams - loud enough you’re pretty sure whoever in whatever room is below the attic could hear it. His back arches off the bed as he claws at the sheets. His chest heaves, desperately trying to draw in air, while your pace pushes all of it out of him. You smirk, rubbing over his slip with your thumb and feeling his cock twitch hard.

And then he cums, and he cums hard; painting both your hand and his stomach white.

——

Diavolo - Notes: fem!mc/reader, pet names

“Mm, you feel so good, little princess. You’re doing so well~”

His voice purrs into your ear, low and sensual. His warmth breaths fans on your ear before he gently nips at it. You have to bite your lip to stop the whimper that threatens to spill out of you, while you resist the urge to squirm on his thick cock.

Be good, you remind yourself, We have to be good.

One of his hands rests softly on your hip, rubbing gentle circles in a soothing manner, while his other hand gently gropes at your chest, massaging the flesh there. His body is so warm against your back as he effectively holds you to himself. You can’t help the whine that leaves you as his voice reaches you, dark and deep.

“Mm, princess, you feel so good. You’re so warm and wet,” his last word comes out a bit of a growl as he grinds up into you, making the dormant pleasure in your gut flare with renewed life. You mewl in response, letting your head fall backwards onto his chest. You feel his laugh more than you hear it, the low vibrations in his chest making your very being tingle.

“D-Diavolo-“ you start, but you’re so overwhelmed you’re not even sure what you’re trying to ask for. He shushes you gently as the hand that was fondling your chest rises to gently grab your chin to steady you as he kisses you. You squirm on his cock as he overwhelms every sense you have with himself. Almost immediately you’re whimpering apologizes into his mouth, shaking as you curb your squirming. You feel his cock twitch inside you as he pulls away from your kiss.

“Shh darling,” burning gold eyes find yours, “You’re alright. I know it’s hard.” He kisses your forehead tenderly as more soft praise falls from his lips, “You’re so well behaved, princess. Mm, keep this up and I may add to your reward.” Your face grows hotter, blushing even more (if that’s even possible at this point), and you feel your body get wetter.

To your surprise, Diavolo’s the one to move this time, a soft hiss escaping him as he does so, “My my, would you look at that; someone’s seems to like praise, don’t they?” You whimper again, and breathe his name in a breathless beg of nothing in particular.

He smiles, the edges of it sharp and deadly. Diavolo slides his hand that was resting on your hip down, long thick fingers grazing your clit. You suck in a hard breath and moan, attempting to hide your face in his neck. He hums softly, pleased by your soft reactions as his fingers rub slow circles over the sensitive bud.

You moan again, your hands reaching for his arm to try and pull it away from your clit, “P-Please, I-I can’t-!”

“Then don’t,” his voice is right in your ear, dripping into your soul like liquid gold, “Go on, princess, cum on my cock.” He presses a little harder and rubs a little faster, and that’s all it takes. Your back arches off of him as you cry out, cuming hard on his twitching cock, your walls attempting to squeeze closed. Diavolo grunts softly, but continues to work your clit through your orgasm, smirking when you feeblely attempt to squirm away from the overstimulation.

His laugh is deep and sinful, “Don’t struggle now princess, we’ve just begun.”

——

Barbatos - Notes: gn!mc/reader, tail sex, self-fucking, masturbation

He smiles as you whine, struggling to pull your hands free from their magic bonds that hold you a little ways away from him on his bed. Your face is flushed red, both from the demonus the two of you had shared earlier and from the sight before you. Barabtos groans softly and spreads his thighs further apart, allowing for a better view of where one end of his tail disappears into his ass. The other end is wrapped lazily around the base of his cock. Darkened eyes stare at you, but you can’t bear to meet them, your eyes glued to the truly sinful display before you.

Your eyes follow his delicate hand as it traces a pattern up his thigh to his stomach. A self-satisfied smirk pulls at his lip as he watches your expression darkened with lust from watching him. An involuntary shudder runs through him as his tail jerks inside him.

His hand trails down from his stomach to his aching cock, and he gives himself a soft stroke, sucking in a soft breath as he does so, “Are you watching, MC?”

You don’t verbally answer him, but the slight tug on your bonds is answer enough for him.

— — —

“Well done,” he hums as he drags a gloved finger over your sensitive clit, watching your slick gather on the digit.

You wince a little but don’t pull away, relieved to have finally bested Barbatos at one of his own games, “So I win, yeah?”

He scoffs a little at your impatience, but he can hardly blame you - you did just spend an hour attempting to bake with him with a vibrator pressed against your clit, “Yes, you do. As agreed, I will do whatever you request of me.”

He’s unsurprised by your quick answer, “I want you to touch yourself.”

He does raise an eyebrow at that, “Mutual masturbation?”

You stick your tongue out at him playfully and poke his shoulder, “No, I wanna watch you.”

Barbatos crosses his arms, a playful glint in his eyes, “Just watch?”

You smirk, “Just watch.”

