#she needs to be given a hug in my opinion -v-

[an-albino-pinetree]

Lots going on with Ragatha in the fandom, with this new episode,, so here’s a little heart to heart

Tree’s trying 💚

[captain-bubble-wrap]

Jumping on this early!! Bedsy v-day date!🥰🎁

...and I'm late getting it done! ( ´-｀) I had to work late! Sorry! 💔

He didn't have a clue what he was doing. Hockey was his forte, not planning dates and whatever.

Connor had just gotten off the phone with his sister, for pointers as to what he should and shouldn't do when it came to taking you out. She had given him the standard dinner and flowers sort of expectation, but that seemed too boring. Connor was guilty of putting off making plans with you until the very last minute, but Valentine's Day fell smack-dab in the middle of the season, and he had bigger things to worry about than making dinner reservations.

Y|N: Is there a dress code for tonight? 🤔🤔

Bedsy: Um I mean just wear something warm. Were not going anywhere fancy srry

Y|N: Aw, okay 🥺🥺

Bedsy: I know I kind of let you down Ill make it up to u later

Y|N: So, like leggings and a hoodie?

Bedsy: If u think youll be warm enough yeah Ill see u around 7

Y|N: okie dokie ❤️❤️

Texting with Connor left a lot to be desired, but you got enough from the short conversation to make you excited about the evening. If you were being honest, the fact that he had asked you to do anything was more than you had expected -- a pleasant surprise. Since he said that you just needed to be warm and casual, you wasted no time trying to figure out what to wear. You still had four hours before he would be picking you up, but you wanted everything to be perfect! Well -- you wanted to look perfect! His gift was already packaged up and waiting on the table. You didn't really know what to get him, since he was known for getting anything he wanted when he wanted, but you tried to find something useful.

"So, what kind of hot date do you and Connor have planned?" One of your roommates asked as you checked your hair one more time in the bathroom mirror. "You can't be wearing that!"

You'd try to avoid making eye contact with her, but she persisted by sitting on the counter right next to you; getting as close to you as possible. "C'mon! Tell me!"

"No hot date, Chloe. I actually don't know what we're doing. He said it was just something casual."

Chloe rolled her eyes, obviously hoping for something much more luxe and romantic. "He's not taking you to Ever or something like that?"

"Pfft! Like he'd even have the thought to take me to a place like that!"

"Yeah, but he's this superstar hockey player, Y|N! He can afford it!"

Now it was your time to roll your eyes, "Like we fit the aesthetic of Ever! Yeah, okay..."

Your roommate hopped down from the bathroom counter in a huff. It was like she was trying to live vicariously through your date with Connor. "I still think he should take you out somewhere nice! I expect full details!"

You sighed as she finally left the room, "Of course you do."

Bedsy: Hey i forgot to tell u make sure u wear or bring some thick socks just n case

Y|N: Oh? Okay! Thanks for the heads up ❤️❤️❤️

Bedsy: ur welcome

Connor picked you up slightly after six-thirty, which you didn't mind given that your roommates were still on your case about your plans with him. You hardly said goodbye to them when his text arrived in your inbox. They probably meant well, but whatever he wanted to treat you to was your business and they could just wait until you got home to voice anymore of their opinions.

"You alright?" Connor asked, as you hurried down the front steps of your apartment to his awaiting car. He was leaning against the passenger side door, looking comfy in his beige hoodie and black pants; his hair was tucked under the hat he was wearing, leaving cute, little wings over his ears.

"Yeah-- yeah, I'm fine. The girls were just getting on my nerves. Happy Valentine's Day, baby." You smiled against his lips before sharing a tender moment against the cool, February air. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into his body for a tight hug. You nearly dropped his gift feeling yourself shift off balance against him.

"Happy Valentine's Day," He mumbled, placing another kiss on your lips before letting you go. "I managed to get us a last minute dinner reservation."

"How?"

He laughed, looking down out of pure embarrassment, "I may have..."

"Did you name-drop?"

Connor's face flushed bright red, and it wasn't from the iconic Chicago wind. "It's possible, yeah. Look, I'm not happy about it... They said they didn't have anything at that time, but took my name just in case there was an opening. After I told him, he said he'd make sure there was something open. So, technically, I didn't really do it...on purpose!"

Shaking your head as you smiled, you'd let him open the door for you, "It's okay, I won't tell."

- - -

The sushi had been amazing and a wonderful surprise to start the evening off with. You had a quaint little table, tucked back in the corner where the two of you had been free to enjoy each other's company without fear of being gawked at and you weren't interrupted by anyone but the wait staff. You didn't have a problem with fans approaching Connor, when the two of you were out in the city, but no one wants their dinner being disrupted.

You hadn't yet exchanged your gifts, but once you got back to the car, it was Connor who insisted you open yours first. The box he handed you was heavy, and proved to be a little difficult to drag up from the back seat, but he managed after a little bit of a struggle.

"Oh, this is heavy!" You commented, once the box laid in your lap.

He laughed, "I hope you like it."

Tearing through the hastily wrapped gift, you discovered that Connor had given you a pair of hockey skates! "You got me skates?"

"Yeah, I thought I could give you that skating lesson you've been asking for."

"Aw, baby! Really?" You were smiling from ear-to-ear. They looked like something an NHL player would have, not someone who had never had skates on before, but you were thankful and excited nonetheless. "These are really nice!"

"I reached out to Bauer for a favour, and they came through pretty well, I think."

"So, this is why I needed the extra socks?"

"Ha, yeah. I hoped you wouldn't figure it out," he grinned, blushing in the dim light of the parking garage.

Reaching down, you'd retrieve the gift box you had for him, but you knew your gift couldn't compare with his. "My gift isn't as flashy, sorry."

"Huh? Anything you've ever given me, I've loved. I'm sure this is no different."

He had the sweetest smile, and always knew how to reassure you, in his own subtle way, that just being around you was worth more than any boughten thing. Carefully, he unwrapped the box, and upon flipped the lid, was grinning. Inside, were a dozen pairs of hockey laces, all lined up in their individual plastic boxes.

"Thanks, babe! I can always use these."

"I just wanted to get you something you could use. I'm sorry it's nothing more than just some laces."

Connor leaned over the center console to cup your right cheek, pulling your gaze to him. "You could have just given me a candy bar or something, babe, and it still would mean as much."

You didn't know what to say, so you said nothing. He was just too sweet.

"No sad face," he teased. "Ready for some skating?"

"Promise you won't let me fall?"

He laughed, "I'll try my best."

- - -

The park's outdoor rink was bustling with giggling couples enjoying the company of their partners during the holiday. White lights twinkled overhead, hold-overs from the Christmas season, and somehow brought a warmth to the area, despite the low temperatures. Connor took your hand as you walked, giving you a little squeeze that made you smile every time he did it. It took a minute before the two of you found a place to sit down and get your skates on. As was expected, he got his on first, as you put on your extra socks and loosened the laces of your new gift.

"Here, let me get them for you."

Connor bent down and placed your right foot between this legs while he laced everything up tightly. The whole time you sat there patiently, you wondered how you were going to even walk towards the rink, let alone skate!

"Will you carry me out there?" You asked, half joking.

"You'll be alright. We'll go slow."

"Promise?"

He smirked, "I promise."

After a few minutes, it was time to see just how wobbly you were. "I'm scared."

"You're fine, babe!"

"Don't laugh at me!"

"I'm not trying to! You're just making too big of a deal out of it. Just relax. Gimme your hands."

Reluctantly, and with a sigh, you put your hands in his and so very carefully, pulled yourself to your feet, using Connor for balance. He let you stand there for a moment to find your center before stepping backwards while leading you.

"You're okay," he cooed, holding your hands tightly, keeping an eye on your steps. "Almost there. Now, watch your step, okay? You've gotta step down here."

On shaky ankles, you followed his advice and followed after him. Connor kept you close, and you had to restrain yourself from digging your nails into his skin.

"Babe, you've gotta breathe," Connor laughed.

"Right, right! Sorry!"

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

Biting your bottom lip, you looked him in the eye, but you were unsure of how to answer. You wanted to skate around with him --if you could consider what you were doing skating-- but the fear of getting hurt (or making a fool out of yourself) was getting really heavy.

"Yeah, I'm okay."

"I'm going to let you go for a second, okay?"

"What...? Why?"

Without another word, Connor spun around and put his back to you. "Put your arms around me."

"Oh...okay."

With your arms around his waist, you felt more secure which was a good thing, because shortly after Connor began skating around the outer edge of the ice, at much more speed than you had ever expected. You just kept your feet together while he skated like normal. It was fun being so close to him, feeling his muscles tense beneath your hands. Keeping your head against his shoulder, the two of you went into a turn and you gripped him tighter. Connor placed a hand on your crossed arms, giving you a silent reassurance that everything was still okay.

"I'm not going to skate off without you," he said, keeping his pace as you both stayed along the boards. "You just let me know when you're done."

Three laps had been enough for you, and Connor seemed content with getting you off the ice. He didn't want to stress you out anymore than he feared he already had, and more and more people had decided skating on Valentine's Day was a cute idea, making the ice congested.

"You didn't fall down," Connor said, walking you back to the bench. "I'm going to go get our shoes, okay? I hopefully won't be too long."

His kiss could have lingered a moment longer, but it was enough to make you wait quietly for him to return. You'd watch everyone else on the ice while he was gone. Seeing little kids out-skate you stung a little, and you hoped you wouldn't waste Connor's gift. Maybe you could secretly get some lessons and ask him again for another skating date.

After about ten minutes, Connor returned, apologizing for having taken longer than he expected. "Sorry, babe. I got stopped."

"It's okay! I figured you might have." You smiled, taking your sneakers in shaky hands.

Connor noticed and frowned, "Are you cold? You're shaking."

"I'm a little chilly, but I'm okay."

"Well, here, let me get your skates off and we'll go get warmed up."

Even though you could have managed on your own, Connor seemed adamant about helping you so you'd let him. He worked so diligently, and you wondered if it was because he knew you were cold. You did fear that he'd be taking you home after this, and selfishly, you weren't ready to let him go just yet.

"Are you going to take me home now?"

Connor looked up from undoing your second set of laces, "Not if you don't want me to."

"I just want a little more time with you," you lamented, looking away from him.

His laugh made you snap your eyes back to his face. "That's fine with me. Wanna go get a coffee or something?"

"And donuts?"

His smile warmed you through completely. "And donuts."

[saska5023]

Celest v.1 and v.2 (the middle child)

So, Celest is kind of a weird case in my opinion, I wasn't sure what I wanted her to be when Topaz, her and Fern kind of developed their own personalities other than being inserts. Originally, she had swirl glasses and an upbeat personality (which then moved to Lilac later one). I'm not exactly sure what happened that cause the mage-transformation but it's fitting given her current character.

Celest was created second, making her the classic middle child, but she was not ignored, nah the boys love her like a sister. She is a quiet oberserver and I am convinced she is the glue of the group, keeping Topaz safe and Fern sane. With the boys always fighting, I figured I needed a calmer character to make the dynamic work, and here she is! The purple color does a nice contrast to the light blue. The hat and the dress in these muted colors kind of close her off a bit (e.g.: Topaz has a lot of bright and warm colors, reflecting his extroverted nature), but there are little to none sharp curve or lines, giving the stick figure a certain softness that plays well into her personality.

Celest had a strong friendship with her creator, them often talking in private about existencial and philosophial topics - I would almost say she is the most schooled out of the three? I mean she does know first aid at least - although especially after landing in the Outernet, she's been very silent, but not unkind.

Her tool is the wand tool - a relatively new tool. Personally, I draw in IbisPaint and now that I recall, maybe that was the reason for the mage tranformation. I wanted everyone of the three to have something personal that fit them and make them unique, I was curious on what could be done with it or what it could be interpreted as in the AvA universe, I think of it similar to the staffs from AvM. The wooden staff itself is an extention of the tool, as since entering the Outernet, touching the wand tool caused Celest and others burn (I wanna explore its and her powers in future fights).

Now, I talked a lot about the tool itself, but Celest is a very non-judgemental and understanding - she just needs some hugs (she gets plently, dw) - she's also been kind to Dark, which has rubbed off on him and even if she doesn't say it, she enjoys travelling with her brothers.

We love Celest :D

[fexarii]

Hihi!!! Been going around to various blogs and asking opinions about flawed-ritual Sam. Do you have any headcannons/thoughts about him?

HII !! SHAKING IN MY BOOTS RN, I WAS JUST DRAWING HIM !!!! I love flawed-ritual Sam as not only does the mirror scene remind me of something I had written for my own oc like a year ago but also his panic is so real, I desperately need to give him a hug.

Ahem ! Anyway ! Yes I do have headcanons, some of them based on other people's HCs and others just random stuff I thought of :P

- Sam, just like the other mutants, gets pretty damn big but not as large as Leigh's beast form. This is mostly due to him having a centaur-like build ! I was thinking of Kromer's (from LC) weird freak form, but with less legs and more arms and eyeballs

(I haven't played limbus yet I just know of the distorted forms and canto v so sleeper agents begone!!!/lh)

- Speaking of Leigh, she regularly wants to wrestle with him, purposefully starting fights and knocking him around as a beast. (He doesn't enjoy this for one bit lol)

- He's still lucid but panicking causes him to lose his grip sometimes. Whenever he does, he runs away first and foremost, only attacking if given no other choice.

- His arms act like legs for the most part so he moves around just fine, outside of occasionally getting them tangled and tripping over them.

- I usually draw his mouth like one big hole with several jaws inside. This makes eating and talking incredibly inconvenient for him. (He usually makes weird gargling noises instead, though he can speak if he tries his best)

- I've been thinking about him forever growing like his big god form in the denial ending, just on a way smaller scale and a lot slower. He's doomed to lose some arms in combat after all, so what's a few more to make up for the loss?

- Roommates' opinions on his new form vary from concern to "oh ew why do you look like that" to (joyful rat babbling)

- Uhmm last thing I'll mention was this idea of him using all his arms to hug someone . Not really a hc, just an idea to ctrl+ v into your brain :P

More to come as time goes on ! Hope this answers your question:3

[kobayashisoul]

》 A difficult Path 《

Gaara and Raziela faced the most heavy Crisis in their Life together, their Relationship, their Marriage.

She was in Therapy now and got finally professional help after her Trauma, but this Situation was also very hard for Gaara, not only her. But he couldn't tell her fully how he felt, she needed his Support now more than ever before. Needed his strong Personality.

This Situation was also not easy for him. Seeing his Wife suffer like that broke his Heart every Day. She didn't even look at herself in a Mirror anymore, she couldn't. She definitely suffered a lot, maybe like never before.

But yes, that Situation was also heavy for Gaara.

