#this is horrendously self indulgent... WELL!!!!

[jahiera]

2, 3, and 5 under general for companion!emrys?also 12 for story-specific and 7 for romance if thats not too many fndhsh. i am so so curious, i adore emrys so much

tav as companion asks! thank you so much!!! reading about TAV was such a delight and. well. I kind of went off the rails in here, but I had fun, SO. thank YOU. <3

5. Are there any instances where your Tav can permanently leave the party, depending on player character actions?

-Slaughtering the tieflings at the Grove on purpose (if Arabella dies, she wants to fight Kagha & the druids right then and there, so there's... uhh. leeway here. for druid murder. sadly.) -Killing Isobel or Aylin outright and then doubling down on it, due to what happens to the whole inn (insert wild essay about the dark urge in here), and not by accident or circumstance + not without remorse.

and she won't leave, but disapproval for letting the hag keep mayrina or ditching the grove to be overrun or letting the tieflings be ousted by the druids, harming any of the tiefing kids, unnecessary cruelty toward victims or those weaker than you, generally dislikes conning it up with the zhentarim in act 1 (doesn't mind killing them.....), betraying another companion (so turning over astarion to the gur hunter, or karlach over to wyll, she would Not like that shit.) overall, being forthright with her and honest + be firm and resolute in your beliefs, even if she doesn't agree with you, will win her respect fastest. she's fairly, uhh. Violent? so she guns for smite first, think second, and over the course of the game she calms down more. act 1 she's like "and then I started smiting" at every other turn.

12. Is it possible for your Tav to be kidnapped and replaced by Orin? How is Orin's deception revealed? How do they react to the PC rescuing them in the Temple of Bhaal?

See I fucking LOVE this concept & I wish that orin would've taken your highest approval or RO companion ... it would've added so much more tension. Anyways, yes, of course, and her Orin Scene is her leveling a sword either at the player if they've been more ambiguous, or at another companion, stating that her oath demands they all die for what they've done, getting more and more vividly disgusted until of course. Orin mocks her ruthlessly for her oath-keeping. after everything that happens, emrys experiences a lot of internal shame & personal disgust for being taken, for being too weak to stop her; it weighs heavily. orin is someone she really, really wanted to strike down.

and I took the rest for ridiculous dialogue testing so... woe, DIALOGUE be upon ye.

7. What questions can Zethino ask the PC about Tav in the Love Test?

what is her most prized possession?

her sword -- Emrys grunts, looking askance. "Fair enough." but she's clearly not pleased.

her hair -- She runs a hand over her bound red curls, tied at the nape of her neck. "Was thinkin' of cutting it off, actually. Think that answers that question." and she rolls her eyes.

she doesn't have one -- Emrys chuckles softly, nodding. "Aye. No point in gettin' hung up on nonsense like that. Anything can be replaced."

2. where does she feel safest?

in a temple, praying -- Emrys shifts uncomfortably, looking away. No answer. She doesn't want to say no.

when she's impervious to most forms of physical attack -- A hard snort, and she shakes her head. "'s not wrong. 's not right either, though."

when she's alone -- A pause, then she slowly nods, "but I like bein' with you too. Sometimes." she gruffs out, though a small smile sits on her face.

3. what does emrys care for most?

tyr, of course. -- "Be praised." But there's a strain to her words and a flinch in her face.

saving squirrels in trees -- "Is that some kind of joke?" Emrys scowls a little, words biting, her voice losing its usual monotonous level.

protecting others. though sometimes she forgets herself. -- "I remember you." A soft, firm answer, tone low and warm.

3. Does your Tav have any comments or advice when you recruit other companions?

[ON RECRUITING ASTARION] hmm.... (long pause). 's your neck alright? that was a nasty trick he pulled. don't worry, I'll watch your back around the lad.

[ON RECRUITING GALE] haven't been around many wizards... do you think he'd-- no, never mind. (<- she was thinking about getting "fly" cast on her.)

[ON RECRUITING SHADOWHEART] shadowheart... 'bout as forthright as you'd expect with a name like that, huh. lovely, though.

[ON RECRUITING WYLL] the blade of frontiers, eh? heard of him. be interesting to see him in action.

[ON RECRUITING KARLACH] karlach’s got the kind of strength I could only hope for one day. glad she’s on our side.

[ON RECRUITING LAE'ZEL] I've never met a gith before... I've read of 'em, though. you think she'd mind if I asked her a few questions?

[ON RECRUITING HALSIN] Hm. (<- disapproving silence.) I only hope he left the grove in capable hands. abandoning post like that.... (she rolls her eyes, shakes her head; nothing else to say on that.)

[ON RECRUITING MINTHARA, without grove murder, ideal world] you ever think-- y'know, we've put down a lot of those absolutists... wonder if they'd all feel like she did if they had our--immunity, or what have you.

2. Do the other companions have special comments or reactions upon recruiting your Tav?

sorry I saw my chance to be REALLY insufferable & test some dialogue voices in the process. woe, DIALOGUE be upon ye.

ASTARION: we've picked up a paladin of tyr. isn't that... quaint. so long as she keeps all of-- well, that on the other side of the camp, I'm sure we'll get along fine. EMRYS: aye. I'll contain myself if you do.

SHADOWHEART: emrys certainly seems... hm, formidable. only time will tell if that code of hers will prove more hindrance than help to us.

WYLL: it will be interesting to fight alongside tarian. she seems to know her own heart, and that's plenty admirable.

GALE: I've known a few tyrrans in my time. they tend to be rather of the stiffer variety, but at least we can trust what to expect from her, and that certainly can't be taken for granted in times like these.

KARLACH: I hope she doesn't get offended at us, y'know, offing the bastards up at the tollhouse. EMRYS: why would I get in your way? they've wronged you, most terribly, and we'll see justice done by sundown. KARLACH: oh, fuck yeah. knew there was a reason I liked you.

LAE'ZEL: the paladin's battle prowess is to be commended, if nothing else. leave her with wyll, I am sure they will get along well enough. (<- intended as an insult toward the do-gooding.)

[ventiswampwater]

GORL.............we are popping the BIGGEST bottles 🍾🥂🎉

[riftwalker-limbro]

due to extensive screaming and rotations (thanks @space-ninja-fashion-show) the second dream is being put on hold until i've written at least the outline for how vince & verica met & got together

[gingerbloof]

cough syrup (astarion x sick gn!tav)

contents: fluff, sick, stubborn tav, astarion being sweet, mentions of hunting, mentions of other companions (Shadowheart), medicine, kissing, sexual innuendo authors note: hii all, i'm still down with covid, unfortunately, but i hope this self indulgent fic will suffice for now! thank you all for the love on my past fics. i really apprecaite you all. please enjoy! word count: 1,726

You woke in the middle of the night, sweat trickling down your forehead despite your shivering. Gods, you were freezing…

The moon was full and big in the sky, and even the soft rays of moonlight made your head throb. You groan softly and sit up. As soon as you did, a horrendous sounding cough escaped your chest.

Oh, Gods… Please don’t be sick…

You swallowed thickly, your throat stinging in pain and parched. You slowly get up, careful not to wake anyone and make your way down by the river to get some water. You stumble a bit, your head pounding and your ears full. You knelt down by the bank and cupped your hands in the water. The coolness of it made you shiver even more. You brought your hands to your lips and drank down the water, your throat stinging in reply. Another ghastly cough left you, filling the silent night. You tried to muffle it as much as you could so you didn’t wake anyone.

Your head throbbed even more with each cough, every movement proving exhausting. You tried to stand, but your legs wobbled and you tipped over. Before your bottom could hit the dirt, a swift pair of arms caught you. A soft, familiar chuckle was heard from behind you, but you were too delirious to realize who it was, but as soon as a honeyed, yet snarky voice met your ears, you instantly knew who it was.

“Clumsy this evening, are we, my dear?”

“Astarion…” You hoarsely greeted him. 

There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that you two cared for each other. Astarion had even admitted it a couple weeks ago, though neither of you really knew what this was. Regardless, he had been a sweet and careful partner thus far, and you admired him more and more for that as each day passed.

He helped to shift you back onto your feet. You wobbled a bit as you regained your balance, trying your best to hide your illness. You cleared your throat nasally as you looked at him.

“I’m sorry, love. Did I wake you?” You asked, trying to keep your voice as still and well sounding as possible. “No, no,” He said, licking some blood off the back of his hand that you had barely noticed. “I just got back from hunting. Your neck is safe for tonight, my dear,” He gave you a playful wink. You chuckled softly, another cough escaping you. You tried to cut it short, but you struggled as you went into a short coughing fit. His face grew with worry as he stepped closer to you, rubbing your back gently.

“Goodness, my sweet… You sound positively dreadful,” He said, a tone of worry replacing his usual honeyed voice. “Are you ill?” He asked. You shook your head, your coughs residing for now. “N-No,” You struggled to speak, phlegm coating the back of your throat. “Just a sore throat is all.”

A chuckle left the pale elf’s lips, shaking his head. “My love, I can hear the way your lungs are struggling right now. This is no sore throat,” He stood in front of you and placed the back of his hand on your forehead, humming softly. “As I suspected. You’ve a fever… You poor thing,” He cooed, trying to place a gentle kiss on your dry lips. You pursed your lips and turned your head away. “Mm-nm, Astarion. I don’t want to get you sick…” 

He let out a soft laugh. “Darling, may I remind you… I’m a vampire,” He smirked. “I don’t fall ill unless I haven’t fed. Now, come. You are going back to bed,” He kissed your lips successfully this time, and swiftly lifted you into his arms bridal style. You let out a soft sound of surprise and instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck. 

Before you knew it you were laying back down, but not in your own bedroll. In Astarion’s. He spoke a gentle “Won’t be moment, dear,” Before he hurried off to gather some extra blankets. He came back a few moments later and wrapped you up snugly in them. He obviously loved coddling you like this, because you saw a faint smile on his face as you cooed in content at the warmness of the blankets.

He tucked some loose strands of hair behind your ear and placed a soft peck on your forehead. “Sleep, now, love. I’ll go and see if our healing friends can do anything about this come morning.” You nodded slowly, feeling the everloving embrace of not only your partner, but sleep overcome you.

You woke a few hours later in yet another coughing fit. You sat up so you could catch your breath and notice Astarion is no longer with you. You looked over to the flaps of the tent and they were tightly closed. The sun had risen and the very few rays of light that came into the tent practically blinded you as you slowly opened your eyes.

You heard the sounds of Astarion’s and Shadowheart’s voices just outside the tent, slightly bickering.

“What sort of cleric are you if you can’t heal them?” You heard Astarion scoff. You could practically picture the way he was standing; arms crossed, a slight pout on his face and very defensive. Shadowheart sighed hopelessly. “As much as I would like to heal Tav, whatever has infected them will not heal simply with magic…” She said reluctantly. “It’s not fatal, if that’s what you’re worried about. Unfortunately, however, they will have to face this the old fashioned way; by simply resting and natural remedies.” Astarion sighed, defeated. “Alright… Well, thank you for trying. Now, shoo. Or you’ll be ill next,” He said.

You heard Shadowheart’s footsteps walk away before the flaps of the tent slowly, carefully opened. As he shut them tightly, another coughing fit took over you. You were positively drenched with sweat and your entire body ached. You felt like death.

Astarion quickly turned to you and cupped your face in his cool hands, his face deep with worry. “Oh, my poor little love…” He cooed. He shifted beside you and rubbed your back as you kept coughing. Tears formed in your eyes as you struggled to take in a breath, every attempt causing you to cough even harder.

Astarion frantically searched his tent for anything to help soothe the cough, even if it was temporary. He quickly grabbed a bottle of simple cough syrup that Shadowheart had given him and poured you a cap full. He handed it to you as your coughing fit slowly started to stop. You waved your head in dismissal, shaking your head. “No, love…” You said, each word scratching and gnawing at your throat. “I’m fine.” You insisted. Astarion huffed, not budging and shoving the cap toward you again.

“Right, and I adore Gale,” He said sarcastically. This made you roll your eyes. You looked at him and he wore a stern, yet pleading expression. “Take the medicine, my love.” He said, holding the cap in front of you.

Your nose curled up in disgust as you eyed the thick red liquid. Ever since you were a child you hated medicine. Your mother had to practically hold you down and force you to take it because you hated it so much. You grumbled and shook your head at him.

He sighed, and raised a hand in defense. “Alright, if you’re so sure…” He begrudgingly gave in, taking the cap away from you. You smirk in success, a lighthearted “Hmph” leaving your lips. He smirked at you and shook his head. “Even sick, you are the cheekiest little pup, aren’t you?” He purred. You flushed through your already reddened face and looked away meekly. 

A moment passed, then his cold fingers took your chin and led your head back to face him. He smiled warmly and leaned in to you, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. You smiled into the kiss. He briefly swiped his tongue across your bottom lip, asking for access to your mouth. When you complied and parted your lips, you suddenly tasted a disgusting fluid entering your mouth. 

Cough syrup…

He kept his lips firmly against yours, forcing you to swallow. You shoved him away weakly, your face scrunching up in disgust once again. You stuck your tongue out in disgust. “Blech!!”

That sneaky bastard…

“Ughh, Astarion!” You groaned, the sickly sweet fluid coating your throat, already starting to alleviate some pain. He laughed successfully and hard, falling over onto his side, clutching his stomach. You pouted at him as he laughed. “That wasn’t funny…” You whined, crossing your arms.

He sighed happily, wiping a tear of joy from his eye. He sat up and kissed your nose sweetly. “Oh, my dear, you are too easy!” He scooted so he was next to you and propped up on his elbow on his side, giving you a devilish smirk. 

You rolled your eyes and couldn’t help but chuckle. “You asshole,” You said, curling up under your covers again. He giggled and shrugged. “I mean, it was either that, or I could’ve put it on my-” You gasped and quickly sat up, hushing him. “Astarion!” You said, shocked at the audacity of him. He laughed once again, laying you back down.

“You would’ve taken it then, wouldn’t you?” He asked, his smirk growing. You shook your head and scoffed, allowing him to lay you back down. “Shut up,” You said, nuzzling your face into his chest. He chuckled and kissed the crown of your head, wrapping his arms snugly around you.

You both stayed there for the rest of the day while your other companions went out to travel. You slept most of the day, although you were interrupted by a couple of coughing fits, thankfully not as bad now that you had taken something. All throughout the day, whether you were sleeping or not, Astarion would check in on you and check to see if your fever had broken, which it did after a few hours. He brought a damp rag to place on your forehead and would read to you while you would drift back to sleep.

He was the sweetest, most compassionate lover you had ever had… As long as you had him to take care of you, maybe being sick wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

[bbydeathclaw]

Petulance

pairing: silco x fem!reader (nsfw)

AO3

summary: Silco sends you away to try to get some work done and you decide to be a horrendous little shit about it.

tags: fluff, smut, established relationship, fingering, oral sex (f!receiving), good ol' mating press, teasing, bratty reader, simp silco

word count: 5.4k

adorably aesthetic mdni banner by @cafekitsune

a/n: hello! this is my first time writing in a looong while almost 10 years to be exact please don't look at me. but I had to get back into it with this shamelessly self indulgent fic of my favorite brooding king pin. I hope you enjoy!

