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teddybeartoji · 2 months

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it's not often you get to see a sleepy suguru.

it's not like he's not tired – he's fucking exhausted; the dreams just don't seem to like him all that much. but he's usually toughing it out, trying to seem as composed and put-together as possible. the dark skin underneath his eyes betray him, though.

so you don't really know why today is different. is he just more tired? have all of the sleepless hours caught up with him? or is it just you; could it be that your body is the most comfortable place to rest his heavy head? or is it your perfume that's soothing him to sleep?

or is it the fingers in his hair?

he doesn't really let others play with his hair too ofter either. satoru and shoko had been the only exceptions but that was before you came along. satoru uses his hair as a stim, something to play with when he's bored. suguru has taught him manners though – a few slaps against satoru's fingers and chest to remind him to be more careful. and shoko is just more likely to brush a strand from his eyes or help him tie them up in a half-assed bun whenever his own hands are full with whatever.

you like playing with hair, always have and always will. it's relaxing and it's fun and it's calming and you love it. when you first met suguru, his hair was the second thing you noticed about him (his keen purple eyes being the first). an irresistible itch burned in your fingertips everytime you saw him, everytime he wore his hair down. it just looked so pretty and soft.

he takes very good care of his hair, you know that much. specific shampoos and conditioners, masks and all – he's all in. and nobody bats an eye. not that they should but satoru definitely gets made fun of because of his stupidly expensive collection of figurines and shoko gets teased for her silly mug shelf – and yet, neither of them ever comment on the bottles and tubs of fancy products that lay on his bathroom counter.

his hair also smells good. the compliment always hangs on the tip of your tongue but stays hidden in fear of coming off too weird. too creepy. but he doesn smell good. even with closed eyes and ears and you'd find him in a crowd. you wonder whether he knows that.

as you grew closer and closer, the now scorching itch only doubled in need. you never did gather the strenght to outwardly ask him – if you could play with his hair? if you could caress it? comb through it? it was an accident.

a simple gloomy friday afternoon: you're both lazing on your couch, staring at the screen. it's funny – you find yourself muffling your already quiet bursts of laughter, suguru alongside you. he's sitting close by, closer than usual. you don't ask him about it.

he asked to come over; something-something about being sick of his own apartment. you understand that, so you tell him that your home is his home (you'd tell him that even if you didn't understand). you hear the faint smile when he thanks you over the phone.

even when he looks like he hasn't slept in months – he looks good. you can tell he's overexaggerating his smile a bit but don't say anything about it, rewarding him with a grin of your own. his eyes flick to your lips and how they curve and he thinks about how warm it feels to look at you. maybe he's not exaggerating anymore.

your arms open wide, inviting him into you and he obliges, as always. he smells good. as always.

his hands lock behind your back and your behind his neck. your hearts meet and they greet each other with a fastened beat, eager to be in sync – to feel each other again.

he pulls back and the corners of his eyes crinkle when he smiles. he's not doing it anymore and you're happy to relieve him even if it's for mere moments.

he's wearing a sweather and his hair is down. he has lip gloss on; you try to think whether he's more of a mint guy or more of a shea guy. it remains a mystery.

and now you're on the couch with two cups of warm tea waiting for you on the small table. he smells good. he's so close. he snickers at the screen and you can't take your eyes off of him. it's the same small crinkle of the eyes and the faintest pink tint on his cheeks.

you know he knows that you're looking at him. you've been told to have a staring problem and he's just an observant guy. it's a terrible match. or a perfect one.

he doesn't say anything though; instead he leans his head back and little to the side against the headrest (he's even closer now) and you find yourself shifting an inch aswell. perhaps magnets are involved? the iron in your blood pulling you together?

no, that can't be. you'd have to be polar opposites for that to work. warm-blooded and cold-blooded? would that work? you're getting too poetic and he's looking at you now.

it's an accident. it slips out on its own. you smell good. caught off guard by your own comment, you're about to apologize when a hand on your thigh almost makes you suffocate on the words stuck in your throat.

he laughs and it feels so good. he thanks you. he means it, you see it in his tired eyes. he likes the way you blush.

turning his focus back to the tv, you try to collect yourself. a deep breath in and a deep one out and a deep one in and a de—

a weight on your shoulder. he smells so good. he's so close. you peek down, curious as to whether this is a dream or not. but suguru's head is in fact laid on your body, sinking a bit more into you by the second. a deep breath in and a deep one out.

seeking for a more comfortable position, you snuggle closer to him. it's hard to focus but you're making it your sole mission to make him feel safe. your arm curls around his body, his shoulder, and rests right by a flock of his hair.

his cheek is now smushed against the top of your chest and the weight of love doesn't seem as bad as everyone keeps telling you. his hand finds a place around your waist; loosely – as if he's the one who's afraid to scare you off. silly.

his breath against you feels right and the butterflies in your stomach refuse to calm down. so you do what you always do when you get nervous – completely on their own, your fingers caress his hair. just smoothing over it at first but before you know it, they're combing through a strand and twirling the ends between themselves.

you wanna apologize, again, but the soft little grunt that emits from the man keeps you from doing so.

don't stop.

+ this is for @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat just bc it feels right

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ghostlyarchaeologist · 9 months

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Evolution of Eliot/Hardison hugs over the years.

And the one time that Eliot really needed a hug:

Leverage S02E08/S03E10/S04E01/S04E07/S04E10/S05E09/Leverage Redemption S01E16/S02E06.

#leverage #leverage redemption #eliot spencer #alec hardison #christian kane #aldis hodge #i swear eliot is like a feral kitten #starts off all hissing and spitting and 'i swear i will break your arm'#and to get them used to being handled you grab them and wrap them up tightly in a towel and just shower them with affection #they hate it at first but slowly they learn to accept it #and then they come to love it #the next thing you know you have an extremely affectionate cat who initiates the contact #who's favourite thing ever is to be sprawled on your lap purring their head off #i did not mean to write a thesis on this but here we are #and yeah i could have not added that last gif and saved you all a punch to the gut #but it was getting way too mushy in here! :)#*runs off chuckling back into my pit*#ghostly'sgifs

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chimaerakitten · 2 years

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Fic ask game! Sweat_smile, alien, open_mouth, and black triangle emoji?

(Sorry, I'm writing this on my phone and it struggles with emoji XD)

😅 Was there a fic/chapter that you were nervous about posting? Why?

On a generic level (Since I just gave the SecUnit job as a specific example) I get nervous about final or final few chapters of multi chaps. It's a lot harder for me to stick the landing on a long piece than it is to start, so I get worried when I get close to that point

👽 Strangest fic you ever written?

Hard question, because ive written some really niche fics, especially crossovers, and I've written some fics that were embarrassing in hindsight, (and messed up orphaning one of them in such a way that my username is still visible but I no longer have control over it, the worst of both worlds) but it's hard to gauge pure strangeness. Filk lyrics are strange and I've posted a few of those, but thats not Fic, strictly speaking. I guess maybe the Eldritch!ART AU? "What if lovecraftian horror but friendly and also a murderbot AU" is a strange choice, but I also do pride myself on writing less popular tropes and out-there crossovers so a lot of my fics are at least a little strange and it's not that out there for me. Not so many coffeeshop AUs here.

😮 Anything you included in your fic that you didn’t expect people to like?

I don't really have things I expect people to hate, because I don't write from spite or from serious dissatisfaction with source material, so I don't have one of those awesome stories that are like "I wrote a slowburn for my NOTP just so I could kill one of them off in the last chapter." I've got plenty of fics that got way more engagement than I was expecting though, most recently securityunit.patch326.732.98.program which I thought would get maybe a couple kudos since it's a very short contextless snippet I'd already shared on discord, but people seemed to really like it! That's always fun, and I enjoy all the feedback since right now my recent longer fics are for a fandom that is basically dead.

I don't think there's a black triangle emoji on this list? I am curious about the secret black triangle question 👀

#ask game #fanfic writer ask game #grammarpedant #the kitten writes

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regal-bones · 1 year

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👻💀Happy Halloween from our newest familiar Finn! He's dreaming of ghosts, ghouls, and monsters... 👻💀

Trick or treat! Support us on Patreon!

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dwobbitfromtheshire · 5 months

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After the town insists on calling his club a cult and he ends up framed for murder:

Eddie: Well, it wasn't going to be a cult before. It certainly is now!

Just out of sheer pettiness.

Steve: *reading the newspaper with his glasses on his nose* Yeah, that would be a no, Eddie.

Eddie: That would be a yes, Steve.

Steve: *without looking up* And what would your cult be doing?

Eddie: Evil stuff.

Steve: *scoffs* Sure.

His new cult ended up mostly rescuing cats and finding them homes when Eddie started driving around town trying to find evil stuff for him to do. Word got around about his rescuing cats, and they realized that they had been wrong about him all along.

Eddie: I don't understand why they're no longer afraid of me and my new cult.

Steve stared at him. Eddie was currently sitting on the floor with a kitten sleeping in his front vest pocket and more climbing over him. Steve watched one jump from his shoulder to the top of his head.

Steve: You got me. You look absolutely terrifying.

#stranger things #stranger things s4 #eddie munson #joseph quinn #eddie stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson lives #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie is as terrifying as a sleepy kitten #incorrect stranger things quotes #steddie ficlet #rueleigh writes

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katsukikitten · 5 months

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Izuku doesn't have many vices, mostly because he doesn't allow himself to indulge in any. Thinking them more as nasty habits or stains on his perfect PR record than anything else. Like headaches he'd rather avoid or didn't seem worth the bashing he'd receive from fans and haters online.