— — —

He strokes himself slowly, letting his eyes flicker close as he focuses on the sensations he’s providing himself. His wrists drags up and down slowly, his own touch light as he teases himself. He drags his thumb softly over his slit, gathering the surprising amount of precum that’s leaked from it, and spreading it along his length. He tentatively lets a soft moan fall from his lips, unused to being vocal for such an activity. He can feel your eyes burn into him as you watch, your eyes darting from his tail to his hand. He purposely keeps the end inside himself still, not wanting to overwhelm himself just yet. The other end, however, coils and squeezes the base of his shaft just right, curling just under his balls and adding a pleasant weight there.

Barabtos lets his eyes flicker back open, his hand having found a gentle, but pleasant rhythm. You’re watching him warm his tail, eyes transfixed on his stuffed hole. Lust just barely disguises the disbelief in your eyes - like you can’t believe someone as reserved as himself would even do such a sinful thing.

A soft whine leaves you as your gaze flickers up to meet his eyes and he smirks, “Still content with watching? Or would you care to join MC?”

You whine and tug at the binds, “I wanna join.”

He pauses his hand and softly snaps his fingers, the spell that was binding you disappearing in an instant. You waste no time crawling over to him. The free end of his tail slides away from his cock and towards you.

“Come now, little one. I have two ends for a reason~”

— — —

Simeon - Notes: gn!mc/reader, making out

The harsh light from the TV brightens and dims the room in time with the movie, as some intense action scene plays out; neither of you were paying attention.

Simeon sat on the plush of your mattress, leaning back against the wall to hold his upright position, while his mouth worked sinfully against your’s. His hands held your hips hard enough to leave bruises as he slowly grinds into you. Your own hands ranking angry lines down his exposed shoulders. Neither of you had bothered to take off more close than necessary than for you to sit on his cock, making this impromptu session even hotter and sinful.

The kisses are messy; all open mouthed, all tongue. He tastes faintly of confectionery sugar and a sweet demonus. You lean forward more, pressing him harder against the wall, sinking a little further on his cock. Simeon moans in the kiss, his cock giving a hard twitch inside you and you squirm against him in turn.

You pull away for air, a string of spittle connecting your lips. His face is dark with blush, and you’re sure yours is no different; soft pants leave his lips and he tries to catch his breath. His beautiful eyes are glossy with dark lust, contradicting his holy nature; it makes a dark part of you sing that you’re the one making him sin.

His eyelids flutter a little when your nails dig into the skin of his upper arms, “MC?” His voice is soft and breathless as he tries to gauge the look on your face. You grind into his lap, his breath hitching into a gasp and his head falls back with a moan. You lean forward and begin to kiss and suck love bites into his neck, watching his dark skin blossom beautifully in response to your actions. Simeon moans shamelessly, keeping his head leaned back, giving you free reign to his neck. His hands slowly guide your hips in a circular motion on his lap, drawing the occasional soft moan from you.

You slide your hands from his arm to the sides of his skin-tight shirt, sliding your fingers underneath the material to thumb at his nipples. He moans louder, rocking up into your tight heat and you tremble, as the head of his dick brushes that sweet spot inside you. Your teeth nip at the skin below his jaw, leaving a particularly nasty hickey, one that Simeon would struggle to hide later.

“M-MC p-please,” his soft beg startles you a little. You hum softly and pinch at one of his nipples. He gasps and bucks into you again, “P-please. I n-need you.”

You bite at a love bite, intending to make it darker and suddenly the world around you spins. Your back gently hits your bed as Simeon pins you there. He leans forward and plants a tender kiss at the junction of your shoulder and neck, muttering apologies as he starts moving in earnest.

— — —

Solomon - Notes: gn!mc/reader, aftercare

Softness. That’s the first thought that your mind registers as you blink away the fogginess; you’re laying on something soft. Warmth is your second thought, and the sensation of being touched by something. Something reaches your ears, and you shake your head trying to understand through the fuzz that fills your head. Slowly the something becomes a soft, warm hum that warms every sense of your being. Slowly the distant hum becomes clearer and you recognize that it’s words, and that the words are praise; praise for you. You open your eyes bearily and realize that the words flow from a blurry blob of white. You blink more, trying to understand what you’re seeing. You feel that warmth move from somewhere else on your body to caress your face.

Your eyes clear a little, and the white blob morphs into a person, someone who’s leaning over you with a soft, but concerned smirk. It takes you another second to recognize who it is.

“Ah, there they are. Are you alright, MC?” Solomon’s voice is soft, and he leans down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead, “I was worried that you had passed out.”

“...wha?” You mumble as slowly you gain your bearings again, and then it comes flooding back - Solomon had just given you the most mind shattering orgasm you’ve had to date. You distantly recall taunting Solomon about something, however you can’t seem to place what exactly you had said to spark this little incident.

You move a little; a wave of dull soreness spreads from your thighs to your abdomen. You squirm more trying to regain your sense of feeling, and a loud mewl escapes you when your squirming ends with your discovery that Solomon’s still hard, and still inside you; his cock pressing right up against your sweet spot.

He shudders and gently rests a hand on your hip (precariously balancing himself on one arm as he does so), encouraging you to be still, “Easy there.” His voice is softer and trails off as he leans and places another soft kiss on your forehead. You shakily reach for him with your fingers just barely touching the skin of his neck; his skin pleasantly is warm and surprisingly soft. He smiles softly, taking the hint and leans down again to pepper kisses along your face and neck, his white hair tickling you all the while.