Silco had thought it a bit odd at first, the ease with which you’d taken your leave from his office tonight. Ordinarily when he’d attempt to send you away in favor of getting his paperwork done in a more timely manner, you’d put up some form of sulky little protest.

An overemphasized pout coupled with a look of feigned sadness, eyebrows furrowed together when you’d offer to assist him with said work. Your reason being that it would ‘probably get done faster’ between the two of you. 

A lie, and a blatant one at that. You were, on all counts, absolutely shit at keeping your focus on any tasks he’d try to give you. You knew it. He most certainly knew it. Truly he’d wonder why you’d even bother offering at all if you just spent most of the time trying to distract him anyway. 

Still, he can’t say he isn’t amused by your actions. He finds these juvenile acts of yours terribly endearing for the most part, and even starts to look forward to them, knowing full well that he'll give in to just about anything if you’d simply ask it of him. 

Which is why he can’t help but feel somewhat disappointed when you don’t do any of this at all, and Silco starts to regret his idiotic suggestion entirely until you throw a cheeky smirk his way instead. 

“Alright, I think I’ll go bug Sevika for a bit.”

A single eyebrow quirk, followed by a low hum of approval. 

“I’m sure she’ll be positively thrilled by that,” he replies, suppressing a smirk of his own at the thought of his second in command being pestered by someone almost half her size. 

He’s still disheartened by your willingness to leave, but ultimately makes peace with it knowing that you’d more than likely return at some point. You give him a small wave with your fingers followed by a wink over your shoulder, and Silco doesn't hesitate to drag his gaze over your body shamelessly as it saunters out of his office.

About an hour passes, and the music coming from downstairs is just starting to pick up for the evening. You enter the room with a fluid sidestep, leaning back against the door once it closes behind you. His good brow raises slightly. “Back so soon?”

You don’t answer at first, instead making your way over to one of the tables in his office, like a cat quietly stalking about until something catches its interest. He watches you methodically as you settle for one of Jinx’s old trinkets that had been long discarded, carefully turning it over in your hand. “Sevika called me a menace.”

This time he makes no attempt to hide the subtle upturn from the corner of his lips. “I’m afraid I’m inclined to agree with her, my dear.”

“She seems pretty cranky tonight.” 

“Hm, surely through absolutely no fault of your own.”

You bite the inside of your cheek in what he can only assume is an attempt to stifle a giggle before turning to face him with an adorably giddy expression that makes his chest tighten. 

“Whatcha doin’?” 

So innocent, as if you were completely unaware of the effect you had on him. Silco doesn’t answer you verbally, merely bringing his forehead to rest against his hand and lifting the piece of paper he’s holding in the air with the other. The sullen face you make doesn’t go unnoticed by him as you turn to put the gadget back down with an airy sigh.

“Well,” you drag the word out. “I guess I’d better let you get back to it.”  

“Yes, that would be nice,” he says in turn, though it comes off more teasing rather than the displeasure he’s trying to convey. 

You study his face for another beat or two before you finally respond. “Okay, if that’s really what you want.” It’s not. Not even in the slightest. “I’ll go see if Thieram needs any help at the bar.”

“My love, Theiram is more than capable of handling his responsibilities as a bartender alone. It’s why I hired him, in fact.” He pauses. “Have you perhaps considered staying up here and behaving yourself, rather than looking for more ways to wreak havoc amongst my employees?” 

For a moment Silco thinks that he may be tipping his hand too soon, fearing that you’ve caught on to the fact that he’s basically been doing fuck all except sitting here and waiting for you to come back to his office. His suspicion only rises with the way you’re tilting your head and downright beaming at him with ill-disguised glee, like you’d been reading his every thought. 

“If I stayed up here it certainly wouldn’t be to behave myself.”

The paper he’s holding makes an audible crunch sound, his hand crumpling the edge of it faintly in response to your suggestive remark. 

Before he has the chance to reply with some snarky comment, you’re already heading towards the door, making a show of swaying your hips and giving him another view of the delicious swell of your backside before you take your leave again. His chair makes an audible groan as he leans back against it and lets out a lengthy sigh, running a hand through his hair and glancing down into his lap at the result of your seemingly endless torment.

Intolerable minx.

By the third time you make your way back up, only about half an hour has passed, and Silco’s all but given up on the prospects of getting any semblance of work done tonight. His thoughts being entirely permeated by you and the state you’d left him in. 

The Last Drop is in full swing now, and the liveliness of everything going on downstairs comes through the open door as you re-enter his office. However this time, he makes no effort to acknowledge your arrival, his chair now facing away from his desk, turned instead towards the large stained glass window that bathes him in a sickly, pale green light. All the noise from the club gets muffled when the door shuts once again, followed by the sound of purposeful footsteps making their way over to him.

“Welcome back,” he states flatly, trying to sound as disinterested as he can manage in his current predicament while he looks over his clipboard in a vain attempt at trying to salvage what was supposed to be a productive evening.

“Hello there, almighty Eye of Zaun,” you chime back with a playful lilt in your voice. “Did you miss me?”

Silco’s eyes tick upwards and stare blankly at the window straight ahead, actively suppressing the urge to let out another heavy sigh. You were going to be the death of him at this rate, there was absolutely no doubt in his mind. How you managed to be both so insufferable and still so unbelievably charming he’ll never quite understand. Before he has the chance to turn his chair with an already fixed scowl, he hears a faint thud behind him, the distinct sound of glass meeting wood only slightly muted by a soft shuffling of papers. 

A few seconds pass before Silco finally spins around to face you, seeing that a tumbler has been set down right on top of the paperwork he had been ruminating over all night. He’s also greeted by the sight of you already sitting in a chair directly in front of his desk, grinning from ear to ear. His heart swells at the sight and his scowl gradually melts away, only to be replaced by something more along the lines of skepticism when he takes in your expression fully. 

Your smile is accompanied by what appears to be a look of pure satisfaction, though he has no clue as to why. His non-discolored eye narrows at you, like a parent trying to figure out what misdeed their child has committed behind their back. 

Silco regards you warily for another moment, taking in every minute detail of your face in hopes of detecting something that might give you away while he reaches for the glass set in front of him. Ice clinks against the sides as he swirls it around before bringing it to his lips, taking a long sip followed by a hum of appreciation. His eyes shoot back up to meet yours, and finds you now biting your lip while trying, and failing, to suppress a huge grin. 

You’re definitely up to something, that much he’s certain of now, and the fact that he still can’t figure out what it is causes his previously feigned discontent to turn into more of a bubbling frustration, having just about enough of whatever game you’re playing. A fleeting thought crosses his mind as he glances down at the drink now dangling from his fingertips, then back up to you. 

Silco knows you’ve taken in the brief look of suspicion on his face when you let out a laugh that, despite the visible displeasure he's exuding towards you, is still one of the sweetest sounds he's ever heard.

“I didn’t poison you, if that’s what you’re wondering,” you quip, clearly amused at the implication.

“At this point I would be grateful if you did.”

You laugh again, but it comes out more like a short exhale through your nose along with a relaxed grin, taking a sip of your own beverage, and Silco’s good eye narrows at you once again. 

“Are you drunk?”

“What? No.”

Silence.

“Then what did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything.”

He practically glares at you for what feels like a considerable amount of time before it finally dawns on him that you haven’t left yet. 

“Did you need something darling? Or have you just come to find more ways to elicit whatever reaction you’ve been hoping for this evening?” Silco brings the tumbler to his mouth once more, letting it hover there momentarily in order to get the rest of his words out. “Because if the intended reaction was to see how far you can test my patience I can assure you-” 

Words die on his lips immediately when you make a move to stand, mismatched eyes shooting down to your waist to see what appears to be quite possibly the shortest skirt he’s ever seen you in, leaving so very little to the imagination.

He’s still holding the glass right up to his face while he watches you make your way around the only obstacle that separates the two of you before hopping onto one of the corners, your butt and thighs jiggling faintly when they make contact with the solid piece of furniture. “I just figured you could use a drink after such a long night of hard work. Is that so wrong?”

Silco tracks your movements with an almost predatory fixation, watching you lean back slightly to rest against your arms, crossing one leg over the other and he has to actively resist the urge to scoff. This thing is hardly covering anything, you’re essentially sitting there with your bare ass on his desk. The realization of that along with the sight of everything you’re showing has his cock hardening at an alarming rate.

You don’t seem to notice, or if you do you don’t say anything, eyebrows knitting together in a poorly disguised attempt at looking genuinely worried. “What’s wrong? You don’t look very happy to see me.” 

Silco sets the glass down onto his desk with a bit more force than intended, turning his chair to face all the way forward and bringing his mouth to rest against interlocked fingers. Any moment now he’s expecting you to hop right off that corner and make your way back downstairs, back to a place filled with depraved and perverted onlookers. 

Realistically he knows no harm would ever befall you while you were down in the Last Drop. All of his subordinates had been given clear instruction to keep a watchful eye on you at all times, and after a while a lot of them had started to do it less out of obligation and more so out of genuine care, especially Jinx and Sevika. 

Plus, he knows you can hold your own in a fight. Growing up in the undercity had hardened you just enough to make you a scrappy but formidable opponent. So logically speaking, Silco knows there's no safer place for you to be, but the thought of anyone other than himself seeing you in that, especially the less than respectable patrons that frequent his establishment nearly every night, makes his blood boil.

“Of course I'm happy to see you, my dear,” he retorts, turning his head to look over at you once more, eyes darting downwards to that indecent piece of fabric wrapped around your waist then back up to meet your gaze. “It's just that I'm seeing quite a lot of you at the moment, and if you go back downstairs, so will everyone else.” His last words come out strained as he shifts in his chair in a poor attempt to alleviate his growing erection.

“Oh, you mean my skirt? Is there…something wrong with it?” You lift your hips to take the tiniest of scoots towards him, and Silco’s eyes immediately hone in on the action. 

“Don’t be cheeky.”

Another scoot. “I’m afraid that can’t be helped, especially in this.”

At this point he wouldn’t be surprised if you really are trying to kill him, taking controlled and steady breaths while he attempts to suppress his growing ire in response to such a ridiculous question. Of course there’s something wrong with it. Silco’s sure he’d nearly be able to see the soft outline of your mound if you were to spread your legs, even in the slightest.

He lets out another deep breath before picking up his pen and casually scribbling his signature on one of the invoices strewn about in front of him. “You will not be going back down there like that.”

He’s not looking at you, but Silco can see the movements of you moving closer out of the corner of his unmarred eye.

“Are you..asking me to stay?” 

He doesn’t respond, instead electing to take another piece of paper to scrawl his name at the bottom offhandedly. He knows what you’re playing at, the fact that it took him so long to realize it irks him to no end. He wouldn’t mind answering honestly and just telling you that yes, he does want you to stay, but the thought of giving into your bratty little antics this evening doesn’t sit quite right with him. 

Which is why he makes the conscious decision to ignore you as you move close enough to where your upper leg is now narrowly brushing his elbow, the shift causing him to mess up the tail end of another signature. Silco chances a glance towards the movement and regrets it almost immediately when he takes in the soft curve of your thigh, his cock twitching painfully at the sight.

He makes his second mistake when he follows the tantalizing trail of your body upwards and is met with the most unabashed, shit eating grin plastered across your face. He has to force himself to look away, the hand not holding his pen coming up to drag his long fingers back and forth across his mouth as he contemplates the idea of sending you away all together, leaving you pouty and disappointed. And for a moment he comes close to doing just that, until he makes the grave error of risking a glance up at your face again.

You’re not smiling anymore, expression replaced by something far more lustful and serious. Silco simply stares as your tongue slides out to pull your bottom lip in between your teeth before gently nudging his elbow with your knee. He doesn’t hesitate in dropping his arm to offer you the space in front of him, and you slide over gracefully. He stays perfectly still while you plant a foot atop each of the armrests of his ornate chair, knees pressed tightly together.

He finally responds to your earlier question with one of his own. 

“What would possibly give you that idea?” His voice is light and teasing, all traces of anger gone. “You’ve been nothing short of a nightmare all evening, love. And now this?” Fingertips come up to stroke the side of your calf, humming appreciatively.  “What am I going to do with you?”

This earns Silco a wide, toothy grin as you scoot forward. “Whatever do you mean? I’m just sitting here.”

“Don't be coy with me, sweetheart.” He leans forward, breath fanning over your knees as he speaks. “Be a good girl and tell me what you want.”

“I want you,” knees parting just barely, “to answer my question.”

Silco pushes his tongue against his cheek in minor annoyance before sliding both hands up your legs and over your knees, then back down until he reaches your hips. He grips firmly at the supple flesh and yanks you closer towards him, eliciting a sharp squeak followed by a string of giggles.

“I think you might be the most aggravating creature I’ve ever had the displeasure of courting.”

Your face adorns a look of mock appreciation. “Awe, thank you!”

Slender hands travel back up to your knees. “Truly just a tantalizing little menace.” He waits for you to part them further, granting him the access he’s so desperately craving. “One that I’m both drawn to and irritated by all at once.”

Your smile is nothing short of haughty, as if you’re truly taking everything he’s telling you as a compliment. “Well now you’ve really got me hot and bothered,” you shoot back, knees moving further away from each other until you’re spread all the way open for him.

Although spoken in a sarcastic tone, Silco sees that your words are in fact true, his eyes taking in the sight of your already dripping cunt.

“Indulge me, sweetheart,” he says, one hand coming up to trace the backs of your thighs with his knuckles, causing goosebumps to decorate your soft skin. “Why the need to be so difficult tonight?” 

You shiver at the touch, bottom lip still tucked between your teeth as he brings a thumb up to stroke lazily over your pussy. 

“J-just for fun,” you retort, but your voice doesn’t hold the same conviction. “Wanted to see..how long it would take.”

“How long what would take?”

The laugh you let out is shaky at best, but there’s still a bit of confidence left when you answer. “For you to ask me to stay.”

It only takes about half a second before Silco’s thumb pushes into your core and his tongue cards a long, hot stripe along your folds. The noise you make spurring him on further as his mouth envelopes your clit, giving it a harsh suck before pulling away with a satisfying wet plop sound.

“I don’t recall asking anything of the sort,” he chides, sliding his thumb back out. “If memory serves me correctly, you came into my office several times practically demanding my attention.”

Silco punctuates his last few words by pushing two fingers into you, pulling another sharp inhale from your lips as he turns his palm to face upward and curls them inside of you.

“Has it ever occurred to you,” he starts, bringing his thumb to circle against your now swollen clit, drawing a long whine out of you as you work your hips against him. “..that perhaps I attempt to send you away in order to finish with my tasks quickly, just so I can get back to doting on you with said attention? Selfish little creature.”

Your eyebrows pinch together, speaking between shallow breaths. “You.. could have just.. said that.. you know.”

Silco smirks, watching you look back at him with a pair of pleading eyes. “And deny myself the pleasure of seeing your lovely pouts and open displays of petulance?” He adds a third finger. “I think not.” 

“Silco,” you whine, “please.”

His cock twitches in response, and he doesn’t waste any time bringing his mouth back down to your bud and swirling his tongue around it lavishly while his fingers twist and turn inside of you. He watches you throw your head back, one of your hands snaking upwards to grip the edge of the desk above your head, the other coming to latch onto the top of his head hard as you roll your hips against him. 