He supported her as best as he could, but the Thing that was heavy the most on his Shoulders was that he gave himself the Fault for this whole Situation.

In his Opinion, if he had been stronger that Day in the Hideout, nothing of all this would have happened. He would soon be the Father of a Newborn. His Wife wouldn't suffer and wouldn't have to see a Therapist. They would be happy.

But Gaara was also in deep Grief of his unborn Child. Same as Raziela, he wanted this Child so bad and they tried it for such a long time. It would have been a happy Period of their Life, one of the happiest.

And what was left now?

They both suffered and his Wife was mentally at her lowest Point. They wouldn't have a Baby again, probably never.

She was in Therapy now for a few Weeks and slowly she was able to allow at least Hugs from Gaara again.

But that lack of physical Touch was also heavy of his Shoulders. He was no one who needed intimacy to survive, but Hugs, kisses and Touch in General was for him always very important.

Yeah, it also wasn't easy for Gaara. The Situation for both was hard and there would be a difficult Path of Healing ahead.

He was sure they would get through it. But now he needed to be strong for both of them.

➖️➖️➖️➖️➖️➖️➖️➖️➖️➖️➖️➖️➖️➖️➖️➖️➖️➖️➖️

Art (c) Yukuid

Raziela Kobayashi (c) @kobayashisoul

Sabaku No Gaara (c) Masashi Kishimoto

Naruto & Boruto (c) Masashi Kishimoto and Mikio Ikemoto

I hope you enjoy. ;v; ♥

This Picture was a Comission for me from Yukuid . I am not the Artist of this Artwork. I was given permission to upload this drawing to my gallery by the artist. ⚠️

The Oc, her Design and Story belong to me. ⚠️

Without my and the Artists written permission you have no right to recolor/repost/trace/edit/use this in any way. Also please don’t use my Characters for Roleplay or Fanfictions. ⚠️

[duckprintspress]

Round Table Discussion: Grammar Pet Peeves

Today, March 4th, is National Grammar Day! Last year, we celebrated with six of our favorite grammar quirks. This year, we’re going to the other end of the spectrum: we had a conversation with our editors and blog contributors about grammar things we hate. They may be technically correct, but that doesn’t mean they don’t make us crazy. Eighteen people, many anonymous, contributed to this discussion.

Dangling Modifiers

boneturtle: Dangling modifiers, hands down. Even when I can decipher what the writer meant based on context, it viscerally hurts me every time. When I am editing I have to stand up and take a lap around my apartment when I hit a dangling modifier. Remind myself that I am here to help. Learn more about dangling modifiers.

Commas

anonymous: Commas are not difficult! Commas end phrases. Full stop. That’s all they do. Is a phrase necessary to the grammatical coherence of the sentence? if the answer is yes, no commas because that phrase hasn’t ended. If the answer is no, commas! comma hug that bish if it’s the middle of a sentence. The difference between grammatical and informational is whether or not the sentence makes sense without the phrase. 

Examples: 

The man who ordered the six double anchovy pizzas claims to have a dolphin in his pool. 

You need “who ordered the six double anchovy pizzas” because you need to identify which man you’re talking about. The world is full of many men. 

The ancient Buick, which Madeleine purchased via Craigslist, belched black smoke whenever she pressed the accelerator. 

We don’t need to know how Madeleine purchased the car for the sentence to make sense. You don’t even meed “Madeleine” for the grammar to make sense. Therefore, hug that phrase! 

(a comma on each side of the phrase) or give it a dramatic send off with a comma and an end punctuation. (i could go into conjunctions, too, but those are a little more complex, and if you were taught them properly, i understand not getting the comma use 😂 ) 

Prepositions at the End of Sentences

Tris Lawrence: There was a dictionary (Merriam-Webster? Oxford? idek) that posted recently on social media about how the rule about not ending a sentence with a preposition came from English scholars trying to make English line up with Latin, and that it’s totally okay to do it… and I’m just wanting to point to it to yell THIS because uhhh trying to rework sentences to not end in a preposition often creates clunky awkward things (my opinion, I recognize this).

D. V. Morse: Ending sentences/clauses with a preposition. Well, not doing that is supposed to be the rule, but depending on the sentence, it can be a convoluted mess to try and avoid it. Winston Churchill famously told someone off after they “caught” him breaking that rule, saying, “This is the type of arrant pedantry up with which I will not put.” (Yes, I had to look that up.)

Pronoun Confusion

anonymous: I hate playing the pronoun game when reading. I hate it in life when someone comes up to me and tells me a story involving 2 people of the same pronouns and stops using names halfway through, and I hate it while reading too. Nothing makes me fall out of scene more if I don’t know who just did/said what. Use names. That’s why we have them.

Nina Waters: epithets. If I know the characters name…why? Also, when people use “you” in third person writing. There are times I’ll allow it as an editor/times when I do think it’s at least acceptable but not gonna lie, I absolutely hate it.

anonymous: My pet peeve … I read hundreds of essays in a given month for work, plus a whole lot of fanfic for fun. A rising issue that I have noticed in both places is incomplete sentences (lacking subjects, typically). I think it’s because people rely on Google’s grammar checker to tell them if something is wrong and…Google doesn’t check for that apparently. I’m increasingly convinced that my high schoolers simply weren’t taught sentence structure, because when I ask them to fix it they almost universally say some variant of “I don’t understand what you’re asking me to do.” Therefore, it might be punching down a little to complain about it. I’m not sure. It does drive me nuts though. Lol

“Would Of”

Neo Scarlett: Not quite sure if that falls under grammar, but I hate hate hate when people use “should of” instead of should’ve. Or “would of.” It just makes my toe nails curl up because it may sound right, but it looks wrong and is wrong.

Semi-Colons

Shea Sullivan: I saw a list punctuated by semicolons recently and that made me froth at the mouth a bit.

anonymous: I think any editor who’s worked with me knows that I have a pet peeve about using colons or semi-colons in dialogue. Or really, any punctuation mark that I don’t think people can actually pronounce. Semicolons can live anywhere that I don’t have to imagine a character actually pronouncing them.

English isn’t Dumb!

theirprofoundbond: As a former linguistics student, it bugs me a lot when people say that English is a dumb or stupid language because it has borrowed from so many languages. What people mean when they say this is, “English can be really difficult (even for native speakers).” But I wish people would say that, instead of “it’s dumb/stupid.” Languages are living things. Like other living things, they adapt and evolve. English is basically a beautiful, delightful platypus. Let it be a platypus.

Dei Walker: I remember seeing somewhere that English has four types of rules (I’m trying to find the citation today) and everyone conflates them. And I guess my pet peeve is that everyone treats them equally when they’re NOT. There are rules but not all of them are the same – there’s a difference between “adjectives precede nouns” (big truck, not *truck big) and “don’t split infinitives” (which is arbitrary).

And, because we couldn’t resist, here are some of our favorite things, because when we asked for pet peeves…some people still shared things they loved instead of things they hated.

Oxford Comma

Terra P. Waters: I really really love the Oxford comma.

boneturtle: me: [in kindergarten, using oxford comma]

teacher: no, we don’t add a comma between the last two objects in a list.

me: that’s illogical and incorrect.

anonymous: I will forever appreciate my second grade teacher’s explanation of Oxford comma use: Some sentences are harder to understand if you don’t use it, but no sentence will ever be harder to understand because you do use it. Preach, Mrs. D

anonymous: I am definitely Team Oxford Comma. I even have a bumper sticker which says so

Other Favorites

Shea Sullivan: I adore the emdash, to every editor’s chagrin.

Shadaras: zeugmas! I think they’re super cool!

Shea Sullivan and Hermit: I use sentence fragments a lot. Fragments my beloved.

English Grammar vs. Grammar in Other Languages

anonymous: so in English my favourite thing is the parallel Latin and Saxon registers because of how that affects grammar, but in Japanese my favourite grammatical thing is the use of an actual sound at the end of the sentence to denote a question, as opposed to how in English we use intonation? Also how in Japanese the sentence structure requires reasoning first and action second in terms of clauses. So rather than go “let’s go to the cinema because it’s raining and I’m cold,” you’d go “because it’s raining and I’m cold, let’s go to the cinema.” (My least favourite thing is the lack of spaces between words in the written form but that’s purely because I find that level of continuous letters intimidating to translate.)

I also love how Japanglish in the foreign communities in Japan starts to develop its own grammatical structure as a way of situating yourself in this space between the two languages. It’s used as a call-sign of belonging to that specific community, because in order to make some of the jokes and consciously break the rules of English or Japanese grammar and/or choose to obey one or the other, you’re basically displaying your control over both/knowledge of them. Like, the foreign community in Japan is often a disparate group of people with multiple different native languages who are relying on their knowledge of at least one non-native language but often two to signify their status in the group as Also An Outsider and I think that’s really interesting.

Nina Waters: Chinese and Japanese both drop subjects, and Chinese doesn’t have like… a/the… Japanese doesn’t have a future tense… Chinese kinda sorta doesn’t have tenses at all… (these are not pet peeves, btw, I love how learning a language with such different ways of approaching these things reshapes my brain). Chinese also doesn’t really have yes or no.

There’s a joke somewhere on Tumblr about that, though I actually think it’s about using “a” versus “the,” like, someone was giving a Russian speaker a hard time after they said “get in car” and they were like “only you English speakers are dumb enough to feel this is essential why would I be talking about getting into any random car of course I mean our car wtf.”

anonymous: on the subject of other languages, epithets are also something that happen differently in other languages. In French repeating a word (names included, and sometimes even pronouns) is considered bad writing. As in, way more than in English. Going by how grating the English translation of the Witcher books was to me when the French one was fine, I’d say it’s the same with Polish, at least. It’s also very interesting how brains adapt to writing styles in other languages.

What are some of your favorite and least favorite grammar quirks, in English or in the language of your choice?

[charmandabear]

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Leather and Lace

Summary

Lady Estelle wasn't expecting to fall for her tailor, of all people. But with everything under her control during the day, she's more than content to cede control to him at night.

Pairing: Astarion/F!OC Rating: E Word Count: 5.7k Tags/Warnings: unprotected sex, orgasm denial, safeword discussion, light bondage, d/s dynamic, p in v sex, vampire sex, biting, vampire bites, blood drinking, sexual tension, casual classism, AU, (sorta, you can make an argument), praise kink

Read on AO3

Something in me turned feral when I saw Hamrikaa's tailor!Astarion art and I needed to get this out of my system. It doesn't help that I work with costumes irl and I suddenly got a lot of opinions about Astarion and sewing.

I have more thoughts on this relationship, particularly with the class difference and power dynamics. I also really want a story with a plus size protag since I'm really tired of feeling like the implication is that all Tavs/OCs are the type 1 body. So let me know if that's something that appeals to you, or if you're interested in a longer version with more than just sexual tension and smut, lol.

Fucking Arfur.

It’s sundown on a Saturday and Lady Estelle Rosewinter is traipsing through the Lower City looking for a tailor. Arfur Gregorio had shown up to her masquerade several hours early already intoxicated. While trying to shoo him off the grounds, he had stepped on her gown, ripping the seam of the thigh high slit to a nearly obscene height. Now, as guests are beginning to arrive, she isn’t there to greet them and is rather passing shop after shop putting up their closing signs. 

She could have just chosen a different gown as her handmaiden Celia had suggested, except that it took her so long to get into the damn thing. She thought that getting it fixed would take but a minute. It did not occur to her that, given the hour, finding an available tailor would prove so difficult.

Estelle is about to give up when she sees a dim little shop out of the corner of her eye. It’s not on the main drag, but rather up a quiet alleyway. But there’s no mistaking the sign.

Threads of Starlight

The door to the shop is clearly open, so she rushes in, desperate to speak with the proprietor.

“My apologies, I know you’re probably about to close, but I have an emergency, and I promise that I’ll pay handsomely for the inconvenience–” she cuts herself off as the tailor walks out from the back. He’s so much more attractive than she would’ve expected from someone of his station. His clothes are humble but understandably incredibly well-fitting, his trousers gently hugging his lean legs and the sleeves of his light linen top rolled up above his elbows, revealing pale, slender forearms. His silvery hair looks windswept and effortless, although Estelle knows it takes a practiced hand to get one’s hair just right like that. There’s a measuring tape slung around his neck and he looks briefly startled by her appearance before a practiced charm takes over.

“No need for apologies, Lady…” he leaves a gap in his speech for her to tell him her name. His voice is melodic.

“Estelle. Lady Estelle.” She tries to match his honeyed tone but her mouth has suddenly gone dry. He takes her hand and gently presses his lips to her knuckles.

“Lady Estelle. The pleasure is all mine,” he coos and a shiver goes up her spine. What on earth would a tailor need with this much charisma? Without letting go of her hand, he gracefully leads her up onto the fitting stand in the middle of the shop. She has danced with the finest nobility in Baldur’s Gate, and none of them were even half this elegant.

“Now please, tell me what I can do for you. I hope there’s nothing wrong with this beautiful gown of yours. Is it one of Galwen’s?” The way he looks at her makes her feel exposed, almost naked, despite the conversation literally being about her clothes. She clears her throat in an attempt to regain some composure.

“Yes, I’ve been going to her for years, but she’s tragically unavailable this evening.” Not that Estelle didn’t try. She sent three messengers and finally went to Galwen’s door herself, but she refused to open back up. Pity, since it looks like she’s lost Estelle’s business for good, especially if this one turns out to be as good as he looks. And gods does he look good.

“All the more fortunate for me that I stay open late,” he says in a low tone, and gooseflesh breaks out over Estelle’s arms. “Now, tell me darling,” he coughs at letting the casual pet name slip out, “pardon me, my Lady, how can I be your gown’s savior this evening?” Estelle hadn’t heard the rest of his sentence because her ears started ringing at the “darling.” Normally she would not take too kindly to someone in the working class speaking so informally to her. She’s beginning to feel lightheaded. Has she been hexed? Does this happen to any who cross his threshold?

“It’s torn,” she says in an uncharacteristically small voice. “Right here.” She lifts her skirt at the thigh slit, threads popping out of the seam. In an instant the tailor is on one knee, examining it closely. With him suddenly this close, all of her symptoms dissipate and are replaced by just one: desire.

She tries to shake herself out of it. Not only would anything of the sort be wildly inappropriate - given her status in Baldur’s Gate, an affair with a lowly tailor would be splashed all over Baldur’s Mouth within hours - this man is a consummate professional, and she’s certain that he would never return her affections. He must look beneath dozens of hems a day, this is nothing out of the ordinary for him. 

He touches the fabric as he studies it, cool fingers lightly grazing Estelle’s skin. She gasps at the sensation, and he looks up at her sheepishly.