“You did so well, MC. You’re so adorable and lovely when you squirm on my cock. Mmm, I wanna keep you right here until you beg for more~”

The tonal difference between Solomon’s soft and loving kisses and his sinful praise makes your head spin and you subconsciously squirm more, gasping as you remember that his cock is still inside you.

“Mm~ yes, exactly like that MC. You enjoy keeping my cock warm, yes?” He nips gently at the skin of your neck, sucking soft hickeys into it. You whimper softly and try to gently push his face away from the skin of your neck. Your weak pushes do nothing to deter him, and he grinds softly into you.

The dull soreness is tempered by the embers of pleasure that he strokes with each press of his cock inside you.

“Come on, MC~. Don’t you want more?”

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spectres-n-soap · 1 month

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Storm Clouds - Ghost x Reader x Soap

Content warnings - pregnancy, depression, afab!fem!reader, suicidal ideation.

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

A/N - there are only five more chapters left before I end this off. It's been amazing writing this and being able to share it but I'll leave the truly mushy stuff for the last chapter

Simon has never made a 20 minute drive in 10 but he did today. He didn’t care about the traffic laws, not when you call him in tears and sobbing incoherently.

Not when he has to keep you on the phone and talk to you the entire way, not when he has to instruct you to breathe. “In for three, hold for three, now release for three.” He does it with you and your sobs turn into sniffles and quiet crying. He racks his mind for every possible reason how this could have happened. You had been doing so well and of course he of all people knows healing is never as simple as it seems but there were no signs. No hints that you crack and break today.

He nearly snaps off the stick when he pulls it into park and slams the door closed behind him. A man on a mission as he walks into the building where the parenting class was being held and feels his blood run cold when he sees him. When he sees a man who looks uncannily like Johnny, nearly an exact replica and Simon has to search for the inconsistencies to remind himself of the bitter truth, Johnny is dead. For one, his hair isn’t in a stupid mohawk. He lacks the scars bicep from a knife wound and the gunshot wound in Las Almas. And he’s with another woman, who looks concerned as she glances at the bathroom.

Simon forces himself to move on past him, past the Johnny look-alike and knocks on the bathroom door where you were. “Oi, is she your missus?” He asks and that’s another thing to add on. Johnny was a proud Scot he was not as he once put it a ‘fucking brit’.

“Somethin’ like that.” Simon mutters as he knocks on the door again, “Love? I’m here.” He says and he vaguely here’s the lock click back. He opens the door just enough to squeeze in and closes it behind him. The sight before him makes his entire chest hurt, tear marks on your cheeks with your eyes red and puffy. “I saw him.” He whispers and you start crying again.

”He looks just like him.” You sob into his chest when he scoops you up off the bathroom floor. He rubs his hand on your arm, whispering his acknowledgement that he does and that it's okay. It’s okay to cry and break down right now, that he has her. He waits until he hears everyone shuffle off, even barks out for everyone to fuck off. Simon doesn’t want anyone seeing you like this, you don’t deserve that embarrassment.

Simon hates this. He hates the way that one thing has seemingly set you back so far. He has to remind you to eat, to shower and to not just sleep the day away. It’s not supposed to be like this, you were getting better. You were better. You left the house, you were finally looking forward to things again and opening up to him. He wants to be angry but angry at what? At who? Some stranger who has no idea that he looks exactly like someone else so specific that it sends another person spiraling? No, that just wasn’t rational. “Your appointment is in two hours.” Simon says as he checks in on you. You’re still lying in bed, curled up as much as your pregnancy belly will let you. “You should get ready.”

Those words only make you try and curl in on yourself further. “I don’t feel like it.” You whisper as you pull the blanket over your body. “I’m tired.”

”Please? I’ll grab your favorite sweet from the market if you do.” Simon cannot believe he’s resorted to bargaining with you. But if it’ll get you to take care of yourself and this is an emergency therapy appointment. It was a miracle he managed to get this in the first place, thank god for Dr Miller. There’s silence between him and you until the bed creaks under the weight of you getting up.

”Promise?” You whisper and he nods. You sigh and stand.

Dinner is quiet. He fulfilled his end of the deal, your favorite treat sits on the counter with a few pieces already picked from it. As the two of you lay in bed that night, something must crack. The words from the therapy session echo in your mind until you crack and shatter under them. You roll over and discard the pillows between you and Simon. Simon looks at you with shock and tenses up when you bury yourself into his chest. However he immediately wraps his arms around you when you start to cry. Your tears soak his shirt as you clutch onto him like a rock during a storm.

”I wish it was me.” You say between sobs and it takes a moment for the words to process in Simon’s mind. “I wish it had been me.” You repeat, throat trying to close up as you speak so it comes out choked. “It should have been me and not Johnny.” He whispers your name, tender and disbelieving of the words you are sobbing out.

“You don’t mean that.” He whispers and you shake your head. You keep repeating the same thing, that it should have been you instead. He hates it. He hates it so much that it burns like a brand on him, like a reminder that he had failed that day. That they all failed that day, everyone but you. You weren’t able to be there and he’s glad for it he realizes. He’s grateful you weren’t there because what if you had died too?

”I wish I was dead and he was here instead.” You sob and he pulls you closer, holds you tighter like that will fix this. He’ll never be Johnny, he knows this. He can never be Johnny and people might look like him but they’ll never be him either. No one can ever be him.