But that didn't mean he never indulged.

Especially with the weight of being the number one hero pressing down onto his broad shoulders, pushing him further into his sulking as he drapes himself over the smooth bar top. Half finished handle of liquor under his scarred palm, swirling the last dredges of the clear liquid inside as he thinks about ordering another.

Izuku was only here at this tiny lively bar in the small forgotten prefecture of Tokyo because Kaminari dragged him here. The electric blonde wasn't sure if Izuku had a girlfriend or not, he knew his occasional hero partner to be secretive about his love life which was the opposite of Kaminari who often advertised just how single he was. Denki dragged the hulking hero because Izuku needed to “live a little” and it was “cuffing season.”

Izuku didn't know what that meant.

Googling it is how he finds himself on the brink of a spiral with his perfectly white teeth sinking into the inside of his lip before his tongue laps at the metallic tang that floods his mouth.

It doesn't stop his teeth from sinking into tender flesh, it doesn't stop him from swallowing down more burning booze or sighing loudly.

He just can't stomach the thought of having to face his mother without a date during the holidays again this year. Don't mistake this concern for self pity nor vanity. Izuku is not the type of man who thinks he deserves to have people fawning at his feet, hell the man often grappled with feeling deserving of his given quirk on a daily basis more often than not.

But the way his mother looks when she opens the door, how her big smile drops the slightest when Izuku shows up and no one is there under his arm or holding his hand. Or awkwardly smiling as they meet his mom and Yagi-san for the first time even though they'd been dating for a good long while.

Izuku is just too busy, he doesn't mean to be, tried to board his PTO to take a long hiatus or two from work so he could dote on his partner.

But nothing was ever good enough.

He couldn't face that look of worry or concern from his mother, not again.

It wasn't for lack of trying on Izuku's part either, blind dates arranged by his mother or friends, even the agency! Dating app after dating app leading to dead ends or lack of intimacy leaving Izuku to feel hollow, desperate, enough to seek out other lonely heroes that wanted nothing more than sex.

Still he took everything seriously, maybe too seriously, and things just never worked out.

Yet the hopeless romantic in him never wavered and he thought he had one last shot at love when the hero agency set up an arrangement for a PR girlfriend to keep his ratings high. Izuku did everything in his power to make it work, to try to fall genuinely and deeply in love with the pretty woman who he shared his apartment with. Taking her on dates to places like the movies or to see the Sakura. Fucking her on his couch, in his car, over his dining room table after pushing away the dinner she made.

But each action only made him feel empty, more so than before. There was no spark between them, at least not on his end and Izuku couldn't stomach the idea of leading her on. Especially not when Izuku saw hearts forming in her eyes from more than just sex.

It ended in a mess when she confessed she loved him while straddling his lap and he went soft inside her. Fat tears threatening to fall that he blinks away before she gets up to slap him, he doesn't feel anything.

She breaks her fingers.

Breeching her contract that Izuku buys out when the agency threatens to sue her, the only time the commission head ever saw Izuku's bright emerald eyes narrow and darken.

He doesn't understand why he can't keep anyone around, he begins to think he is the problem.

That maybe his expectations were too high? Maybe he didn't devote enough time? Or maybe he really truly didn't feel anything when he was with any of the men and women he dated in the past save for one.

He expected love to be like the movies and of course Kaachan called him a dumb ass for it. That romantic sappy shit, movies that Izuku and Katsuki had watched curled together on Izuku's couch, “weren't fucking real.”

Only for the blonde traitor to move in with a woman he knew for less than six months when Katsuki kept telling Izuku it was too soon to move in with him despite them secretly fucking for a year and knowing each other all their lives.

Izuku finished the second half of his bottle.

His phone demands attention, chirping from the pocket of his jeans as Kamianri’s laugh echoes over the confined space. Izuku reads the banner on the illuminated glass, the text is from his mother.

Is it just you this year, honey?

Before a second one comes through.

Yagi is asking so we know to put the leaf in. We don't mind when you bring extra company. Kaachan and his girlfriend were a pleasant surprise last year.

But I'll be more than happy to just see my son.

Guilt floods his system, heavy in his chest that it forces a groan from his throat. Idle hand coming to clampe and squeeze harshly at the nape of his neck. Finger shaped bruises forming under thick digits in the hairline of his undercut, his emerald curls doing little to hide it. As the pain ebbs pleasantly down his spine he thinks to pat down his jeans seeking out the familiar rectangular outline before he slides off of the wobbling stool.

Pushing open the heavy door to the secluded alley with ease, mind sharp and feet steady as he looks around. Alcohol never had much effect on him due to his large stature and even larger metabolism leaving him to drink an obscene amount of booze before he felt a pleasant buzz. Tonight he hadn't had nearly enough to ease his shattered heart.

Jagged emerald eyes cut through the alley before he lets the tension in his shoulders release but not enough he'd be off guard. He remembers Stain and his legacy, he knows society still remembers the hero killer too. Knows that most heroes don't necessarily die in action but when they're most vulnerable. Throats slit while they were asleep, fucking, or stepping out into a dark alley in the middle of the night for a smoke.

The thought does little to soothe the aching need in his throat, to feel the burn that could dissolve the lump that sits uncomfortably behind his Adam's apple. Pulling out the half crushed pack of cigarettes and placing one between his lips. Dark orange lighter flickering to life as he rolls over the steel and flint before he takes a deep breath.

Only to instantly regret it.

Stale smoke clots his lungs and coats his tongue, still the acrid taste doesn't stop him from pulling another drag. Mind wandering far beyond where he stood, willing the smoke to smother his hopeless heart.

“Didn't you have a campaign ad against those?” You purr, watching the bulky man tense as his head snaps up to face you.

Izuku hadn't seen anything and his danger sense didn't go off when he surveyed the alley but it does now. A tingling in the soles of his feet as he looks up at you shrouded in the shadow of the neighboring building on the fire escape a foot or so next to his head. You jump down with ease and lean against the rough brick wall next to him. Close enough your elbows touch.

Watching the giant of a man fumble over the stick in his mouth making a cruel smile form on your own.

“Number one hero smoking, tsk tsk, what if I'm an impressionable young lady?” You giggle and it clings to Izuku's skin more than the stale smoke, he scoffs.

“You act as if you don't have a vice.” He glances down at you from the corner of his eye before tilting his head up to blow the smoke away from you.

“Everyone has a vice Mr Deku.” Brandishing your cherry tootsie pop you seemingly pull from thin air. Making a grand show of pocketing the bright red wrapper before popping it past glossy lips, eyes glued to the hero hiding outside the alley of the no name bar.

You imagined he'd be in uptown places, where the silverware was gold plated and a shot of patron was twenty dollars. Not here with the ripped leather seats held together with faded duct tape and cloudy glasses.

But here he stands in black jeans, a gray graphic tee with black sleeves from an undershirt rolled up past his thick forearms, smoking no less. The only expensive thing on him is his watch, it makes your fingers twitch.

You roll the sucker around in your mouth, letting it clink your teeth as you watch him, a harsh line for a mouth that smiled so brightly on the news this morning.

Did all heroes do this? Look pathetic in dark alleyways smoking overly stale cigarettes hoping no one sees them? He looks down at you with a calculated, cold gaze, if you were any other woman it would send a shiver down your spine. Especially from how it contrasts to his normally bright gemstone eyes now they looked clouded, jaded with unspoken emotion.

You think it serves him right, yet still your clawed hands bring out a pack of unopened cigarettes from the pocket of your oversized jacket tilting them towards the hero.

“Take these. Those have gotta be at least a year old. They don't make the packaging with the small warnings anymore.” You crinkle your nose at him, his normally doe like eyes narrow as they rove over you harshly before he quirks his brow.

It's kinda cute how bitchy he looks. You swat away the thought and he thinks he's bothering you with his smoke.

“I thought you didn't smoke.” He moves the stick further away from you.

“I don't. I lifted them off the electric blonde you came with. He's a terrible flirt you know.” Cat smile forming around the lollipop sick in your mouth, watching Izuku's eyes flash in warning, it makes you giggle, “Gonna arrest me?”

“Stealing is wrong.” He stubs out his half smoked cigarette, it disintegrates against the brick from its age and not the pressure he applies.

“So’s lyin.” A smiling retort as you shake the fresh pack at him, “I'll even pick your lucky.”

He looks down at his old ragged emergency pack with only the lucky looking back up at him. Bent and half broken from the argument he had with Katsuki almost a year ago about how Izuku couldn't stomach just sex anymore.

Looking up at you but before he can accept the offer you're already gently patting the pack against your palm, pulling the golden plastic that acts as a guide to take off the wrap from the box. Picking his lucky at random and flipping it upside down before you pass the pack to him. He sighs and takes the box, looks down at the fresh pack and looks back up at you. Sees your smug smile.

“Thanks. Going to black mail me now?” He decides he should have another since his first one was so awful. Pulling the dark orange lighter from his pocket to start a good ember.

“No, I think I've got enough collateral.” Flaunting his expensive, classy watch on your wrist. Well about mid forearm for you, “Secrets safe with me.”

Instinctually his broad palms slaps his wrist where his watch should be, as if he doesn't believe his eyes. Glancing back up at you again wholly expecting you to be already at the mouth of the alley but you stay close to him. Well within arms reach and step closer to him still.

He blows the smoke up into the sky again, keeps the cigarette on the opposite side of you.

