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priniya · 7 months

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🌌 TOO MANY NIGHTS

synopsis. theodore nott spent too many nights, smoking and hanging out with matt’s little sister to not make her his girlfriend.

notes. theodore nott x riddle!reader. reader is a hufflepuff! pls, let’s pretend you’re 12 when u get to hogwarts xoxo, just for the plot

theodore nott had always been fascinated by how many differences there were between his best friend mattheo and mattheo’s younger sister. while mattheo wanted to fight anyone, who just scrunched their nose at him, you would rather have your nose broken, so the other person wouldn’t have to go through that pain. while mattheo could be consider as the grumpy (their oldest sibling obviously being the grumpier), you held the tilte of the sunshine.

theo believed it suited you. ever since the three of you were kids, mattheo had his best friend grow protective of you in the same way he had, looking out for you even if you didn’t want it. however, whenever it was nott making your blood boil with some nonsense — you couldn’t get as mad at him as you’d get at your brother. it’s because he’s not my brother, he’s theo, you’d always tell yourself. the truth was that as much as you wanted, you could never be angry with him.

the same thing continued when you started hogwarts. although, you could feel the shifting of your friendship with theo. maybe it all started to happen, because you were growing up, or maybe it was meant to be like that. anyways — you found yourself dreaming of your childhood friend in situations… that made you blush profusely whenever you walked passed him. it was complicating things so much you tried to push it aside, nevertheless to no avail.

“you like him.” a friend of yours joked, when you confessed your thoughts about theo, and… even if gabriela said it in a joking way, you couldn’t help but wonder if she was right.

turns out, she was.

it was all revealed, when another older friend of yours asked you out to the yule ball, and you had to watch theo having fun with daphne greengrass as well as their own group of friends that you weren’t a part of. did it sting? like hell. should’ve you expected it? absolutely. some would say — you should wait for the moment, when he asks you to the ball, but you knew you were just matt’s little sister in his eyes. a mere childhood friend he used to play with when he was younger, though all that ended the second he (and your brother) got his letter, from this moment on theodore nott was a serious, adult man.

few years later, when the slytherins were throwing a party in celebration of mattheo’s eighteen birthday, as his sister, you got an invitation. as much as you loved your brother, you definitely weren’t a big party person — you’d rather spend your time in the smaller group of people, chilling to the muggle music and maybe get high. nonetheless, it was your sibling’s birthday and you wouldn’t hear the end of it if you didn’t show up.

to be fair, matt’s celebration was one of the first slytherin parties you ever attended, and from all the rumors coating its mysterious aura, your expectations were pretty high.

gabriela, the friend of yours, whom you confided in having a small crush on theo, apparently never forgotten that conversation and decided to ‘spice your night a tad’, her exact words. she lent you a fitted, emerald, silky dress that ended slightly above your knee, she did your make up and gave a nose kiss for good luck.

for the first two and a half hour of the party, you couldn’t really catch a glimpse of the boy you were looking for, so your attention were turned towards plan b, which was getting wasted — and maybe meeting someone to get your brother’s best friend off your mind. so as i said, two and a half hour later, you were much more eccentric, bubbly, and definitely more ray of sunshine, caused by the loads of alcohol you put in yourself.

“teddy!” you exclaimed with a grin as you swiftly made your way towards where he was sitting in the corner of the room. a cigarette in his hand, few of his first buttons undone, a smirk lingering on his lips, although it was gone the second he saw you, being replaced with a genuine, but almost unnoticeable smile.

“riddle.” he replied. the corners of his lips went slightly upwards as your hands were wrapped around him, right after you plopped down on the couch next to him. “drunk?” theo asked, his head tilted to the side to get a better view of your flushed face.

“never.” a giggle slipped past your lips. you leaned more on him, serving him another one of your charming beams. “can i have a hypothetical question?”

“hypothetical?” he echoed your words, suppressing a laugh in attempt to not hurt your drunken feelings. “sure, riddle. go on.” nott added upon seing you nod your head.

“could you give me one of your cigarettes?” you grinned once again, putting all effort into a pleading puppy expression you thought you’ve mastered. his answers made you uncertain about your manipulation/daddy’s girl skills.

once again, theodore fought back a chuckle, putting on a teasing smirk. “no.”