“I know love.” He whispers as he pets your hair, ghosting a kiss on the top of your head. “I know.”

#john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mctavish x you #call of duty #cod #soap #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #mw3 spoilers #thyh #thoyh #simon ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x you #ghost x y/n #ghost x you

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adorenaisha · 4 months

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angst, g. satoru

you stood there looking through the telescope of the now destroyed astronomy tower filled with dead bodies, ignoring the awful smell of blood while observing the bright stars in the sky. it would be such a lie if you were to say that the stars weren't beautiful. but there was always one star that stood out the most.

he stood still behind you, breathing heavily. his white hair now had splatters of blood over it, so does his outfit, blood of the innocent people that you killed.

he should kill you. he needs to kill you. but why hasn't he? was it perhaps that he cannot bear the loss of another loved one in his life? he has lost suguru after all, and now he has to loose you.

"hey y/n, what's the answer to number 4?" gojo whispers not very quietly, seeking to find the answer from you. "gojo didn't i tell you to study?" you sigh out.

he lets out an awkward smile, you knew that face. "i was busy!" he responded back to you while you just roll your eyes at him. "you know, the results of these astrology quizzes are gonna be like..50% of our grade?"

his eyes suddenly widen a little. "oh fuck. are you serious?–"

"do i look like i'm joking right now?" you deadpan.

"are there going to be remedials? oh gosh." he asks you in a hurry. "i don't know." you said blankly, focusing back on your paper. "y/n, help a friend out maybe??"

you groan quietly. "okay, look. i can help you study later at the library for the next upcoming quizzes?" his lips curl up in his signature smile as he thanks you.

is it a coincidence how you both got so close because of you offering to tutor him about astrology? he isn't sure. but when he blinks out of his thought you were still searching for the one star.

why were you taking so long? he asked himself. although, you have never told him what your favorite star was. ever.

suddenly when he was spacing out again he saw you turn around, your figure now facing his. "how long are you gonna wait?" you ask him, your voice echoing through the tower. "as long as you want me to."

his voice sounded tired while his face was covered up in bruises, from your doings. "did you find your favorite star?" he says softly while his gaze was focused at you, admiring you for the last time. a small smile slowly lifting from your lips as he got his cursed technique ready.

"i did."

a single tear ran down through your cheeks before you got obliterated, your blood raining down everywhere.

gojo stood there with a blank expression as he got drenched in more blood, your blood. the blood of someone whom he loved so dearly, who he cherished, who he never got to say goodbye to.

if only he knew that it was him.

he's the one who shines the most amongst other stars. the one who shined the light into your life.

gojo satoru was truly your favorite star.

#gojo satoru #gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk

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baldurs-simp · 8 months

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Un-Holy (Astarion x Aasimar!Reader)

Summary: Your heritage comes out in the midst of a battle, leaving you to confess your past to Astarion, whom you have developed a strong relationship with.

Warnings: strong language, mild spoilers, aasimar!reader, fluff, written at the spur of the moment while slightly tired, a bunch of rambling in the beginning but shit goes down later on

MY MASTERLIST

You have gone years without a fight until you woke up on the Mind Flayer ship with a tadpole behind your eye. Now, you cannot go a day without fighting for your survival after the ship crashed somewhere near Baldur’s Gate. You are not alone in the fight, however, having met some companions along the way who all share the same affliction you do; the threat of becoming a Mind Flayer.

The first you met was a Gith, Lae’zel, on the ship before it fell, then a Cleric of Shar, Shadowheart. The two don’t see eye to eye, but they keep the peace well enough to not cause a fight within the camp at night. Then you meet the rogue, Astarion, whom you later find out is a vampire after he tried to drink your blood in your sleep. How he’s able to walk in the sun without burning to a crisp is a mystery to everyone, but you think you could be because of the tadpole lurking around in his head. Or perhaps it is the work of the Guardian that visits you in your dreams.

Then you met the wizard from Waterdeep stuck in his portal, Gale. He has his issues. An orb sits in his chest, waiting to explode if it is not sated with magical-infused objects. You normally allow him to consume items that would otherwise be of no use to you. Items that grant you spells that you can already cast. Items useless to you, but not to Gale.

Wyll you had met after defeating a group of goblins that tried to enter the Emerald grove. Meeting him spurred your quest to help the Tieflings being kicked out by the druids. You plan on clearing the way for them, getting rid of goblins that might attack them west of the Blighted Village. Wyll had his quest to hunt down a devil, whom you found, Karlach.

Karlach is nothing like what Wyll had described and they finally came to a consensus to not kill each other. The tiefling that fought in the Blood Wars was only enlisted against her will. And she now joins your party in search of a cure for the Mind Flayer tadpoles.

You feel as if you know everyone in your party, and know somewhat about their past from what they shared with you after bunking down for nights while on the road. Yet, they don’t know a thing about your past. They don’t know who you truly are, or what you really are. But sometimes you think it’s for the better.

Battling the Hobgoblin leader, Dror Ragzlin proves to be a difficult fight. With the majority of your companions looking rough and the fight still raging on, you can’t help the necrotic energy bubbling up inside of you. You have to let it out.