“There, that’s it,” he coos, “show me how eager you are. Use me.” 

This draws another string of small gasps and moans from you, coupled with lewd, wet, slurping sounds as Silco continues to lap and suck at your clit, bringing his free hand to grip your thigh and anchor you to him. The strain in his pants grows increasingly more painful when you sigh his name affectionately, followed by a noise of protest when he removes his fingers from you all together in an effort to tug at intricate buttons of his trousers, freeing his aching cock and palming himself to the sight of your ruined state. 

Your arousal coating his fingers serves as a welcome lubricant for him to stroke himself languidly, relishing in the feeling of you bucking up into him, using him to chase your own end. His licks are hot and thorough, leaving no part of your heat untouched.

“Yes,” Silco groans into you, “just like that.”  

Your other hand comes down to unbutton your top, cupping and squeezing at one of your breasts, and he knows you’re close by the way you’re begging and pleading above him. The sound of your voice feeds into his determination, letting go of his cock in order to wrap both arms around your thighs, securing you in place and devouring you like a starved man.

The way you cry out his name while your walls flutter around his tongue has him reeling, mismatched eyes boring into you, watching your orgasm in complete reverence as your fluids run down his chin.

“Good girl,” Silco sighs, his movements slowing down to let you ride out your climax. “You always make such sweet sounds for me.” 

Your legs tremble and the vicelike grasp you have on his hair loosens before you slump back down onto his desk, words barely managing to come through your short and labored breaths.

“Could've been making them a lot earlier if you’d…stop trying to kick me out.”

A hint of a smile creeps up on his face as he presses small, feather light kisses up the backs of your thighs, leaving glistening spots of your slick behind in their wake. “You know, it is possible to keep your unsolicited remarks to yourself every once in a while.”

Yours breaks into a devious grin that tugs at his heart without mercy. “Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?” 

“Mmm, point taken.” 

Silco stands to turn your body so that you’re taking up the full length of his desk before climbing up onto it and bracing himself with a hand on either side of your head. His length bobs thick and heavy with need, bringing it to rest against your slit.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

You roll your hips against him needily, coating his cock with your arousal. “Maybe.”

“You drive me absolutely mad,” he growls, voice dripping with carnal hunger as he pushes your legs up against your chest once again, lining himself up with your entrance. And it’s the way you're looking up at him with your lip tucked in between your teeth in anticipation, the slight inward curl of your eyebrows in an almost pleading expression that has him pushing into you in one, smooth buck forward, making you gasp as he bottoms out inside of you.

Silco sees your eyes roll back, and he has to physically stop himself from doing the same. He wants to see it all, wants to see your blissed out expression while he fucks you, wants to see all the different ways he can make you come undone beneath him.

You make a pitiful attempt at stifling a moan, one that ultimately fails when Silco starts to rock his hips against yours, pulling them back slowly and savoring the feeling of his cock dragging along your walls before driving them forward with a sharp, pointed thrust. But he’s right there with you, exhaling a throaty groan at the feeling of your walls engulfing him so deliciously, the sensation being nothing short of divine.

“Look at you, taking me so well,” he whispers, lowering his head and tilting it to place gentle kisses along your jawline before nipping at your earlobe. “Like we were made for each other.”

The breathy whine this elicits causes him to straighten himself upright again, picking up his pace steadily, and soon the room is filled with the obscene, wet smacking of skin against skin as Silco begins to pump into you with feral-like need. He readjusts your legs so that your calves are hooked over his shoulders, letting him fuck you so much deeper. 

You’re a mess of broken pleas beneath him, and he clings to every single one, a symphony meant solely for him and him alone. Silco watches you with wholly, unabashed devotion as your face twists and contorts in pleasure, pleasure that only he can bring you. And though he wants to feel like he’s still in control, he knows deep down he’s equally ruined by what you do to him, maybe even more so. His seafoam eye glazes over, and strands of hair fall loosely around his face as he ruts into you. 

You reach up and try to put your arms around his neck, but the position your legs are in only allow you to claw at his shoulders helplessly. “S-silco, please..”

“Oh? I see someone’s finally learned some manners,” he taunts.

The huff of annoyance you let out amuses him more than he’d care to admit, “For fuck’s sake, Sil. Let me hold you.”

“Demanding thing,” he scolds, but gives into your ‘request’ regardless, lowering your legs just enough so that your knees fall to the side and hook over his forearms, letting you wrap your arms around his neck with open urgency. And now you’re pulling him down and holding him there, like the waters he'd nearly drowned in.

Silco’s jaw goes slack as he turns his head and pants in your ear like some wild beast, whose sole purpose is to bring you to your end. Like it was all he was ever made for. Your head turns to meet his lips with your own, and he tries to keep some semblance of restraint while he kisses you, but he can’t, not with you. It’s hungry and sloppy, full of exceeding desperation. 

He breaks the kiss reluctantly to make his way down to your neck, lips and tongue moving against the delicate flesh and littering your throat with marks of all kinds, leaving no room for anyone to question who you belong to. “Mine,” Silco snarls possessively in between sucks and bites.

He's about to pull away when one of your hands slides up to the nape of his neck, tangling your fingers in his hair and locking him in place, begging for more, more, more, and Silco’s more than happy to oblige. You’ve got him wrapped around your finger so tightly, and this realization both excites and ruins him as he begins to ram everything he has into you with new purpose.

“Oh fuck, Silco. Right there,” you cry out, voice becoming raspy and hoarse from your continuous gasps in between moans. 

"Yes, that's it. Show me how much you want this, how much you need this," he huffs out through gritted teeth, trying to establish some form of dominance once again, but it's no use when he realizes his words are just as applicable to him as they are to you.

He forgoes his hold on your legs, letting them fall to your sides briefly before wrapping them around his waist. Your eyes flutter shut and your head starts to loll to the side, but Silco grabs your jaw quickly and forces you to look directly at him.

“None of that, darling. I want you to look at me when you come undone,”  His breath comes out ragged and primal. “You want to be a good girl for me, don’t you?”

You nod frantically in response, eyes drifting downward to stare at his mouth, like a silent plea. He takes the hint without delay, squishing your cheeks together until your lips form a small pout before leaning down to kiss you fervently. His tongue swirls around yours, hot and wanting, before he pulls away just enough for him to pant into your open mouth, his connecting to yours by the thinnest string of saliva. 

Silco can sense your second orgasm approaching rapidly, and he brings his fingers towards your lips. You take the hint right away, wrapping them around his digits and sucking on them lavishly. Once he’s satisfied enough, he removes them and snakes his hand down through your intertwined bodies, settling for the bundle of nerves located between your legs.

Your moans increase in pitch, arms and legs squeezing even tighter around him as he works you with skilled flicks of his wrist.

“You’ve endured this so well, my love,” he whispers against your ear, voice laced with unrestrained hedonism and resolve. “Let’s reward all that effort of yours tonight, shall we?”

His question is rhetorical, but you nod so eagerly for him nonetheless as your walls begin to pulsate, clenching so unbelievably tight around him you’re practically pushing his cock out, nearly sending him over the edge himself.  

“That’s my girl,” he sighs with heavy grit and worship. “You feel incredible.”  

Silco’s face comes back up to hover over yours, looking directly into your eyes while he fucks you through your climax, his own looming closer and closer. He leans down to kiss you, swallowing your labored breaths greedily as his thrusts begin to stagger before coming to a complete halt, his pelvis flush against yours as his cock twitches obscenely within your heat. He lets out a harsh, guttural moan right into your mouth as he spills into you, your walls continuing to milk him with stuttered squeezes, and he has to pull away sharply to exhale a series of delirious gasps. 

Your chests heave against one another, waves of pleasure slowly dissipating as your sweat soaked bodies stay interlocked. Silco shifts slightly, bringing his hands to stroke the top of your head lazily with his fingertips. His forehead comes to rest against yours as he places soft, tender kisses along your cheeks, your eyes, your lips, anything within reach.

He’s rewarded with a giggle, followed by a dopey little grin.

“You know,” you say as your breaths finally return to normal. “I just remembered the other reason you try to send me away while you work.”

Silco already knows the answer, but you punctuate your words anyway by wiggling your ass, causing the sound of his paperwork shuffling beneath you, followed by a light yelp as he smacks your bottom lightly. 

“Impossible little wench,” he chastises, lifting himself off of you and being greeted once again by the sight of the thing you keep referring to as a ‘skirt’. He grabs the edge of it with his fingertips, holding it up like it was a cursed object. “Where in Janna’s name did you even get this from?”

You bark out a laugh before propping yourself up hastily to look down at it with pride. “Ran let me borrow it.”

“Excuse me?”

“What?”

“Borrow it,” he repeats, “as in you have every intention of giving it back to them?”

You stare at him for a moment, no doubt mulling over your answer.

“...No?”

Silco smirks at your response before leaning in. “Good girl. Besides, I think we may find many more uses for it still.”

Your eyes widen with child-like wonder, but for the entirely wrong reason. “Oh, so you’ll wear it for me, too?”

He stares back at you blankly, blinking several times before rolling his eyes almost theatrically, earning him another small fit of laughter as he finally graces you with a response.

“Whatever pleases you, I suppose.” 

[akutasoda]

Hi!!! can I request something fluffy with gn reader and Dottore (webttore specifically if thats ok im down horrendous for him) maybe where he's stressed from an experiment failing or one of his assistants angering him so he decides the best way to calm down is to just snuggle with you? ty!! :D

safety net

synopsis - when everything just seems to not go his way what better way to soothe his rage than a sweet embrace

includes - dottore - specifically webttore in mind

warnings - gn!reader, disgusting amount of fluff, slight mention of violence/violent thoughts, smitten webttore, stress, wc - 535

a/n: hiii! you do not wanna know how quickly i wanted to write this, it's so cute aaaaaa, p.s just saw your message!

it was a day that made it seem like the archons were trying to sour his mood completely. and soon that day turned into a couple of days. stress was rising through him rapidly and he tried calming himself down by doing more experiments but they kept on failing as well.

what also didn't help was that his first attempt at having a clone as his assistant was failing terribly. he could only clone himself as his past self, so far that meant he could only clone his akaydemia self. except it didn't seem to be working in his favour. maybe when he became older he could make better clones. but archon's did he want to just kill this one and start again.

to add salt to the wound every single experiment he tried had failed so far. nothing seemed to be going his way and firstly he thought this was just simple trial and error but every single time he adjusted something it just went worse. it was getting frustrating and his damned assistant was messing up even more.

he was truly at his wit's end. now he knew rationally that this stress was probably contributing to his failures, so how could he deal with it? why you of course. you, the only person in his life that he would do anything for. you, who had stuck with him through thick and thin with promise to stay forever. you, who was his world.

so what better way to de-stress then to hunt you down and make you surrender to his embrace. he knew that sometimes to avoid stuff while he was working, you would take refuge in his office. only you and him could go in and out. so he beelined straight for his office hoping you were still there.

and you where, he immediately took you by surprise when he flung open the doors with such anger as he stormed over to his desk as he flung down his half mask. before distracting you from whatever you were doing by grahbing your hand and crashing down on the chaise lounge in his office.

you were faced with his now unmasked face as you two stared at each other. he wrapped his arms around you and brought himself to nuzzle into your neck as he muttered angrily under his breath. you returned his embrace as you let him try to cuddle into you as impossiblely close as ever imagined.

but you recognized this mood and let him indulge in the cuddled mess of tangled limbs. not that you would never indulge him. his angry mumbling died down you started pressing quick pecks to his head and running a hand through his hair until he brought his head back up to face you, which you took advantage of to turn your kisses to his face.

he would gladly stay like this for the rest of his life. you were the only one allowed to see him like this and the only one to do this to him. he pulled you even closer and he finally felt all of his stress melt away. however he had no plans on moving anytime soon and neither did you.

[shadesoflsk]

A glimpse in Leon's life.

PAIRING: Basically just DI!Leon with few mentions of GN!Reader but nothing much.

NOTES: This is just a little drabble I had on my mind for some days. This is my first work so please forgive if this is so shitty. :P

WARNINGS: Mentions of alcohol, blood. But mostly slice of life!

Leon is a simple man, really. No matter how horrendous his missions could be, how bloody and gruesome the scenario might be — his mind and lifestyle remained the same.

Given the nature of his career he couldn't stick to a specific routine. "We need your help." That simple sentence would wake him up almost immediately (not a difficult task since poor guy is a light sleeper) and drop everything that he had planned for the day ahead — not that he minded, though. For almost twenty years of his life, he's only known that.

Yet, the comfort of coming back to his home, to his sacred place made up for every gunshot he had to fire and for every bloodshed he had to witness. Heavy footsteps echoed through the vast living room filled with cinnamon candle lights — not his but theirs. A nice reminder that he wasn’t alone. At least not anymore. Years made him a sappy man, reminiscing about his younger self. Bright eyes with a noble future. The latter has never changed no matter the situation.  He loves helping people — he loves people.

That’s why he always indulges in conversation with the same old lady at the supermarket, just like he’s doing right now. “How have you been young guy?” The lady would always ask even though Leon wasn’t young in the slightest sense of the word, but hey, he gratefully takes the compliment. “Nothing much.” He lies; his back was hurting as hell. Being thrown around was bearable when he was 27. Now, he worries he might not be able to crouch and pick up his cellphone whenever he drops it (which it's a rather common occurrence for him.)

He walks through the alcohol aisle. His eyes gazed along the wide-ranged options of booze. He was proud of himself since he grew out of that deadly addiction of his. He used to drown on it whenever he could, morning, afternoon and specially on nights when his own mind would play dirty tricks on him and display the various scenarios where he would blow the brains out of a zombie. Or when he was taken away from a normal life that dreadful night of September.

Now, instead of reeking of alcohol and sweat, he much prefers to smell like home. His partner loves candles — so does he. He picked up on a habit which he would take a quick sniff from the scented candle. He is a simple man; he likes what his darling likes. Cinnamon and apple was his favorite. “Jesus… the prices these days.” He muttered under his breath as he looked at the price. Life as an agent was tough, but well rewarding. A black card was always in his wallet, yet he barely used it. He could basically buy the whole supermarket in the blink of an eye, but he decided to follow a humble life. Too humble.

Leon was a simple man, he loved cleaning things. A cleaning freak some would say but he paid no mind. He likes tidying up his house — apron and everything. “Kiss the cooker.” “Housewife.” He had many of them, too many of them. Dad’s jokes were a daily thing throughout his life. Even when he was fresh out of college, he would drop some jokes expecting everyone to laugh at them. No one did. But he never stopped, it wasn’t in his nature to give up on his personality or something so essential about himself. And maybe that’s why he's a living proof of his everlasting identity.

[skiesofrosie]

sometimes, it's hard to be good

pairing: joe liebgott x reader

genre: fluff, conversations about life

a/n: horrendously self-indulgent, but i hope you enjoy.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“I don’t think I’m a very good person,” you blurt.

“The fuck?” Joe says, confused.

It weighs on your shoulders like a stack of bricks, a truth that sends your mind into a frenzy. Joe noticed it a few days earlier, the way you started to cook, and wash the dishes, despite the half and half system you both have. The letters you sent to check-in on old acquaintances, despite them having never bothered with you. Your choice of books, a sudden affinity for self-help that you shove into your most hidden shelves.