“teddy!”

“what? wasn’t it hypothetical?” he snickered, watching you groan theatrically, lowering yourself on the green sofa. it took him a moment to ease your needs and pull out a package of muggle cigarettes that made you raise your eyebrow in curiosity at him. “they’re the best, believe me.” he mumbled with a cigarette in between his lips.

soon after, he tugged you closer after having looked around to see if mattheo was out of sight. as soon as his nerves were settled and your brother was nowhere to be found, theo’s fingers were wrapped around the lighter he bought in second year. the asshole he was, it felt like he was lighting it up for so long you were about to turn eighty. his gaze was instantly focused on your eyes. butterflies were slowly erupting in your stomach with each second he slacked off to light it.

somehow, you two parted your ways few minutes later, ending the sparkling moment between you two with a quick and rash kiss on nott’s cheek, a little too close to his lips for your brother’s liking, too far for yours.

although, the separation didn’t last too long. at least for him, because, when you met him again, you were drunk out of your mind, giggling at every single word someone said to you. good thing theo’s gut feeling told him to look after you.

you were stumbling over your own feet, stuttering at easiest words until you finally landed in paradise— or just his arms. accidentally, but you could cross it out from your checklist, not that you had one.

“hiya.” a soft smile made its way onto your face as he tightened the grip on your waist, not because you smiled so charmingly at him, but also because some older dudes that occupied his previous spot was busy undressing you with their eyes.

if you weren’t mattheo’s little sister, he’d probably try to get you to agree to have a quick round in his round, hell — maybe not even that quick, he could spend an entire night with a girl like you. unfortunately, the reality was different. he could never take an advantage of you, you were too… you and theodore nott liked that too much to just… ruin it.

“what’re you doing?” you asked, frowning as he picked you up and turned towards the staircase. “teddy– put me down, please.” the words left your lips in a slurred manner, but theodore didn’t budge, not even once.

the teenager obeyed your request the moment he walked through the door to his dormitory that was shared with mattheo. theodore sat you on his bed, his green eyes scanning your face intently, while you stiffled a laughter. as a result, you got a confused expression from him. “what?” he asked.

“you’re so pretty.” a soft mumble left your mouth. it had always been hard to catch theodore nott off guard, mostly because he was an intelligent and cunning person, who always noticed the bigger picture, predict the intentions before someone even opened their mouth, yet you did it. if your mind wasn’t so clouded with alcohol, you’d count it as a small win.

anyway, theo didn’t let your words get too much of a hold on him as he silently continued to undress you. as wrong as it sounds, he was doing you a simple favour — nott wanted to bring you comfort and safety, so he dragged you to his dorm and began unzipping your dress, leaving you in your underwear.

it took the boy all the possible strength he had in himself to control all the urges he just felt. it would be so wrong if he got hard just from the mere sight of the goddess sitting in front of him, with pouty lips and a baffled expression caused by his lack of response to her compliment.

“teddy?” you tried getting his attention once again, involuntarily scrapping off the polish of your nails as your eyes rested on his back, watching him shuffle through his closet to find you a comfortable pyjama.

to be fair, theo absolutely loathed the nickname. teddy reminded him of a child he used to be, a child with a loving mother, who would always call him that exact nickname. it wasn’t too much of a hassle, because no one called him that — until you did and it seemed like you couldn’t get rid of it from your vocabulary. somehow, it never bugged him when you did it. the way ‘teddy’ rolled off your tongue always gave him some sort of warm feeling in his stomach.

“mm?” your brother’s best friend muttered, his back still facing you. seconds later, he’s again in front of you, nudging you yet so slightly, so you put your hands above your head. “what is it, y/n/n?” he used the nickname you haven’t heard in a while, causing a literal war in your abdomen.