Planting your feet firmly into the ground beneath you, you let out a fierce cry as ghostly skeletal wings sprout out from your back. A necrotic shroud falls over you, turning foes close to you around in fear. Your eyes turn into black pools as your gaze falls on Ragzlin, letting him know that he is your target.

The fight is quickly won after that and you drop your celestial facade, helping up Gale and healing him of his wounds. “Well, I didn’t know we had an Aasimar in our party,” Shadowheart mentions, causing you to turn your head towards her and see that everyone else stands behind her, staring at you in awe and curiosity.

“Let’s just find Halsin and get out of here,” you quickly say, walking past them without so much as making eye contact with them.

“Woah, woah, we’re not gonna talk about how fucking cool that was?” Karlach mentions as the party follows you, stepping over goblin corpses as you briskly walk toward the exit.

“There’s nothing to talk about so let’s not mention it. This is just something I can do just as you can go into a rage,” you say over your shoulder, pushing the heavy oak door open, shoving the piercing gazes you feel on your back from your companions. You sigh, knowing that they will pester you if you don’t tell them what they want to hear. “Look, it's a long story, okay. I come from a celestial background. It’s no different than Lae’zel coming from a Githyanki background. We all come from somewhere and none of us has pestered anyone about it, so why should it be different with me?” you question, turning around to face them. So, can we please leave it at that, find the druid, and get out of this place?”

From the tone of your voice, they can tell that your heritage is a sensitive topic. And they know you’re right. Everyone has their past and they are free to disclose as much as they want. It prevents tension from rising in camp. So, they suck it up, leaving your story to their imagination. Until you’re comfortable telling them.

Astarion, on the other hand, is not one to let things go. He thinks that he deserves to hear your story after he told you what happened to him and how he became a vampire spawn. Not to mention that you and him have become somewhat close. After all, you do allow him to feed off of you at night when he needs to. That creates quite a bond if he must say so himself.

As night draws near, everyone tends to themself to rest after a long day of slaying foes in the desecrated temple of Selune. You keep to yourself, not wanting to be involved in conversation as you fear that someone will bring up what happened to you in the fight. It’s a conversation you don’t wish to have.

You sit by the edge of the lake, looking up at the stars, lost in thought and memory. You don’t even hear the footsteps approaching you from behind as you stare at the twinkling lights illuminating the sky.

“There you are,” Astarion’s voice calls, pulling you out of your thoughts and back down to earth as he sits beside you on the ground. “I had thought that perhaps you had flown off.”

It was meant to be a joke and you know that. But it does not make you laugh or smile. Instead, you sigh heavily and glance down at your feet. “If only. Unfortunately, my wings are incapable of flight,” you state, looking back up at the water lapping at the shore. “They never used to be, you know. Gods, I used to be so fast, flying between clouds like a blur. Now, I can remember what it’s like,” you say, smiling to yourself as you recall a memory of being in the sky.

Astarion has his eyes fixed on your face, taking in your smile, something that rarely comes across your face since he’s met you. “What happened?” he asks, tentatively and in a whisper.

“I fell in love with someone I wasn’t supposed to,” you say, shaking your head in shame. “I fell in love with a devil. He was charming and cunning and I was cast out from my people because of it only to find out that he was toying with me because he wanted to see me stripped of my radiant power. He wanted to see me fall,” you explain, turning to meet Astarion’s gaze finally. “There is no pride in being a Fallen. Only shame.”

He understands now. If anyone, he knows all about shame and it explains more than you know to him why you never told anyone what you are. He wants to reach out and touch you, lay a hand on your wrist as a way to tell you that you are not alone in this. But he doesn’t know if you will allow him to touch you. He knows that if the roles were switched and he told you in extensive detail what Cazador had done to him, he might not know what to do with a friendly touch.

“I wandered around on my own, living off the land, too ashamed to show my face to others, fearing that they would know what I had done and how far I had fallen from grace,” you say, looking back out to the lake. “I was on my own for so long, until I was taken by those Mind Flayers. It seems fitting now, being a Fallen Aasimar with a tadpole behind my eye.”

“You are not alone in this, you know,” he simply says, leaning slightly forward so that he can hold your gaze. “No matter how far you have fallen from grace, you are not alone, little angel.”

You chuckle at his words, your shoulders relaxing as you shift in your seated position. “I’m glad to have met you, Astarion. I only wish that we had met sooner,” you say, smiling sweetly at him as you cross your legs under you. “Perhaps things would have been better.”

Astarion laughs, throwing his head back slightly as he follows your gaze out to the water. “I do not think you would have liked me all that much. I would most likely have led you like a lamb to the slaughter for Cazador to feast on. And he would have reveled in the taste of your blood,” he says, a low growl in his voice at the mention of your blood.

You two had talked about what the others might taste like to him, talking - theoretically - how different people’s blood would taste like. You’re sure that yours must taste different than those he had bitten in battle for a bit of extra strength.

“And I would have tried to kill you if you did,” you tease him, looking at him, your eyes meeting his and you two stare into each other’s eyes.

“May I see them?” he asks, his eyes shifting to your back.

You know he means to see your wings, even in their dismal state. You feel comfortable showing them to him just as he had felt comfortable telling you that he is a vampire. Giving a small nod, you close your eyes to focus on conjuring your spectral wings, revealing their skeletal form with minimal feathers covering parts of them, some looking as though they are ready to fall off.