“I’m terribly sorry, I have poor circulation. My touch is always something nasty, I’m afraid.” Estelle shakes her head and finds anywhere to look but into those piercing red eyes. 

“It’s fine, really. I have an important evening planned, so I’m a bit jumpy,” she lies through her teeth. He steps away to pick up a needle and thread from behind the counter. While his back is turned, Estelle takes the time alone to wipe sweat off her brow. This man is making her burn up inside and out.

“Oh really?” he sings as he’s back down on his knees, dangerously close to her upper thigh once again. “And pray forgive me, but I must reach up slightly in order to make this repair, if that’s alright. I promise, I’ll be the picture of a gentleman.” He looks up at her, waiting for her consent before touching her further. Estelle, worried what might come out if she opened her mouth, just nods. 

He slides his hand between the fabric and her leg, pulling it out slightly so he can tuck his needle into the underside of the seam. Estelle bites down on her tongue to keep from moaning. She knows that she’s touch-starved, it’s been far too long since anyone has warmed her bedsheets. Between running a household, meeting with politicians and nobility alike, and her position in the Baldur’s Gate arts council, she hardly has the time. But this is ridiculous. A gentle caress from a man should not elicit this much heat between her thighs, and yet here she is, keeping them pressed together tight, the slight pressure her only relief. 

His fingers move deftly, pulling the needle through the fabric with ease. He’s focusing on his work so intently, and Estelle watches him almost like he’s a dream. He begins tying off the thread, and before he’s complete, his eyes flick upward to meet Estelle’s.

“All finis-” he begins, but Estelle is so startled by the intensity of his gaze that she jumps, causing him to prick his finger with the needle. A tiny droplet of blood lands on the pale pink silk. The tailor jumps back, horrified, and immediately starts apologizing profusely.

“Oh gods, Lady Estelle, I’m so terribly sorry, look at what a clumsy little fool I am, gods on such a beautiful dress, too,” his words tumble out of him, all composure that was once there, now gone. She’s finding this flustered side of him possibly even more appealing than the cool and collected version. Her lady-of-the-house instincts kick in, and she addresses him like a new maid who has accidentally broken china while transporting it to the kitchen. 

“Darling,” she breathes and lifts his chin with a finger. She can finally look into those crimson eyes, feeling herself regain the poise she’s accustomed to. “It’s nothing to worry about. Just a speck.” She swears she can hear his breath catch, but maybe it’s just wishful thinking because he recovers quickly.

“Perhaps, but I still feel terrible. This mend is on the house, as well as any alteration you might need done on another garment. And, ah. How to say this.” He looks flushed again, despite the paleness of his skin. “There is a foolproof way of getting one’s blood out of fabric, but it’s not the most, er, refined shall I say.” This piques Estelle’s intrigue.

“Really? And what way is that?”

The tailor shifts nervously, and she positively relishes in the trade in demeanors. 

“This only works if it’s the one the blood belongs to, but if you can catch it straight away, then, erm, saliva will do the trick,” he says with a chagrined smile. Whatever Estelle was expecting, this is not it. 

“Oh,” she responds, and suddenly she’s back to that lightheaded feeling. What is he proposing exactly? Whatever it may be, she’s certain it will involve his mouth in some way and she’s not sure how she’ll handle that.

“The next five alterations are free, I’m so very sorry, this is very uncommon while working on a garment. At least, I’m usually better at catching myself,” he adds with embarrassment. 

“Uh, yes, whatever- whatever needs to be done. Thank you.” She peers down at him, willing herself to find somewhere else to look but unable to tear her eyes away. He pops a thin, pale finger in his mouth and swirls his tongue around it. She swallows loudly as he takes his finger out and dabs it on the slit of her dress, still achingly close to her thigh. He rubs at the spot, but evidently it’s not enough, because he then brings his lips to her dress and lightly rubs his tongue on the silk. 

“Oh gods,” she can’t keep this moan from escaping her lips. If he can hear her, he doesn’t respond, blessedly. He pulls away from her, silver hair ever so slightly disheveled, and rubs at the spot with a handkerchief to dry it.

“Apologies again, my Lady,” he says with a frown, examining the spot for any remaining blood. Then he stands and they’re face to face, the few inches of pedestal putting their eyes at the same height. “I hope this doesn’t make you think any less of my skills as a tailor.” She briefly wonders what other skills he might possess before banishing the thought from her head. 

“Not at all, er,” she falters, realizing she never asked his name, which is unlike her, she usually tries to learn the names of all of the people she contracts to work for her.

“Astarion,” he says with a bow.

“Astarion, yes,” she repeats breathlessly. “Well, Astarion, you came to my aid in a time of desperation, and I suppose there was a blood price to be paid.” He lets out a startled laugh, clearly not expecting her to make such a joke.

“That’s very clever, Lady Estelle,” he says, his eyes sparkling. “You were a pleasure to have on my fitting platform, I do hope to see you again soon. At least to make up for my absolute buffoonery.” He’s back to the confidently poised man who first greeted her when she entered the shop, and he plants another light kiss on the back of her hand. 

“I assure you, the pleasure was all mine,” Estelle murmurs, almost hoping that he doesn’t hear her. “Oh, and Astarion?”

“Yes, my Lady?”

“Please. Call me Stella.

***

Several tenday have passed since Stella’s first meeting with Astarion, and she had visited his shop nearly every evening. It didn’t take long for her to admit her feelings; she couldn’t hide them even if she wanted to. Even when Astarion confessed his status as a vampire spawn, she wasn’t deterred. If anything, it aroused her all the more. Something happens to Astarion when he drinks her blood. The humble and subservient tailor disappears, and in his place is a self-assured and dominant man. Stella is more than happy to relinquish control over to him. She’s responsible for so much during the day, making decisions, telling people what to do, so there’s an appeal to having someone else take that role for once. 

The moment she walks into the shop she’s met with the graceful gentleman. No matter how many times she sees him, that wicked smile sets a small ember in her belly that quickly spreads. Each point of contact lights on fire despite his chilled skin. A spark in her fingers as he pulls her forward, a flame on her cheek as he strokes it gently. In an instant he shuts the door and flips around the open sign. With the darkened windows and the door now closed, they’re plunged into semi-darkness and Stella feels a chill go up her spine.

Astarion wastes no time in pushing her against the door and kissing her deeply. He presses his body up against hers and she gasps into his kiss as he pulls her in closer by her waist. He slides his knee between her legs and she lets out a whimper. Astarion chuckles in her ear.

“Eager, aren’t we?” he coos, lifting her slightly with his knee putting a delicious pressure on her mound. She clutches the back of his neck and hair, wrapping her leg around him to get even closer. He hikes up her skirt to her waist and scoops her up so both of her legs grip his midsection. Keeping his lips locked on hers as she continues to devour him, he carries her through the shop and to one of the adjacent rooms where there’s a bed and two untouched glasses of wine sitting on a side table. The tailor’s quarters. 

He throws her down on the bed and she looks up at him, cheeks and lips flushed, eyes glowing. Her typically neatly coiffed hair is mussed and strands splay out beneath her head like a halo. Astarion straddles her waist, pinning her in place, as he strokes her face.

“Tell me what you want,” he breathes, looking down at her with heavy lidded eyes. She grabs his shirt and pulls him in close.

“You know what I want,” she smirks, gaze flickering between his eyes and lips. He laces his fingers through her tousled hair and gently grazes his fangs over her neck, eliciting a sharp gasp.

“And you know I like to hear it,” he murmurs into her neck, and another full-body shiver goes through Stella. His breath feels chilling against her warm neck, blood pumping eagerly through her arteries. She grabs his face and forces him to look her in the eye – the last bit of control she has before she cedes it completely.

“Astarion,” she says slowly, measured and teasing, “I would enjoy it very much if you bit my neck, drank my blood, and then had your fucking way with me.” He chuckles darkly.

“Well,” he grins, a mischievous glint in his eye, “since you asked so nicely.” Stella lets out a moan as his fangs sink into her skin, the piercing pain soon giving way to a throbbing ache. His lips close around the wound, drinking in her delicious warmth, leaving her feeling blissfully lightheaded. She hums with pleasure as she curls her fingers into his silvery locks, hips unconsciously rolling into his, hungry for more contact. She can feel him growing stronger as her blood flows into him, his thighs tightly gripping her hips, keeping her locked into place. 

Astarion pulls away from her before going too far and Stella lets out a small whine at the loss of contact. He’s out of breath, chest heaving as he licks the last of her blood from his lips. He presses two fingers to the wound on her neck to stanch the bleeding as she looks up at him, pupils blown wide with lust. Once he can feel that the blood is no longer flowing freely, he takes his fingers away and hovers them centimeters above Stella’s lips.

“Open,” he commands, and she dutifully obeys. She takes his fingers into her mouth and sucks on them lasciviously, the metallic taste of her own blood filling her mouth. It’s one thing to prick her finger and to suck on it to make the bleeding stop. It’s quite another to lap her blood of Astarion’s fingers, languishing in the vulgarity of the taboo. She yearns to hear his breath hitch as she works her tongue over their length. 

He slides his fingers out of her mouth and grabs her chin, reversing the roles from moments before. He examines her face, turning it this way and that, like he’s inspecting a prized golden retriever at a dog show. 

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he lets out in a low tone. “Trapped underneath me, open and wanton, ready to let me do whatever I want with you. To you,” he adds on with an impish grin, and Stella squirms with anticipation. He swings a leg over her and stands by the edge of the bed, towering over her.

“Up now, on your knees,” he instructs and she scrambles to sit on her knees, still looking up at Astarion with lust-filled eyes. He reaches behind her and fully releases her hair from its loose braid letting it fall down the length of her back. He runs his fingers through her hair, humming as he does, “Good girl.” Her chest swells with the intake of breath as she leans into his touch even more.

“Undress. Quickly,” he demands. Her skirt is already up around her waist so she peels the rest of her dress off in a fluid motion. The corset provides a little more resistance, but even with fumbling fingers she manages to untie the laces and undo the hooks, letting it fall behind her. The sudden exposure to air makes her nipples go hard. Astarion smirks and cups one of her breasts in his hand, stroking her tit with his thumb. Stella bites back a cry.

“Shh shh shh. Not a sound,” Astarion whispers as he puts his lips close to her ear, continuing to fondle her. “I don’t want to hear you make a single noise, understood? Not until I say so.” He pulls away and locks his crimson eyes on her brown ones. Stella trembles, but nods silently.

“Good,” he breathes and slides her forward so that she’s sitting on the edge of the bed with her toes lightly touching the floor. He then lowers himself to one knee between her legs. He kisses up her thigh until he reaches her panties. He looks up at her mischievously as he hooks a finger in either side of the waistband, and he slips them off in a single fluid motion. Stella shudders with anticipation for what he plans to do next. 

Astarion parts her legs and she can feel the cool air on the slickness between her thighs. He leans forward and takes her nipple in his mouth, flicking his tongue lightly over the tip. She takes in a shaky breath, but she manages to keep any noise she might want to make under wraps. He looks up at her while continuing to work his tongue. She clenches the sheets as jolts of white hot electricity shoot through her body. He pushes her legs apart even further and leans in, the ties from his frilled shirt lightly brushing against her folds. She gasps and shifts her pelvis, simultaneously trying to get less and more contact. He grabs her waist forcefully to hold it in place. He snakes his way up so that they’re face to face, lips a hair’s breadth apart.

“Ah ah, no moving either. Are you going to be good for me? Will you be silent like I’ve asked?” he says in a light, sing-songy tone. Stella keeps her lips clamped together as she nods.

“And what will you give me if you can’t obey?” he purrs, brushing his lips against hers as he runs a thin, cool finger along her slit. 

“Ah-anything,” Stella moans, turning her pleasure sound into a response. Astarion lets a smug grin play on his lips.

“Either way, I’ll get what I want,” he intones, and mercifully pulls his face away from hers. She releases a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. But it’s still only the beginning.

He lowers himself onto both knees and places a delicate kiss on her labia. She squirms but remains silent.

“My, you could drown a small army down here,” he says with an amused smile, and Stella just continues to breathe heavily, her chest rising and falling as she gazes down at the head of white curls between her legs. He runs the tip of his tongue along her folds, hands pushing out on her thighs slightly as he does. As he parts her legs further he exposes more of her, letting his tongue explore the newly uncovered skin. A cry catches in Stella’s throat and she slaps a hand over her mouth. His scorching gaze fixes on her and she lets herself fall back on the bed. If she watches she’ll be done for. Then again, not being able to anticipate his next move might be even worse.

Not being one to let her escape his torment, Astarion grabs Stella beneath the legs and yanks her toward him, letting her legs fall onto his shoulders as he continues to lap up her sweetness. She chokes down a whine, her breath quickening as she desperately tries to control herself. His tongue plunges into her and she bites into her hand with a hiss. With her pelvis rolled up so that he can get the best angle, he continues fucking her with his tongue, getting deep enough that the tips of his fangs press into her ever so lightly. 

That’s what sets her over the edge. The smallest pinprick of pain along with all of the filthy things he’s doing to her with his tongue tears a scream from her throat, muffled by her hand. He stops and stands over her, backlit by the low lighting, her wetness reflecting off his devilish smile. He then grabs her by the throat, not enough to constrict her breathing, but just enough to pull her face up to his.

“What was that, my sweet?” he growls dangerously. 

“N-nothing,” Stella stammers out, but Astarion just smiles.

“I don’t think it was ‘nothing,’ darling,” he breathes, acid in his voice. “I was very explicit in my instructions, was I not?” His hand tightens around Stella’s throat and she lets out a choked sound. It’s not a sound she usually makes. Astarion pulls his hand back slightly, concern creeping into his eyes. Stella looks up at him and nods.

Keep going.

They have a safe word for a reason, but if anything unexpected happens, Astarion still prefers to check in. He’s mentioned before that sometimes he’s worried that he’ll lose control, especially right after drinking her blood.

Stella finds the danger absolutely thrilling, but wants him to feel just as safe as she does.

Astarion drops her throat and pushes her down so her back is flat against the bed. Still between her legs, he pushes his pelvis against hers, pinning her wrists above her head. He’s still fully clothed, and the leather of his pants feels deliciously cool against her wet pussy. He puts one knee up on the bed, pushing her right leg up higher and spreading her even further. As unphased and indifferent as he seems, Stella can still feel his erection pressing into her, and she shifts to feel it more.

“You said you’d give me anything if you failed, correct?” he murmurs against her lips. 

“Yes,” the word escapes on a breath.

“Then hold still.” Astarion stands and the sudden loss of all contact elicits a small whine from Stella. He flashes her a playful smirk as he walks over to the bedside table and pulls out two long strips of cloth. He climbs on top of Stella again, straddling her hips and squeezing lightly with his thighs.