“I've got more expensive ones in my apartment.” He comments it almost comes off flirty until you see how sad his emerald eyes look. Izuku wants to ‘be a man', wants to take you home and fuck the brains out of your pretty head but his heart swells in agony, he sighs out more smoke.

“Is this you trying to take me home? Ooo so heroes do have one night stands!” A teasing nudge to his ribs, he doesn't even budge, just moves the burning stick up higher so the smoke won't stick to you.

“I don't do one night stands.”

“Then why invite me to see your expensive watch collection hmm? Tryin to get me to steal your heart instead?”

“Maybe I am.” His gaze flickers to you again, holding your eyes as his lids are at half mast.

Did anyone even know the number one hero could give fuck me eyes?

“Steal my heart, be my girlfriend.” He looks down at you, sees what he registers as panic, “Just through the holidays.”

You blink up at him for a moment as he studies you. Drinks in how those black skinny jeans cling to your thick legs, how the fishnets do little to keep his thoughts pure and that little lingerie you wore as a top had his dick twitching. Left fist clenching when his eyes look over a man's leather jacket on your broad shoulders.

He thought about all the jackets he owned so he could replace the well worn garment on your shoulders with his own.

“I'll pay you.” Taking a long drag, feeling desperation claw up his throat competing with the burn of nicotine, “Pay you a lot more than what that watch is worth.”

The idea of it makes you laugh loudly, the pretty sound echoing around the alley as you grip onto his forearm for stability. He had to be fucking drunk, there was no way he was asking a theif to be his fake girlfriend, what was this a shojo manga?

But when you look up at him and see his freckled cheeks flush with embarrassment you swallow down the rest of your mirth.

“Oh you're serious.” Pulling the cherry sucker from your mouth, letting your lips pop around it lewdly, Izuku watches with close emerald eyes his mind wandering down places it shouldn't, especially not with a woman he's just met. Still thick digits twitch as he tries not to palm himself roughly.

“What the number one hero can't get a girlfriend?” You deadpan and this time it's his turn to laugh except there isn't any joy in it.

“Ha. No. Haven't you heard? I'm too much of a ‘fucking nerd.’ Guess Kaachan was right.” He stubs out his cigarette before pocketing the butt since there was no tray in the back alley.

His admission gives you pause, pressing the cherry confection back on your tongue roughly before you pull it into your mouth taking it from manicured nails. Pushing the sucker to poke out your cheek making Izuku's long lashes flutter.

“Kaachan?’ You giggle, looking up as you move the sucker from one side of your mouth to the other with your tongue. Hard candy clacking against your teeth, “You mean Katsuki? That's Dynamight’s given name right?”

Shit shit shit! He hadn't meant to call him that! How did you figure it out so quickly!

“Oh! Oh please don't say anything!” He looks mortified and you watch his cheeks turn as red as your tongue.

“Don't worry Zuzu. Your secret is safe with me.” Crunching down on the last thin layer before the taste of chocolate coats your tongue swallowing the Tootsie roll and Izuku watches your Adam's apple bob while his mind swirls with dirty thoughts.

Thoughts so dirty he almost misses you add,

“Gonna need bigger pay to keep quiet.” Nails tapping his watch, “Sides can't say I'll be a good girlfriend. I hate everything after Halloween. My birthday included.”

“What? Everyone loves the holidays!” He's shocked you've said that and you shake your head.

“No, everyone with good or whole families love the holidays.” You correct and he looks down at you with a frown. Already you pick up on a habit of his, teeth worrying the inside of his lip as he thinks, “I currently have neither.”

“Oh I'm-”

“Don't. I don't need the mighty hero’s pity.” You scoff, sounding a little jaded before you fix your face, turning to a joke as another smile pulls at your pretty lips, “Not when I can take his money instead.”

“Cute.” He scoffs sarcastically, still he can't deny the flutter in his stomach.

“You're kinda bitchy ya know that?” You smile, “The media makes you out to be Prince Charming.”

“I don't look like Prince Charming?” He gestures to himself and you laugh loudly again. He can't help the heat that creeps up his throat.

“Bet you fuck like Prince Charming too. All vanilla and boring.” Struggling to stifle yet another giggle.

“If you accept the offer to be my girlfriend you can find out if that's true or not.” Quickly his demeanor changes, emerald eyes darkening as they slowly drag up and down your body with a sinful gaze. The sight of him looking down his nose at you makes your stomach clench. You shouldn't be considering his offer now from one intense gaze. A hero and a morally gray person never worked out and it was only a matter of time before your thievery caught up with. You really shouldn't but you know what they say.

Curiosity killed the cat

“Fine. I'll be your little girlfriend til new years. When do we start?”

“Tonight.” He leans close letting his large hand slide down your forearm to your wrist til his fingers are lacing with yours, “It's so late, I really should get you home, shouldn't I baby?”

Emerald eyes sparkling with promise that he planned to devour you whole the second the two of you stepped foot into his penthouse apartment.

“Yes, you should. It is so very late."

“Oh my god IZUKUUUUU fuck fuck fuck!” You scream as you grind onto his handsome face, cumming on his skilled tongue for the umpteenth time in the half an hour you've been in his apartment. Mauve nails around his throat as you choke him slightly, shamelessly riding his face to prolong your high, not that he would dare interrupt it. Groaning loudly under you as he slowly yanks at his fat long cock that leaks with pre. Hungry eyes watching him as you let out another breathy moan.

“Fuck and you've never had a girlfriend before?” he laughs in your cunt at your question. Strong hands coming to lift you off his face with ease so you can hear him better.

“I know I said I was a nerd but I never said I was a virgin.” Before he roughly adjusts you back on his cute freckled face, slurping your clit roughly as mock punishment for interrupting him. Your eyes cross and your thighs squeeze his head.

“Fuck.” You whine and he's rewarded with more of your slick as you cum again, Izuku already decided that he loves how you whine curses for him. Feels you start to slump from the pleasure as your body melts, offering you his hand to support you better as you grind into his face before you can't anymore.

Before this insatiable man lifts you with ease, flipping you onto your back when the needle of the record player hits the center of the vinyl. Pressing you into the dark couch with his pelvis as he wets his cock by grinding into your sticky folds, making you gasp out like he wants before he's gently cradling your throat, slipping his tongue into your open mouth as he groans.

“We taste so good together.” He growls, the sound makes you see stars, especially as his fat cock head nudges against your abused clit. Catching your fluttering entrance and it makes you both shudder before he angles himself properly. Slowly sinking in and watching your face for any signs of pain or displeasure. Watching your eyes roll with each passing moment before he rested against you. Giving slow, rough thrusts that grind down into your clit that have your hands shaking at his back as claws struggle to find purchase in his skin.

“And you're telling me these girls didn't stay for the dick either? Fuck Izuku!!!!” Arching your back, if you weren't careful you'd become addicted to him, your question makes him hide his face into your throat.

“Guess sex isn't enough.” He mumbles against your tacky skin.

“That or you're not telling me something.” You gasp at the end, when he keeps hitting that spot and makes you cum each time. Makes a deep tension in you dissipate until you feel as if you're floating, you wouldn't be able to speak much longer.

He thinks you'll pull away but instead you thread your fingers into his sweaty curls to bring his face to yours. To look deep into his eyes even if you struggle before you seal your lips with his. Letting your tongue slide over his until you moan his name into his mouth.

“Oh fuck Izuku, you have to cum in me now. Fuck fuck you're throbbing.” Your cunt clamps down on him at the thought of his warm seed spilling into your milking cunt. He pants over you, still keeping that steady slow roll of his hips but how you squeeze him makes him insane. Makes his hips finally speed up before his pace turns sloppy.

His moans turning into loud grunts as he fucks you with enough vigor the legs of the couch scrape against the expensive hardwoods until he's cupping your throat again but never squeezes. Looking down at you and you don't dare look away as you watch his long lashes flutter, the sight makes the coil in your stomach snap again. Feel him paint your cunt in pearly strings of white before he slowly lowers himself on shaking arms, giving your throat a tender squeeze before he rests his head in the crook of your throat, he hadn't intended for the two of you to fuck already. Hell he didn't even mean to rip off your jeans and set you on his face so he could show you that he really wasn't boring.

And he sure as fuck didn't meant to fill up your pretty cunt with his spend.

“What are you doing to me?” He pants playfully, kissing at your thudding pulse point.

“Stealing your heart, remember?” A breathless giggle as the two of you lie like that until his cock begins to soften. He sighs, slowly gets to his feet before he's lifting you into his arms, it makes your cheeks warm, especially when you look down at the soaked fabric of the sofa.

“I think we ruined your couch.” He laughs at your joke.

“Ts fine, the covers are machine washable.” He nudges his nose into your cheek and you giggle before he's setting you on the edge of the tub as he starts the shower for you.

“Here's how to adjust the water temp if you need it hotter. Most women love it scalding.” He takes a step back, moving to grab for a fresh towel for you. You try not to let your heart sink when you realize he isn't going to join you.

“Oh a real casanova huh?” He rolls his eyes at your playful jab before he steps into his bedroom to give you privacy for the time being. Fishing out a T-shirt and clean boxers for both himself and you to sleep in. Laying yours out on the bed as he smells his body wash float from under the snowy glass door. It makes him smile as he thinks of how you'll smell like him until he takes you to gather your things from your place tomorrow, that or he'll buy you whatever you want or need.

For now he'll relish the idea that you, his fake girlfriend, gets to smell like him, your fake boyfriend.

After awhile you come into the room, clean and pristine, movement catching Izuku's eye of course. When you meet his eyes you smile, give a little twirl.