“could you kiss me?” for barely a second, his brain stopped functioning. he stopped in his tracks, oversized t–shirt still in his hands, all that until he decided to spare your embarrassment the next day and acted like he didn’t just hear what he heard. he was foolish for thinking that a sight of you almost naked and not getting a hard–on was the worst part of his night. now, theodore’s brain was filled with images of you two making out, and… it’s tough.

wordlessly, he finally put the shirt on you, nudging you afterwards, worry was still vividly lingering on his face as he watched you getting comfortable. “i’ll be right here.” nott murmured, grabbing a pillow, laying down on the floor. theo on one side of his bed, the bucket he brought you in case throwing up on the other.

both of you knew that he could go back downstairs, maybe even hook–up with some girl and spend the night at her dorm, just like mattheo did. nevertheless, he stayed there right with you.

it was further in the night, when you woke up and noticed that he still occupied his spot on the floor next to the bed. a pang of guilt hit you (as well as the pounding in your head) as you stared at his peaceful state.

merlin, theodore faustus nott was today times’ adonis and you felt like you could just spend the rest of the night gawking at how insanely beautiful he was. you could barely resist the urge to run your hand through his dark curls.

“you know i can feel you’re staring, riddle?” theo chuckled with his eyes still closed. shit. at least it was dark enough, so he couldn’t see the blush on your cheeks. “somethin’ bothering you?” he asked, giving you a concerned look.

“sleep on the bed, please?” you pleaded. he was about to refuse, when you continued. “i know you don’t want to kiss me, but it breaks my heart seeing you suffer there, when there’s enough room for two people here.” the words coming out of your mouth are quiet. the embarrassment and absurdity of this whole situation got to you — if you just didn’t ask him to kiss you, he’d probably sleep in the bed with you, but you obviously had to ruin it.

“y/n/n, i want to kiss you.” he said, his tone matching yours. “but i can’t, you know it. mattheo would kill me the second he knew.” theo knew he shouldn’t but the urge was too great to resist, so he placed his hands on your knees, reducing the distance between the two of you.

“matt doesn’t have to know.” a whispers left your lips as you leaned an inch closer, brushing the tip of your nose against theo’s. “teddy, please.” you pleaded, staring at him with urgency in your eyes.

it took theodore half a second to consider his options. he could’ve refused and regret it afterwards, but stay alive or he could’ve just kissed you and maybe get into a heated argument with mattheo. so… a voice in his head said fuck it and kissed you with all those feelings he’s had in him.

you could feel your entire world stop the second his lips fell on yours with urgency and passion. it was all you ever dreamed of, he was the guy who was your last thought before sleep and the first after waking up. a silly, childhood crush that developed over the years into… something you couldn’t describe. theodore nott had you wrapped around his finger without even knowing it — if he asked you to jump into a fire pit for a longing glance, you wouldn’t think about it twice and jump.

your fingers were tangled in his curls as he, without breaking the kiss, leaned more towards you, until your back hit the fabric of his sheets. to be completely honest, you felt like your stomach was about to be ripped apart just from the proximity between the two of you.

the kiss lasted way longer than you expected. it could’ve been hours, but you could never been sure. his lips were just inches apart, when he pulled away yet so slighty, letting out a groan as you nudged the tip of your nose again his.

“you don’t even know how much i wanted to do that.” his words were quiet. “matt will kill me, won’t he?” a low chuckle espaced his throat qs you let out a groan in response.

“could you stop mentioning my brother and just kiss me, nott?”

#theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #theodore nott #theo nott #theodore nott rec #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theo nott rec #theo nott fic #theodore nott fic #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #slytherin boys x reader #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter x reader #niki’s works 🫂#theodore nott x riddle!reader #theodore nott smut #theo nott smut

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pochipop · 4 months

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＃LOVE AND DEEPSPACE !! ♡ — HOW I CRAVE YOU IN THE MORNIN' (RAFAYEL X READER).

#. synopsis! — rafayel doesn't really like mornings, but heaven knows he likes you .

#. characters! — rafayel.

#. warnings! — none .

#. word count! — 1.3k .

#. alt accounts! — @ddollipop (nsfw) @hhoneypop (moodboards) .

#. others! — navigation & masterlist .

Rafayel has never been a morning person. He likes to watch the occasional sunrise if he wakes naturally to catch it, but heaven knows he’s loath to pull himself out of bed before he feels good and ready. You, on the other hand, don’t tend to have the luxury of sleeping in until whenever you please. The life of a Deepspace Hunter often requires early starts, and now that you’ve woven your life so tightly between the threads of Rafayel’s, he’s seldom excluded from the harsh ring of your alarm coercing you out of bed, out of your dreams of sweet nothings, and into the real world (which is often much less pretty.)