“Wrists, please,” he commands almost nonchalantly. Stella immediately puts her wrists together and holds them out to Astarion.

“Good girl,” he coos and the praise makes her lightheaded. He tenderly wraps her wrists up in the silk cloth, making sure it's tight enough to prevent escape but not enough to cause any lasting damage. He then takes the other strip of cloth, a sturdier cotton broadcloth, and holds it to her lips. He ties it tightly behind her neck, keeping her from being able to open her mouth at all.

“Since you can’t control yourself enough to stay quiet,” he purrs, low and dangerous, “maybe this will do it for you. And I think,” he stands and walks over to the bed stand. He looks over his shoulder and orders in an apathetic tone, “Up dear.” She scrambles to her knees, wrists falling limply in her lap. He continues, “I think you need one more thing to remind you to whom you belong.” He pulls out a fine leather collar with a silver O-ring in the middle. Stella’s excitement mingles with genuine admiration for the craftsmanship. He turns around and lovingly closes it around her neck. He then slips one slender finger through the ring and pulls it up so her head is tilted toward him.

“How does that feel, good?” he asks lightly, and she nods, still desperate to please. He lets go of the collar and strokes her jaw. “Good,” he breathes, and she can see the self-control in his eyes. He wants to fuck her just as much as she wants him to, and it’s taking everything in his power to hold out. He leans into her lips as though he’s about to kiss her but stops just short of making contact. 

“Now, before I decide precisely what I want to do with you,” he hums into her lips, “I want to make sure you can still tell me if I need to stop or slow down. If it ever becomes too much, I want you to snap your fingers, understood? Show me now.” Astarion keeps his lips achingly close to hers, but she does as he says. When he hears her snap, he grabs her face in his hands and kisses her roughly, sliding a dastardly knee between her legs once again. She longs to reach for him but keeps her bound wrists dutifully in her lap as his lips continue their assault on hers. 

Once he breaks the kiss, he remains close and slides his hands behind her head and into her hair. “Good girl,” the words rumble low in his throat and Stella is grateful for the cloth that muffles the obscene noise she makes. He steps away and she’s finally able to see all of him as he pulls off the tunic, revealing his porcelain chest. She yearns to run her fingers along it, tracing the outlines of his muscles, but instead she just grabs a fistful of sheets beneath her hands. He pulls down his trousers, letting his already hardened cock free, and her pussy twitches in anticipation. 

Astarion saunters back up to her and touches the front of her gag where a small wet spot is forming with her desire for him. He smirks and pulls her face down to his cock, running the tip of it along the broadcloth. She can feel it brush against her lips, and she again moans in anticipation. 

“Don’t you wish you could take me in your mouth?” he breathes, and Stella presses her tongue against the inside of the gag, trying to make even minimal contact. He laughs cruelly. “Gods, you’re desperate,” he scoffs. “It’s a shame, because if you had been able to follow my instructions, I may have even let you ride me on top.” He pushes the tip of his dick into the gag one more time before pulling away, leaving Stella to squirm achingly. 

“But instead,” he forcefully pushes her back so that she’s once again lying on the bed with her legs spread open for him. He crawls on top of her and teases her opening with his tip. She mewls in desperation. “You’ll have to contend with me doing whatever I want to this beautiful body of yours. I can slide in,” and he pushes into her, wrenching a gasp and whine from her mouth, before pulling out and letting his tip tease her again, “and pull out on a whim. You said I could do whatever I want.”

Stella is beside herself with lust. Unable to move her hands, she writhes her pelvis, trying to get even the slightest bit of contact. Her pussy is starting to burn from the pent up desire and she’s genuinely unsure of how much longer she can last like this. Astarion grins widely and his fangs sparkle in the low lighting. 

“Shall I give you what you want, darling? What you so fiercely crave?” His slick tip is still dancing around her cunt and tears are starting to form in her eyes as she nods. He thrusts into her again and rips the cloth from her lips before whispering sharply into her ear.

“Then I want to hear it all,” he hisses. “I want you screaming my name as I fuck you.” With his permission, she cries out, all of her stifled energy finally releasing.

“Oh gods, Astarion, fuck me please,” the words spill from her mouth uncontrollably. He starts pounding into her and she knows after all that time teasing her, she won’t last long. The heat of him sliding in and out, the stretch with each thrust, fills her with a fire that threatens to turn into an explosion. 

“Fuck, Astarion, please,” she whines, moments away from climax. She wraps her legs around his waist to get him in deeper, and now it’s his turn to let out a low moan. He continues to slam into her, the sounds of their mutual pleasure mounting.

“Look at me,” he growls, and she struggles to keep her gaze locked onto his crimson eyes. He looks so beautiful above her, silvery hair getting slick with sweat, panting as he continues his smooth rhythm. She can feel her orgasm building as her cries grow louder. He knows she’s close, too, and once again he flashes a fang-bearing smile.

“Come for me, darling,” he groans, and that sends her toppling over the edge.

“Gods, Astarion, yes!” she screams as she comes, and his follows shortly after. With a final thrust, he releases into her, his cock pulsing exquisitely. He looks down at her with an uncharacteristically shy smile and kisses her as he pulls out.

Both of them are out of breath as he collapses onto the bed next to her. Stella’s limbs feel light as though she just downed an entire bottle of dream mist. She rolls onto her side to look at Astarion, who appears to be equally intoxicated. Without a word she holds her wrists up, and he laughs lightly.

“Ah, yes, you might want those back,” he croons, and uses his teeth to pull out the knot, and the silk falls away in one fluid motion. Her hands are so close to his face that she cups his chin gently, just content to look at him.

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispers, and he turns a kiss into her palm. 

“I could say the same thing,” he purrs as he looks up at her through his lashes. “Tea?” He pulls up the plush blanket that had been folded neatly at the end of the bed and wraps it around Stella’s shoulders. She snuggles into it and pulls it closed around her, then nods. He plants a quick kiss on her forehead and walks over to fill the kettle hanging above the hearth. Stella admires his silhouette, backlit by the light of the fire. He’s lithe and sinewy, his sculpted muscles built for dexterity more than strength. Her eyes rake over his broad shoulders, the dip of his lower back, the curve of his bare ass. He turns his head to look at her over his shoulder.

“Yes?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Nothing,” she hums, “just enjoying the view.” He smiles as he leans over the blanket cocoon she’s swathed herself in and kisses her lips softly, gently. He’s always particularly tender with her after a session like that, and Stella is grateful for it. She loves being able to see both of these sides of Astarion. The affable tailor eager to serve, and the dangerous dom claiming his power. Her fingers lightly dance on the collar he put on her. She likes the idea of belonging to him. A pity she couldn’t wear something as conspicuous as a leather collar in her daily life.

Astarion returns with a steaming mug, and as though reading her mind, pulls a long jewelry box from the drawer of the bedside table. 

“A companion piece to your collar, if you so wish,” he says in explanation. “You’re under no obligation to wear it, of course, but I thought you might like a little reminder of me everywhere you go.” She opens the box and nestled in the satin is a delicate silver chain with a small ring in the center. Her jaw drops slightly as she marvels at its beauty.

“Astarion, how did you–?” she begins, but he cuts her off.

“It pays to be a well-connected artisan, darling,” he says with a shrug. 

“Will you put it on me?” Stella asks in a light voice, and he looks delighted. She lifts up her hair so that he can unclasp the leather collar and replace it with the silver necklace. His fingers brush against her neck, lingering on the puncture mark he left earlier.

“Although perhaps you might want to sport high-collared dresses for a bit,” he admits with an apologetic grin. Stella turns and kisses him, cupping his face and gently running her thumb along his jaw.

“Well thank the gods I have a tailor who can make me new gowns in all the latest fashions,” she smirks. He climbs on top of her to kiss her more deeply, their naked bodies touching in a way that’s intimate, but not sexual. She could melt into his flesh, his kiss, his breath, and never want to change a thing.

[zenonaa]

Can’t wait for your Elusive sequel!! (Totally was thinking what you were writing was just an elusive one shot and not an elusive “sequel” one shot—can’t read for the life of me!). Also, also, I have a question about Togafuka. What’s their dynamic on skincare and cooking? Like, I know Byakuya doesn’t know how to cook(I think I remember seeing that on the school mode) so Toko would probably have to lead and I know Toko doesn’t have the best terms on showers/bathing. But I wanted your thoughts/opinions about it. Thanks!

EEeee!!! There were a few loose ends I left open with Elusive, one of which I'll be focusing on. My writing has definitely improved since then, often when I reread my older stuff I want to rewrite chunks, but it's all a part of my writing journey so I can appreciate that, also mermaid Togami is cool.

I don't think Togami or Fukawa are great cooks, at least at first. Togami starts as clueless like we see in school mode, though I think he'd try to learn later because he doesn't like being bad at stuff and no longer has personal chefs. He'd immediately jump into trying to cook complicated meals and it'd go badly, so he has to go and start simpler then build up from that.

With Fukawa, I can see her learning to cook/prepare some meals for a number of reasons, even if they're on the simpler side. Her parents would often choose not to feed her, so she'd have to feed herself at times (or when she lived alone for high school pre-Hope's Peak). Kids at her school would steal her lunch, so she'd have to learn to make her own. And I can see her learning to make desserts because romantic. She can't cook anything too complicated at first, but she teaches herself more in preparation for being Togami's housewife.*

*she doesn't end up as being a stay at home housewife, this is just what she envisioned prior to them getting together. sort of like how she researched all those movies when she was asked on a date by that guy who was dared to

Fukawa tends to prepare meals more often than he does simply because she likes to and feels very happy when Togami eats what she cooks. Like... this guy used to have staff throw away any v-day chocs he was given and claimed people could try to poison his food in ch2. Him eating her food means a lot. It's a way she shows her love for him. Togami will cook if Fukawa is stressed/tired/she forgets/he wants to treat her, or they will cook together.

SHOWERS/BATHING. Fukawa's aversion is quite obviously related to sexual trauma, and also when she's in the writing-zone she can forget to eat, bathe and sleep. Often she needs prompting from Togami to wash herself, but one thing that always works to get her in the bath/shower is if they bathe together. Despite them being naked in close proximity, they're nearly always non-sexual here (with nothing beyond hugging/kissing). Togami is very meticulous about combing her hair and getting rid of all the knots, and Fukawa feels safe around him (otherwise Syo would have killed him by now). Togami will usually wash himself and Fukawa and it's nice. He also knows what products are best to use.

[caesarflickermans]

dear prof. dr. caesarflickermans (the prof dr is still so funny to me), can you please tell me more about how v sees plutarch's body? he's pretty neutral about his own body, but what's her opinion on it (his body and how he sees it)? thank you so much <3

What we need to keep in mind about bodies within the Capitol is that similar beauty standards apply to them as in our real world, but that changing one’s body comes at a much smaller cost than what we know. The dieting pills are hinting at this fact in canon, and my perception of the Capitol in terms of pharmaceuticals or plastic surgery has been shaped around the ease with which one had access to such the in-canon pills. For example, Virgilia makes frequent note of plastic surgery, and Caesar, too, has had some done.

This implies a lot about Plutarch’s body even at first glance: That him being overweight is, in contrast to today, a choice. Paired with his movie look—that of a relatively subdued style, little makeup, receded hairline—and you get a man who does not fall into the standard Capitol appearance.

Plutarch is not unaware of his options; which indicate that he has chosen to abstain from the Capitol’s beauty industry. You and I have often referred to this as his own little rebellion inside the rebellion.

This appearance difference is an immediate fact Virgilia notices about him in the very first description we receive of Plutarch. His weight being the main signifier:

The new [Head Gamemaker] was rounder than the usual visitor, yet it suited his face, making him appear softer and kinder than the pointed sticky faces who had aged terribly and talked in long and exhausting sentence. (SSLWR, CH1)

The first chapter and its first half cover a relatively broad and purposefully undefined time. What pauses this narration is a regular dinner with an irregular guest. Plutarch’s weight is the first irregularity within that and his interest in making watches the second. Both throw her off and both are part of the initial fascination she has with him.

Plutarch’s body is defined as the other. In the first case, it is the contrast to the usual visitors, but it’s a frequent subject with which Virgilia draws lines between her current circumstances and Plutarch. For example, we have him not fitting to the mansion:

There were barely any straight lines, except for his thick eyebrows, and he seemed so strange in the frame of a mansion that fitted right to Gratia—or Gratia to the mansion. (SSWLR, CH2)

But the most important comparison is that between Snow and Plutarch:

Yet, [Plutarch] was so very lovely the way he was; she pictured him less bony than her husband when embraced. What was it like to be held by him? It must certainly feel extraordinarily pleasant. (SSLWR, CH7)

This is the key point on why she is so drawn to his weight, especially at first, because he is the exact opposite to Snow. At first all she knows about him is the visual difference, but this visual difference is only an indicator for what comes next, insofar that Plutarch from a character level and from a relationship level is the very opposite.

For example, a frequent point within the fanfiction is that Virgilia is not good at talking and uttering her thoughts. A main reason for that is because she has never been given the momentum to speak—you cannot be good at speaking or debating if you aren't practiced in it. She is not invited to partake in any of the conversations that are, to her, not part of her skill level—"They talked about the economy, or something, [...]" (CH1). In contrast, Plutarch is noted to be waiting for her to voice her thoughts, frequently being attributed with patience as early as chapter 3. When she speaks, he doesn't interrupt her. He takes her words seriously.

Once they grow closer romantically, Virgilia begins to have a fascination with feeling his body. She wonders about what it might feel like to hug him in the above quote, and once she receives a hug, she feels positive about his body both as it is and in contrast to her husband:

Plutarch’s hug was warm and welcoming. His arms were rather strong, wrapping around her so entirely and keeping her close for only but a mere moment. But that was enough, more than enough, sensing an ubiquitous prickle spreading from her stomach as she felt him so close. Virgilia imagined hearing a pounding heartbeat—albeit it might have been her own. He was different from her husband, whose large but thin shape seemed so cold and empty. No, Plutarch didn’t slip away from her, even when her chin briefly came to rest on his shoulder. He appeared ever so real, caught in the moment in the same way the sun warmed her face after clouded days, awakening her anew in a reality that grew dense and present. (SSLWR, CH8)

To paraphrase, Plutarch is: warm, welcoming, strong, hugging her whole, stays with her, feels real. Her husband is thin, cold, empty. While some of it has to do with the nature of their hug—for example the length—much of it is a comparison between two bodies, and Plutarch’s being attributed only positive notions. She’s fascinated by how he feels and wonders about it because she is craving that connection with him. She daydreams about him, and some of those include what his body—a foreign, unexplored entity—feels like.