“It's Chanel.” Letting your fingers adjust the hem of the regular cotton towel and Izuku laughs.

“Is it? Lemme see.” He rises, holds your hand to twirl you again as he looks down at you with a smile, “Perfect fit.”

“Thank you.” You giggle again, feeling shy for the first time under his heavy gaze. Watching the corner of his lips tilt upward before he points out the clothes he left out for you and slips into the bathroom. Surprisingly you don't hear the lock click to the door, Izuku was either far too trusting or he truly did not see you as a threat to his life.

Quick to change into the oversized, old shirt and boxers before you take this opportunity to explore his penthouse now that the six foot four man wasn't pressing himself up against you.

Tiptoeing out of his room even if you knew you didn't need to, whetting your curiosity first with the living room that was adorned with ceiling to floor windows to the left when you first came in. Your breath fogging the window as you look over the cityscape. A snaking inky black cuts through the bright lights, the wide river bed reflecting the lights back in swirling currents giving the scene the stars the sky lacks.

Even this late at night the prefecture is teaming with life, you wonder if it's exhausting for him. To sonder over the lives that carry out beneath his feet. If he wonders if he can save them all.

If he knows he can't.

The needle of the record player bumps against the middle of the vinyl again pulling you from your thoughts.

“Oh.” You squeak, tiptoeing to the old thing and gently lifting the arm. Finding the album cover and slipping the vinyl in with ease before shutting off the player. Eyes quick to find the empty spot on the wall to where the album goes.

Not on the shelves under the player, no those were jam-packed with composition notebooks unlabeled making your curious fingers twitch. The album belongs up on the wall with the rest of them that he organized beautifully. Each piece placed perfectly to compliment each piece of art so that it could be viewed individually or if you stood back you could see it as something whole.

Standing on tiptoes to return its album art facing forward. Taking a step or two back to appreciate it before the notebooks whisper to you.

Slipping one from the shelves, it's filled margin to margin with text about the albums. The notations were meticulously detailed reminding you of placards at museums or art exhibits. Finding the corresponding piece, staring up at the art before your eyes flicker down to the notes.

…when the music swells it squeezes my heart, the lyrics were chosen carefully bringing tears to my eyes. It's haunting how relatable it is to wonder if I'll get a perfect love and if I do that I'm deserving….

You swallow thickly, know you'll get swallowed up by this notebook that you didn't have the time to dissect, especially not with the limited amount of time you had. It felt akin to a diary, something you shouldn't be reading. Normally that wouldn't discourage you, wouldn't have your fingers slowly shutting the book. Normally you'd devour as much as you could with an excuse on why you weren't where you were supposed to be on the tip of your tongue.

For now you return it to the shelf.

Feet carrying you across the cool hardwood to the open concept kitchen that over looks the living room with the album art, expensive couch and the TV. The large waterfall island made of marble, clean and smooth save for a few scattered pieces of Izuku's life he hadn't yet tidied away like the rest of the apartment.

Another notebook, a theme it seems, lying open. A sketch of a hero on the left with text surrounding them before paragraphs of text and few bullet points to the page on the right again in Izuku's slightly messy handwriting. As if his hand cannot keep up with his brain.

Snow Fall - similar to Shouto’s ice quirk…

“Beloved?” Izuku's voice calls gently from down the hall, you tear your eyes away from the notebook and quickly open a few cabinets before you find a glass and fill it from the tap.

“M coming! Just needed water.” Heading back to huge bedroom, smiling devilishly when you find Izuku.

Seeing his body better in the light of the bedroom. Scarred, thick with muscle and soft freckles kissing almost every inch of his skin. The tan spots giving extra attention to his Adonis belt that leads to his fat cock. It makes your cunt throb.

You set the AllMight collectable glass down onto the bedside table, not noticing the fanboy item until you see his flushed cheeks, following his eyes to the PLUS ULTRA cup. The source of his embarrassment makes you giggle again.

“It's cute.” You reassure, jumping on top of the deep viridian duvet, cocking your hand on your hip and pulling your shirt up to show a little skin.

“When's the last time you fucked on this great big bed?” He doesn't answer you right away, basil eyes looking at you before they begin to look through you.

A burning ember gaze sears his memory, he closes his eyes as if that would stop the images from demanding every last shred of his attention..

“Been awhile.” He finally admits, dropping his towel unashamed as he steps into his black boxer briefs. They cup his sac and softened cock nicely, clinging to his thick thighs that have you salivating. The way he ate pussy and fucked was almost good enough to replace the cold hard cash he promised to pay, almost.

That distant look in his eyes made you wonder if there was someone else that held him back from his romantic endeavors.

“Shall we christen this great big bed too then?” A playful tease as you pull up the fabric of his shirt to expose your breasts. He loved the sight, loved how you looked in his clothes, in his bed, underneath him as his emerald pendant swings in your face.

His cock twitches, a tick in his jaw before he's clasping his hands in restraint. Wringing his fingers as he thinks of the last time he fucked in that bed.

He feels the ghost of sharp canines at the nape of his neck, his hand automatically moves to brush over the area. His curls fall over his eyes and he sighs deeply.

“No. I think you should sleep.” He smiles softly, it doesn't reach his eyes and you don't push, “We've got a big day tomorrow. Got to get your stuff and -”

“I don't have a lot of stuff. My outfit was the most of it.”

“You don't have any other clothes?”

“Maybe another pair of pants, some underwear for sure but this is mostly it. So we have time.” You purr, crawling down the bed before you flop onto your stomach. Arching your back purposefully, out stretching your fingers to play with his.

“Then it will be even longer. We'll have to get you an outfit for the party.” He threads his fingers with yours before you let go when his words register. Sitting straight up.

“Party?”

“Yes, baby doll, party. We've got several to go to. Maybe a gala too. Then there's the agency Christmas party oh and…” He bites at his lip as he rest his chin on scarred digits beginning to go off on a tangent as he thinks of all the invitations stuffed in the top desk drawer of his office.

“A gala?!” Oh fuck oh fuck this was a bad idea. When he said girlfriend through the holidays you thought fucking and a private date or two. Not being surrounded by pro heroes you ran from on the daily, identity concealed with a mask.

Not only would you be in the literal lion’s den but you really weren't the most classy type of bitch. You've never really been invited to any big event let alone one that was fucking televised. At least not events you didn't crash to slide priceless paintings off the walls or expensive jewelry off the wrists of the one percent. At least then you'd have your mask to hide behind, the ability to blend into the crowd but now you'd be hanging off the arm of the number one hero.

You'd have to act like a proper lady who definitely didn't crash in vacation homes or half lived in apartments of the rich and the famous while they stayed in their main mansions until they got tired of the same old four walls.

Each gig you promised that this would be your last and each time you found yourself with a new piece of jewelry made from dazzling gems of deconstructed designer pieces hungry for the next heist.

Art and jewelry weren't the only things you've stolen, information and secrets often sold for a lot more but Izuku, pro hero Deku, didn't need to know you had a stash house, more like stash attic, in some rundown home in Kamakura you'd gotten for a steal.

His thighs bump up against the edge of the bed, cupping your cheeks for a moment, “You look…worried.”

“I am worried. Some of these events are televised. Are you sure you want me? I'm not exactly Yaoyorozu or Kendo."

“I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't.” He comes down to press his lips to your forehead. It makes your stomach flutter, it shouldn't, “Besides those will be the easiest ones. The hard ones are the more personal settings.”

He leans back, takes his hands from your face as he heads towards the lights, “I won't let anything happen to you.”

He flicks off the lights, stands by the door for a moment before he goes to shut it.

“You're really going to sleep on the couch? I thought we had to make this realistic.” A final attempt to get him to at least come and enjoy his luxury bed. It was big enough that you doubted the two of you would even touch by accident in the middle of the night. If he was so afraid of intimacy, which was odd, he seemed more the time to fall in love if he fucked. Especially when he did romantic shit like fuck you to music and whisper some of the lyrics in your ear.

You pat his side with sharp clawed fingers, “Come on boyfriend.”

He can't remember the last time he slept in his bed, changing and washing the sheets more out of habit than necessity and as he tries to recall he thinks it's been over a year.

He looks at you for a long, long time, you curled up in his expensive sheets and comforter as you pat the spot beside you patiently but he sighs.

“Maybe another time. Good night sugar.”

“Good night Zuzu bear.”

#izuku x reader #izuku midoryia x reader #midoryia izuku x reader #deku x reader #bnha x reader #kitten writes izuku 🖤🐈‍⬛ 🖋️

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navybrat817 · 1 year

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Take You Higher

Summary: Most people don't have an assassin waiting for them in the backseat of their car, but it's your lucky day.

Pairing: Assassin!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Word Count: Almost 3.2k Warnings: E/xplicit s/exual content, unprotected s/ex, car s/ex, p/ossessive behavior, w/eapons, pet names, canon divergent, feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (yep, he's a warning) A/N: Nix provided me with a beautiful edit of Bucky and I began a new AU, A Different Call. This is for you, Nix, and I can't wait to share more of this world.❤️ Beta read by the wonderful @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

It was later than usual as you made your way toward your car, your gaze darting from left to right before you checked your phone. There was just enough light illuminating the lot where you could see where you were going, but not much else beyond your path. Everyone said it wasn't safe to walk alone at night, but you took your chances. The keys between your fingers made a quick weapon for anyone who got too close. If anyone was dumb enough to put their hands on you, the sting from the brass would be the least of their worries.