You don’t even have to open your eyes to know that Rafayel is already pouting at the mere thought of your departure, and your suspicions are confirmed when he snakes his arms around your waist, groaning.

“Baby,” he mutters, “don’t go, the bed gets so cold when you leave.”

You sigh.

“Have to,” you murmur, still half asleep. “Work.”

“Call in sick.”

“I’m not sick,” you answer, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “You know my work is important for more reasons than one, Rafayel.”

“I do know,” he sighs, though it’s clear he’s less than happy about agreeing.

In fairness, you’re not particularly happy about this either. You love your job, worked hard to get it and climb the ranks within it, but man, sometimes you wish it were possible to pay the bills with currency earned cuddling in bed with the man nuzzling into your neck like a kitten.

“Then don’t ask me to call in sick,” you laugh, turning your head to press a soft kiss to his warm temple.

He groans again, though you know he appreciates the affection.

Gently and with great reluctance, you pull yourself from Rafayel’s embrace, though you can’t help but take a moment to marvel at the way early morning rays of light filter through the curtains, playing on his delicate features. His eyes like marbled sunsets lazily find their way to you, still heavy with sleep, peering up at you in a mixture of love and discontent.

“You’re a menace to my sleeping schedule,” he grumbles playfully.

“Consider it payback for all the nights you’ve kept me up too late,” you answer jokingly, shrugging your shoulders.

“I’ll have you know, keeping you up at night is a vital part of our relationship,” he pouts, but there’s an unmistakable glint of mischeviousness in his tired gaze.

You giggle, knowing he’s joking (at least in part.)

“I’ll make it up to you,” you move closer, cupping his cheeks in your hands and leaning down to peck his lips. “Promise.”

“You better,” he mutters.

“Don’t I always?” You inquire, fingers feathering through his soft hair.

“Yeah,” he acknowledges in a semi-rare moment of complete sincerity from the man who often goes through the world half-wittingly. “You do.”

You smile, soft and warm, leaning in for another lingering kiss, savoring the warmth and familiarity of Rafayel’s touch. His arms reach up, wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer, as if he’s hesitant to let go.

“Be safe, okay?” He says.

“Always,” you nod.

Before, you might have mistaken his concern for a lack of trust in your abilities, but you’re well past the point of pointless misunderstandings. Rafayel may be an artist, and he might spin his words like golden threads from time to time, making you read between the lines, but your sincerest assessment of the moment tells you he’s said exactly what he means. He wants you to be safe, wants you to come home in one piece, and you let him steal another quick kiss before standing upright.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” you add, hoping it might soften the blow of your departure.

His playful pout returns.

“You seem to doubt the depth of my ability to lament over your absence,” he states.

“I don’t doubt it at all, but I’d rather you find more enjoyable ways to spend your day,” you laugh.

He sighs dramatically.

“Bring back something interesting from your adventure,” he suggests, a teasing smile pulling at his lips. “Maybe something I can crush up, turn into paint.”

“Need I remind you what happened the last time you used an oddly sourced item for pigment?” You ask incredilously.

Rafayel rolls his eyes.

“Need I remind you that that’s precisely how we met?” He counters.

“Still,” you sigh, “I’d much prefer you not be endangered by your paint. Stick with oils and acrylics for a while. For my peace of mind.”

“Is that concern I detect from you, my little hunter?” Rafayel grins.

“Of course it is,” you reply honestly. “You might be pretentious and obnoxious, but I love you. I’d never want you in harm’s way.”

His teasing smirk softens to a genuine smile at your sincerity, and he stands, taking a moment to stretch before reaching out to caress the curve of your jaw with the top of his index finger.

“Obnoxious and pretentious, huh?” He chuckles lightly. “Thank you for the glowing evaluation of my character, darling. But, because I do happen to love you as well, I’ll let that little dig slide, —and I’ll do my very best to stick to safe and traditional mediums, at least for the time being, just for you.”

You can’t help but smile at Rafayel’s good-natured reply. His gentle touch lingers on your jaw, and you lean into it, relishing in the softness of his affection.