I purposefully wrote about those moments and about how she views his body. I did not want her to be detached from it, both because the difference felt important, but also because a romance with an overweight character would feel wrong if it glossed over the body. It felt important to make his weight part of her attraction, not an in-spite-of or a secretly feeling grossed out by it. Neither did I want to make her too obsessed with it in a kinky sense, because overweight people are people, not kinks. My goal was to make this part of her attraction to him without it being the sole part of her fascination—that, if he were to lose weight, she wouldn’t jump ship, but that she nonetheless likes him that way and isn’t interested in having him change for her sake.

Obviously, one of the most significant scenes in terms of Plutarch’s body and Virgilia's thoughts on it happen during the sex scene in chapter 14:

She kissed him the way that flowers looked up at the sun, desired every ray of its warmth, every attention of its light. Her hands had grown desperate in hunger, moving from the stubbles of his cheeks down the muscles in his arms to the softness of his belly. (SSLWR, CH14)

This is the first time she is exploring his body. She is once more affirming his softness in the first quote. Once more, Plutarch is different: Virgilia lives in a world where everything with sharp edges, poking bones, or straight lines is not safety and not love. Plutarch is, because of his otherness, safety and love.

Touching him had been different than she expected, and yet all what she had hoped for. Plutarch was not like the people in the Capitol, whose latest craze seemed to have bones poking out everywhere. Her hands trailed across his chest, led by the soft hair that adorned his upper torso. Each breath of his lifted chest and belly, bolstered his shoulders and changed the shadows cast across. Eventually, the hair was gone, far too few in between, and she had been left alone as her fingers traced to his belly button. It was then that something had tugged on the edge of her mind. (SSLWR, CH14)

She is making room for this interest by exploring his upper body; affirming the difference and being allowed to roam and explore at the speed she needs. In that moment, Plutarch is watching her, and he’s once more being patient as she is touching him. This quote is followed up by him asking about undoing her hair, and it’s an equal fascination on his part that Virgilia is not in the know about yet. They both have mysteries they wish to explore about the other that day. His body and its weight is hers.

She sunk deeper into the bed, deeper into the black fabric. Blonde hair appeared, then his thick brows, the warm gaze, and lips smudged with her lipstick. Plutarch had climbed on top of her, and what seemed a not-too-uncommon place, whenever she moved, he responded by shifting his weight; enough that she could break away if needed—except she did not want to. There was trust in the heaviness of his on top of her, and, for once her heart ached not for escaping, but for more. (SSLWR, CH14)

I’ve thought about this moment a lot before writing it, and I’ve worked on those lines a lot. Plutarch’s weight is a factor once more—again, I never wanted it to be mentioned once and then be ignored—and it’s one that could be scary. It’s a fact that he is heavy. He could easily overwhelm her and sleep with her as he pleases, completely ignoring her needs while keeping her in place. 

The easy solution is to switch—and have her be on top. Right before this quote, they actually have a conversation (“There were whispers exchanged, like small gusts of wind carried into the woods.”) and while I leave the exact words out because it’s more reaffirming the wants of each other, it being followed up by her sinking into the bed, and him climbing on top of her should give away at least parts of the content of their conversation—Plutarch, himself likely insecure, asks her if she would like to be on top.

They don’t go for the easy solution. And that is because Virgilia trusts him. I didn’t go into the depths of their sexual relationship because it did not feel like the fanfiction to do that—I really don’t like more explicit smut scenes in a work otherwise not focused on them—but it is alluded here that she enjoys the feeling of him, with all his weight, being on top of her. She likes feeling that, despite every odds technically being against her, this is a safe space, and he’s listening to her. Him moving when she does might initially be born from discomfort on his part, but it is meant to eventually become a play where both move in unison knowing the other, and this is its first act.

There is some part insecurity voiced by Plutarch at the end of the chapter. This quote happens right after Plutarch jokes about how she had not gotten a younger lover, which leaves Virgilia confused.

With an equal amount of confusion, much as if she did not understand that the sun rose every morning, he opened his mouth far before words could come out. “Most might prefer someone who is stronger or taller or younger and certainly with less grey hair.” (SSLWR, CH14)

She responds that she likes him and his hair. While much of her thoughts on his body are focused on weight, the other parts of it not affirming to Capitol beauty standards, such as non-grey hair, an indicator of aging, are loved, too. She likes him, and she likes his body.

To return to general ideas about Plutarch’s body—and we did somewhat talk about this recently!—his body is something daring to her. Virgilia has time and time again given into the beauty standards. She needs to maintain them as they are closely tied to her own survival. Plutarch does not need to do the same; and Virgilia recognises it for the rebellion it is.

She will always love him regardless the body he has, but the body he has as seen in the movies is a source of comfort, love, and safety for her. She wouldn’t change a thing about him.

[turbo-toast]

*sends a character* Cyberpunk's Judy!

Oooh, interesting choice!

First impression

Here's someone who was *deeply* hurt before. Someone has to have given her a reason to be this paranoid, this protective of Evelyn. She's cute, highly competent (not just in tuning XBDs) but holy crap she needs a hug.

Impression now

Holy crap she needs a hug. After all the events of Cyberpunk 2077, and getting with V... I can fully understand her decision to leave Night City behind. Even with the best outcome where she still gets to say goodbye to V while V is in full possession of her mental facilities, it's still tragic. If Johnny wasn't actively destroying V's brain, I would *wish* for them to live together as happily and long as Night City would allow them.

Favorite moment

Oh there are many. From her adorable drunk texting to staging a sex worker uprising, and so on and so forth. But I think my absolute favorite one is after the Pisces mission when V sits with her at the pier and Judy gives V her house keys. I think trust is a major theme of hers and that mission is just her opening up *completely.*

Idea for a story

Judy really wants to get out of the violence and malaise of Night City, but I think she and V would make a great detective duo. So maybe pit the two of them against some great Night City mystery?

Unpopular opinion

I honestly don't know if I have any, I'm not entrenched enough in the Cyberpunk fandom to know what would be an unpopular opinion about her.

Favorite relationship

Her and Fem!V. Absolutely, hands down, OTP.

Favorite headcanon

She absolutely dotes on Nibbles and will take care of her when V... well.

[chibi-taylormoon]

If you’re still doing the character ask game can you do Yuzu?

Yuzu!!

How I feel about this character:

Best girl, one of my favorites out of the bracelet girls! I just adore everything about Yuzu, her character is amazing and shes adorable and I really love her deck. She has a strong and caring personality, she's determined and works hard which is shown when she wanted to learn fusion to get stronger after her duel with Masumi! Yuzu is just an all around great character, I just like that shes a cute girl with a temper, shes strong enough to break the duel machine or push Yugo away how ever many feet. She is amazing and strong emotionally and physically.

All the people I ship romantically with this character:

Yuya!! Jealous Yuzu is so cute, she adores Yuya so very much, that is her stupid idiot and no one elses. No matter how far apart Yuzu was from Yuya, she trusted and believed in him to stay strong so they could reunite. Those two have a very sweet bond, which is shown during the tournament, their feelings came across for eachother very strongly. And its very cute when Yuzu would just smack/push Yuya when shes flustered, like when they hugged and Masumi teased them! They are just the most wholesome pair out of the yu's and bracelet girls.

my non-romantic otp for this character:

Yugo! Their bond was super sweet, they grew to care about eachother in such a short time. its funny when Yuzu would just smack Yugo for his behavior, he kind of needs it sometimes. Yugo was very worried for Yuzu after her duel with Sergey, it was sad to see him actually hurt/crying when he thought she was dead. And when Yugo ran to Yuzu happily when they got to the fusion dimension was very sweet. Yuzu and Yugo have a very good bond as friends!

my unpopular opinion about this character:

I think very positively of Yuzu and everything that happened, if there is one think to nitpick and share an opinion of; its the duel with sergey. That was just very upsetting and seeing her get thrown into a building was just kind of dumb. Thats a duel she deserved to win, yknow how Yugioh comes when it comes to the girls dueling and winning in key moments like that when they deserve development.

One thing I wish would happen/had happened with this character in canon:

I wanted Yuzu to smack Roget very hard in the face, I don't have any opinions aside from that. That dude deserved a beat down. If Yuzu had her hands free or had her fan, she could've given that creep a good smackdown herself.

Also wanted arc-v to end with Yuzu giving Yuya a HUGE hug in front of an audience by sheer instinct, completely forgetting people are watching. Yuya needed a hug and kiss on the cheek, he'd be very flustered and Yuzu would cutely hide her face in embarrassment.

[worminstuff]

mcyts as teachers

in my brain. lol. thisisjustmyopiniondontattakpls

dream smp edition!!!

i got way to carried away HOLY

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Mr.Wastaken - math

he’s that one math teacher dude whos friends with all his students

funky👏tys👏 and👏 button ups👏

somehow teaches everything so everyone understands

the students won’t bully eachother if he bully’s them first.

everyone does their work and then when everyone is done and just chillin, he’ll tell a story or just talk to them

Mr.Blade - english

he’s that english teacher that if you ask the right question they’ll go on a tangent and you’ll get to not do work for like 30 minutes minimum.

Mr.Blade seems mean but is super sweet to his students. (especially the quiet ones)

never makes them do presentations

Mr.Jacobs - history

is 100% best friends with his students.

so many handshakes

Mr.Karl is literally the best dressed teacher there is and is so nice to all his students. he is easy going on grading but is a tad hard on late work.

totally doesn’t sneak off to kiss coach sapnap sometimes

Mr. Quack - spanish

HOLA NIÑOS

gets so hyped with his students.

kahoot kahoot kahoot sm kahoot

Mr.Quacks class is the one everyone hopes they get and constantly looks forward to. thinks like baking spanish food, watching spanish soap operas, and many more fun ways Mr.Quack has thought of to show them different aspects of spanish culture

Mrs. Nihachu - art

the classroom the kids with anxiety sit in during lunch

gives her students hugs whenever they need them

has art her students have made for her all over her classroom walls and desk

drawer full of candy

Coach Sapnap & Coach Punz - PE

LETS GOOOOOOOO

so scary. they are so so scary.

also the sweetest somehow.

the duo is always constantly trying to create new games to keep students active and they work hard to make sure everyone is happy and being included if they want to, or have an alternative if they don’t.

they play in team games like kickball and get HELLA competitive, it makes for a whole lot of fun inside jokes between them and their students.

the smack talk- holy-

Mr.Fundy - furry science- jk. biology

the👏most👏fun👏science👏teacher

every time they have labs he wears a funky lab coat and goggles

his students make fun of him and he loves it

is a tough grader but makes the class easy and makes it a comfy place so kids won’t be scared to ask questions when they need

electives:

Mr.Notfound - engineering

he’s the type of teacher to put up a video on days he’s tired

actually really enjoys bantering with students, and is super lenient with how much they can talk during classes

a lot of his work is hands on so there’s many bits and bobbles around his room and it’s always a mess

“you’ll need the stuff for the soddering machines but i’m not actually sure where they are...”

the students are well aware that class is WAY more fun when Mr.Notfound is in a good mood.

Mr.Wastaken drops by when he has free periods cause he loves to annoy visit Mr.Notfound

Teacher Eret - sociology

his room is the safe space where you go if you need a good hug or a good cry

kids also eat lunch here

memes on da walls and things hanging from the ceiling

talks with his hands and laughs with the students when they mock him and do it when he does

“TEACHER ERET! you will not believe what sarah did!!” “tell me right now!”

Mr.Dude - comp. science

is always asking students how they feel like they’re doing

brings lunches for students he notices not having any

“snack break anyone?” opened drawer full of goldfish

stands in the hallways during passing time so he can watch out for his kiddos and make sure no ones being mean to anyone

high-fives all the time constantly

Mr.Soot - drama

literally so dramatic all the time for no reason

relentless hamilton references

he’s the type of drama teacher to adore his students and have them adore him back. he loves hearing all the unique ideas and loves to watch kids grow into their shell as they take his class

his favorite thing is watching quiet kids learn they love acting and become more confident

students share their own scrips and plays they write and he absolutely melts every time

Mr.Shlatt - political science

the teacher that everyone tries to get mad cause it’s funny

starts arguments between students because he loves to watch kids grow into their opinions and learn to debate with others

teaches them how to win arguments and it blows up in his face cause they start using his tactics against him

Mr. Halo - self defense

no 🚫 swearing 🚫 zone

gives the biggest hugs to kids that seem sad

he teaches in mostly talking ways where he explains everything but he also loves demonstration lessons

he always has kids talking to him about other teachers that may annoy them or have given them a bad grade because Mr.Halo always has their back

Mr.Skeppy - money management

he’s that one teacher that isn’t really close with his students but every once in a while he’ll get a group of kids that he enjoys and it makes the class a lot more fun

pizza party after tests if everyone passes

actually holds meme contests for literally no reason

Mr.H - hospitality

has whiteboard desks in his class cause he is THAT cool

is always asking kids what the drama is atm cause he wants to be in the know

has holiday party’s in class for EVERY holiday. if you have him as a teacher you’ll be celebrating every holiday for however long you have him. he just lives for a good party.

also has a snack drawer

Mr.Frost - horticulture

shelves and shelves of plants. gives his fav students ones to take home

literally the sweetest teacher, every student understands you can not be rude to Mr.Frost it’s just criminal to do so

another huggy teacher. he just loves his kiddos with his whole heart

the least amount of work for a class out of all of them

he’s definitely that teacher thay takes his class outside every chance they get, and the students l o v e it

staff:

Mr.Minecraft -headmaster/principal

he’s the reason the school has like 0 REAL trouble makers.

everyone’s scared of him, but only because they don’t want to disappoint him.

he creates the best rallies and makes school events fantastic

100% dances at school dances sometimes

Mrs.Puffy - councilor

everyone adores her. even other teachers.

she councils Mr.Wastaken when he needs dating advice. *cough cough* Mr.Notfound *cough cough*

literally 3 drawers full of snacks.

is the founder of their schools GCA and it’s the best thing

let’s kids skip class in her office when they have a panic attack or are to anxious to go

had to have a chat with Coach Sapnap because of how many kids were coming from his PE class having panic attacks (he felt really bad, he’s just intense sometimes)

loves to sit in on Mr.Quackitys classes

Teacher callahan - substitute

he subs in sometimes and when students find out Teacher callahan is subbing that day they freak the fuck out

so much kahoot

how can one man start such party’s without speaking a word

terrorizes Mr Wastakens classes when he can and LOVES to pop in on the PE classes especially when they’re doing something wicked fun and he feels like beating sapnap at something

[mandoalorian]

Pain Is For The Living [Javier Peña x F!Reader] - Chapter 1 (SMUT)

Summary: Sex work in the heat of 1980’s Colombia was never going to be a walk in the park. Especially not when you had a crush on your number one client, agent Javier Peña. You’d been warned about him and his reputation, but after one very specific incident that would change your life forever, you find yourself attached to him like never before and you’d do anything to make him yours. Even if it means endangering your own life.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT (male receiving oral), allusions to sex, reader works in a brothel, PTSD, anxiety, panic attack, mention of drugs, guns, character death, typical Narcos themes.