“Are you having a fuckin’ identity crisis or somethin’?” Joe stopped you, just as you were about to take care of both his and your laundry for the third time that week. “Or do I pick up the chores too slowly, ‘cause I can do better.”

“No! No!” You said, a little flustered, then laughed to cover it up. “I’m just doin’ it all ‘cause I care about you.”

He kissed your forehead then, a little unsure. Truth be told, the overcompensation stems from the lack of doing enough–or at least, feeling like it. Joe is your other half, and he picks up well on his half too. If you cook, he will clean. If you do laundry once, he’ll take care of it next (even if he tends to mix the whites and the colors). But the insecurity seeps into your head like poison, the misbelief now running through your blood, and it makes you shoulder more than you actually can.

You slowed down too, because you realized the need to feel like a good person is inherently selfish. To really be good comes from the choices you make, and sometimes, the greater good requires you to be the villain.

Right now though, that’s all mixed up in your head, which means you feel like a piece of shit.

“Where’d ya get that idea?” He asks, now setting Dick Tracy down to pay you full attention. “Is someone tellin’ ya that shit? ‘Cause I’ll kill a–”

“It’s me,” you interject, shaking your head as you slap your book to your chest. “That's what I think.”

Curiosity washes over, as he furrows his eyebrows together and stares at you as if you’re dumb. The both of you are sitting on your balcony, the sun shining streaks of light across his face, and you wonder if you’re worthy of a man as strong and beautiful as him. 

The summer today is glorious, a little sweat trickling down your temples, but better than the way your nose freezes in the winter. Joe and you have made this a routine every Sunday, afternoons spent outside in each other’s company, to catch up on some reading. Your little apartment faces the San Francisco life, and even if the stench of running gas is discomforting, it’s still home. For Joe, it’s homeostasis; a reminder that the war is now behind him, and the domesticity you both have always dreamed of, is now real.

Today though, in the pits of your overthinking, you’re hardly reading the words as you scan the pages.

“Hey,” he gently probes. “What’s goin’ on up there?”

His fingers are creeping towards yours fiddling with each other on your lap.

“I,” you start, but find it difficult to reason. When his hand slips into yours, squeezing it in encouragement, you continue, but not without a sigh. “I found a photo from when we were in high school, and…I realized how many of them I don’t talk to anymore. Friends that have drifted apart, friends that I’ve cut off, or they’ve cut me off. It got me thinking, really thinking, about all the decisions I’ve made, all the people I’ve loved and lost, all the mistakes I’ve made and it all crashed down on me like I hit a brick wall head-on with your cab.”

You stop mid-thought, paying a good look at him listening intently to you, eyes a twinge downcast.

“It made me think that maybe I’m not doing enough, or I’m doing nothing right. That I’ve been selfish, and I have this urge to uproot my entire life and start afresh,” you finish.

He looks into the distance, fingers still entwined with yours as he collates the rush of thoughts. It makes his heart ache to know that you feel this way, because to him, the world owes you for your kindness. But he admires the way you know when it’s time to abandon your good and patience, because it fails to be returned.

“Joe?” He hears you call.

He speaks. “If that’s your logic, than all of us are fuckin’ shitheads.”

You gawk at his response, sputtering, “what do you mean?”

“Sweetheart,” he says, then turns to you unflinchingly. “I spent three years shooting Krauts just ‘cause I could. I did what I was told, convinced myself that I’d be doing the world a favor. Those were actual fuckin’ choices I made, and now I have to live with ‘em in my head.”

“But,” you say, “those people were shooting at you Joe.”

“Not all of ‘em,” he says, shaking his head. “Not all of ‘em.”

A silence falls over you both. It never occurred to you how difficult it is to actually be good–to make the right decision all the time. Even the sun, with its daylight to the skies, streaming into people’s homes to wake them up for another day, blinds you if you look at it for too long. It burns when you get too close, blazes ‘til there’s a drought.

We are all made up of imperfections, after all.

“We fuck up,” Joe adds, quietly. “Hell, we fuck up with each other too, ain’t it?”

“Yeah, I guess,” you smile, “you caused all my whites to go pink last week.”

“Hey,” he lets go of your hand to smack you. “I bought ya your favorite cookies at Betty’s to make up for it!”

You can’t help the laugh that breaks loose of you, despite the heaviness in your chest. In an infinite list, one of the reasons you love him is his ability to pull you out of your own mind, and make you laugh ‘til tears pool in your eyes. 

“Seriously though, we ain’t bad people just ‘cause we fuck up. We’re shitheads if we don’t try to do better,” he says, his hand on your thigh, rubbing his thumb in circles. He throws his other hand up, the comic falling onto the ground. “I try everyday to be a better fuckin’ person, but I slip up. You will too. But at least ya try, you know?”

You know he’s right. Like the chocolate cookies he bought for you to make good on the clothes he ruined; like the moments you apologize to each other in petty fights, and figure out a way to make things better–even if you falter, all there is to it, is taking the next step. So even if you still worry, you can at least do that. And what better than to have Joe Liebgott by your side, a man who will never speak anything less than the truth.

“Baby steps, right?” You nod.

He nods, standing up, walking to you and pulling you to your feet. He slips his arms around your waist, as you cross yours behind his neck, pecking you once, twice, and you’re about to make out with him on your balcony–

‘Til a blaring honk from the road makes you jump apart.

“Fuck!” He yells at the road, and you wince, but with amusement. “I’m tryna get some, okay!”

This time you swat at his shoulder, as he guffaws, starts leaving kisses on your neck. You melt into him.

Baby steps, definitely.

“Oh and sweetheart,” he breathes against your skin, and you hum. “You’re the best fuckin’ person I know on this planet.”

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

@she-wolf09231982 a little snippet of Joe :D

[hyomaluvr]

Bachira Meguru - NSFW Alphabet

cw // mentions of public sex, D could be construed as cnc if you squint, mention of boobs and panties but could be applied to any gender tbh, not proofread

Aftercare: Bachira can barely stay awake after sex, but that’s only because he’s blown his load in you like six or seven times. He’s greedy, taking whatever he wants. He’ll go for a shower or bath with you afterwards, but he’s probably gonna be rawing you again.

Body parts: His favorite part of himself isn’t something he’s really ever considered. When you ask, he tilts his head in confusion as though you’ve asked something in a different language. After some though, he says his lips, since he gets to put them on yours. His favorite part of yours though? He doesn’t hesitate. He probably literally cheers “Boobies!” before washi-washi-ing you from the back self indulgently.

Cum: He wants it in you. He really hates condoms, but he’ll use them if you insist. That said, he’ll make his own personal art project out of you, drooling over how his cum paints your face, boobs, tummy, thighs, ass, you name it. He also really like the feeling of your cum flowing around his cock.

Dirty secret: Hear me out— panty sniffer. Absolutely the type of guy to jerk it using your dirty panties around his dick with another pair over his nose. His eyes are rolling back as he takes deep huffs, spurred by his lust. Although he does feel a little bad…but, should he? You’re his, right?

Experience: Bachira is a virgin. No friends means no partners means no sex. He doesn’t even know how to instigate it right. It actually takes a few rejections for him to understand the correct cues for it. He’ll pounce on you and ask for it, taking you totally by surprise since he’s never even mentioned it before! But he’ll keep waiting, and he’s not a predator, so no worries.

Favorite position: Anything where he can see how your tits bounce when his dick plunges into you. He’s a simple man, really.

Goofy: It’s Bachira, let’s be for real right now. He’s here to have fun and show his love to you! It’s always a good time, an enjoyable experience in which he wants you to feel comfortable.

Hair: Bachira is definitely not well groomed. I’m not sure he’s ever shaved in his life honestly. It adds to the Bachira experience.

Intimacy: Despite his innate perversion, there are sometimes when his lips are pressed softly against yours with the mood not escalating like it normally would when sex is instigated. This kind of sex makes his heart race. It’s rare, but he looks at you without his signature smile, pupils dilated and breath shaky. He can barely take his lips off of you during it, and it’s pretty much exclusively missionary with his fingers laced in yours. Soft moans of “You’re the only person I ever want to see me like this” and “I can never see anyone but you”. He’s never been dishonest with his feelings, after all.

Jack off: He never takes his time. He’s always fisting his cock quickly, jerking off his frustration, pain, and stress. It works like a charm, especially after he meets you. Unfortunately when he’s away from you for a while, he can’t even get it up. He’s down horrendous.

Kink: Biting. Hickies. Public sex. Stoner sex. BDSM (either position).

Location: He loves to do it in the bath or shower, or right by the pitch. Places where he typically shares with others essentially.

Motivation: A lot of the time he doesn’t get horny for specific reasons with you. Sometimes it’s just like a switch is flipped and he’s made up his mind— he wants you and he will have you. However a sure fire way to get him on the rocks is with any kind of skinship that puts any of your pretty parts near his own or somewhere he can feel.

No: He doesn’t have many turn offs, open to anything. One thing he absolutely hates the thought of though is being cucked. He can’t let you go. He won’t let you go. Why would you need anyone but him??? Why would you even think about anyone but him!? The thought makes his stomach hurt.

Oral: Bachira is good with his tongue. He’s wild with it, ravenous, and he’ll put it in whatever hole you want. Be warned though, this is for his pleasure. He’s not going to stop until he’s gotten his fix (which if you’re sitting on his face can go up to an hour or so). Bachira’s not that good at receiving head though, even though it’s his favorite. Again, he’s hardly experienced, he makes mistakes. He’s over eager, bucking his hips too far into your throat sometimes, but there’s always a flash of worry in his eyes before he calms down as you keep going with assurance that it’s fine. It’s just so hard to control himself sometimes.

Pace: Once again, so eager and excited during sex. He’s trying to not be too quick, but ultimately after a while you end up getting used to him speeding up when he gets close. At the beginning, he even slips out sometimes because he’s so excited.

Quickie: He hates quickies because he can’t keep using your holes, but he loves them because they’re so fun! He gets a rush from the worry of getting caught somewhere, or being late.

Risk: Experimental, open to anything, willing to get caught as long as they don’t get a good look at you. You’re his.

Stamina: He can go for a long time. Probably literally all night if you’d let him. How long does he last though? That’s…a little more embarrassing for him. Especially at the beginning. He initially starts cumming in you a bunch of times because by the time you cum once he’s came three times. He’s really, truly embarrassed and cringing then, but he’s so cute that you can’t help but coo at him and baby him about it.

Toys: Bachira definitely has butt plugs, just to try it since he spent a lot of time lonely. He doesn’t like it much since it just sits there, but he does like putting them in you. He thinks you’re so cute when he see how full you are from all angles! Would be more than open to getting pegged, and he likes rope.

Unfair: He’ll give you what you want, but he’s a huge tease about it. He’ll make you embarrass yourself by articulating your perverted desires, or make a deal with you for it.

Volume: He’s such a slut. He’ll moan, whimper, whine at max volume whenever he feels the need. It just feels so good and he can’t help himself! Again, embarrassing for him at first since he’s trying to be sexy! Even the most unabashed people get embarrassed when they’ve never done something like this before sometimes, but now he likes how it riles you up.

Wild Card: Bachira has a fat ass!!!!! Definitely muscle toned, but cute, perky, and somewhere he practically mews with pleasure when it’s squeezed. Only because it surprises him. Also, he doesn’t care about “sub or dom”, so he’ll do whatever is fun and feels good in the moment, so expect lap dances and (his) ass eating.

X-ray: Smaller arms and pecs, thick, muscular thighs. Although all of him is muscular. 5 and a half inch cock, slight curve to the right, medium thickness. He’s very average, but on Bachira it all just looks pretty.

Yearning: He wants to go constantly. It’s only when he’s zeroed in on soccer or practicing he’ll reject it, but he’ll repay you for it later. Don’t misunderstand though, his sex drive comes entirely from his love and obsession with you.

Zzz: He falls asleep pretty much instantly afterwards. He worked hard after all! He probably gave you 13 orgasms, and you gave him like 20!! He’s a snuggler though, and canonically a thumb sucker. He’s so cute when he snuggles between your your chest, although there have been times when he’s half awake and starts sucking on your nipples after a while instead of his thumb just to fluster you.

[i05wook]

rest well - park gunwook

Pairing: bf! Gunwook x fem! reader

Genre: comfort, fluff

Wc: 587

Warnings: female reader, periods, mentions of nausea, crying

Summary: When Gunwook’s partner is suffering on their period with the worst cramps ever, Gunwook is determined to do whatever he can to help them through shark week. 

Author’s notes: I 100% believe that 1) Gunwook would give the best hugs ever, the man's just a giant teddy bear in my head 2) I feel like he’s the type of person to always be warm, particularly his hands. I’m writing this cause i’m literally in so much pain right now on my period. I had to be somewhat self indulgent for once in a while. 

It was early on a Sunday morning, and there you were, unable to move from the position 

you were in; burrowed deep into your duvet, your arm wrapped tightly over your stomach, trying to provide some relief from the agonising pain of your period cramps. However, no matter which way you laid in bed, the cramps continued to rush over you, bringing waves of nausea and eliciting tears to envelop your eyelashes. 

You were in so much pain that every time you tried to stand up from your bed, you were hit with another surge of nausea. The tides of nausea meant that it was near impossible for you to get out of bed, never mind making it to the kitchen in order to fill your hot water bottle up. All you could do to distract yourself from the pain was sleep, cuddled up with your little black and white tabby kitten, Oreo. She laid over your stomach, almost acting like your hot water bottle, and this was enough to help lull you into a light sleep. 

It was unknown exactly how long you had been asleep for, lying in the same position. However, when you heard the sound of your front door closing, shortly followed by the slow creak of your bedroom opening, you poked your head over the duvet. From behind your door, your adorable boyfriend slowly peered his head out, praying that you would remain undisturbed if you were sleeping. As soon as he saw you, his adorable gummy smile snuck up on his face, growing even larger when you reached both arms in his direction

He wandered over to where you laid in your bed, and sat down in the bed next to you. As soon as he was sat, he looked over at you, and instantly you buried your face into his abdomen. “Hey darling, are you doing okay today?” Gunwook asked while caressing your hair. You don’t know what or why it happened, but the next thing you know, you're crying into his stomach. 

“Hey darling, don’t cry my love, “ he said leaning down to kiss the back of your head, all while stroking your hair in an attempt to soothe your crying. He knew that you often got overly emotional while on your period, so he was well versed in calming you in these situations. 

Once your crying calmed pretty soon after it started, Gunwook stood up from the bed, so that he could lie down properly next to you, his arm wrapping around your waist, and applying just the right amount of pressure on your tummy. The boy was consistently warm like a heat pad, but he also always gave the best hugs, in particular, back hugs. Gunwook’s back hugs were some of the best things in the world. The warmth provided by his body almost instantly soothed any form of back pain you had been suffering from, and the pressure of his arm across your stomach helped enormously in lessening the horrendous cramps you had been enduring all day. 

Gunwook’s presence behind you helped calm you into a much needed rest whilst he played with your hair and whispered countless affirmations in your ear. The last thing you managed to hear before you fell deep into your slumber caused your heart to flutter. 

“My darling, I’m so proud of how strong you are as a woman dealing with this suffering. If only I could take it all away, I would be honoured to. Rest well my sweet girl.” 

status: open 

@bambisgirl @enhacolor @acaiasahi @duolingofanaccount @slytherinshua @redm4ri @enluv @jaelaxies

©bobariki 2023

[solverse]

A carol for the souls.