“Very much so appreciated,” you answer amusedly. “I’ll consider it a personal victory if we can avoid any and all paint-related Wanderer incidents for the forseeable future.”

Rafayel gives a curt nod.

“A noble goal, my dearest hunter,” he says. “Now go forth and fell any pesky Wanderers intent on disturbing the peace of our humble city of high-class electronic developments, bringing back tales of wonder and triumph.”

Heaven knows he has to be the most dramatic man you’ve ever met, but you couldn’t imagine him being any other way.

You play along and give him a mock salute.

“Yes sir, at once.”

Rafayel stifles a laugh, clearly pleased by your participation in his theatrics. He thinks for a moment that this life he lives with you is nothing short of fantastical, —the kind of comfort he only dreamed of just years ago, and now here you are before him, like some kind of angel he’s terrified he might wake up to find was a figment of his deepest desires all along. But his worries are quenched by the way your lips slot so perfectly against his own as he leans in, kissing you sweetly.

“May the cosmic forces be ever in your favor, my love. Return not only with tales of triumph, but also interstellar souvenirs for my viewing pleasure and artistic inspirations if you happen to stumble across any. Preferably ones that will not curse our modest seaside home.”

You laugh, and it makes his heart stutter.

“I’ll be sure to keep an eye out for cosmic trinkets,” you assure.

You’re thrumming by the time Rafayel pulls you in again, pressing you closer to his chest. There’s nothing he has to say to fill the silence, and you let your eyes close for a moment, awash in the silent exchange of understanding so deep it could rival the cosmos. Beyond all the playful banter and the theatrical mannerisms, there’s love here, and that’s really all you could ask for. Worries about your safety, concern over Rafayel’s tendency to attract bad omens, —they dissipate in the face of this connection that buzzes like a live wire.

As you finally pull away, you meet his gaze and find nothing but softness there, replacing all the prior amusement and tiredness from before.

“Return safely, my angel. Our oceanside abode awaits your triumphant arrival,” he takes your hand, brushing his lips over your knuckles. “And so do I.”

#love and deepspace #love and deep space #love and deepspace x reader #love and deep space x reader #rafayel x reader #rafayel #rafayel love and deepspace #rafayel love and deepspace x reader #rafayel love and deep space x reader #love and deepspace rafayel #love and deep space rafayel #love and deep space rafayel x reader #love and deepspace rafayel x reader

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yngxing · 3 months

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the first ray of light

reverse comfort, may contain small spoilers for aventurine's backstory, may be ooc, reader and aven are in a relationship, mention of childhood trauma, abuse, slavery, aven with abandonment issues, hurt no comfort(?)

aventurine who flinches the first time you try to touch him after a bad day that left him particularly upset.

aventurine who's still on guard whenever he's vulnerable, like right now—the stratagem is quieter than usual, no longer having that smug smile on his face, the lack of life in his eyes even more noticeable when his eyes are wide—surprised at his own reaction.

aventurine who apologizes—even if he doesn't need to—then tries to reach for you, saying that he just had a 'long and exhausting day at work' and shake his head when you ask him what's wrong—the senior manager is still determined to look unbothered in front of you.

aventurine who's had tons of bad, horrible experience during his childhood, resulting in his inability to trust anyone enough, not even to show any signs of exhaustion, always putting up a mask, appearing as a mysterious and mischievous guy, keeping everyone at arm's length.

aventurine who's secretly afraid of being left alone again, of losing his purpose and being deemed as useless. the moment he flinches from you, memories of the past come back to flood his mind with doubts and reminders—reminding him of the chains binding his wrists and neck together, the cells that caged him and his kins, and the shouts of the audience fighting over his younger self, over who gets to bring the poor boy home—treating him like a rare animal, a pet to command.

aventurine who unconsciously begins to tear up, his eyes still wide and unmoving as he stares into space, your words of concern flying over his head, until you cup his face and lean closer to snap him out of his thoughts.