It’s almost fun when people underestimate me.

Your gaze moved to the ground before you got to the driver’s side, satisfied that no one was underneath your car as you tucked your phone in your bag. There were no vehicles on either side of yours for anyone to grab you and pull you in. If people had the chance to look inside your head, they might think you’re paranoid. You’d argue you had your own reasons to be. Danger lurked in the darkness, waiting to strike the moment anyone let their guard down.

What people didn't know was that shadows often lingered by the light and the most trustworthy of people wore masks in the form of smiles. You learned to live in the shade and make your own fragments of light. While trusting people didn’t come to you as easily, there were a few you let in. Those who didn’t mind living in the gray.

But according to the one you let in the most, you were the one who brought color into the world.

Glancing at the passenger side seat, you smiled to yourself as you got into the car and locked the door. Normally you reached right for the seatbelt. Tonight, you sat still and took a deep breath. A combination of a sweet and musky fragrance greeted you. It smelled like home.

It was why you didn’t flinch when you felt the muzzle of a gun against the side of your neck.

"Didn't anyone teach you to check the backseat before you get in a vehicle?"

The deep timbre of the voice behind you sent a chill down your spine that settled at the base. Daring to glance at the rearview mirror, you were met with a pair of cold blue eyes and a face framed by long brown hair. His lips were set in a grim line that accentuated the scruff surrounding them. Even with how spacious the back of your car was, he took up a good amount of space with his massive frame.

Death in the form of the most handsome man alive.

James “Bucky” Barnes. A former Army Sergeant turned assassin for S.H.I.E.L.D.’s STRIKE team. Most of the intelligence community referred to him as the Winter Soldier.

You simply called him yours, like he called you his.

"Maybe I’ve been waiting for an assassin to try and take me out. Only for me to flip the script and have him spare my life," you answered, smiling when he pressed the gun a bit harder against your neck. You wondered if he felt your pulse race through the metal. "Maybe even make him fall madly in love with me."

He didn't smile back at your reflection, but warmth filled his eyes in a familiar and tender gaze. "What if this assassin is already madly in love with you?"

You swallowed as he traced the barrel down to your shoulder. "Then I guess I win."

“We both win,” he whispered, sitting back in his seat and taking his gun with him. “Get back here.”

“You don’t want us to drive home?” you asked, though you made no move to put the key in the ignition.

“I said get back here,” he growled, your heart beating faster. You knew what that tone meant. You’d be lucky if you were able to walk tomorrow. “Now.”

Huffing playfully when you caught his narrowed eyes in the mirror again, you still decided to push just a little. “Bossy. Give me a second so I can- Bucky!”

You weren’t sure how he managed, but he moved your seat back far enough to grab and pull you beside him. And he managed to put his gun away before you collided with him. It didn’t surprise you though. Your man had multiple skills and was likely pent up from waiting in your car. You were pent up, too.

“Missed you,” he whispered, forcing you to straddle him.

When he framed your face with calloused hands, you expected him to pull you in for a kiss. But his eyes searched yours for a moment and you knew he was committing you to his memory once more. The love of your life had his head messed with a long time ago to the point where he lost control of his own actions and memories. While he was in a better place now, you never questioned when he needed to look at you for a second longer than usual.

If gazing at me grounds you, I’ll let you stare forever.

“I missed you, too,” you breathed, moaning when he finally brought his lips to yours and parted them with his tongue.

You didn’t realize how fast your heart was racing until Bucky slid a hand to your chest, teasing your breast through the fabric. Knowing he was back home with you was both a comfort and a sigh of relief. In the line of work the two of you were in, the promise of tomorrow was never one you could make. It made each moment that much more precious.

“Not gonna make it another minute without being inside you,” he warned you, shoving your dress up to your hips and careful to avoid the knife strapped to your thigh. You wore the garment, and the weapon he gave you, with the expectation he’d be home today. “Tell me you need me.”

“I always need you, Bucky,” you said, grinding your hips in a slow rhythm. Your barely clad pussy rubbed against the bulge in his jeans and it was enough to make his head fall back. “You need to be inside me? Need to feel my pussy around your big cock?”

“Yes. When we get home, I’ll make love to you,” Bucky snarled, making you gasp when he grasped your underwear and tore it from your body. “But I need to fuck you first, so be good and take my cock out.”

You rubbed yourself against the front of his jeans again to leave a wet spot before you raised your hips. “You better not be hurt,” you teased, but your eyes flashed in a warning as you unbuckled his belt.

“You’re free to check me when we get home. After we're in bed,” he offered, bringing a hand to your face again so you’d look into his eyes. No one ever looked at you with such devotion until he came into your life. “But I’m okay."

In a world full of lies, you trusted him completely.

"If you're okay, I'm okay," you whispered, wasting no more time as you unzipped his pants and reached inside his underwear. The size of him never ceased to amaze you. It also left you in awe how hard he felt in your hand when you wrapped your fingers around him. You might not make it another minute either without him inside you.

If anyone walked by and happened to look in the window, they’d get quite a show. At least before Bucky got his gun out and pointed it in their direction. The man would be able to find a way to shoot someone and fuck you at the same time.

"Take me in," he ordered, gripping your hips as you guided him to your waiting hole. "Please."

Bucky wasn't desperate or a man who begged. But the strain in his voice and the raw need that shone in his eyes, it told you how much he needed you. It was a heady feeling to bring the often cold assassin to the brink. It was also an honor that he trusted you when he let those walls down.

"God," you moaned as you sank down agonizingly slowly, locking eyes with him as you did as he ordered and took him into you inch by inch. It didn't matter that he didn't stretch you first. The sting was one you welcomed since you both asked for it. Who cared if you were a little sore tomorrow when you knew he'd take good care of you?

He exhaled as he allowed you a moment to adjust. It wouldn't be long until he rolled his hips up. "Only name I want you to speak is mine. Because if there is a god here tonight, it's me."

Bucky may not be a god in the literal sense, but he had been the beginning of your salvation. You walked beside him when he offered his hand. It was the path you were meant to take.

And you had almost forgotten how good it felt to have him inside you.

"Then fuck me properly, Bucky," you said, kissing him again because you could.

A low and dark grunt rumbled against your lips as he moved beneath you. Your body enveloped him in a tender and heated embrace, welcoming him home. He'd encourage you to ride him and match his pace shortly. For now, you savored every thrust of his cock, thick and bare, nothing separating you. Both of you preferred it that way.

"Ride it. Show me how much you missed me," he groaned after a minute, bringing a strong hand to the back of your neck. Your heart raced as you watched his eyes darken more. "Look at me. Don't you fucking look away."

A whimper fell from your lips, eager to please him as you braced yourself on his shoulders and raised your hips. The slow slide of his cock along your slick walls felt heavenly before you moved back down. You'd bounce on his cock all night if he let you. "So full," you moaned, never wanting to be empty again.

“Still tight no matter how many times I fuck you,” he said, licking his lips as he leaned back against the seat. The slight shift in the angle had him pushing deeper inside you and you weren’t ashamed of the loud cry you let out. “Perfect pussy and it’s all mine.”

You clenched around him at his words, your body tingling as you fucked yourself on his cock. He met you halfway, a subtle indication that you were equals and partners. Two halves of a whole. Living, breathing proof that soulmates existed in some capacity.

A reward for the hell you both went through.

“I need you to come in me,” you begged, shuddering when the head of his cock brushed your g-spot. Unduliated pleasure rippled from head to toe as he swore in Russian. His release dripping out of you later would serve as a beautiful reminder of his claim. He had every part of you. “Please. I've been so empty without you."

"I need you to come on it first,” he groaned, fucking up into with enough force that you had to grip his shirt to hold on. You weren't just heading toward your climax. He was going to catapult you there. “Give it to me and I’ll give it to you. Come. Make a mess all over me.”

Bucky gripped your chin before your head could fall back, making sure you stared in his eyes as you came. Your pleasure belonged to him and you accepted that as you shivered through your orgasm, unashamedly gushing around him. Your pussy was exceptionally greedy when it came to him and you weren’t ready to come down from the high just yet.

“That’s it. Give me everything,” he demanded, holding you still so he could thrust deep and chase his own release. Your walls twitched, the wet, sucking sound adding to the addition of your soft moans and his grunts. You gave it all and were ready to take everything he gave you in return.

“Give it to me, too, Bucky," you pleaded through the haze. "I can take it.”

He pressed his forehead to yours as he moaned your name, holding you close as he spilled inside you. Bringing a hand up to grip his hair as his hips stilled, you smiled as he let out another moan. You breathed heavily before giving him a peck on the lips, smiling wider as he began to catch his breath. His eyes always took on a gorgeous shade of blue when pleasure clouded them.

“Welcome home,” you exhaled, trying to move beside him.

“Wait,” he whispered, firmly bringing your hips back down and keeping him around his thick thighs. You gasped at the friction against your clit, your body wanting more already. “Just. Stay like this.”

He buried his face against the side of your neck, nosing along your skin as he evened out his breathing. It was almost a ritual when he came back from an assignment to hold you this way. If you weren’t in your car, your clothes would have been torn to shreds or thrown on the floor. Which you fully expected once he drove you home.

And you would make him drive since he decided to ambush you in the best possible way.

“You sure you’re okay?” you whispered after a minute, his arms wrapped around you in a tight embrace. "Nothing went wrong on your assignment?"

“It went off without a hitch,” he answered, mouthing at your pulse. “It's just getting harder to be away from home. Away from you.”