Word count: 4000>

Series Masterlist

*reblogs appreciated! Ko-Fi in bio if you want to support me!

It was the hottest summer in twenty years; or at least that’s what the weather lady had told you when you were getting ready for work this morning. 

You’d been searching for your best friend Rosa all over the brothel, asking your colleagues if they’d seen her anywhere. They all shook their heads or shrugged their shoulders before disregarding your presence completely so they could get back to their conversations. You understood their cold nature to a degree. You were new and fresh-faced in Bogotá, and this sex work was the only thing paying your rent. Sometimes you got the feeling they didn’t like you, but you did your best to shrug it off. The manner of your job wasn’t an easy one, that’s for sure. But Rosa had been with you from day one. Not only was she your only friend, but also, she was a mentor, and she taught you everything you needed to know about being a successful sex worker in the heat of Colombia.

You finally found Rosa outside the brothel, leaning against the brick wall, her sunglasses perched on the curve of her nose. Immediately something felt off. You couldn’t put your finger one what exactly it was, but everything about Rosa’s demeanor concerned you. The cigarette that she held between her fingers was almost completely puffed out, with just a noticeable pink lipstick stain on the foot of the filter paper. You stood next to her and leaned against the same wall, by her side. You noticed her shoulders relax a little at your presence, but Rosa still didn’t say a word. It was strange. She was usually bubbly and talkative, eager to tell you all the gossip she had learned from her clients. 

“Peppermint for your thoughts?” you asked Rosa, diving into your pocket and bringing out a carton of peppermint candies. As you waited for her response, you placed one on your tongue and sucked on it longingly. You’d been working long hours and it was the first thing you’d eaten all day.

“In a minute,” she said, dismissing the sweet and wiggling her finger in the air. She huffed and narrowed her eyes, watching the busy roads intently before taking one final drag off the cigarette. She stumped the end out and threw it away, but the cigarette that was once in between her lips was now replaced with her thumb as she nervously bit at her nails. “Has Limón  come by today?” she asked you eventually.

You knew the cab driver. He’d frequented the brothel a number of times. Rosa often had a lot to say about him until suddenly, she just didn’t.

“Not that I know of,” you replied innocently, but something still felt so incredibly wrong. “Rosa, is everything okay?”

Rosa’s head snapped to face you, and for the first time you noticed the fear strike in her honey coloured eyes. She sighed and pursed her lips together, before raising her hand and cupping your face. Her thumb grazed the height of your cheekbone and she finally smiled. But it wasn’t like her usual smile. It was soft and— sad.

“Of course,” she told you. “Nothing to worry about.”

And you knew better than to push Rosa, so you decided to leave it at that.

Silence with Rosa was comfortable. You both observed the bustling streets of Bogotá. You were thinking about the simpler things in life, like whether or not you could afford the luxury of canned spaghetti hoops in advance of this month’s rent payment, or where in the brothel you’d left your signature lipstick. Rosa, on the other hand…

“He’s an agent you know.” She announced suddenly.

You furrowed your eyebrows together. “Who? Limón?”

Rosa let out a bark of incredulous laughter, and you assumed as such. “No no, not Limón. I’m talking about Peña.”

You felt your cheeks warm up at the initial mention of his name, and you tried to fight back a smile. You had to keep cool in front of Rosa. Sure, the whole brothel knew about your crush on your client but only Rosa’s opinion mattered to you. “Javier?” you quizzed, as if you needed to question who Peña could possibly be.

Rosa rolled her eyes playfully and you stifled a laugh, realising how silly you sounded. “You’ve got it bad huh?” Rosa acknowledged and you felt a flush of shame creep upon your cheeks. “It’s okay. When I first started out I had countless crushes on my clients.” she confessed, and her revelation made you feel somewhat better about yourself.

“How do you know that… about Javier?” you wondered out loud, biting your lip and trying to sound as casual as possible. You’re the girl he’d been fucking with for the past two months and he hadn’t dared open up to you about a single personal detail in his life. Truth be told, that’s what made him different from the other guys. So if anyone was to know anything about the man, it should be you. Why wasn’t it you? You couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy that your beautiful best friend was seemingly omniscient. “Have… have you been sleeping with him?”

Rosa frowned apologetically and smoothed out your hair. “No honey. I wouldn’t do that to you,” she promised and you nodded your head slowly. You had no reason not to believe her but she still hadn’t answered your question. Just as you went to prod her further, she opened her mouth. “But be careful. Crushes on clients can be dangerous. You never really know who you’re working with. Javier has a… reputation amongst the brothels in Bogotá.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat… a lump that you didn’t even realise you were holding back. “He seems nice. Respectful.” you admitted with a slight shrug of your shoulders. You’d be foolish to dismiss a word of advice from Rosa, but warning you about Javier…? You knew him better than that. You knew him. You had every inch of his body memorised. You could spot his scent from a mile away. You knew he was a good guy.

Rosa hummed slightly before squinting at an oncoming truck that was pulling up outside the brothel. “Speak of the devil.” She muttered.

“Javier!” you couldn’t help but beam excitedly. You quickly turned to face Rosa. “Could I borrow your lipstick? I lost mine and I-” Out of nowhere, Rosa pulled out her pink lipstick and passed it to you. You took it willingly and gave her a quick hug of gratitude. “Thank you.” you mumbled into her neck before pulling away. 

“Be careful!” Rosa called after you as you ran back inside the brothel and into the lobby where you’d wait for Javier.

Be careful. You chuckled a little at her words. You had nothing to worry about. You quickly applied your lipstick with as much precision as possible and checked your hair in one of the many mirrors. Your heart rate picked up speed the second you saw him enter the lobby. Today, he was wearing one of his trademark colourful button down shirts - this one, a pale yellow colour that was comparable to the sunshine. He was frowning, just like always, but the bright colour on him radiated an air of enlightenment.

He looked around the lobby in search of you, and when his eyes finally landed on you, he immediately felt at ease. You waved him over with a smirk and he took off his aviators, hanging them in the v of his shirt. His eyes were beautiful, like the deepest shade of cocoa. You made an unfortunate habit of getting lost in them at any given moment.

“Hi Javi,” you cooed, placing the palm of your hand on his chest. “You’re early today.”

“I can’t stay long,” he grumbled. “Have to get back to the office. Can we make it quick?”

You tilted your head curiously. “What do you have in mind?”

Javier brought out his wallet and handed you enough peso’s to cover an easy blowjob. He looked up at you, hopefully, with an adorable sheepish grin on his face. You took the money from him and nodded your head before taking his hand and guiding him to your room.

It was the room he’d grown completely accustomed to the past few months. He knew his way around. He was comfortable. He closed the door behind him and immediately worked at undoing his belt. You glanced over at his payment that you’d discarded on your dresser and thought long and hard. You really liked Javier. Enough so that you felt weird about taking his money. He was different to the other guys. You fucked men because they were paying you, but you fucked Javier because you liked it. You wanted it. Every second he wasn’t with you… you only craved him more.

Too lost in your own thought, you’d forgotten the man of your dreams was standing by the door waiting to get sucked off. He cleared his throat awkwardly and your head snapped in his direction to face him, your eyes going comically wide. You felt embarrassed that you’d left him waiting and quickly paced over to him, kneeling down and unzipping his denim jeans. He was already hard, judging by the familiar shaped imprint against his thigh.

“Everything okay?” he hummed as you pulled out his cock. His question turned into a slight garble as soon as your fingers graced his leaking head. You gathered his precum and rubbed it along his thick length and his eyes immediately snapped shut.

“Yes. Why?” you asked innocently before pressing a kiss to his slit. You looked up at him through your eyelashes with wide doe-eyes.

“Looked like something was preying on your mind.” Javier muttered, scrunching his face up in pleasure as you licked a stripe along the base of his cock. You extended your hand to massage his balls and you continued to pump at his length.

“Isn’t that why you’re here?” You beckoned further. “To let go?”

“Fuck,” Javier hissed. “More.” he pleaded and you quickly obeyed, wrapping your lips around his head and pushing his cock deep into your mouth. You felt his body tense up and he threw his head back against the wooden door. “More!” he choked out.

You hollowed your cheeks and sank your lips as far as you could go, so his groomed pubic hair tickled the tip of your nose. Tears began to prick your eyes and you pulled off him quickly to gasp for breath. Javier was heaving and panting too, and you took a second to look up at him and lick your lips. He was so perfect, a thin sheen of sweat glistened along his collarbones, only just noticeable under the dim amber lights of your room. Before he could catch you staring like a hopeless lovebird, you reattached your lips around his cock and finished up the blowjob, feeling more than satisfied when his ropes of cum spilled into your mouth.

Once his cock softened enough to tuck himself back in, he zipped up his jeans and redone his belt but not before helping you stand. Meeting respectful guys like Javier Peña in your line of work was a rarity, that’s for sure. Still you couldn’t help but think about Rosa’s words as you watched him smooth out his shirt. No visible police badge. No signs that he was an agent. To say it irked you was an understatement. How did she know he was an agent? There wasn’t a chance he told her… not when he was so secretive with you. You’d been fucking him for two months now and you didn’t know a single detail about his life. You didn’t know where he lived, or how old he was, or if he had any siblings. Rosa might have been your best friend, and she swore to you that she wasn’t sleeping with him on the side, so how did she know?

Of course, it could’ve easily all been bullshit. She could’ve been scheming a way to get you to fall out of love with him. Nobody likes a cop. You couldn’t figure it out no matter how hard you tried, but you knew for sure Rosa would never want to hurt you. You were annoyed for letting yourself get so irrational. You just wished… you wished that he’d talk to you. Treat you more than just some whore he got to use at his own beck and call. Your stomach twisted when you realised that was exactly all you were. A fool facing the wrath of unrequited love. You sighed and grabbed his jacket from the bed.

“Thank you,” he said, taking his jacket and swinging it over his strong forearm. It was too hot outside to wear. You nodded in acknowledgement but didn’t say anything.

For the first time since meeting Javier Peña, you had let yourself get hurt, and for no good reason either. You couldn’t confront him about it. You couldn’t tell him no matter how much he asked you. You just had to suck it up and get over him. He was a client and that was all he could be. Nothing more. Rosa was right. Falling for your customers was a dangerous deal.

“You’re my favourite, you know.” Javier announced, his voice low and heated. You locked your eyes on his. 

“What?” you asked, completely taken aback. 

“You’re my favourite girl,” he clarified with a small shrug, as if his comment wasn’t life-changing. Just like that, you were once again putty in Javier Peña’s hands. Your determination to get over him lasted all of five seconds. Before you could reply, he took a step closer to you, breaking any distance and placed a hand on your cheek. He leaned in and placed a chaste kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin noticeably longer than usual.

You weren’t mad anymore. Your feelings for him were restored just like that. Your eyes were wide as he pulled away from you and licked his lower lip. You felt like you were melting over the sweet menial gesture. You wanted to say something - anything. You wanted to pull him on top of you and crash your lips against his. But no matter how hard you tried to say something, no words came out. All you could manage was a shy little smile. It was the same smile that made Javier’s knees weak. He squeezed his hand into a fist to resist the urge of kissing your perfect lips and instead readjusted his sunglasses. You ducked your head down shyly and opened the door for him.

“Stay safe.” he uttered.

The same two words he told you after every visit. Stay safe. It was almost as if your client had a genuine care for you. You nodded in affirmation and offered him one last smile before he left the brothel and headed back to ‘the office’. Do agents even work in offices? You wondered.

You paced around the corridors of the brothel to find Rosa, wanting to return her lipstick and also tell her about Javier. You were excited. He really said you were his favourite girl. Out of all the girls, you were his favourite. To say you were beaming was an understatement. 

You caught her speaking to Javier as he walked out the brothel front door and you felt an anxious knot in your stomach tighten. It was hard to make out from the distance, but by the looks of it, Rosa was crying. The conversation was only brief, and Javier nodded along to whatever she was saying, before handing her a card and leaving for good. You officially had questions. You went to push through the crowds of people but a man much taller and larger than you placed a hand on your shoulder and pushed you back.

“Whoa,” you stumbled. “Can I help you?” He made some crude gesture with his fingers indicating the type of sex he wanted with you and you couldn’t help but scrunch up your nose in disdain. “Yeah okay,” you agreed with a small sigh. “Just a second though, I have to find someone. My room is 20 if you would like to wait for me--”

“No,” he growled, pinning you against the wall. “Now.”

You glanced behind his shoulder searching for Rosa but she had evidently already disappeared. 

“Okay.” you huffed, pulling yourself out of his grip and leading him to your room. You supposed you could tell Rosa about Javier after you’d dealt with this guy.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

He’d left about ten minutes ago, and you were just finishing up in your room, getting ready to clock out of work and call it a day. The brothel lobby was often loud and bubbly, but the second you heard all the muffled chatter stop, you knew something was up. You pulled your purse over your shoulders and locked your room before walking down the corridor. As you approached the lobby, you heard loud footsteps and yelling. The second you stepped foot in the main room, you saw the man Rosa had been asking you about earlier in the day, and your heart sank.

“Where the fuck is she?” Limón shouted. He and another man paced around in circles. It had gone quiet because the men had the other girls, your colleagues, pressed against the wall, holding guns to their heads. Your eyes widened in horror and you immediately brought your hands up in the air to surrender.

“Are none of you whores talking? Where the fuck is she?” the other man hissed. 

“La Quica,” — so that was his name — “Shut the fuck up. You’ll draw unwanted attention.”

They hadn’t noticed you yet. There was still time to escape. But your feet were frozen to the ground. How could you dare run away and leave the girls here, unable to fend for themselves?

Limón pressed the handgun to Martzia’s head. “Where is she?” he spat.

“Who?” Martzia gasped.

“Rosa!” Limón bellowed, clocking the gun in anger. “Where the fuck is Rosa?”

“I- I don’t know!” Martzia cried. She was visibly shaking in terror. All the girls were.

“Bullshit!” Limón snapped back, and within a second, he pulled the trigger and Martzia was dead on the floor.

On impulse, you looked away, but you’d already caught an eye-full. Martzia’s blood was not only on the wall behind her, but it was on Juliet too, who was now a whimpering mess. Taking a deep breath, you mustered up all your strength to look back at the girls. Most of them had their eyes closed and their tear stained cheeks glistened under the dingy lights.