Quo; Give a song for a character. (SAGAU)

Characters; Lynette, Fischl, Beidou, Childe & Lyney.

Note; I'm just down bad for Lynette right now. This isn't any sort of character study whatsoever, just a little self-indulgent piece that I wanted to share.

Disc; The opening is a little too long and I can't seem to stop writing long-ass stuff so bear with me.

Imagine Dragon - Natural

It was a special day for Lyney and Lynette. Of course, how couldn't it be when this would be the first time that they were chosen to be a vessel for the Guide? Since the famous rumor of a 'guide' appeared some time ago, Lyney had been excited to see what kind of person they were.

He had been hearing words that those who were chosen had become increasingly strong or their day had been growing better since then. 

And some had even met Archons in their natural form. Like, how crazy was that?! This supposed divine 'guide' could somehow elicit even the involvement of Archons themselves. 

Apparently, some had been theorizing that this 'guide' might even be some sort of higher being. Something higher than that of Archons, gods, or even Celestia. It was such a horrendous thought but some were inclined to believe that. 

Well, Lyney wasn't going to judge them on their views. To each of their own, he would say. All that aside, Lyney was excited to know what kind of person the Guide was. 

Lynette, on the other hand, could not share the same feeling as her twin brother. As much as she wanted to see the benefit behind this supposed 'chosen' status, Lynette would only sigh every time she thought of it. 

Contrary to popular belief, Lynette could not care whether she was chosen or something. She just wanted to go on with her life, undisturbed, thankfully. But with this… 'guide', Lynette found herself going out of her comfort zone, meeting other 'chosen' ones, exploring as well as fighting creatures she never even knew existed. 

There was certainly a lot of traveling. Going to nations she never thought of visiting, like Monstadt or Inazuma. Lynette doesn't dwell too much on that mechanic as she certainly enjoyed all the traveling. Although she absolutely felt annoyed when she was taken to fight another 'boss.' 

Meeting other 'chosen' people wasn't as bad as she thought it would be. Certainly, she knew that there were a lot more of them but she was quite satisfied with those she teamed up with. 

There was the tall man with bright red hair who wielded a claymore and a pyro vision. He was a Monstadt citizen. He was exceptionally strong and wielded his flames with expertise. He was not one for little talks so the quiet atmosphere was something she was grateful for. 

Another one was a shorter man with darker blue hair, who was a fennec fox. His expertise in nature and botany was quite interesting. Lynette enjoyed his presence, it was soothing in a way. His origin was that of Sumeru, evident during their venture in that region. 

There was also an Inazuman woman who wore a mask. She was the 'healer' of their team and Lynette found herself more grateful than she could count because there were definitely so many close calls. She was also not a talker, only speaking out of concern whenever their fights got too hard. 

Lynette found her time with these three quite endearing, going as much as she would even say that she looked forward to more hangouts with them. It was out of character for her to say such a thing but Lynette figured that the new experiences were beneficial in their own way.

And Lyney had been chastising her to go outside more, especially when he started going on other adventures with other 'chosen' ones, whom all he spoke of in high regard.

Even if it took away her tea time, for Archon's sake. 

And today was no different, but this time she was teamed with an entirely different roster of new people. Lynette could feel her introverted self dying little by little on the inside, despite the blank look she wore. All of them were talkative.

The Liyuen woman wearing an eyepatch with a boisterous laugh introduced her as 'Beidou.' Lynette's first impression of her was that she was strong. She wielded her claymore like nothing, something Lynette would never dream of doing so.

The second person was a blonde-haired girl (younger than her) who was accompanied by her talking raven. Lynette finally caught her name in her long paragraphs of words. 

And Archons, does Fischl talk. 

The last one was the 11th Fatui Harbinger. Lynette almost lost control of her expression if she hadn't looked away from the man's weird smile. It was an unforeseen event, one that she wanted to end right there and then. Despite her knowledge of the man's status, Lord Tarta– Childe was a tolerable person. 

They called themselves the Tazer-tag-Team or TtT, for short. Lynette still doesn't see the point of that but she went on with it. 

Despite her thoughts, the four of them worked quite well together. 

And it was during one of their breaks by Windrise that all of them noticed the sudden quiet ambiance settling in. Since the day Lynette had become a 'chosen' one, she had a lot more awareness than the average person does not. 

For example, the soothing music that lingered in the background. It changes whenever they fight, turning more intense and upbeat. Or when they were in a different region, the music catered to fit the aesthetic of certain regions. 

It was fascinating. 

But there was also a time when that music disappeared, replaced by other music. Music that Lynette didn't even know existed. 

And this one, Lynette did not want to know existed. 

Will you hold the line

When every one of them has given up and given in? Tell me

In this house of mine

At first, Lynette didn't react. She didn't need to when it was just another type of music she had never heard of. The other 'chosen' ones also didn't give much of a reaction, only a surprised hum by Fischl. 

Nothing ever comes without a consequence or cost, tell me

Will the stars align?

Will heaven step in? Will it save us from our sins, will it?

Her ears twitched and Lynette doesn't know why. The song sounded intense, starting with a firm storytelling voice of a man. 

Cause this house of mine stands strong,

Something inside Lynette's chest burnt. It didn't seem like only she was affected because the 11th Fatui Harbinger flinched slightly, trying to keep the smile on his face steady. 

That's the price you pay,

Leave behind your heart and cast away,

The waves of thoughts came crashing into Lynette within seconds. She's reminded of her days with her family, happy and blissful in ignorance. 

Until everything burnt down, leaving only her and Lyney beneath the ashes of the aftermath. Everything was vivid and blurry after that, in those days when they had to learn what the world truly meant. 

The cost of prices that they never wanted to pay for. That they never asked for.

Just another product of today,

Rather be the hunter than the prey, 

Another person, another child in this world that forsaken them. A byproduct of what reality can give to living beings. All those hopes and dreams were trampled by desires.

And you're standing on the edge face up,

'Cause you're a natural,

A beating heart of stone,

You gotta be so cold,

To make it in this world,

Yeah, you're a natural,

Living your life cutthroat,

You gotta be so cold,

Yeah, you're a natural

Unfair. An unfair world pressed down by unfair individuals where standards and society kept stirring a pot of tea with too much salt in it. 

Through her days of living with her brother, Lynette had learned to not show. To not show a single thing. Not a thought, not a word, not an expression, nothing. Not a weakness. Because weakness makes you weak. 

And you won't survive if you're weak. 

Will somebody,

Let me see the light within the dark trees shadowing?

What's happening?

A question she asked back then when everything fell apart. A small child, ignorant and unaware of the world, not knowing the consequences behind her words. 

Looking through the glass find the wrong within the past knowing

Oh, we are the youth

Cut until it bleeds inside a world without the peace, face it

A bit of the truth, the truth

A dazzling curtain that was ripped off, revealing a place in the harsh world that she faced, little by little, showing what humanity was truly capable of through a window that is life. 

Lynette couldn't think of anything else as the song drummed on. 

That's the price you pay,

Leave behind your heart and cast away

Just another product of today,

Rather be the hunter than the prey, 

Is this what this song was trying to tell her? To let her reminisce of the time when even hope felt so far, like it was drowned by the abyss? Lynette didn't want to acknowledge it, she refused to say such a thing. 

( But a small part of her cried. Cried to live. )

And you're standing on the edge face up,

'Cause you're a natural,

A beating heart of stone,

You gotta be so cold,

To make it in this world,

Yeah, you're a natural,

Living your life cutthroat,

You gotta be so cold,

Yeah, you're a natural

All those days, all of those days– Where Lynette genuinely wondered if they were ever going to be fine. Despite Lyney's courageous words, she heard more than enough of the cry for help behind his facade. Until they stopped altogether, barricaded behind an immovable box. 

Lyney tried not to but she understood. She understood more than anyone. 

Deep inside me, I'm fading to black, I'm fading

Took an oath by the blood on my hand, won't break it,

I can taste it, the end is upon us, I swear,

Lynette hid away the strangled sound bubbling up in her throat. The man's voice was deeply haunting, speaking near her ears, as if revealing and stripping everything she had carefully built. Everything that she had built for her and Lyney. 

Everything so they could live for another day. So they could make it for another day. 

Why? 

Gonna make it

I'm gonna make it

It was agonizing. The high note was agonizing. Everything was. The man's voice, the lyrics, the music, the crack in her box, the scar on her heart, the days she remembered, the truth she faced, the days she survived. 

Why are you telling me this? 

Natural,

A beating heart of stone,

You gotta be so cold,

To make it in this world,

Lynette had never wondered if she ever asked herself whether the days got any better now. Maybe it did, maybe it did not. All she knew was that she was still alive, her heart with a wall as thick as the sea and as thin as her will. 

Yeah, you're a natural,

Living your life cutthroat,

You gotta be so cold,

Yeah, you're a natural,

To be a part of this world, to live within it, you need to know how. No matter how unorthodox, how good or wrong you were, if you survived, what was there to say? 

Sometimes, you have to throw away everything– anything to make it. 

Natural,

Yeah, you're a natural.

Lynette wondered if that's what happened to them. Succumbing to the nature of the world, the reality that stepped on them mercilessly without a second thought. 

Lynette wondered if becoming– natural –had ever given them something else. 

She didn't even realize how much she had spiraled until a gentle hand on her shoulder snapped her out of it. Her ears straightened and eyes widened, ready to face the assailant– until she discovered it was just Fischl. 

Fischl looked at her with an oddly comforting expression, a small smile on her face and a tilt of her head. Lynette then noticed Beidou and Childe behind her, standing with a similar look on their faces. 

That of understanding. 

Fischl carefully took off her hand, “ Come on, we got the Spiral Abyss to take care of. ” she said, tugging on Lynette's sleeve. The other girl let her. 

“ You haven't tried the Spiral Abyss yet, right? ” Beidou asked with a big smile. Then she laughed, “ It's a real mess in there! ” 

Childe grinned, a terrifying one on his face. His Hydro blades had already materialized in his hand and Lynette couldn't help the look she gave him. He either ignored it or he didn't notice it. Probably the former. 

“ You will absolutely love the Spiral Abyss, comrade! ” he cheered with his Hydro blade raised. Beidou cackled at his comment. 

Lynette blinked before she settled down, exhaling quietly. As she followed the three's stories of the Spiral Abyss, Lynette promptly made to not notice of Fischl's hand in hers (and her speech manner), or the subtle glint of the tender glimpse in Beidou's eyes, or the compassionate gaze of Childe's. 

And neither of them makes of anything about the tear that trailed down previously. 

( She tried to ignore the lingering eyes of the Guide, where she felt the underlying unfamiliarity of sympathy and warmth. )

[amaiaqt]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤミㅤwrite about us insteadㅤ⋆ ｡˚ㅤ♡ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤhow do they inspire you ? ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤcyno, tighnari, venti, albedo !

last post of my 200 special, this has been so so fun to work on ! this is just a little self indulgent part for the rest of my favorites to be fully honest ehe

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ｡ﾟ ⊹ㅤcyno ! ㅤ

cyno, atleast to you, is the kind of man you may compare to a créme brûlée, which you often do. with his hard, seemingly impenetrable facade, in sweet contrast to his tender softness when it comes to you. everything about you makes him melt like putty, and while he's very proud to hint to the public about your relationship because it gives him the right to show off his darling, he would rather let himself get beat up by lowly eremites before admitting it.

one particular thing you do however, is say how you inspire him. this often leaves him asking himself, how does he ? how does he, an amateur to romance and a fool to your playful affections, inspire you, a writer with an admirable knack for words and an excessive talent in flustering him ?

he figures it's the same way you happen to inspire him. the same burst of motivation he gets from your praise and encouragements, the same urge to do his job well so he can get home to your warm embrace earlier. but, it's you, what about you doesn't inspire him ? you're far more special if he does say so himself, but that's the only idea he has.

and he's not that far off. he inspires your drive for work because you admire his, he inspires your pride in creating because he praises everything you show him.

"you're actually serious ?" he questions, still not fully processing that he's an inspiration to you, mostly because he was flustered. "have i ever been ingenuine towards you ?" you retort simply, meeting eyes with rusty red that looked away out of embarrassment. "no, you're always genuine with me." you smiled, "then i hope that answers your question."

basically you inspire each other. but he will always insist that you inspire him far more, and it turns into a light competition between you two.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ｡ﾟ ⊹ㅤtighnari ! ㅤ

now when it comes to him, it's a very direct, and maybe embarrassing, reason; you have the urge to impress him.

of course, you never fail to do so ! because for tighnari, just the fact that you're a dedicated writer is already impressive to him. it fascinates him when you write, and it's become one of his favorite hobbies to spend a free afternoon reading your pieces.

sometimes you'd retort that he speaks better than how you write, to which he would flick your nose for or something. because really, he means it when he says your writing is gold.

and that was back when he had yet to know that he was a part of the inspiration in your works. when you told him one day while he was sitting in your office during his free hours, his tail wagged so much. him, an inspiration to you ?

the fox doesn't find himself excited or giddy very often, but that moment was one where he couldn't contain himself and he just melts.

"aww, flower, i inspire you ? really ?" his voice is laced with tease, but he doesn't try to hide that he, himself, is flustered. his tail seemed to sway even more when his ears picked up he way you giggled, "of course, nari. i mean it." the way his ears flattened against his head as his face grew even redder, absolutely adorable.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ｡ﾟ ⊹ㅤventi ! ㅤ

firstly, him, a bard who is constantly searching for inspiration to write his songs, and you, a writer who is also constantly searching for inspiration to write new stories. a match made in heaven he says ! it's such a perfect match really, that alone is enough to inspire one of you to write something, or maybe both of you write something, who's to be certain ?

he loves to read your stories as much as you love to listen to his songs. it's something so precious to him, really. everyday is romantic for the two of you, be it him singing you a horrendously corny song he just thought of on the spot, or you hitting him with a short but romantic haiku that sends an arrow through his heart cupid-style.

there's never a dull moment between the two of you, and that's how he's such a big inspiration to your works ! he first realizes this when he notices familiar scenes in your works, almost based on scenes that happened in real life between the two of you. so when he finally asks you about it, oh how his heart flutters.

"i admit, i make short scenes about things that happen between us in real life. because they just feel so, even in the moment, they really feel straight out of a romantic fairytale." you explain, resting your head against his shoulder as he plucks randomly at his lyre. your words made him pause as his heart skipped a beat. "you're exactly the kind of man i look for just in reading novels, venti." that, that makes him explode. "d'aw !! you mean it, as in, you mean mean it ?!" there are stars and hearts in his eyes simultaneously as he holds your hands in both of his, facing you now.

you smiled, endeared. "i mean mean it, love." you truly have him wrapped around your fingers.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ｡ﾟ ⊹ㅤalbedo ! ㅤ

he's no stranger to inspiration, he understands it. but, he admits he lacks it.

until you introduced yourself to his life, then suddenly it seemed to have a different meaning. suddenly it seemed to matter more to him. suddenly it felt like more than a certain emotional burst.

he craved it even. that little sensation that drives him to work more, do more, stemmed from the way you praised him. he admired you so much, your work. everything about you screamed at him to impress you too. he never would've thought you felt the same for him.

you find inspiration from him ? how so ?

though he doesn't understand it, to you, many things about him inspires you. his words seem to roll off his tongue like dialogue in a poetic novel, and his appearance itself could match that of a prince charming. he just looks, acts, and sounds poetic, is what you mean.