The slight vulnerability in his tone made you pause before your fingers gently combed through his hair, your heart still beating fast. You didn't have a home until the two of you made one together. “I get it,” you whispered.

Before you, Bucky didn’t mind most of his missions. That changed once he took you under his wing. It comforted him to have someone else watching his back. But the rare assignments he had to take alone, he liked them less and less as time went on. He hated being away from you.

It pained you, too.

You whined in surprise when he bit down hard on the juncture between your neck and shoulder. “You didn’t look in the backseat. Why not?"

The post orgasm bliss faded at the slight growl in his tone, yet aroused you all over again.

"Because Steve gave me a heads up that he saw you before I went into the parking lot and I checked the motion detector on my car through my phone,” you told him as his tongue soothed the sting. He could avoid being seen, so he likely wanted his best friend or you to spot him. You were all careful otherwise. "You also left me the all clear signal on the passenger seat."

Spotting the bouquet tied with a single blue ribbon before you got in the car, you knew it was safe to get in and that he was waiting for you. He bought Peruvian flowers for you on your first date and chose them because of the beauty and color. He said that you brought those things back into his life. It became a signal for the two of you, as well as a token of affection.

Maybe one day, I'll have his last name as the ultimate sign of devotion.

Bucky always had those specific flowers for you when he returned from a mission and often bought them for you just because he wanted to. And if a day ever went by that he didn’t have the flowers upon coming home, or if the flowers were out of the ordinary, you’d know something was wrong. You had your own signals for him, too.

“That punk,” he said, kissing back to your lips. “He's lucky he's my friend. I wanted to surprise you."

He could count on less than one hand how many people he loved and trusted. You and Steve were two of the very few. It was only natural that the S.T.R.I.K.E. member and former Captain kept an eye out for you and vice versa. Someone important to Bucky was important to you.

Not to mention, Steve was a good man. It seemed like there weren't many left in the world. You saw why your lover respected him and called him a friend.

“And just when have you managed to surprise me?" you asked.

"The first time we saw each other face to face," he replied.

The day he was supposed to kill you.

“That's true," you agreed after a beat. "You don’t regret choosing to save me?”

Bucky pulled back with the softest smile on his face as your heart swelled in your chest. The look of love in his eyes nearly stole the oxygen from your lungs. His thumb brushed your cheek and it shocked you when he wiped away a tear. You didn’t know it had fallen.

“I regret a lot of things in my life, but you will never be one of them,” he assured you, kissing the spot where he brushed away your tear. “I’ll never regret loving you, Kitten.”

You raked your fingers softly along his scalp. He called you that before the two of you fought and the nickname stuck. You didn’t mind it. Your stealth, flexibility, and reflexes were catlike at times. He picked up on those things immediately.

“And I’ll never regret being yours, Killer," you swore. He'd never let anyone else call him that. "Or loving you.”

You understood the assassin better than most. To some degree, you knew what it was like not to be in control. Choices were taken away from you. People used the two of you for their gain, but he helped put you on a path of hope.

All because he made a different call that fateful day.

“Put your claws away,” he groaned when you moved your nails along his head again, making him rock inside you. His stamina drove you wild. “Or we’ll have round two here instead of in our bed.”

“But you promised you’d take me home and make love to me.”

"And I will, but I may need to ruin you here one more time,” he smirked, slipping his tongue into your mouth before you could argue.

If he wants to use sex as a weapon, I’ll happily accept every wound.

Before the night was over, he took you home and made love to you as he promised. He held you so close against him that it was as if you shared one breath. He even watched you as you fell asleep, an unexpected fear gripping him. In the back of his mind, he sensed that someone was still out there waiting to take you away from him.

But if anyone ever tried, he'd burn the word down to save you all over again.

Let's hope no one is dumb enough to go after Kitten. Love and thanks! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ KoFi

#navybrat writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #assassin!bucky barnes x reader #assassin!bucky barnes #a different call au #killer and kitten #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes au #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you

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kittenintheden · 2 months

Text

Ethics Review

Dave Matthews voice: I DID IT

Tav (reader) and Astarion pay his old office at the Courts a visit in the middle of the night for funsies and things get spicy.

aka it's the switchy bitchy magistrate roleplay fic

Rating: E Word Count: 5.2k Pairing: Astarion/reader (Tav) Content: 18+, light BDSM elements, sexual roleplay, bitches be switches, dirty talk, spanking, orgasm denial, light edgeplay, oral sex, PIV sex (AFAB reader, not gendered)

AO3 Link

It’s late, but then, it’s always late when you’re out with Astarion these days. By necessity, mostly, but also because it’s the best time for the pair of you to get up to your more unsavory plans without catching the watchful eye of the newly-reformed Fist.

“Where are you taking me?” you laugh as you follow him through a series of dark alleys. “This better not end with me having to send for Gale to get your hand out of another magicked jar.”

“Never going to let me live that down, are you?” He looks over his shoulder and gives you an affectionate smirk.

“Not ever.”

Astarion peers around the corner of a brown brick building, checking that the coast is clear. To you, he says, “You’re lucky I’m such a kind and forgiving soul.”

“Ah, yes,” you agree, wrapping your arms around him from behind and nuzzling his neck. “Two of your most obvious and accurate qualities.”

He chuckles. “We’re almost there. Come on.”

A labyrinthine dozen alleyways later, you’re deposited in an open square, quiet and still. The cobblestones are dark with recent rain, sending their petrichor scent into the air. As you follow Astarion out into the space, you realize where you are. It’s the Courthouse District of the Lower City, where people are tried and held for petty crimes that aren’t suitable for Wyrm’s Rock.

You huff a laugh through your nose and look over at your partner with a raised eyebrow. “Did you need to tell me something? Have a court date you forgot to mention?”

“Hush,” he playfully scolds you, holding a finger up to his lips. “Let me think a moment.”

He peers up at a particular building on the square and furrows his brow, closing his eyes and moving his hands through the air. You fold your arms and watch as he moves his fingers like he’s following a path only he can see, turning corners and raising level by level. At last, he opens his eyes, and points at window on the third floor, two in from the corner.

“That one,” he says.

“That one what?” you prompt.

He grins devilishly. “That…” he points again. “... is my old office. I thought we might pay it a visit.”

“To what end?” you laugh.

“What can I say, I’m feeling a touch nostalgic these days.” He keeps his eye on the window and beckons you to follow closer to the building. “Something about my old haunts is calling to me.”

Behind where he can’t see, you pay him an affectionate smile. In the last year or so since the fall of the Nether Brain, you’ve seen the city rebuilt and gone on your fair share of adventures and quests, always searching for some way to give Astarion back the sunlight you promised him. No luck yet, but there have been promising leads here and there. It’s not a lost cause. Not yet.

The last few months in particular have seen certain changes in your lover. The terror and fear he carried for so long clung to him like a shadow, and ever so slowly it’s beginning to lift. His laugh is more present than before, more real. The intimate moments you share are filled with trust and care, even as you get more comfortable pushing a few boundaries here and there.

Most of all, he’s been remembering. Not everything. There are parts of his past forever lost to him, written over by more years of torment than he ever had of life. But there’ve been flashes every now and again of who he used to be. Some of them he likes, some he loathes. He doesn’t always talk about it, but you know being able to pick up a piece once in a while has meant a great deal to him.

So you follow along with whatever little game he has planned.

He walks along the building, scanning the brick for footholds. Just as he puts his hand on a storm drain and tenses to leap, you halt him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. When he looks back at you, you flick your eyes up toward the window.

“Three up, two in from then end?” you ask.

He nods.

“Allow me, love.”

You hold up your hand and cobalt magic pools in your palm, forming into a sphere. You send it up above you, the arcane eye floating until it finds the correct window before it slips inside. You blink, your own eyes glowing blue as you use your magic to scan the room. It’s certainly an office of some sort.

Astarion takes your hand when you hold it out for him and instantly you’re transported inside the office thanks to a handy little dimensional door spell you picked up on one of your many adventures. You wave away the arcane eye and give Astarion a wink.

He smirks and shakes his head at you. “Take all of the fun out of the thing, why don’t you,” he says through his smile. “Suppose I’ll have to make do with checking that the place isn’t alarmed. Alas.”

The place is, indeed, alarmed. Astarion manages to disarm two common magic wires and one trickier sending stone scattered throughout the room. You reach out through the Weave for any other whispers of magic. Some artifacts and lightly magical office supplies. Nothing worrisome.

Once you’re both satisfied that you won’t end up immediately arrested, Astarion moves to the center of the room, hands clasped behind his back. You’re quiet as he scans the walls, turning in a slow circle as he takes everything in. His fangs flash as he gives a quiet laugh.

“The layout is different, and the color,” he says. “But yes, this is the place.” He furrows his brow slightly and holds out his hands, eyes on the floor. “I… worked here. Me. A magistrate.” His eyes find you and his smile widens. “It was a lie for so much longer than it was a reality. But it was a reality, once upon a time.”

“I’m surprised,” you say, folding your arms and nonchalantly stepping closer. “The way you spoke and dressed when we first met, I thought you must’ve been an Upper City fancy defending-the-powerful type.”

Astarion clicks his tongue at you. “Now, don’t be judgmental. That’s my job.” He waves a hand through the air. “I was quite young in my career, but I was working my way up. All the way to the third floor, thank you.”

You come in to wrap your arms around his waist and lean your head on his shoulder. “I’m proud of you. Genuinely.”