His mouth falls slightly open as he stares at them, shifting himself on the sand of the shore so that he can kneel behind you. You can almost feel his breath on your next as he shifts closer, his fingers reaching out to touch the exposed bone.

A breath catches in your throat, your head perking up as a shiver runs through your spine, making your wings slightly perk up. Your heart skips a beat, something you’re sure Astarion can hear, and you turn your head slightly over your shoulder to look at him.

You don’t have the heart to tell him that his actions are considered something intimate between your people. Taking another’s wings is something only lovers do. You’ve never had anyone touch them, even when they are in their original, glorious form.

You close your eyes at the sensation, taking in it because you are not sure when you will experience it again. When you feel Astarion moving away, you look at him again and smile. “Thank you. For letting me myself around you,” you whisper, standing up off the ground and dusting off the sand from your hands and legs.

“No. I think I should be the one thanking you for trusting me,” he speaks, standing up with you as he gazes at your features illuminated in the moonlight. Gods, he wishes he could see you in your full glory. He knows you’re still holding back what you could be. Still, he thinks it could be absolutely glorious to see you as the angel you truly are.

You bid him good night and walk to return to your tent. As you leave him, he casts his eyes to the ground to spot a black feather that has fallen from your wings. He bends down to pick it up, twirling it in his finger as she smiles to himself.

He’s going to keep this feather so he remembers this moment forever.

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#astarion x reader #astarion romance #astarion bg3 #astarion ancunin #astarion ancunin x reader #astarion x tav #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 character #astarion fluff #astarion fanfic #aasimar #aasimar!reader

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brewstersbru · 7 months

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More halstarion cuz ive been playing my lil origin run; also happy halloween folks !

Pain. Sharp, dragging, unbearable agony against his back. Astarion huffs a small noise of pitiful discontent before clenching his mouth shut. Quiet. Can’t let him hear you. His fangs tear a little into his gums, but there isn’t enough blood in him for any to really trickle out of the wounds.

A voice- disembodied, but cold and lilting as ever- sounds from behind. “My dear, how prettily you bleed. Even lovelier now, with the poetry I am bestowing upon you. Truly, a gift. And what do we say to gifts, Astarion?”

Astarion moans miserably into the ground- or is it a steel surgical table? He can’t remember, he can’t focus. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. There’s a feeling of hands in his hair, grasping, tearing- the flash of a derisive, fanged grin- “What do we say, Astarion?”

His name sounds like rot coming from his lips, similar to the way one would utter the word “disgusting” or “vile”. Astarion hiccups with the force of his suffering- it’s simply too much, never before has Cazador been so persistent, never before has he carved so deep, for so long. Astarion’s weak, starving body cannot maintain itself against his tides of cruelty.

There is quiet as Cazador waits for his answer, he knows Astarion will do his very best to give it. Years and years of this torment had to have culminated into something- into an exceedingly loyal dog, he’d hoped. It’s why he tries not to command anything; not only because it takes the fun out of things, but also because it encourages a kind of devotion to the task that a simple order could never elicit. Pain can be such a useful tool, and he’s spent years honing his skill with it.

Astarion gasps, chokes on a putrid mix of saliva and droplets of rat blood as they clog in his throat. “T-Thank you.” He coughs. Cazador hums and pushes his head back down. He runs a sharp nail down the middle of the warm, wet mess on Astarion’s back. It stings like a million tiny needles.

“Thank you, what?”

He digs the nail into one of the runes he’d just finished carving, ever so slightly, and Astarion writhes in agony. His breath comes choppy and ragged, and tears track endlessly down his nose. A moment, two, as Astarion brings a heaving breath in and steels himself against the revulsion he is about to feel.

“Thank you, Master.” The hum this elicits is decidedly pleased and Astarion hates himself all the more for earning it. If only he was stronger, if only he were able to hold out just a bit longer. If only he’d been able to make himself wait; Cazador would have grown tired, would have ordered him, eventually.

Now, he is little more than a lapdog, bereft of even his pride, and the pain will only continue. How he despises the man he’s become, the man Cazador has moulded him into.

The agony in his back resumes, even sharper and more unbearable than before. Astarion muffles a scream behind clenched teeth and wrenches his eyes open to reveal a circling of trees. A cool gust of air swipes across his sweat-soaked skin and he shivers, slightly.

Astarion takes a moment to orient himself. He’d been trancing, curled into himself and facing away from the fire- Gods know why, he could use all the heat he can get with the way his undead body refuses to hold onto it on its own; some lingering self-flagellation, perhaps.

He’s no longer bound to Cazador- for the time being at least- he’s fine. The ‘dream’ or whatever that had been was only a memory. Nothing more. He’s fine.

Sitting up, he swats at the tear tracks on his cheeks and comes face-to-face with a wide-eyed Halsin, who had been whittling, it seems, judging by the knife in one hand and the partially carved wooden-something in the other. Astarion ducks and covers his face with a slender hand.

“What in the hells are you doing, you oaf!?”

“… Whittling?” Halsin’s voice cracks a bit as he stumbles over the word. Astarion tries not to notice how endearing that is. He huffs.