"i just seem, novel-like, you mean ?" "that's basically what i mean." your explanation was already wordy, but he could only grasp what you meant by the surface. still, it was enough to leave him speechless in the best way possible.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ© amaiaqt, 2023 ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤdo not plagiarize !

[waitmyturtles]

Turtles Catches Up With Old GMMTV: A Honorable Mention For War of Y, and Another Look at How Thai BL Talks About BL (With a Bonus Watch of BL: Broken Fantasy)

[What’s going on here? After joining Tumblr and discovering Thai BLs through KinnPorsche in 2022, I began watching GMMTV’s new offerings -- and realized that I had a lot of history to catch up on, to appreciate the more recent works that I was delving into. From tropes to BL frameworks, what we’re watching now hails from somewhere, and I’m learning about Thai BL's history through what I’m calling the Old GMMTV Challenge (OGMMTVC). Starting with recommendations from @absolutebl on their post regarding how GMMTV is correcting for its mistakes with its shows today, I’ve made an expansive list to get me through a condensed history of essential/classic/significant Thai BLs produced by GMMTV and many other BL studios. My watchlist, pasted below, lists what I’ve watched and what’s upcoming, along with the reviews I’ve written so far. Today, I take a look at the more recent attempts by the Thai BL industry to critique itself with War of Y and the mini-documentary, BL: Broken Fantasy.]

2022's War of Y. Let me start this piece off by saying that this show is not good. My friend and BL elder educator, @bengiyo, once said about the OGMMTVC project, that some people (LIKE ME :'( ) just have to look into the abyss to satiate their curiosity about how this genre has developed, and that's definitely a point of the OGMMTVC. Not all past Thai BL shows are good, not by a long shot, and I don't recommend War of Y if you're watching dramas for pleasurable experiences only. (If you want to watch a GREAT drama that critiques the Thai BL industry, start with 2021's Lovely Writer, and I'll get more into this later.)

War of Y, directed by the chaotic Cheewin Thanamin and the I-am-assuming-to-be-misanthropic-and-indulgently-self-righteous-and-preening Den Panuwat, gave us 20 episodes of what I believe they thought to be groundbreaking critical art about the currently Thai BL industry. Let me set up an outline so that I don't spend too long on the bad stuff, and explain why War of Y does at least get an important mention (but not an official inclusion) on the OGMMTVC list.

1) What was War of Y about, how it was structured, and some quick high points, 2) Comparing War of Y to other pieces of Thai BL fiction that did a better job of critiquing Thai BL culture, and 3) A close-out reflection of Aam Anusorn's 2020 mini-documentary, BL: Broken Fantasy.

War of Y, as presented by Cheewin and Den, is designed to be a meta-drama of four chapters, all examining a specific aspect of the Thai BL industry. The first chapter, led by Billy Patchanon and Seng Wichai, focuses on two ship partnerships competing with each other, to the mental detriment of one of the older ship's celebrities; the second chapter focuses on two HORRIBLE warring managers; the third chapter showcases, in excruciating detail, god help us, a Y idol reality show, replete with singing; and the final chapter depicts the creation of a BL series and the rise of another super celebrity, whose career potentially gets derailed by his relationship with a female acting colleague.

Before I get into the few high points, I just want to say that this bloated structure (four chapters of five episodes each) did not do this drama well. It could have been edited down GREATLY for more succinct messaging. The other major issue I had is that the Thai BL genre -- as a romance genre itself, that demands romantic and coupled endings -- is just not the right genre to meta-critique the industry from which the piece of art comes from, not unless you're the screenwriter of Lovely Writer, who deftly managed some very complicated storylines into true art. There was no deft to War of Y. Couples got together in pandering and condescending ways, because that's how a Thai BL should end, right (?!); HORRENDOUS warring enemies suddenly made up with barely any context except to make money, and so on. I kept saying to friends during my watch that in a Den Panuwat show -- the worse you are as a character, the more likely you are to be redeemed for seemingly no good reason.

[Exhibits B and C in Den Panuwat's screenwriting record of questionable human characteristics? Fucking Only Friends and Playboyy. THE WORSE THOSE CHARACTERS WERE, THE BETTER THEIR OUTCOMES. Yeah, we really wanted those assholes to end well. ANYWAY. (I am committing to never watching a Den Panuwat show again. ANYWAY.)]

But there were a few high points. Actually seeing a Y idol reality show, something that international fans may not be able to appreciate with a lack of subtitles, was at least eye-opening for the inter-related nature of these kinds of shows, with some performers subsequently getting series gigs. (I understand that Santa Pongsapak, of My Own 12%, is an example of this kind of performer, who started out first as a music idol trainee.)

And the acting. Some of the acting was EASILY the best part of War of Y, as it very often happens in questionable Thai dramas: Billy (BILLYYYYYYYY), First Piyangkul, Dome Waruwat (who we most recently saw in Cooking Crush, and who absolutely SLAYED as one of the SLIMIEST, GROSSEST characters EVER, ohmygod), and

SENG MOTHERFUCKING WICHAI

(who will win one of the crowns as one of THE BEST FUCKING ACTORS IN THAI BL at the conclusion of the OGMMTVC project)

were easily the best reasons to watch War of Y. The range of Seng Wichai. It's ironic that he left Idol Factory last year, ending the BillySeng ship, and was then disgracefully treated like utter crap by the media and BL fans for the reveal of his relationship with Freen Sarocha. That, in itself, could make for a heartbreaking drama about the BL industry, but alas. We have War of Y instead. Seng is a motherfucking hero, and is also the KING of cringe, playing a horribly behaved actor who learns to overcome his insecurities to stand up against the advantages taken unto him by greedy managers.

We also had MANY wild and crazy cameos from real BL professionals in the show. @twig-tea and I agree that director New Siwaj's cameo was BAFFLING. He played a BL director (which he actually is) who maybe hated making BLs? (Maybe he actually hates it?) But still does it? And was mostly checked out of making the BL-show-within-the-BL-show, until he was called out about it, and then behaved like a good boy. Like. That cameo, along with a literally-evil NetJames and an even more inexplicable and weird literally-evil MaxNat cameo (wtf, that wasn't filled out AT ALL), were the really weird ones. The sad ones were ones like sweet NuNew Chawarin telling young BL guys that they have to sing (NO THEY DON'T). There was actual!Tee Bundit telling off Seng Wichai's character, that was rad. Director Lit Phadung of SOTUS and Dangerous Romance (😬) was there. Even the original novelist for Thailand's first television BL, Love Sick, was there, playing herself as Kwang Latika, who complained to a producer within War of Y that the show-within-the-show (yeah, I know) was taking her novel out of context. That shit sounds familiar! I could have used more accurate commentary on that.

The last high point that I can muster is that the show began to toe the line of the issue of actors needing to explore their sexualities for art's sake. As fans, we truly do not have much insight into this process, and I think it's for good reason, so as to protect actors (wherever they land on the sexuality spectrum) from very real, emotional, and sensitive processes and workshops that prepare them for taking on queer material. We know that actors like Nanon Korapat from Bad Buddy use Method techniques in their performances, and that can be mentally draining. Do I believe that some actor pairings experiment with dating, and may actually be in relationships? Yes, I must believe it, considering the psychological work these young men have to do to build attraction to each other for art's sake. The CEO of Korea's Strongberry studio confirmed as much earlier this year.

Unfortunately, I think War of Y leveraged these very sensitive realities to blatantly and flippantly indicate that ships can be ASSUMED to either explore sex with each other, and/or to even assume that they SHOULD be in relationships, à la the television BL romance formula that I mentioned above. I think this show could have transcended the romance genre formula, frankly, and I think the show came kinda close to doing that in the last chapter with First Piyangkul -- but not before setting up First's character, Achi, as a cheating monster-machine who was willing to go to great lengths to protect his fame, including outing his trans-female ex-girlfriend and co-star (YEAH, THAT HAPPENED), as well as separating himself from his ship and sexual same-sex partner while still indicating that they were dating. The whole storyline was just -- BLEH.

As I chatted with another fabulous BL elder, @twig-tea, about after I finished War of Y, clearly, Cheewin and Den thought they were intellectual geniuses upon the creation of this show, thinking that a BL itself would be a sufficient mechanism to offer meta commentary about problematic aspects of the BL industry (IT'S NOT). Twig wisely said to me that a writer or directly simply CHOOSING a topic to explore vis à vis a BL -- like a criticism of the industry itself -- is not, in of itself, worthy of laudation. And Cheewin and Den were CLEARLY expecting flowers by the end of this drama. If you've ever lived in smelling distance of southern California, you'll know that entertainment industries love nothing more than to talk about the entertainment industry, and that they think that fictional drama art is the best way to obsess over the vagaries of these industries (IT'S NOT). Instead, Cheewin and Den basically outed themselves as economic shippers and idiot faux-savants who are clearly in the game for fame, and maybe the dudes themselves, which -- BLEH REDUX.

On the OGMMTVC list, Lovely Writer does such a better job at covering the latent homophobia and judgments against actors within and external to the industries that take on BL. War of Y actually teed up a LOT of interesting topics, such as the BL-to-het-drama-and-studio pipeline that I talked about in my past OGMMTVC KinnPorsche pieces -- but these topics in War of Y just instead drowned in misanthropic meditations about fame, sex, and money that seemed far more suited to reaaaaalllly-bad Cinemax than, say, a proto-documentary.

The OGMMTVC syllabus also has YYY, from 2020, as a first entrée to BL-commentary-within-BL (and funnily enough, YYY also stars Lay Talay, who was the main anchor of War of Y, and was actually fantastic in both shows). YYY is a lot more succinct, CONCISE, zany, weird as HELL, incomplete, INSANE, not the greatest show, but HILARIOUS, simply in part because of its different and wonderful writers in Fluke Teerapat (a former BL actor himself) and Tanachot Prapasri. If you're looking for commentary about BL within wild-ass fiction (and if you're willing to watch it with shrooms or a fifth of vodka), watch YYY. (And remember that you're really watching YYY to watch Poppy Ratchapong eat his role of Porpla totally alive. Utter brilliance.)

Otherwise, as a means of complementing this review, I also watched 2020's non-fiction mini-documentary, BL: Broken Fantasy, by Aam Anusorn, another Series Y director who made the documentary, perhaps in part, to atone for past BL shows that he made, like 2Moons2 and Call It What You Want.

BL: Broken Fantasy featured interviews from directors, actors, and actual fans, about the nature of shipping, what the industry demands of actors, what fans themselves demand, and offered even a little bit of insight from two HUGE actors, Bright Vachiwarit and Win Metawin of 2gether and Still 2gether, about the process itself of young men acting in a queer coupleship.

The documentary is perhaps too short for its own good. And it sets up Aam as an unwilling participant within the BL industry, seemingly not knowing about what he was getting into when he first started making BLs (2gether's director, Champ Weerachit, also presents this way, which I found a touch disingenuous, as they were literally filming 2gether in the documentary).

But BL: Broken Fantasy hammered on a couple of important and real points. The economic benefits of shipping are HUGE. The sponsorship deals, the fame, the money -- they literally make young actors very rich and very well attended to. The fans EXPECT shipping performances, so that they themselves can situate themselves as caretakers or "mommies" to their young flock of boba-eyed actors that they worship. And for directors who want to earn money by making filmed art: the budding industry offers them that opportunity in growing spades. ( @lurkingshan will be happy to know that of all people, Aof Noppharnach, confirms to the documentary's audience that BL is a romance genre of love stories. As if there was any doubt, playa!)

At this point in time, in 2024, if I want a meta-critical understanding of the BL industry, and its many impacts on queer populations, fan bases, and Asian and global society, I'll go to Dr. Thomas Baudinette's Boys Love Media in Thailand and choose the academic route. We are SO LUCKY now to actually have tremendous academic discourse on the genre and its impact on media, fandoms, queer society, and global and regional acceptances of queer equity.

As opposed to the roads that academics are paving, War of Y allowed itself to bloat and gloat, on behalf of its creators, about their desires for shipping, for lavishing attention on beautiful young men, without offering us objective insight into the mindsets of these gentlemen who are important artists and creators in many of the shows we love. There needs to be a space for fair and objective criticism about an industry that may, at many times, take advantage of these young men. While there were many industry cameos in the show, the most frequent cameo was Den Panuwat himself. That enough should tell us what this show was ultimately really about.

[Well, as you can tell, I am fucking DONE with War of Y, laughing my azz off, and -- I'm off to greener pastures. I'm taking a cute and quick break from the OGMMTVC to devour Japan's anime version of Cherry Magic for an upcoming comparative (and totally self-indulgent) Big Meta on Thailand's and Japan's versions of that franchise. (And I have also been watching Fully Booked, AMA.) But I've got a long-awaited rewatch of The Eclipse coming up, to explore how GMMTV handled homophobia as a centered topic head-on, and from there, I go back to Idol Factory to watch Thailand's first GL, featuring the lovely FreenBecky, in GAP.

AND THEN: HOLY SHIT! FINALLY! My School President. I can't wait.

Here's the latest of the OGMMTVC list. If you've got any questions or comments about the syllabus, just mosey on over to this link and drop a comment my way!