He spreads his fingers over your forearm, pressing his lips to your hair. “Thank you. That’s always nice to hear.” He clears his throat and removes your arms, backing away from you with a toss of his head. “But don’t be too proud. I wasn’t exactly a… what’s the term? Model citizen.”

Astarion begins to walk around the small table with four chairs set in the center of the room.

“Oh?” you say, walking around the other side to mirror him. “Were you terribly corrupt?”

He pauses and tilts his head, shrugging. “‘Terribly’ is such a strong word, isn’t it? Lets just say I may have been known to, ah… sway the odds in my favor.”

You stop and look across the table at him. “What do magistrates even do, exactly? What did you do, specifically?”

“An absolutely stupid amount of paperwork, as I recall,” he says. “At least, I certainly remember hating every scrap that came across the desk. Meting out appropriate punishment for any minor and petty crime you can think of, most of them horrifically boring. But…” He leans over the table and holds up a finger. “... sometimes I got to conduct interviews to determine if crime was worthy of Wyrm’s Rock, and I was very good at getting the verdict I wanted.”

You rather like seeing this side of Astarion. Honest pride, confidence, and authority. The tip of your tongue runs along your bottom lip as you take in your love leaning over that table, dappled in moonlight. Gods, he’s beautiful.

“And how did you do that?” You pop your hip and raise your thumb to your mouth, teasing your lip as you peer up at him through your eyelashes. “Exactly?”

Astarion notices the shift in your demeanor immediately, his own eyes going half-lidded as they track the path of your hand to your mouth. His grin goes predatory and he leans back so he can come around the table to you and pull out the chair.

“Please, darling,” he says, nodding for you to sit. “Let’s talk, you and I.”

You pay him a sultry smile and sink into the chair, which he pushes in under you. Then he walks back around to the other side with his spine straight, hands folded behind his back.

A new game begins.

Astarion rolls out his shoulders as if he’s shedding a coat. When he turns to look at you, he does so down the length of his nose, his hard gaze making it clear that he thinks you beneath him.

You shiver as a thrill runs down your back and attempt to hide it.

He shakes his head above you, tutting. You’ve disappointed him.

Instinctively, you shrink into your chair slightly as he leans forward and places the tips of his fingers against the table in front of him, continuing to lower his face until it’s a mere foot from yours.

“A pathetic display back there,” he says, voice dripping with condescension. “Your associates have hung you out to dry. You do know that…” He tilts his head. “... don’t you?”

You swallow the lump in your throat and drop your eyes. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“Silly little patsy,” he chides as he straightens to glare down at you again. “Such stars in your eyes for friends who would sooner see you burn than stick their necks out for you.”

“I’m not telling you anything,” you say, raising your eyes to him in defiance even as you let a waver of nerves shake your voice.

“What must it be like to be so tragically misguided?” he sneers. It’s like an echo of a man you once knew. One you met on a sunny beach amid burning wreckage.

You blink up at him, eyes going soft. “I can’t betray them.”

“Betray them,” he breathes, huffing a mirthless laugh as he leans one hand onto a nearby chair. “My dear, they are in the next room, and the room after that, giving you up as we speak. No loyalty among thieves, I fear.”

“No,” you gasp. “They wouldn’t.”

Astarion holds a finger up to his lips, shushing you. “I think you know better than that. But fine, have it your way. Don’t give them up to save your own hide. Let me sweeten the pot.”

He turns his body so he can side-sit on the table and put his first knuckle under your chin, lifting it so he can inspect you. The corner of his mouth ticks up. “Gold to line your pockets, perhaps?”

Though you try to stop it, your body betrays you as a bright blush blooms across your nose and cheeks. Astarion’s pupils dilate above you.

“Or something else entirely?” he whispers, tilting his mouth closer to yours. “I’d much sooner send those two cads to Wyrm’s Rock in your place. Help me, and maybe you and I could have a bit of…” His eyes trail down your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, and beyond before he looks back into your eyes. “... fun in celebration.”

“Why would you do that for me?” you whisper back.

He shrugs. “What can I say? I rather like you. Plus, I might get a little kickback in the form of a promotion for bringing in two thorns in the Fist’s side, but that’s neither here nor there.” He rolls his eyes and pays you a flirtatious smile on the last bit.

And that… is your opening.

Your expression grows serious and you note the moment that Astarion’s eyebrows give the briefest twitch of concern.

"You've overplayed your hand, Magistrate Ancunín," you say.

Astarion draws his hand back and gives you a perplexed look. “Have I?”

You smile, then. Calm and dangerous. "I've been sent by the Board of Ethics, you see."

Astarion is thrown by this turn, but he recovers quickly, offering a simpering smile. "Oh? Oh, dear. Seems I've been caught with my pants down."

You stand, holding his eye. "Indeed. Best go place your hands on the desk where I can see them."

With a flourish, he holds his hands up for you to see. No funny business, none at all. He goes to the desk and spreads his palms flat against the polished wood. He must feel the heat of your skin as you come close, only inches away. Inspecting. Considering.

You lean in close to his ear. "Say our word if you'd like me to stop, Ancunín," you whisper.

"Stop what?" he asks.

In answer, you grab his hips and pull them flush against your own with enough force that he gasps from it, genuinely surprised. In his ear again, you whisper, "Teaching you a lesson."

You release him and move to his side. He turns his head to look at you and you can see the openmouthed surprise in his face, but it’s more than that. Surprised, yes, but also open. Interested. Very turned on. You know this look.

This is Astarion’s “oh, we’re doing that thing I like?” look. It’s a good look on him.

You tap a finger on his nearest hand. “Keep these exactly where they are. I must warn you that you face serious repercussions for witness tampering. I have some questions. Answer them to my satisfaction, and I may consider…” Your gaze trails down to the front of his trousers, which are straining. When you meet his eye again, you add, “... reinstatement.”

Astarion tilts his chin down so he can give you a heated look. “Then by all means,” he says, lips parted. “Ask.”

“Hm,” you hum as you trail your fingers over the desk as you walk around to the other side. You mimic his stance with your hands on the table, though yours is one of authority while his is one of awaiting judgment. He tilts his head at you in question, gaze hot. You match it.

“Let’s start with an easy one.” You tilt your head toward the wall without breaking eye contact. “That placard hanging there. What is it?”

He looks and then huffs through his nose. “It’s an oath.”

You tilt your head the other way. “And what does it say?”

Astarion smirks. “‘As an officer of the Court, I will strive to conduct myself at all times with integrity, dignity, and honor.’”

“That’s right,” you say, nodding. “Now tell me, Ancunín… do you feel you’ve conducted yourself in accordance with that oath?”

“Of course,” he answers without hesitation, flashing you a winning smile. “I offered you the utmost dignity and honor, did I not?”

An idea occurs to you and you imagine he catches the twinkle in your eye as you raise one of your hands to click your fingers, a glowing web of pale blue stretching to cage you both inside. Astarion frowns up at it. The moment he realizes what you’ve done, he gives you a look that’s half-exasperated and half-devious.

“What’s this?” he says, playing along.

“A little insurance policy. To ensure your adherence to honesty.” You reach to the collar of your shirt and undo one button. Then another.

Then another.

Astarion struggles to keep his eyes on your face, but when you lean back down onto the table, he can’t help but sneak a peek.

You toy with another button. “Why don’t you tell me what you think about dignity now?”

Astarion bites the corner of his lip to keep his expression serious. He keeps his eyes trained on your chest and seems to carefully consider his words before he says, “I maintain that I respect the dignity of your tits.”

That’s not what he meant to say. He blinks. His eyes flick up to yours. “Your position,” he amends.

His eyes flick back down. “Your position and your tits.”

“Ah,” you say. “Yes, I thought that might be the case. That you might be… what do they say? Dipping your wick in the law office wax.”

You stand and come back around to his side, maintaining your spell as you do. Astarion tracks you all the way back around.

“I’d like you to be as honest with me as you can be,” you say softly. “Not that you’ve much choice. So, in that case, here’s some extra… motivation.”

You’re behind him now and you hear his sharp intake of breath when he feels your palms spread over either side of his hips before moving around to the ties at the front of his trousers. You loosen them just enough to give you space.

Astarion’s knuckles are going white where he presses his fingers against the desk.

Your fingers are soft and warm against his lower abdomen as they dip below his waistband, then inside his underthings. You find what you seek and grip it firmly, fisting the length of him. He bites back a groan and flexes his hands against the wood as you draw him out into the open air.

“You do keep it cool in here,” you whisper into his ear. You keep your touch light as you tease his cock, just enough to make him want but not nearly enough to satiate the need. “Why is that?”

Astarion swallows and looks at you out of the corner of his eye. “A little discomfort loosens the tongue, I find.” He struggles to keep the breathiness out of his voice and very nearly succeeds.

Nearly.

Your smile is wicked. “I see. Well.”

You rest his hardened length against the varnished wood of the desk. It’s cool on his touch-warmed skin and he whines lightly as you leave him there to walk around to his other side, fingertips drawing a trail across his broad back and shoulders.

“In that case, we’ll be leaving that…” You glance down at his cock, then back at his face. “… out in the cold until you’ve answered my questions to my satisfaction. Understood?”

He takes a deep breath through his nose and meets your eye. “Completely.”

“Good.” You move one of his misplaced curls back into place. “If I’m satisfied, I just might let you warm it up again. We shall see.”

“Indeed we shall,” he says, voice dropping deeper, and you can sense the challenge there. You smile as you turn away from him.

“Let’s try again,” you say. “Do you make a habit of lying to your interviewees in hopes of manipulating a confession?”