“I gathered. Could you just- turn around? Please?”

Halsin tilts his head to the side, just slightly, and stares at him with furrowed brows, mouth set in a firm line. He speaks carefully, but directly, unable to tiptoe around a subject when they’re both aware of the gravity of it.

“Are you alright, my friend? I don’t mean to pry, it’s just I noticed-“

“Not now.” Astarion’s voice comes out rough, grating, and he cannot bring himself to look Halsin in the eye as he speaks.

“… Alright” There’s a shuffling as- assumedly- Halsin picks himself up and heads back to his tent. Astarion only allows himself a breath of relief when the other man’s footsteps retreat outside of his range of hearing.

On one hand, Astarion is astoundingly, exceedingly grateful to have his wishes honored. On the other, it is so, very quiet, and he can still feel the ghosts of fingers petting, clawing and grasping at his skin. He feels dirty, a vile little thing ought to be left in the dirt.

His back aches- phantom pains, he knows- and even years after their conception his scars throb. It’s not the first time this has happened, but it is the first time he’s been able to focus on it, the first time no other, greater pain can distract him from the dull shock of remembrance. Maybe he’d never healed correctly, maybe it’s his mind playing its usual tricks.

Suddenly unable to stand the scratch of cloth against the raised skin on his back, Astarion wrestles his shirt off of himself. Sharp nails dragging uncaringly against the skin as if trying to sate an itch. He wants the ‘poetry’ off of himself, he wants to be clean.

His scratching becomes more fervent, less careful as his thoughts spiral. A sob works its way up, only to die in his throat, he chokes a little on it. Off. Off. Off. He needs it off. He wishes he could claw the taint away. His skin crawls under his fingernails, even as they scratch past skin. Blood flows, sluggish, down the bony curve of his spine. It is not an unfamiliar feeling.

A sharp gasp sounds, quiet, but cutting in the previous silence that had pervaded the space around the campfire. Astarion does not dare look up from the ground. Great. Another interruption to him losing his fucking mind.

Thankfully- which, who could guess he’d ever think the word in relation to the druid- it’s just Halsin again. Arms now laden with jars and cloth, rather than the sharp woodworking tools he’d left the fire with. The jars are labeled, but his scrawl is too small for Astarion to parse the words.

“Astarion, my friend, please cease this needless self-mutilation!” He rushes to Astarion’s side, carefully placing the jars on the side of his bedroll and gently, loosely grasping at Astarion’s wrists- assumedly to encourage the vampire to pry his claws from his skin. He doesn’t push, simply holds him there.

The warmth is welcome, grounding in the swirl of pain and cold and despair that had previously been clouding Astarion’s mind. He lets out an unnecessary, but comforting breath and allows his hands to be pried away.

“Good. That’s good, my friend, thank you.”

Astarion grouses a discontented sound, to which Halsin huffs a small chuckle.

“Alright- you’re alright. You were looking rather pale- moreso than usual at least- and I had hoped some of my oils or salves could soothe any injuries you’d overlooked, or old aches.” He pauses for a moment and rifles through the pile of goods he’d brought over, “As elves, our ‘nightmares’ are more memories, than anything. I’m more than familiar with a long-forgotten wound making itself known after a particularly jarring remembrance. I am sorry yours were so visceral.”

He’s babbling, Astarion notices, low voice rather quick compared to its usual steady thrum, but he can appreciate the effort in attempting to keep him grounded. His body doesn’t want to move, though, and he simply slumps into himself, gaze steadily forward, hollow, almost in its vacancy.

“Here let me-“ A warmth hovers over the mess of Astarion’s back. Well, this is rather familiar. But it pauses,hesitates. Still, Astarion can feel himself tensing. A short, ragged sound punches out of him, unwitting. Halsin hums.

“Apologies, my friend, it seems my manners have escaped me in my nerves. May I touch you? I wish only to soothe the hurt, I have a balm that should do the trick well and once I’ve applied it, my hands will not touch your skin again should you wish it.”

Astarion takes a moment, another unnecessary breath, then nods. It’s curt, almost imperceptible really, but Halsin had been paying very close attention to his body’s reactions. He thanks him- what for, Astarion cannot even begin to fathom.

It’s quiet as Halsin’s deft fingers tenderly pass a wet towelette down his spine to clean the blood from it. It soothes, cool and stinging against new cuts and Astarion can only hope that at least he’d left new scars. Something to disrupt the carving of pure malice that had lain there, undisturbed, for so long.

“Thank you.” It takes a while, and his voice is fairly destroyed by what he can only assume had been long minutes of screaming and sobbing in his sleep, coupled with the panic attack after waking. Halsin’s fingers continue their deft work.

“Please. No need. If I may I- I hate to see you struggle so. Is there anything that caused it? Anything we can avoid?” His sincerity is sweet, but useless. Astarion shakes his head.

“Comes and goes, really. Used to be able to ignore it with other things. Can’t focus on memories when the present is fucked too, right?” Astarion chuckles, but Halsin does not join in.

It’s quiet for a bit, Halsin’s hands feel almost hesitant against his skin, “I am not a man easily drawn to violence but- well- your old master deserves nothing but the slowest, most painful death possible. I know it means little but I am sorry. You did not deserve his torment. No one could deserve that.”