1) The Love of Siam (2007) (movie) (review here) 2) My Bromance (2014) (movie) (review here) 3) Love Sick and Love Sick 2 (2014 and 2015) (review here) 4) Gay OK Bangkok Season 1 (2016) (a non-BL queer series directed by Jojo Tichakorn and written by Aof Noppharnach) (review here) 5) Make It Right (2016) (review here) 6) SOTUS (2016-2017) (review here) 7) Gay OK Bangkok Season 2 (2017) (a non-BL queer series directed by Jojo Tichakorn and written by Aof Noppharnach) (review here) 8) Make It Right 2 (2017) (review here) 9) Together With Me (2017) (review here) 10) SOTUS S/Our Skyy x SOTUS (2017-2018) (review here) 11) Love By Chance (2018) (review here) 12) Kiss Me Again: PeteKao cuts (2018) (no review) 13) He’s Coming To Me (2019) (review here) 14) Dark Blue Kiss (2019) and Our Skyy x Kiss Me Again (2018) (review here) 15) TharnType (2019-2020) (review here) 16) Senior Secret Love: Puppy Honey (OffGun BL cuts) (2016 and 2017) (no review) 17) Theory of Love (2019) (review here) 18) 3 Will Be Free (2019) (a non-BL and an important harbinger of things to come in 2019 and beyond re: Jojo Tichakorn pushing queer content in non-BLs) (review here) 19) Dew the Movie (2019) (review here) 20) Until We Meet Again (2019-2020) (review here) (and notes on my UWMA rewatch here)

21) 2gether (2020) and Still 2gether (2020) (review here) 22) I Told Sunset About You (2020) (review here) 23) YYY (2020, out of chronological order) (review here) 24) Manner of Death (2020-2021) (review here) 25) A Tale of Thousand Stars (2021) (review here) 26) A Tale of Thousand Stars (2021) OGMMTVC Fastest Rewatch Known To Humankind For The Sake Of Rewatching Our Skyy 2 x BBS x ATOTS (re-review here) 27) Lovely Writer (2021) (review here) 28) Last Twilight in Phuket (2021) (the mini-special before IPYTM) (review here) 29) I Promised You the Moon (2021) (review here) 30) Not Me (2021-2022) (review here)

31) Bad Buddy (2021-2022) (thesis here) 32) 55:15 Never Too Late (2021-2022) (not a BL, but a GMMTV drama that features a macro BL storyline about shipper culture and the BL industry) (review here) 33) Bad Buddy (2021-2022) and Our Skyy 2 x BBS x ATOTS (2023) OGMMTVC Rewatch (Links to the BBS OGMMTVC Meta Series are here: preamble here, part 1, part 2, part 3a, part 3b, and part 4) 34) Secret Crush On You (2022) (review here) 35) KinnPorsche (2022) (tag here)  36) KinnPorsche (2022) OGMMTVC Fastest Rewatch Known To Humankind For the Sake of Re-Analyzing the KP Cultural Zeitgeist (part 1 and part 2) 37) Honorable Mention: War of Y (2022) (for the sake of an attempt to provide meta BL commentary within a BL in the modern BL era), with a complementary watch of Aam Anusorn’s documentary, BL: Broken Fantasy (2020) 38) The Eclipse (2022) (tag here) 39) The Eclipse OGMMTVC Rewatch to Reexamine “Genre BLs” and Internalized/Externalized Homophobia in GMMTV Shows (watching) 40) GAP (2022-2023) (Thailand’s first GL)

41) My School President (2022-2023) and Our Skyy 2 x My School President (2023) 42) Moonlight Chicken (2023) (tag here) 43) Bed Friend (2023) (tag here) 44 La Pluie (2023) (review coming) 45) Be My Favorite (2023) (tag here) (I’m including this for BMF’s sophisticated commentary on Krist’s career past as a BL icon) 46) Wedding Plan (2023) (Recommended as an important trajectory in the course of MAME’s work and influence from TharnType) 47) Only Friends (2023) (tag here) (not technically a BL, but it certainly became one in the end) 48) Last Twilight (2023-24) (tag here) (on the list as Thailand’s first major BL to center disability, successfully or otherwise) 49) Cherry Magic Thailand (2023-24) (tag here) (on the list as the first major Japanese-to-Thai drama adaptation, featuring the comeback of TayNew) 50) Ossan’s Love Returns (2024) (adding for the EarthMix cameo and the eventual Thai remake)

51) Dead Friend Forever (2024) (thoughts here) 52) 23.5 (2024) (GMMTV’s first GL) (thoughts here)]

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

Hii, i just found your work and I'm obsessed!!

Been wondering if you have more of "Sorry, but I Think I Lost Your Plot"

Thank you a lot for your work!!

 Sorry, but I Think I Lost Your Plot pt 9

Pairing: Onesided!Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Modern!Fem!Reader

Words: 1058

You and Hiccup conversate. Again.

Tags: Time Travel, Reader into Movieverse, DoB:Live and Let Fly, first rule of fight club, unedited

<Previous - Next>

“The green fin didn’t work out?” You asked, eyeing Toothless’ proud blue. Toothless was making it a point to whip his tail so that you could see it in its full glory, fins spread out all the way.

It seemed that Deadly Nadders weren’t the only dragons who were vain.

“Meatlug tore it,” It seemed Hiccup was back in his red tunic, which you had washed, folded and returned just the other day. He had his frog apron tied around his waist, dust and smoke smudging his face and rolled-up sleeves.

“Working on fixing up the green one. I was going to repair it, but…” He laughed awkwardly, following your eyes and rubbing his sleeves with his knuckles, maybe to try and wipe off the smudge or just self-consciously, you couldn’t tell.

“Oh, well,” You trailed off with a hum. You didn’t know blue pigment was so expensive. You figured that in town the other day, bartering with one of the old folks down by the docks. You felt sort of bad for giving Hiccup the tip, for a little while, but it seems he managed it pretty well. He probably had to do a fair bit of haggling for it, though.

“It looks really nice.” You complimented, shaking away your jitters.

Toothless snuffled at you from where he was besides, sidling up to the counter to flash his fin at Hiccup, for what was probably the millionth time.

“Yeah, bud, I see you,” Hiccup rolled his eyes.

You leaned your head away, shifting the pail in your hand, watching curiously as Toothless blew into your hair indulgently. 

Hiccup glowered sourly over your shoulder. Toothless gargled back.

The pail was for Flishlegs, filled with rocks for Meatlug,though you weren’t sure if he still needed it. You were falling slightly behind. Mrs. Ingerman might appreciate having the rocks in reserve if Meatlug ever got the bright idea to try and start eating at their nice, polished stone floors again. 

You would bring it up in conversation with her again the next time you had to do any laundering. She usually was kind enough to do boots for you if they weren’t yours, the one article you refused to touch on your own.

Speaking of jobs, and casual conversation;

“Do you know where the Thorstons… The twins, are? They said they had a job for me, or something.” You shrugged.

You had a point to coming down here, though you really did want to talk yourself out of asking for it.

“The twins?” Hiccup asked. 

Peering over the counter, you could tell he was fingering a small box. You wondered what it was for.

The weirdness only upped itself tenfold with him, sometimes.

You were glad he had to mind not to just stare and drool, like that one time. He was pretty supped up on Zippleback gas, then, and you still weren’t completely sure that the lightning strike hadn’t done anything to his brain. So you didn’t hold it against him.

“Yeah,” You confirmed, sighing with false casualty, “They’re really hard to find, though. Honestly, I thought their father was bad enough on his own.”

“Their father?” 

You nodded and hummed in response, “He’s never where he needs to be, according to Mrs. Thorstong, though I’m not sure how deeply I should be trusting in her word, considering all she does is talk about how big your dad’s muscles are.”

Toothless sad back on his haunches, finding something much more interesting in the ferns lining the stone platform the forge was built on.

“What?” Hiccup balked, “Really? That…”

“Sure is something, I know. “ You nodded sagely, “By the way, how have your burns been? I know Johannes has been having an issue with the blisters. Something about needing ointment. I think Gothi just made a fresh batch, he told me, so if you need to go up the spire…”

You remembered how awkward it was trying to haul Hiccup up the ladder to Gothi’s after the lightning incident. It was an exercise in strength you didn’t have. In the end, you had to get help. So maybe it was better that the two of you had Toothless. Or not, what with the flight ban and all.

You still felt pretty bad for the acid burns, though. 

“I-no, I’m totally fine. Great, even! Unless you wanted to come, then-ah… I guess I could…” Hiccup fumbled with the box, arms contorted at an uncomfortable angle, digging his nails into the space between the lid and body in a place he probably thought was just out of view, “Really, I was wondering if…” 

“So what’s the deal with Flight Club?” You blurted out. 

You bit your lip anticipatorily, counting the seconds as they dragged by between you asking an answer. You really, really wanted to ask. The twins had been talking about it, and pretty openly at that. 

You just hoped it wouldn’t compromise your position as primarily plot-unrelated in the meantime.

“Well, I- Oh-” Hiccup fumbled for an answer. He tried to step to the side in a move that was probably supposed to be casual, though he only managed to trip against the counter, and pretty awkwardly at that.

You heard something fall to the ground, as he must have knocked something down, setting off a loud clicking noise, before something large and fast bolted past your head, displacing hair. 

Toothless hissed and jumped, tail wrapping tightly around his four legs. He nearly knocked you over with the force of it all. 

You stiffened bodily as you heard a loud crash. The hairs on the back of your neck were definitely standing.

The bola must have burst through the roof of one of the large houses behind, as you could hear the beginnings of a long chain of muffled shouts from off in the distance.

“Ouch,” You winced.

“So, Gothi’s?” Hiccup asked, stumbling around the forge counter.

You looked back and forth around the empty clearing. It was actually very empty. What was usually bustling made up quite the ghost town. Unfortunately, you were afraid that soon, that would no longer be the case.

 “We should probably get going.”

“Yeah,” Hiccup nodded, hurriedly trying, and failing, to undo the knots of his apron.

You set down your pail, shaking your arms out and brushing your hands down your skirt. 

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

The Boy with the Thorn in his Side [Part 2]

Part One

Steven Grant X F!Reader Rating: M Masterlist | ao3 | want to be tagged?

Warnings: TYPOS, swearing, SELF-INDULGENT, lovey dovey syndrome, fluff, pinning, brief mention of sex, please let me know if I’ve missed a warning!

A/N: Just wanted to say a big thank you to everyone that enjoyed the first part and convinced me to write the second. (Also to @romanarose for gently bribing me with another chapter of their wonderful fic.)

Summary: After the events on Sunday night, you can't get Steven out of your head. But with no way to contact him, you form a plan to see him again.

Word Count: 3864

Taglist: @pleasurebuttonwrites @jake-g-lockley @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem @oscarisaacsspit

____________________________________

This was a bad idea. This was such a bad idea. An awful, terrible, horrendous idea. You were bordering on stalker behaviour. He would take one glance at you and call the police, ‘hi, there’s this person I saw one time who basically invited herself into my meal and now she’s at my workplace.’ He would get a restraining order. You’d go to jail. This was the worst thing you have ever thought of.

Your hands shook a little as you set foot into the museum, your heartbeat echoed in your temples as nerves seemed to eat you from the inside out. 

You had cursed yourself Sunday night on the bus ride home, going over countless possibilities of how you could have done things differently. On Monday morning all you could think of was Steven’s kind smile and why you didn’t ask for his number. Even if he had said no, at least that would be something. A full stop to the whole thing, you could draw a line under it. Get on with your life. 

You hadn’t even spoken to your flatmates or your friends about it. Flitting between embarrassment of how you had just rushed off onto the bus and the mortification of your crush. You were an adult for god’s sake, it was completely fine to fancy someone – but you had still blushed and hidden the flowers Steven had given you in your room, away from your flatmate’s prying eyes. (After putting them in the nicest vase you had.)

By Tuesday you had a plan, a very poor plan. 

Steven had told you he worked in the gift shop at the museum. Just go, just say hi. Be casual. Normal. (Things you were unfortunately incapable of doing it seemed.)

On Wednesday, one of your days off, you had woken earlier than you normally got up for work. Showered and spent a little longer than you would want to admit choosing an outfit that was nice but casual. Flattering, but didn’t look like you were trying too hard. Oh god. You held your head in your hands. 

As you shuffled out of your room, finally happy (ish) with how you looked, Michael, one of your flatmates, was sitting eating cereal at the kitchen table. He was, without a doubt, one of your closest friends. 

“You look nice.”

You gave him a weak smile back. 

He frowned. “Thought you didn’t have work today?” 

“I don’t, just, just heading out.” 

His eyes narrowed even more. “We-”

“No Jason today?” You quickly changed the subject looking around for Michael’s boyfriend. 

“Late shift, he’s still asleep.” 

“Oh, okay, well,” you pulled on your shoes as quickly as you physically could. “That’s nice. See you later!” And practically threw yourself out of the door before he could get another word in edgeways. 

As you travelled into central, all you could think of was how stupid this was. 

You stopped and bought a couple of vegan crosstown doughnuts on your way. You would just see if he was there, say hi. Give him the doughnuts, say it was a little thank you for him paying. Ask him out again. Easy. Simple. Just casual. You could do that. Definitely. One hundred percent. 

You walked further into the museum, trying to keep an eye out for the gift shop. What if he wasn’t working today? This was so stupid. If-

You spotted the gift shop and your heart sank into the ground and crushed under the weight of your feet. There was a blonde woman behind the till. No sign of Steven anywhere. Your shoulders slumped. 

Fate had decided. You let out a deep breath and turned to walk back out the way you had come and smashed right into someone. 

“Oh fuck! I’m sorry!” You grabbed hold of their forearms to steady them.

Luckily they didn’t drop the pile of boxes they were holding. 

“Woops, no, my fault.”

That voice. 

Your heart sprang up from the floor and slammed back into your chest. 

“Steven?” 

He lowered the boxes, poking his head around the side. His whole face lit up when he saw you. 

“Hello, hi, what are you, what are you doing here?”

“Obviously trying to make you drop things.”

He laughed, his smile blinding.

“I, erm, here,” you thrust the doughnuts at him, completely forgetting every suave line you had rehearsed in your head. He stared at your hands for a second before you realised he obviously couldn’t take them with his hands full. Fuck, fuck, fuck. “No, fuck. I-” 

“It’s so good to see you!” He took a small step closer.

“It is?” Relief flooded your veins, the sudden rebound from absolute mortification to a slight ease made you lightheaded.

“Of course.” 

You stared for a second too long at his large brown eyes, your chest warm. 

“I, I got you some doughnuts, vegan,” you quickly added and raised the bag. “Just as, erm, like a small thank you.”

“You didn’t need to do that.” His voice was so soft as he readjusted his hold on the boxes so that he could see you better. He lent his head to the side, a small hint of pink dusting his cheeks and the tips of his ears. 

It was your turn to talk, “I…” The realisation that you had got lost just looking at him, again, smacked you hard in the face. “No, I just, I didn’t say thank you really, and I just rushed off and…” You shrugged. 

Steven opened his mouth to speak.

“Stevie! Those boxes!” Blonde woman behind the gift shop counter motioned exaggeratedly with her hands, though she did not move to help. 

Realisation clicked into your mind as you turned back to Steven and whispered. “Oh no, is this the famous Donna.” 

“The very same.” He said, completely deadpan.

You pull a face and Steven laughs before giving Donna a thumbs up and a fakest nod and smile you had ever seen. 

“I don’t know how busy you are, obviously I don’t want to get in the way of any plans, but, I have a break at one.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I know that’s a bit of a way away-”

“I can meet you here?” You said a little too quickly. 

Steven grinned. “Yeah.” 

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll see you here,” you said again and pointed to the ground as you both move around and walk backwards. “One.”

“One.” Steven nearly trips over someone behind him but sidesteps quickly. He mutters a polite sorry before you both look back at each other and share a little laugh.

“See you later!” 

Steven gave you the best wave he could, a wiggle of his fingers, without letting go of the boxes.  

“Stevie!”

Steven rolled his eyes and you grinned back at him. 

“Coming!” He turns and looks back at you over his shoulder.

You can feel the most ridiculous, dopy lovesick smile that you’ve ever had plastered over your face. And you can do absolutely nothing about it.  

.

You realised pretty quickly that you could just walk around the museum while you were waiting for the time to tick slowly onwards, but it just seemed impolite somehow to hover around Steven’s place of work, despite the fact that the museum was massive.

It wasn’t like you standing a few metres away from him and just staring.

Nevertheless, you found yourself walking out and wandering around some shops until around 12, looking at the time on your phone every thirty seconds. You had to stop when your battery got to fifty percent, worried you would run it down to nothing. 

At just after 12 you sat on the museum steps and read, pulling out your slightly battered paperback from your bag. 

Not that you took anything in. You had to keep restarting the page. The words started to get lost in your head about two paragraphs in. You bit at your thumbnail as you read the same words for the umpteenth time and bounced your leg up and down. 

Nerves twisted in your stomach, a giddy thrill. The only comparable sensation was to performing on stage in a long ago school play, the fear you would make an absolute fool of yourself combined with a rush of excitement. 