“You. Shut the fuck up.” Limón  growled before moving over to Juliet and pressing the gun against her head. She choked out a sob and apparently that was enough for Limón to pull the trigger on her as well. You slammed your hands against your mouth and let out an incomprehensible noise. That got Limón and La Quica’s attention. La Quica grabbed you and pinned you up against the wall so you were only centimetres away from Martzia and Juliet’s limp bodies.

“How long has that bitch been standing there for?” Limón asked angrily and La Quica shrugged his shoulders. Limón pulled on your hair so he could get a good look at your face. “Hey La Quica this whore must be new. Haven’t seen her around before. Nice ass too.” He smirked, wrapping his hand around your neck and squeezing it. “Do you know where Rosa is?”

You didn’t. But neither did Martzia and that had got her killed. Even if you did know where Rosa was, you wouldn’t give up that information. You couldn’t. Your heart was slamming against your chest and when you felt the handgun press in between your shoulder blades you thought you were going to pass out right then and there.

“Limón.”

It was her. It was Rosa. You felt the handgun slowly slip away from your back as both Limón and La Quica turned around to face your best friend. When you were certain they weren’t looking at you anymore, you turned around too so you could take a look at Rosa yourself. When your eyes met hers, you saw her face soften.

“Rosa!” Limón hissed, running over to the girl. “Tell me it isn’t true. Tell me it wasn’t you.” Limón grabbed on to Rosa and began to shake her. “My apartment was fucking raided, Rosa. A kilo of coke, gone. They know. They know we’ve been chauffeuring Escobar.”

You were baffled. We? She’d been helping chauffeur Pablo fucking Escobar? You shook your head in disbelief, praying it wasn’t true. She’d been lecturing you about the dangers of your job when she’d been doing the most dangerous thing of all. And how could she not tell you? If she had just told you… maybe you could’ve helped her. Maybe you could’ve done something. It couldn’t be true.

“I called the cops,” Rosa confessed, her voice emotionless and her face stone cold. “I called the cops and they put me through to the DEA immediately. I met with an agent. I told him everything I knew. I ratted you out Limón, and you should thank me.”

Limón raised his hand and slapped Rosa across the face. “You bitch!” He shouted. “How could you do this to me Rosa? How could you fucking--”

Then, a gunshot.

The sound was blinding and everything went in slow motion. You swore that your heart stopped beating as tears streamed down your face. You screamed as you watched her body fall to the ground.

“La Quica you fucker! You killed her! You killed Rosa!” Limón cried out in anguish, grabbing his friend by the shoulders. “What the fuck man! What the fuck!”

“She confessed,” La Quica huffed, trying to calm his friend. “I know you liked her but she’s a fucking whore, Limón! She made her mouth go. She’s the reason you had the fucking DEA sniffing out your apartment. We’re not only in trouble with the cops but if Escobar finds out… shit man. I’m scared.” 

Both La Quica and Limón were visibly freaking out. They had put their guns away at least, but they were pacing around in circles again and shouting at each other. But you couldn’t hear a single thing. You couldn't see anything... just the blur of their bodies. You couldn’t smell and your fingers felt numb. You felt like you were falling. Your chest was tight and your heart was broken.

“We have to run Limón, three fucking gunshots. Three dead bodies. The cops have probably already been called.” La Quica informed Limón as he helped coach his friend’s panicked breathing. You looked down at Martzia and Juliet’s bodies on the floor and then your gaze followed over to Rosa’s body. As the men scrambled out the brothel, you fell to your knees and crawled over to your best friend.

“Rosa,” you whispered, tears streaming down your cheeks as you picked up and cradled her body in your arms. Her blood was all over you, and you felt like you could throw up at any second. “Rosa please. I- Rosa. No no no what… What did you do Rosa?” You chanted your best friend's name and cried into her body.

What did she do?

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[buckyownsmylife]

sunlight sunset - andy barber smut

The one where Andy throws you a baby shower and you thank him after.

Warnings: smut (p in v), masturbation (f), dirty talk, probably a little bit of daddy kink, pregnancy, the misconstruct of gender that I tried to avoid by referring to biological sex only, curse words, dirty talk

A/N: this was requested by 🤰 anon and it turned out to be much fluffier than any smut I’d ever written previously. Also, I ended up changing the idea of the reader’s “thank you”, I don’t really know why,  but I just figured Andy would be in really soft mindset after a baby shower 🤷‍♀️ Also, this is sort of a part two to this fic

Andy’s P.O.V.

“Shh, everyone! I think I hear her!” All around me, the sound of conversation suddenly dulled, people trying to make themselves smaller to fit behind furniture or walls and I had to cough to hide a laugh, but truly, it was just sweet. There weren’t many people in my apartment, Y/N didn’t have a lot of friends she cared enough to let them be a part of her pregnancy, and I still hadn’t managed to get her father to accept the idea of his baby girl having a baby, but at least her mom was here and Jacob was too.

“Do you think she’ll like it?” My son asked me, fingers absentmindedly playing with a blue balloon while his eyes remained trained on the door, waiting for her to burst through. I knew he was hoping for a little boy, someone he could help shape and not worry about, but I was rooting for a baby girl despite not having the guts to admit it to my girlfriend. I could just perfectly see it, me and her, raising this little version of her together, and she’d be loud and opinionated and the best parts of both of us and I just loved her already. 

I knew it was a girl. I just knew it. I felt it deep in my gut, every night when I talked to Y/N’s still barely-there belly. But I let her and Jacob believe it was a boy. That was just something I kept to myself and my unborn child, the secret that would come out tonight.

“I sure hope so,” I muttered, trying to look unworried but probably failing. It’s just, Y/N had been having such a hard time lately, between telling her parents about the pregnancy, moving in with me, telling Jacob and her friends and it was just a whirlwind of emotions for us both, but of course, it hit her harder than me. She was the one dealing with the body changes and the misconceptions that people had about the nature of our relationship. I just wanted this one experience to show her how this pregnancy wasn’t all stress and tears.

But of course, I should have known better.

“Surprise!” Everyone shouted when the door opened, a surprised Y/N covering her mouth as she took in the balloons, her friends, the cake and me. And then, as if on cue, she burst into tears.

I shouldn’t have expected any different, really. After the first initial shock wore off, I found myself chuckling as I beckoned my sobbing girlfriend into my arms, delighted to have her warm body to squeeze again.

“Baby, don’t cry… This is supposed to be a nice thing!” It only made her cry harder, clutching at my shirt as I couldn’t control my amusement, trying to get her to separate from me just enough so I could cradle her face.

“It is nice! It’s so nice… I don’t deserve you, Andy.” The thought was so absurd to me that a fucking snort came out as I grazed her cheekbones with my thumbs. God, she was beautiful. And mine. All mine.

“Oh, please, sweetheart. If anything, I’m the one who’s unworthy of you.”

Y/N’s P.O.V.

The utter stupidity of the statement had me gasping, and then promptly slapping one of the arms with which he was holding me. “Don’t be an idiot. You’re too intelligent for that.” That earned me one of those hearty laughters that started from the depths of his chest and that warmed me to my very core, leaving my face burning. God, how I loved this man. And how I loved to be the reason for his laughter.

“C’mon, princess. Let’s open that envelope. I’m dying to know what we’re expecting.” Oh, right. As if on cue, my hands started sweating and my heartbeat picked up, the anxiety about knowing our child’s biological sex finally hitting. I was hoping for a boy, but I knew he wanted a girl. As much as he tried to hide it, I could just read right through his expectant face.

With shaky hands, I reached into my purse and pulled out the little red envelope that the doctor had given me. At first, I thought it was weird that Andy had decided to skip this one appointment, since he was so enthusiastic about being a part of everything, but now, as I stared at the balloon and the familiar faces of my friends, it made sense.

“Can I open it?” He asked, almost too quietly, large palm turned up as he waited for my reaction. I didn’t need to think about it, immediately dropping the paper in his hand, almost laughing at how ridiculously small it looked with him holding it. “Here we go.”

I knew all around us, everyone was waiting to hear the single word contained in that note, excitement barely concealed as the air around us felt electrified with it. But I couldn’t even care. At the most, I noticed my mom and Jacob holding hands not that far from where I stood with Andy, and the image made me smile right as my boyfriend’s face lit up like a christmas tree when he processed the doctor’s ruling.

“A girl. It’s a girl. We’re having a girl!” He darted into my arms and behind me, I felt as someone else - most likely Jacob - hugged me too. They were followed by each and every person in the room, until there was no one else to congratulate me on the news. We ate cake, talked and then, one by one, everyone left, and it was only Andy and me.

When I turned to look at him, after seeing the last visitor out, it was only to find his darkened, lust-filled eyes staring right at me as he sized me up, his hands in his pockets and the sweetest cockiest smirk on his lips.

“Come here, baby.” There was no hesitation, I didn’t even think before I moved in his direction. As I approached, he sat on the couch behind him, hands beckoning me closer and closer, until I was just close enough that he could easily pull me to straddle his legs.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he whispered as he nuzzled his bearded face against my neck, tickling me while making my pussy throb at the same time. A shiver of pure desire ran up my spine, right as I started to unconsciously grind my crotch over his, already desperate for a release.

“I-I’m thinking…” I tried, only to stop in a gasp as Andy suddenly seized my waist, forcing my movements to gather some speed. The friction was nothing like what I truly wanted, but it was just enough to make me whimper for my boyfriend’s wonderful touch.

Andy’s P.O.V.

“Tell me, sweetheart,” I urged, knowing that I was teasing her and knowing that she knew, especially since I couldn’t keep the smirk off of my face. “If you tell me what you want, I might give it to you.”

It was an offer she couldn’t resist, I knew even before I whispered it in her ear, but as I kept stimulating her body and she didn’t find a way to stop me, instead of finally confessing what was going through her mind, what I got was an exasperated, “Stop doing that! I don’t wanna cum yet!”

It made me laugh and decide that I definitely wouldn’t be stopping any time soon, so I opted to suck on one of her earlobes, appreciating the little shiver that she tried to hide before asking, “Why not?”

She hesitated for a second, but I couldn’t tell if it was because she wanted to hide it or if she simply still couldn’t gather her thoughts enough to voice them, although the way her fingers were buried in my shoulders made me think the last option was more probable. At last, she admitted right right before throwing her head back and whining, “Because I want to be the one pleasing you.”

She was heaving now, delicious breasts bouncing before me and just begging to have my mouth wrapped around one nipple, but her confession felt so silly I ended up laughing and capturing one of them between my fingers, instead.

“Can’t you feel what seeing you like this does to me?” I asked, making sure to raise my hips so there was no denying the hard line of my cock against her cunt. “I’m sorry you don’t feel like cumming, princess, because that’s exactly what you’re going to do. So just relax and accept it.”

It didn’t take long for her to cum after that, and I took in every beautiful second of the perfect image as her eyes rolled to the back of her head and her hips seemed to take a rhythm of their own.

“That’s my girl,” I cooed softly as I watched her slowly come back to me, eyes blinking lazily to look up at me from under her eyelashes with an expression that was simply sinful. “Can you open this for me, baby girl?” I asked as my hands remained occupied with holding her up, gesturing towards my own crotch, but it felt unnecessary when her hands immediately flew down to rub the boner I’d been sporting for quite a while.

“Yes, princess. Can you get my cock out, please? I really need to be inside of you now,” I confessed, nose rubbing over the soft skin of her neck as her small hands expertly unzipped my pants and I raised my hips up just enough so she could wrap her fist around my member and pull it from its confines.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

Nothing felt quite as good as having my hand wrapped around Andy’s cock, knowing it would be inside of me, making me whole in just a few seconds. And knowing that he was giving me the control to grab it and put it in me myself just had me excited like nothing else.

“You’re not wearing any underwear,” I noted, raising myself just enough to rub the head of his member against my lower lips. The action had him grunting before groaning in frustration, grip in my ass tightening in a sort of warning.

“No, I figured it’d be easier this way. Didn’t anticipate you being such a tease, though.” The grumpy tone of his voice made me giggle, and I slowly lowered myself down on his hard cock, moaning out loud and holding my own breasts as he hissed to the feeling of my pussy squeezing him.

“You feel so fucking good.” Just the hoarseness of his voice had me whining, even before he used the grip on my ass to make me start riding him. “You make me feel so good, baby girl. No one can make me feel as good as you do.”

Only this man could have me simultaneously melting from his sweetness while cumming on his dick while he pounded me from the bottom. “I wish I could keep you right here, sweetheart. Right here, sitting on my dick, all day, everyday.”

I saw the way his eyes never left my bouncing breasts, and when he licked his lips with an expression of pure hunger, I came, knowing I was bringing him with me when he let out a high-pitched moan and picked up his pace.

“Fuck, I’m yours, princess. I’m yours. Thank you for giving me our little family. I love you.” Grabbing his hand to give a kiss to his knuckles, I took a second to appreciate just how incredible this man was. Despite how hard this could be, I knew I’d never regret having him beside me.

[awanderingdeal]

Hello there! Would you please consider writing a fic where maybe Leo or a fan wears a dress or paints his nails or something else feminine and gets bullied online so the entire team then starts wearing dresses out in retaliation? I think Leo is the perfect example of flipping the V to normative gender ideals

Hi! Thank you for this ask. I hope you don't mind, but I kind of took this as inspiration and ran with it. I used Finn just because it fits my own personal headcanons that he would be the one that would be a bit more adventurous fashion wise, although I definitely agree Leo is the nail painter in that relationship! I hope you like it!

Apologies for the excessive use of italics in this fic!

CW: food mentions, some swearing, implied Instagram bullying and a child with very mild illness (hay fever).

Rating: T

Let me know if you think I missed anything or need to change the rating.

All characters in this fic are from Sweater Weather universe and belong to @lumosinlove

“Are you going to take that dress off?” June asked, blowing on the undercoat she’d just applied to her nails. Finn’s eyes dropped from the TV screen to the black fabric draping over his body. He brushed his fingers over the material, enjoying the texture of the sheer polka dots that decorated the dress. From afar, they were difficult to see, but at this distance they shined. His own little secret.

“No,” Finn replied, the word slipping from his mouth felt foreign, as if he hadn’t chosen to say it. “ Is that okay?”

“It’s generally considered polite to ask before you borrow people’s clothing, but sure, why not?” A loud cheer erupted from the TV notifying Finn the score on the basketball game he had been watching had changed. He desperately wanted to check it, but he continued to hold June’s gaze. “The Knicks,” June offered and Finn breathed a sigh of relief. “Are you going to wear it out later?” She didn’t wait for his reply, proffering two bottles of polish for Finn’s perusal, a redcurrant and a mauve.