“I was no angel in life, druid. For a long time, it seemed like a penance.” The words are almost hissed, but the sincerity in them is unmistakable.

“Even penance ends, eventually, Astarion. Forgiveness usually follows. Two hundred years is more than enough time. Especially when you had not even truly lived before being thrust into undeath- I mean thirty-nine? You still bear your child name.” Halsin sounds almost pained, although his hands remain steady, now pressing fingerfuls of balm to each cut, and even the undamaged rune-scars too. Something in Astarion howls, surges forward into an incessant rage at the tenderness.

“And perhaps I was a truly devilish child, druid! Perhaps I deserved it!” Halsin sighs.

“No one deserves that, Astarion. You have to know that.”

“If I allow myself to believe that, then I have to accept victimhood. I have to accept that loss of control. I have to accept that it’s not that I deserved it, it’s that no one cared enough to try to save me. Tell me, druid, which would you rather believe.” With a final, gentle pass of his thumb Halsin retreats. Shamefully, Astarion misses the warmth of his touch. The druid rounds his bedroll, settling criss-crossed in front of him and busying himself with organizing his bottles into a neat pile.

“Well, first, I’d like it if you used my name and not my title. It feels rather impersonal talking to you when you won’t even call me ‘Halsin’. Second, I truly don’t know, but I have always favored the truth over anything else.”

Astarion hisses, “I will call you what I like, not what you tell me to call you.” Halsin simply nods, and something inside him deflates. Backs down from its haunches.

“Oh, alright, you big baby. Halsin. Maybe the truth is that I was- however implausibly- the kind of person to deserve my penance.”

Halsin seems to light up at the sound of his name from Astarion’s lips. Astarion tries to find it dorky and uncool and not hopelessly endearing. Then, “I find that incredibly hard to believe. Had you even chosen an adult name? Had anything in mind?”

Astarion falls quiet at this. “I had an idea, a few, maybe. I remember being excited about them, I thought I was so clever with the word choice… But I cannot remember them. Cazador only called me by this name, when he deigned to adress me, and I did not exactly have the time or energy to care about choosing another.”

Something within Halsin cracks at the admission. To have that rite stolen from him was abhorrent. Heartbreaking.

“Truly you remember nothing?”

Astarion shrugs, “Hard to find that kind of thing important when there are other, more pressing matters. It’s not like the names would fit me anymore, either, two hundred years have taken their toll, after all.” He smiles, a crooked, self-depreciating thing and gestures to himself, the scars on his back. “Thank you, by the way. I wouldn’t have treated them on my own.” The thanks doesn’t even need to be forced from his lips. Halsin smiles at the ease with which it is offered.

“No need. And I know.”

It’s quiet for a while longer. The two of them take the time to simply look at each other. Astarion wonders, for perhaps the millionth time, what Halsin is seeing as he gazes at him with such open fondness and admiration. Surely it cannot be him. Godssakes he hasn’t even seen himself in two hundred years, who knows what kind of effect it’s had on his wrinkles. He tries not to dwell.

“I’m going to read.” Astarion says, when he can no longer stand the thought of just how many lines have been carved in his face, without the help of Cazador’s many painful instruments. Halsin simply nods, but continues searching his face. Astarion is unsure what he’s looking for, but is fairly certain, whatever it is, has long since left him. Nowadays he’s mostly bared teeth and vengeance more than anything.

“Please, go right ahead. If you would not protest, I would very much like to join you. I’ll whittle, stay quiet so you can focus. Would that be alright?” He tilts his head to the side, and, with the way he’s fiddling with a jar, seems so incredibly bear-like in the moment that Astarion has to clamp down on a giggle.

“… Alright. But you had better keep that promise to stay quiet.” Halsin grins, a warm, blinding thing.

“As a mouse. And we druids are rather good at mimicking animals, you know.”

A laugh punches itself from Astarion’s throat as he heads back to his tent and settles on some pillows, his most recent thick tome open in his lap.

It’s not long before Halsin is quietly announcing his presence, shuffling around to settle a few feet away, legs tucked up under him as he situates himself against the nearest surface- a stolen chest from one of the many towers they’d rummaged through.

It’s easy to forget he’s there- or, no, it’s easy to simply exist in a space with him. Astarion doesn’t feel the need to perform or prove anything to him- after all, he’s basically seen him at his worst- and the silence is warm. Interrupted, every so often, by the methodical scrape of metal against wood, or the crisp flipping of a page.

Before he can stop himself, Astarion’s fallen into another trance. This time blissfully devoid of any visions or memories.

He wakes to an empty tent, but his book is neatly bookmarked and stowed beside his bedroll. He, himself had been carefully tucked under a pelt of some sort- a piece he knew was not from his own tent- and next to the book lay a small, intricately carved wooden star. On the back, a careful engraving:

little star, how you shine

It feels like a declaration.

#if you couldnt tell im enamored with the idea of halsin carving lil trinkets for his bf #and astarion secretly loving them #very nascent (new word i learned from a commenter ily) romance #bg3 #astarion #halsin #halsin x astarion #halstarion #astarion ancunin #enjoy #no idea how long this is but oh well #happy halloween have gay people!!#tipsy scribbles #brublurbs

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