You checked your phone again, 12:34. Okay, that was definitely too early to go in. Far too early. Quarter to, you could go in at quarter to. 

Your bouncing leg was making it even more impossible to keep your place in your book, the words jumped in time with your leg. You could easily fix this by not resting your forearm on your leg. 

But moving your arm would mean moving your hand, and moving your hand would mean that you could move your hand, and knowing you could move your hand meant you could move your hand to check your phone for the time again, and doing that-

“Hello!”

You turned around so quickly it was a miracle that you didn’t give yourself whiplash. 

Steven gave you a nervous smile, holding onto his bag strap with both hands. “Got out a bit early, hope that’s alright, I thought, I mean, I saw you headed out earlier... So I just, well, you know, thought I would check and see if you were out here. Sorry, I’m speaking too much, aren’t I? Yes.” 

He ran a hand through his hair as you quickly climbed to your feet, shoving your book in your bag.

“No, no,” you grin at him. 

There was a moment where both of you just stared at each other, forgetting how to speak. 

“Are you hungry?” Steven asks.

You nod.

.

Steven leads you to a little vegan burrito restaurant near the museum. 

“It’s really nice there.” He seemed excited to show it to you, his enthusiasm infectious. 

The shop was small, with just two tables outside and one inside. The queue wasn’t too long, but because of the size of the place it’s trailing outside. However it’s moving quickly.

You both chat easily as you wait. The built up nerves in your chest morphing into just the giddy thrill of being around him. 

You scan the menu board as you enter.

“I’ll get you one.” Steven said off handily. 

“Steven, I should be getting you one, I owe you from Sunday.”

“Nah,” he smiles and shakes his head.

“Listen,” you laugh and can’t help the rush of fondness for him that briefly clouds your mind, “I don’t mean to get all in your face, but I will physically fight you on this.” You nudge him with your shoulder as you speak.

Steven chuckles. “Okay.” 

He recommends ‘The Ultimate Burrito’. You let Steven go first in the line.

The people there recognise him, calling him by name and asking after Gus, and if ‘Donna has got that stick out of her arse yet’. 

When the cashier hands over his food and asks for payment, Steven quickly adds, “hers as well.”

You open your mouth to protest, but Steven taps his card and gives you a beaming smile before you can say anything.

He hands you your brown paper bag. 

“Steven,” you begin. 

“You can get the next one.”

You tut, but there’s no malice in it. “You said that last time.”

“And now there’s a this time, yeah? See, it worked.” 

You nudge him in the arm again as you both walk out. “You know you don’t have to pay for my food for there to be a next time, right?”

He nods, he’s smiling, but there’s something about his expression, something in his eyes that don’t leave you convinced.

“Well, that’s two times I owe you. So I guess you’re going to have to put up with me at least twice after today.”

His shoulders seem to relax a little.

You walk to Russell Square to sit and eat. The burrito is excellent. You give Steven the doughnuts, he promptly offers one to you and refuses to accept no for an answer. 

“And that’s where I hid the override key.” Steven ends his story with a grin.

You laugh loudly, “Donna still hasn’t found it?” 

“Nope.”

“Oh my god!”

“Yep, every time she needs to do a till check or cash up she has to ask me for my key. I make a big deal out of it, you know.”

You continue to laugh, imagining the gentle disruption Steven has caused his manager. 

He leans a little closer to you, all conspiratorial. “I tell her I keep it in my locker, for ‘safety’, it’s in my pocket the whole time.”

“Does she get annoyed?”

“Oh yeah,” he grins, “‘Stevie, you need to keep it on you!’”

You lose it at his impression. 

“‘Stevie, I need the key!’” He switches his tone when relaying his side of the conversation, putting on an extra layer of sincerity and bewilderment. “‘But, Donna, I’m just a shop assistant, only the managers have to keep their override key on them? That’s what it says in the guidelines isn’t it? Where’s your key?’ Then,” he motions animatedly with his hands. “She’ll huff and mutter and wander off and then ask for it again after five minutes. Usually slightly more politely, which, let me tell you, is a big deal for Donna.”

“Has she said anything about her key?”

“Nope.”

You leant forward, shifting closer to him without realising it. “So she hasn’t even admitted she can’t find it?” 

“Not at all.”

You laugh again.

“I mean, I thought she’d ask. Actually no, telling tales, I thought she would actually look in the back office for it. It’s literally on her desk, right under her nose! But, no. So then, I thought she’s gonna say, ‘Stevie, have you seen my key?’ in which case I could go, ‘oh yeah Donna, it’s right here.’” He shrugged, grinning. “Can’t ask for help apparently.” 

You threw your head back as you giggled, your knee brushed against his thigh, and for a moment the brief touch sent an electric shock up your spine. 

“I know it’s mean.” He said, chuckling a little. 

“She deserves it.”

“I’m sort of Matilda-ing my way around.”

Your eyes lit up, “you are! Does she wear a hat?”

He shook his head, confused for a second. 

“Shame, you could glue it to her head.”

Steven broke out laughing, remembering the scene from the book where Matilda does exactly that to her father.

He pauses before speaking again, his voice a little quieter this time, a little less sure of himself. “I’m really glad you came by, like really, really glad.”

You bite your lips together, trying to control the rapid and sudden increase in your heartbeat. “Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah. I was feeling like a right numpty, I practically threw you on the bus.” 

You shake your head at him, but don’t interrupt. 

He looked down at his hands, worrying the skin around his fingernails. “Didn’t even say goodnight properly.”

Your brain short circuits at his words. Blanking out to nothingness for a moment, error screen – restart. What did he mean? What did saying goodnight properly mean? 

You stare at his lips, taking in the chance to truly look at him now that he wasn’t looking at you. Thoughts of how soft they would be, how sweet, filling your mind. What sounds would he make? Would he sigh or moan? Would there be a little hitch of his breath just before you-

“I was worrying, you know, is this boarding on stalker behaviour?” He smiled to cover his nerves and glanced back to you. 

“Steven,” you shook your head and lightly placed your hand on his forearm. “I was literally thinking the same thing. With me being the stalker, I mean.”

“What?” There is a small laugh that accompanies the word.

“Literally, I was thinking, is it crazy just to turn up at your place of work, and be like ‘hi’.”  You waved your hand with the motion, pulling a face and missing the small look of lament that flashed across his face when your hand left his arm. 

“Well, I’m so glad you did.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

You both stare at each other again, there’s a build of pressure in your chest. Maybe you could-

“How was your burrito?” Steven asks, speaking a little too quickly. 

You smile. “Very good.”

You both continue to talk and finish off the doughnuts. It only seems like you have been there for a few minutes when Steven’s phone buzzes, the faint sound of his alarm going off. 

You don’t miss the way his face drops when he sees the time. 

“How long’s your break?”

He quickly looks up, shaking his head slightly. “No, I’m- don’t worry!”

“Steven?” You give him a kind smile, even though you would quite happily let him stay here with you for the rest of the day.

He pulls a face. “I’m a bit late actually.”

“I should let you go…” Even to your own ears you don’t sound convincing. 

“Nah,” he shrugs, “I’m always late, it’d be a bit out of the old character if I went back now. Donna would die of shock I’m sure.”

You chuckle. “Is that a bad thing?”

Steven laughs. “Well, knowing my luck her replacement would be even worse.”

Another pause falls between the two of you.

“It was really nice to see you again.” You blurt out.

He sits up a little straighter, turning his body even more towards you. “You too.”

“I’d like to, I mean,” your tongue is too big in your mouth, too slow for the words that want to pour out of it, “if you want, to see you again-again?”

“Again-again?” He raises his eyebrows playfully.

“Again-again.” You grin.

“Yeah, no, I’d really like that too.”

You nod, quickly becoming a little lost in his eyes before you remember to get his number this time.

“Erm, here,” you unlock and pass him your phone. 

Steven takes your phone while still holding his own. His warm fingers brush against yours and you lean into the touch for a second longer than completely necessary.

He quickly puts his name and number in, and to your absolute endearment he also adds his last name. 

You send him a quick message: ‘hi’.

There is a buzz of vibration as his goes off. He sends one back ‘hi!’ 

You both grin at each other. 

Slowly, you walk back to the museum entrance, both of you dragging your feet a little. 

Naturally you come to a stop just outside and out of the way of the people coming and going. 

Steven shifted his bag on his shoulder. “Maybe next time we can go somewhere that serves something other than steak?” 

“Sure,” you nod, “sounds good.”

There’s another pause. But this one is painful. Even in this short time it’s like you both had become attached to each other, that pulling apart now would only cause wounds in the places you had touched.

“I should,” Steven motions with his hand behind him to the museum, he doesn’t move to go, his eyes fully fixed on you.

Your heart is racing, burning up and exploding like a comet too close to the sun.

The adrenaline makes nausea burn in your throat. Oh fuck it. 

“Can I kiss you?” You blurt it out, so rushed it’s a miracle that the words are coherent. 

Steven’s mouth opens slightly, a blank look of confusion on his face.

You were wrong, you were wrong, oh god, you were so wrong, this was absolutely the worst thing you could have done, the most terrible-

He swallowed, his throat bobbing with the movement. His voice is barely a whisper. “Yes please.”

You don’t remember moving closer to him, don’t remember your hand gliding around the nape of his neck to guide his lips to yours. Your body moving on autopilot. 

You don’t care that you’re in public. For once you couldn’t care less about what anyone else thought of you, your mind so caught up with just him. 

His lips are softer than you imagined, warm and lush. His nose bumps against your cheeks before you tilt your head more to the side and then it’s perfect. 

You kiss him once, twice, innocent and chaste. You feel his throat bob again under your hand, your nails just scraping over his skin as you sink your fingers into his hair. 

He whimpers, a small, delicious sound that buzzes along your lips. You never want it to stop.

Instinctively you step even closer, gripping at his shoulder with your other hand as his press against your lower back, guiding you towards him until your chests are flush against each other. 

The tiny moan that escapes him at the contact makes your head spin. Giddy with how responsive he is, you can’t help yourself as his lips part. You slide your tongue into his mouth and Steven groans. 

His grip tightens as he sucks on your tongue, strokes it with his own. 

There’s a quickly growing fire in your belly as Steven’s shy kisses quickly become bolder, demanding. 

Your head feel light, intoxicated almost, part of you would happily push him down and fuck him against the museum steps.

He kisses you back with a fevered vigour that-

Steven’s phone buzzes. You pause, but he doesn’t, using the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. You moan and he growls, low and vibrating in his chest. You can’t help the way your breath catches at the sound, heat pooling in your lower stomach. 

You wrap your arm more fully around his neck and-

Steven’s phone buzzes again, this time a sharp ringing accompanies it. He continues to kiss you for a moment before groaning.

You pull away slightly and press your forehead against his. His eyes are closed, a small look of annoyance pinching at his features as the phone rings. 

You kiss him again, quickly, once, twice. He smiles.

Still keeping you close he looks at his phone, even though he knows whose ringtone it is. 

You see Donna’s name flash along the screen. 

“Oh fuck, I actually am really late now.” Steven says, but he’s smiling. “Worth it though.” 

You chuckle, and push him playfully in the arm. 

He lets the phone ring, putting it back in his pocket, and kisses you again. Once, twice. His tongue traces your bottom lip but he manages to pull himself away before he gets too caught up again.

Reluctantly, you both untangle yourselves from each other. 

The bottom of Steven’s hair is a mess from where you had pulled it. His lips are red, eyes dark and he is smiling so widely. 

You say your goodbyes and Steven walks up two steps before turning back and kissing you again, ‘for the road.’

You manage to keep it together, until he is out of sight. And then you can’t help the small squeal of excitement that escapes you before heading back home. 

For the rest of his shift, much to Donna’s annoyance, nothing can even come close to touching Steven’s good mood. It’s like he’s floating on clouds.  

[betbeton]

✃ Size Kink Sighted!

Various Blue Lock Men with a size kink

Short Drabbles

Warnings - Suggestive & Explicit Sexual Content

18 + Minors DNI

GN Reader

✎ let me know if you guys want any drabbles expanded on into longer pieces or more characters

⪧ Gin Gagamaru

As those wide eyes gazed down at your shorter frame Gagamaru couldn't help the twinge of arousal that spiked through his gut. The only outward change on his face was the light dusting of a barely there blush across his cheeks, and maybe the way his gaze lingered a little too long on your smaller hand practically engulfed by his.

Okay he was down horrendous, but that didn't mean he had a size kink right? Surely it was normal to want to manhandle your shorter partner while stuffing them full of your cock. Searing its shape into their tight hole as you hovered over their body large hands holding their cute face as tears of pleasure streamed down their face. On second thought he totally has a size kink, just the idea of you beneath his lankier body had him pitching a trouser tent at the damn park. He was going to have to enact all of the lecherous thoughts swarming his usually calm mind when you two arrived home, if he could wait that long.

Though as your hand moved to cup his elbow while you excitedly pointed out a cute dog he was debating if taking you in a semi-private place nearby would be enough to satisfy the ever growing itch...

⪧ Oliver Aiku

The moment you stared in awe at his cock there was a pit of borderline feral desire brewing in his stomach. Sure his teammates had poked fun at his well endowed "problem" so having it be the center of attention was nothing new, but as your hand struggled to grasp it full he knew this was the only type of attention he wanted on his cock from now on. Perhaps it was the way you seemed so short when kneeling between his legs or how delicate your hands felt while rubbing his cock, but he was certain you had opened his eyes to the lustful need to indulge in the more physical sides if his new size kink.

Mind whirring with possibilities Aiku was caught off guard by you popping the tip of his cock in and out of your mouth as you gently sucked on it. Gritting his teeth to avoid bursting out a unnecessarily aggressive expletive on of his large hands shot down to grasp at his thigh, only for your own smaller hand to take his and place it atop your head. Sinfully innocent eyes gazing up at him for a brief moment you gave a grin before trying to wedge his cock down your throat. Even if the angle wasn't awkward he had doubts he could fit into the tight, warm, wet confines of your throat, but seeing you gag and watching spittle drip down onto his thighs and balls Aiku surmised in that moment he could die a happy man... even if he hadn't been able to try and bully his cock into your tight hole yet.

⪧ Barou Shouei

He was large. All encompassing when he hovered over you on the bed. Even if he wasn't built like a marble statute you were certain he could still be suffocating to lay beneath when having sex. Degrading words spilled from his lips as you tried to regain some sense of self, from his almost oppressive presence to the searing stretch of his cock bullying it's way into your lubed up hole it was almost too much.

Barou's deep voice ricocheted in your head as your legs hiked up to circle his hips, desperate for more but also bordering on feeling overwhelmed. You weren't quite sure what he was saying most likely something about you belonging to him or him being your king, either way it was only adding to your pleasure. Breathy gasps of his name spilled from your lips alongside borderline screams of pleasure whenever he hilted himself fully, stilling briefly to let the searing stretch of his large cock pick away at your never-endings. Careening towards your orgasm as he turned your insides into a sloshed mess of lube and the various messy fluids sex produced, you decided in the moment to worship the very ground Barou walked upon if he asked you to.

His hips lost their steady rhythm of pummeling your body into the mattress when you finally came. One of his large hands releasing its grasp on the duvet to grope at your sex milking your orgasm until you were sobbing from overstimulation, only stopping when he pumped your hole full of his own release.