“The red,” Finn decided after a beat. “No, I think I’ll get changed before we go to the theatre.”

“Alright then,” June hummed, glancing at her cell. “Logan is trying to call you, by the way.”

“Yes, my cell, I know exactly where that is,” Finn muttered to himself, stabbing at the remote to pause the TV. It took a few minutes of searching, the device hidden between the folds of the bean bag he was lounging on, but eventually Logan’s face was filling all 6.1 inches of the screen. “Lo!”

“Hey.”

Finn loved the greeting on Logan’s tongue, one of those that he never seemed to be able to stop his accent dripping through. Finn thought perhaps the sentiment was painted on his face, Logan peering at him curiously through the lens. “Isn’t that June’s dress?”

The dress. Finn had forgotten all about it. “Yes.��

He hadn’t meant for the reply to be said with such abruptness, but it felt good, all the tension coiling in his chest being released in the word.

Logan’s expression was challenging, similar to that June had given him earlier. “I was just going to say you look better in it.”

“Oh.”

June unfurled her legs from beneath her, throwing herself into view of the screen, her left hand held awkwardly in front of her. “I’m right here, Tremblay!”

***

“Love, you need to get out of the kitchen. You’re being very distracting.”

Finn frowned at Leo’s statement. “I’m not doing anything?” And for once, he wasn’t. He wasn’t trying to guess the weight of irrelevant objects. He wasn’t playing with the stray bits of dough Leo had left aside for decoration. He wasn’t even relaying facts about his current favourite interest. Finn was just watching.

Sometimes he liked to do that. He liked seeing Leo’s long fingers curled around the handle of the knife, his movements fluid and confident, his expression soft with quiet concentration. Occasionally, he’d cock his head, humming contemplatively and Finn could take the opportunity to offer his taste buds.

“It’s not a you problem, it’s a me problem,” Leo chuckled, setting the knife down on the chopping board. “I keep looking up and you’re just -” Finn followed Leo’s gaze as it wandered down to the exposed skin between Finn’s t-shirt and his skirt. “- I’m trying to meal prep and it’s going to take all week at this rate.”

The t-shirt had belonged to Logan, an old Harvard hockey throwback that had managed to make it through several wardrobe purges, so, whilst it was wide enough for Finn, the length was awkward. He hadn’t really considered his boyfriend’s reactions as he’d cut the item to fall several inches above his belly button, the crop looking far more purposeful than it previously had.

“Oh this old thing, I just threw it on,” Finn smirked, as he pushed off the counter he'd been leaning on. He rounded the island, stealing a carrot as he passed, until he planted himself in front of Leo. "Do you want help? It'd be quicker?"

"Now we both know neither of those things are true." Leo raised a critical eyebrow, his laughter smooth and sweet. He turned to face Finn more fully, his hand reaching to pass the forest green material of Finn's skirt through his fingers. "I like this colour on you."

"It has pockets! I totally get why Lily's always shouting about them. They're very convenient." Finn shoved his hands in the well-concealed pocket, pulling his cell from its depths. "See."

"Nice," Leo said, his smile making the edges of his face crinkle. "How about you let me finish up here and then we can find Lo and get his opinion on this outfit?"

"Fine," Finn groaned, resisting the temptation to draw Leo in a hug, and perhaps something more. "I'm gonna go and look over that report the accountant sent over. Do you want me to check yours over too?"

"Please," Leo nodded, his smile growing wider. "You're the best."

"You feed me, I make sure you don't get arrested, that's what relationships are all about, right?"

"Right," Leo ran his fingers over the skirt one last time and stepped back to put some space between them. Finn turned to leave, barely getting a few paces in before Leo called him. "Wait!"

"Yeah?"

"Just one kiss now would be okay."

Finn shook his head, letting Leo draw him back in with a chuckle. Leo's hands, always warm, settled on Finn's waist and he leaned down to press their lips together.

***

Finn winced as Aveline sneezed again, the forceful burst of air covering his sweater in droplets. He felt sorry for her; she was struggling with a bout of hay fever that was making her red-nosed and irritable, but the sweater was one of Finn’s favourites. A vintage, hand knitted blue thing he’d found in a thrift store in Cambridge for an absolute steal. Back then, it had been the scene of Bambi and his friends on it that had grasped Finn’s attention, however, he’d come to love it for its perfect fit and the fact it never failed to spark a conversation.

“Harzy, thank you. You’re a lifesaver.” Finn tried not to let his relief show too much seeing Kris’ approach, his arms outstretched to gather his daughter. “I can’t even put her down to go to the bathroom at the moment without her screaming.”

Finn chuckled, holding a wriggling Aveline tighter to stop her launching herself before her father was close enough. “Papa!” she cried, the exclamation melded neatly into a large yawn.

“Come, mon chou,” Kris soothed, letting Aveline bury her face into the crook of his neck and playing a gentle pattern with his fingers over her back. “Let’s go and see if Vroom-vroom has any magic up his sleeve, ey? He always knows what to do.”

“Vroom-vroom?” Finn whispered the question.

“Sergei,” Kris explained with a gleeful smile despite the tiredness etched into his face. He shifted Aveline into a more comfortable position. “Thanks again for holding her.”

“Anytime.”

Finn had barely been alone in the Dumais’ second living room for a minute when Katie came crashing in. He wondered briefly if he should redirect her back to the other room where everybody was gathered, the thought quickly interrupted by Katie tugging on the hem of his skirt. “Can you spin again? Please?”

Unable to resist her large doe eyes, Finn twirled for her, his skirt swirling and billowing around him until he began to go dizzy.

“Encore! Encore!”

Finn didn’t need Logan around to translate that for him, he’d seen enough Broadway shows to understand the request.

“No more, Katie Belle. I’m going to puke,” Finn laughed, lifting Katie into his arms. “You’re growing too quickly! I swear you were only this big the last time I saw you,” he teased, spreading the thumb and index finger of his free hand a few inches apart.

“I’ll be as tall as you soon!” Katie giggled, patting Finn on his head.

“Then you can carry me,” Finn teased. He was just reaching to bop Katie on the nose when the unmistakable sound of a camera shutter closing grabbed his attention.

“Logan!” Katie gasped, struggling in Finn’s arms for a second like little Aveline had done. “Put me down.”

Finn obliged, watching Katie run toward Logan with a fond smile.

“Did you fix it?” she asked, her voice hopeful.

“Ouais,” Logan nodded, “I gave it back to Maja.”

“Merci, merci, merci!” Katie wrapped her arms around Logan’s hips in a hug before running off, presumably to find Maja.

Finn crossed the room, opening his arms for Logan to walk into. He rested his chin on Logan’s head, breathing in the familiar smell of his shampoo. “What were you up to?”

“Just taking a photo of two of my favourite people,” Logan mumbled into Finn’s chest.

“Can I see?”

“Oui, it’s very cute. ” Logan stepped back, pulling the photo up onto the screen. It was a nice one, both Finn and Katie’s head tipped back slightly with bright laughter. Finn tracked down the photo, Katie’s legs clinging to his waist where the faux leather skirt started. He breathed in, filling his lungs with air and then expelling it quickly.

“Post it.”

Logan looked at him, eyes wide. “Are you sure?”

“Not really, but I’m fed up with changing my clothes all the time and I’m surprised I haven’t been papped anyway. I’d rather do this on my own terms. It’s a fucking skirt, it shouldn’t be a big deal.”

“Tell me to do it again,” Logan reached out a hand, squeezing gently as Finn took it.

“Post it.”

***

“Stop reading,” Leo sighed, plucking Finn’s cell from his hand.

Finn matched his sigh, burying his head into his hands. He didn’t need to look at the screen anyway, the words burned into his eyes. How anybody had looked at a photo of two people, one of whom was a child, laughing and had churned out hatred was mystifying to him. Finn had been expecting that though, he’d been around long enough to know there were some assholes out there. When he’d replied to one of the nicer ones he hadn’t really considered how he would feel about that going viral. About becoming the face of something he hadn’t really asked for.

Roaringlion17: Harzy! This fit is spectacular, I love the skirt <3 I just wanted to ask if you are trans and what pronouns you would like us to use?

OfficialFOHara: @roaringlion17 Thank you! He/him pronouns are great! I’m not trans. I just think it’s dumb that boys can’t wear skirts. Or dresses for that matter. I like clothes, not boxes.

The reply had now been featured on every gossip column possible and was beginning to filter into more esteemed news too. One of them had even called him, the face of a revolution, which had made Finn cringe. He supposed it was better than the hateful slurs his PR team were battling to keep off the photo.

“Hey,” Logan took the seat next to Finn where he’d slumped himself at the dining table. “Look at me.” Finn lifted his head, meeting Logan’s eyes, the deep green something he wanted to get lost in right now. He thought Logan was going to ask for the thousandth time if Finn wanted him to delete it, but all he got was the fierce, determined gaze Logan sported on the ice. “This is going to pass. Tomorrow, somebody will cheat on somebody and you will be old news. Do you want to see something?”

Finn nodded. He didn’t know what he was consenting to, but he trusted Logan to make it something that would make him smile. Leo dragged another of the chairs around to sit on Finn’s left hand side, setting his confiscated cell in front of him, the Instagram app open to Thomas’ profile. Logan leaned forward, tapping on the latest photo.

Thomas’ smile was wide as he sat on a window sill, kicking out the long zebra print skirt cloaking his legs. The caption underneath read ‘You’re just jealous that I wear it better than you! #boyswearskirtstoo’

“That’s -”

“Wait a second,” Logan reached for the phone again, setting it down with a picture of James’ visible. He was wearing an ochre coloured corduroy skirt that clearly belonged to Lily, the fabric straining on thighs. I’m feeling myself in this, tbh. Please hold whilst I order one in my size #boys wearskirtstoo.

Finn snorted, the sound wet with the tears he was struggling to hold back.

The hashtags kept coming.

Cap and Loops in their respective jersey’s tucked into pleated skirts. These Lions know fashion is not gendered #boyswearskirtstoo

Ollie in a shimmering gold knee length piece. Shine bright! #boyswearskirtstoo

Nado, Kuny, Smitty and Kane, arms slung around one another's shoulders, all wearing varying shades of pink. On Wednesdays, we wear pink #boyswearskirtstoo. Finn would bet good money that Kuny was behind that caption.

Dumo, Sergei and their wives, alongside their troupe of children, each one of them wearing a different coloured tutu. Dumo had opted to just include the hashtag, or rather his social media team had, because the man himself most definitely did not know how to upload the photo.

Kasey and Natalie looked effortlessly cool dressed in white tennis skirts and floral bomber jackets. I’m not sure what all the fuss is about? #boyswearskirtstoo

Alex was wearing a very similar black skirt to Finn's in his photo. Who wore it better? #boyswearskirtstoo #thatsmylittlebrother

“He’s an idiot, but I love him,” Finn laughed wetly.

“There’s more,” Logan smirked as he tapped at the screen again, almost brimming with an excited energy. He placed the cell back down, leaving his hand to block the next photo a little longer. Finn grabbed the device as soon as Logan revealed the image.

It was perfect.

Leo and Logan lounged on the sofa, a little further apart than they would normally sit. Leo clutching his favourite mug and Logan with sketchpad in hand. They both looked easy in their outfits, as if the skirts were a part of them. Leo’s was long, hitting just above his ankle, a navy lining coated in a tulle that was embellished with celestial bodies. Logan was looking at the camera, his eyes just visible under the brim of his cap. His skirt was shorter, the denim flaring over his thick thighs. In this house we respect people’s right to wear whatever the fuck they want #boyswearskirtstoo

Finn stopped trying to fight the tears, letting the moisture well in his eyes. “Thank you,” he choked out, pushing himself from his chair. Leo and Logan had their arms around him before he could ask. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you.” He couldn’t seem to make the words stop, his body shaking with sobs, his boyfriend’s arms remaining sure around him until Finn wiped at his face and muttered an apology. “Sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologise for.” Leo swept his thumb over Finn’s cheek, wiping away a stray tear. “What can we do? What do you need?”

Finn let out a heavy breath, leaning into Logan’s hold. “I think I want to send a thank you to the group chat and then snacks and cuddles? I can deal with the world tomorrow.”

“Okay then, snacks and cuddles. We deal with the world tomorrow.”

[farfarawaygirl]

Would love to hear your thoughts/speculation on where we go for the rest of S4 after watching the next episode’s promo & based on Alexi’s latest interviews! I’m interested in (finally) seeing a Lucy storyline and what route the writers are (hopefully, fingers crossed) planning on taking with Chenford. Not really that pumped to see Bailey’s storyline, though I do find it funny that they brought in Jenna’s real life partner to play her ex

(This was sent to me after 4x09, but I currently have 48 asks in my inbox, and I took some time for myself after Christmas! Apologies to the ask sender for the delay, and also, thank you for the ask!)

Alexi gave three interviews after the winter finale, all of which essentially said that he was still trying to decided how to do Chenford, that he loves Bailey/Jenna and that he kind of thinks shippers are beneath him. 🙄 I’m not overly surprised. I think Alexi is not someone who has great emotional intelligence - he struggles to see opinions different than his own, and he feels like a hug man on campus, which means he forgets to care about portions of his fan base.

I am at a loss as to why Bailey is getting so much screen time, why her story is given to us at the expense of Nyla, Angela and Lucy. Each of these ladies has a trauma plot we could easily dive into, instead we get Bailey rehashing a domestic violence plot with Jenna’s real life husband. I shared a while back that myself and a few others think this is happening because Alexi wants a clear cut Male Lead and Female Lead, especially in the era after losing Titus. I still don’t care for Bailey.

The new promo is v v v Nolan/Bailey heavy, and I just don’t care? Luckily the episode stills show us more then just them!

In 4x10 we did see Lucy make some proactive moves - she saw a situation, and understood the outcomes and she used her position to do good. This was a return to the Lucy of olden days who wrote out extra pages on a report to reflect that the mental status of an offender was important. Seeing Lucy work with James and Wes was kind of fun, up until the gamble didn’t pay off. I still stand by Lucy doing what she did. Sometimes all you need is one person to believe in you - look at her past puppies!

What I was not a fan of was Chris Sanford. Maybe that is the point? Maybe they want us to see us Lucy go up against a guy who isn’t Tim? There was a text going around that showed Eric saying Tim knew Chris - maybe he’s here more for Tim over Lucy?

I would love to see more of Tim and Lucy being a team - on and off the clock. I hope that we get more of that in the rest of season 4! Or a good Chenford fight. I’d love that. I want Lucy to save Tim somehow. Or there to be a life and death situation.

I have a lot of hopes and dreams.

How about you? What do you see happening?