“Is ‘lying’ the word we want to use?” he says with a lilt.

“Yes.” You turn back to look at him.

He clears his throat, chewing his tongue to hide another smile before he looks away. He thinks a moment, then says, “I occasionally massage my message to pave the way for a more fruitful discussion in my favor, yes. Only in the interest of this office and my personal satisfaction.” He smirks at you, clearly pleased with himself.

You shake your head. “My, my. And just when I thought we were getting somewhere. Perhaps you need a reminder that I hold your immediate future in my hands?”

When you move back in and loosen his trousers still further to shove down his hips and below his arse, he wriggles to help. He seems to think he’s won this phase of the game. Adorable.

Rather than give him any relief, you reach out to the desk and pick up a wooden ruler, thin and flexible. Astarion opens his mouth, presumably to ask what you’re doing, but doesn’t get the chance as you use the flat of the ruler to give him a quick smack on his bare arse.

He cries out in surprise and looks around at you. You raise an eyebrow at him and give him the opportunity to call his out. Instead, you watch his eyes darken. He’s still in. Which is good, because gods above if you aren’t beginning to make a mess of your underwear already.

“Do you understand your situation?” you ask.

“Maybe you ought to remind me again,” he rumbles.

You do, leaving another slap on his pale skin. A shiver travels up his back from the base of his spine all the way up.

“I understand,” he says.

“Very good,” you say. “Do you manipulate the outcomes of your interviews?”

“Sometimes, yes,” he says quietly, peering up at you from under his brows.

“Thank you for your honesty. With bribery?”

He nods.

You bend forward so you’re eye-to-eye. “And do you frequently offer favors of a sexual nature?”

Astarion’s gaze drops to your mouth and he blinks heavily. “That’s only for when I see someone I like,” he says.

There’s another slap to his arse, quick as reflex, and he gives a small, broken “a-ah” as he drops his head. He spoke the truth, your spell ensures that, but you want him to be more specific. You look down to see he’s subtly grinding himself against the desk, his cock beginning to weep pre-fluid as you watch.

You place the ruler against his back to hold him in place. “None of that,” you say. “Not until you clarify. Why me?”

He groans in frustration. “Because I like you. Because I’m attracted to you. Because I want to be inside you and fuck and fuck and fuck until we’re both hoarse from crying our ecstasy.”

Well. The pair of underwear you’re wearing are officially done for, you fear.

“What a wicked tongue you have,” you breathe, not quite able to keep up your aura of authority. You swallow and add, “Perhaps I’ll consider letting you off with a warning if we can figure out a better use for it.”

Astarion goes to his knees so quickly it makes your head spin. You don’t hesitate to take care of the bindings on your own trousers and he’s eager to help, shoving your clothing to the floor. You’re trying to remove a boot when he presses his face into the crux of your legs and runs his tongue along the seam of you so hotly that you nearly fall over. You lean down and give him another half-hearted smack. All it does is elicit a groan against your most sensitive of places.

With some struggle, you manage to remove the boot, kick your trousers and underthings off of one leg, and hop up to sit on the desk, Astarion follows you along, refusing to let you leave him now that he’s on you. His mouth works against you on its own, tongue lapping firmly at the edges of your cunt, flushing you and making you swell. He hasn’t even touched your clit yet and you know you’re already slick with desire.

You’re so momentarily distracted that you almost miss where his hands have gone.

Chest heaving, you weakly wave to dismiss your Zone of Truth and call up your mage hand, sending it down where you can’t reach to grab the wrist of the hand Astarion’s using to pump his cock while he licks at you.

“I don’t think so,” you gasp. “Still on… probation.”

You’re losing the thread and you’re perfectly okay with it.

Astarion growls in response and comes up higher on his knees, wrapping his arms around your lower back and pulling you tight against his face. His tongue finally finds your center and he rolls it against your entrance, plying the place just inside that makes you go flush with arousal, your clit swelling further. Then he finally pays it attention with a light draw followed by firm circles, teasing until you feel sparkles of arcane energy tingling at your fingertips and zaps of pleasure shoot through your core.

He holds you so tight to him that there’s no escape from the assault of pleasure he’s waging on your body. All too soon, you’re whimpering as you approach your peak.

And Astarion simply stops. He leaves you there, right before the edge, and you cry out in dismay and frustration. Before you realize what’s happening, he’s on his feet and pulling you onto yours, spinning you around until your hips are pressed to the edge of the dark wood. You can feel his rock hard length against the cleft of your arse, feel the wetness at the tip of him against your lower back.

“You’ve overplayed your hand this time, I think,” he pants into your ear. “Let your guard down. What member of the Board of Ethics accepts bribes?”

When you try to wriggle free, you feel his fingers at your wrists. He takes your hands and spreads them on the desk as you’d done to him, bending you over. His hips draw back and then return and you feel his hardness drag over your folds from behind, teasing but not quite putting pressure on your clit.

His breathing is heavy, but through it, he manages, “This time, you tell me the truth. Why did you meet with me?”

“To catch you out,” you gasp. “Your behavior has been… unethical.”

“Is it unethical to recognize when someone wants your cock?” he whispers, sending a tingle over your shoulders. “Is it against my oath to offer?”

“That’s not… I didn’t…”

The head of his cock nudges your clit and you both hiss through your teeth. He pulls back until he catches at your entrance, pushing in just barely. Just enough to begin to feel him, but nowhere near enough of him. Instinctively you arch your back harder, trying to take more, but he won’t let you.

“Beg me,” he growls in your ear. “Beg me for my cock. Tell me it’s why you came here.”

Your very last thread of remaining restraint is pulled to its absolute limit, but it doesn’t break quite yet. “I came here on orders to uncover a magistrate with loose morals,” you manage.

Astarion reaches a hand up to the hair at the back of your head, grabs a handful, and gently pulls to bend your head back. Directly into your ear, he whispers, “You’ve found him. Now beg for it.”

In the quiver of his voice, you can hear that he’s the one begging you.

So you give in.

“I came here for you,” you whisper back. “Please, let me. Let me take your cock.”

His breath shudders out of him. “Take it you shall.”

Astarion thrusts his hips forward, burying himself in you, and you hardly have time to so much as gasp before he sets a punishing rhythm, one arm around your waist to hold you in place and the other one still tangled up in your hair. You arch deeply, giving him as much access as you can, and he pounds into you relentlessly. On the outskirts of your awareness, you feel bruises beginning to form on your hipbones from where they repeatedly hit the desk.

You don’t care one whit.

He keeps you bent over the desk, your palms spread to keep you both upright as he fucks you hard, his moans trapped behind his clenched teeth. As you fly full speed back to your edge, he removes the hand from your head and absently places it over your mouth to muffle your own escalating cries.

The coil of your climax tightens and Astarion begins to mutter a steady mantra of “yes, yes, yes, gods, yes” beside your ear. He presses himself all the way to the hilt and rocks, the base of him stretching you just right and his balls pressed firm to your clit and there, oh there, it’s right-

You scream behind Astarion’s palm as you come, the delicious tension boiling and spilling over as contractions roll through you, pleasure washing over your body with every heartbeat. You nearly blank out for a second and when you blink back down, your lover continues to pump into you as he chases his own end.

With a shaking hand, you call up your mage hand from where it shimmers nearby and press it to his chest, pushing back with soft pressure.

“No,” Astarion whines, attempting one or two more thrusts before you back him up. “No, please, please, I didn’t finish, I-”

You turn, bottomless and eyes full of fuck and revenge, and add your own hands to the mix, all three pushing him back until he hits the deposition table, going flat on his back. You crawl up over him and straddle him, up on your knees just out of reach.

You look down upon him, beautiful and fucked out in the moonlight. “Do you regret any of it?” you say.

“I’m regretting a lot of my decisions at the moment,” he snarks. His lips part as he breathes.

With a smile, you roll your hips just enough to catch the head of his cock back at your opening. “Do you regret any of it?” you repeat.

He pants, looking up at you. Then he reaches up to grip the front of your shirt and pull you down over him in a searing kiss. When you break, he whispers, “No. Not a moment. It brought me to you.”

You roll back, sinking down onto him. He gasps and throws his arms around you, helping you get back into rhythm, and he’s so close that it’s barely any time at all before he arches his back clear up off the table and groans as he spills inside of you, the relief painted across every inch of his face. He comes for nearly a minute, twitching and humming beneath you until he finally relaxes into a boneless heap.

When he next opens his eyes, you lean down and catch him in another kiss.

The pair of you have barely redressed and cast a few prestidigitation cantrips as a courtesy before there’s a sound somewhere down the hall. Footsteps. Coming closer.

“Shit,” Astarion whispers, startled. He grabs your hand and spins you both into a dim corner of the room before you both cast Invisibility. Just in the nick of time, it appears, because there’s a jangle of keys and then a harried-looking halfling comes bustling into the room, dark bags under their eyes.

They grumble to themselves for a moment, going to a box to sort through files. They don’t find what they’re looking for and move on to the desk. Once there, they open a drawer, then wrinkle their nose.

“Bleeding hells, it smells like sex in here,” they grumble. “Gonna tell Jackobson that Cole has been using his office again. Teach that arsehole for making me come fetch the file he forgot.”

The halfling pulls a file from the drawer, slams it, and exits the room.

Neither of you move for the rest of the minute your invisibility lasts. As soon as the cloaking spell fades, you both collapse to the floor in quiet giggles. You kiss Astarion through your laughter, again and again.

It’s nice to see this side of him.

#astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion smut #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #tavstarion #kitten writes

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