"you're not just 'tired', i can see that something's bothering you. won't you tell me?" oh, those eyes of yours, full of worry and love, and your gentle fingers brushing away his tears. aventurine feels so weak, but he's also scared to open up, yet he also knows you well enough to know that you're a honest person, that your concern is genuine.

aventurine who's already used to fake empathy that it feels like a dream to feel your warm hands on his face—no, not even the thought of having such a wonderful person as his partner has ever crossed the gambler's mind, not like he deserves them, right?

aventurine who's caught off guard when you pulled him into a tight hug, his arms suspended in the air and his brain that just stops working the moment your warmth spreads through his body, quickly enveloping him and slowly melting the ice encasing his heart.

it's not like he's never been hugged before, but they were purely for business reasons, merely a way to greet his acquaintances. but a hug from you? it was an effective way to make him sobs harder.

aventurine who was deprived of the love he deserves, but now he has you, his darling, who has wormed your way into his perfectly-shut heart (or so he thought) and settle yourself inside it, filling the empty space with your warmth.

maybe you could be the perfect listener, the first person he opens up to. maybe you won't leave after hearing about his gruesome past. maybe the goddess finally blessed him with your presence, who came into his life at the perfect time, to give him a reason to live again.

it was like walking into the sun， being with you，it was like walking into the sun for the first time after a terribly long winter.

#quote cr to holyaches on twt #aventurine x you #aventurine x y/n #aventurine x reader #aventurine angst #hsr x reader #hsr x gender neutral reader #hsr angst

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thesirencult · 4 days

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How Will Your FS See You ?

1--2

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Pile 1

I'm seeing a vision. A girl is gathering flowers and playing in the sun between trees. At the same time, a man is looking at her like she is his whole world.

What this tells me is that there is a very clear distinction between you and your future spouse's energies. Your FS is definitely more masculine (no matter their gender) and you are more feminine.

This person sees you as a ray of light. You are dainty like a flower and sweet like honey. I'm hearing the word "yellow" 💛. Whenever they are looking at you, you are draped in golden light.

Now, what makes me sad is that you don't see yourself that way. Your person knows that you are picking yourself apart and they hate it.

You are a shiny little star to them. Some words they might call you are : my little star, pooh bear, sweetheart, honey, sweetie, cutie. They believe you are the sweetest, loveliest, most sincere person on planet earth. You believe that you do not deserve love or that you are not that important but they are seeing "You are important. You are as important as the air I breathe. You are necessary to my survival."

Like the sun is the centre of our universe, you are the centre of their universe. Your FS is very affectionate with you. I'm seeing someone kissing the fingers of someone else and breathing in their scent from their neck/hair. First and foremost they find you sweet and cute. Like, to them, intimacy doesn't mean mindless physical connection but love making. They love your hands and your nose.

They adore your expressions and they find certain quirks you have cute. As an example, when you feel tired and puff air out or if you tag on their hand and look up at them.

This person might be bigger than you and they just want to protect and serve you. I believe that they want to set boundaries between you and the world. They want to hold up a mirror for you and help you see your own light.

Whenever you are sad they want to make you smile.

I believe that you and your FS are going to be really close. This is not a normal bond. To others it might not seem healthy, they way that you are attached to eachother, but for you it's perfect...

Pile 2

Your FS sees you as their dream person, not in a childish way but in a mature way. You are what they need not what they wanted.

This person has had lots of experiences when it comes to love. When they meet you they will be going through a "winter" moment, life will have lost its spark. You might be born in March, cause you are going to wash away the snow and help them see the bright side of life again.

This will not be easy. Your FS will see you as their wish fulfillment, but at moments they will be wondering whether God or the d*vil sent you. You will be triggering their old wounds and stagnant energy.

This person will be very caring towards you. They will constantly remind you to take your vitamins and drink enough water. They will tease you about your height or nose just to get to your nerves.

I'm hearing "They are so draining!". Now, this is really funny cause I heard it in a teasing way, like you are at the next room and they are telling your mom you are a pain in the butt when in reality they love your quirks.

They will be constantly worrying about your well-being lol. They will get mad when you are not taking care of yourself and they will be trying to guilt trip you into doing things that are good for yourself.

Let's say you are really shy and don't want to go to the beach but they want to go and you have a dog that loves the water. They will be telling you "See, the dog is broken hearted. You are not a really good dog mom/dad."

This person will think you are sneaky. They will love the sparkle your eyes have as you have a very "active" inner child.

I believe you don't show that side to others that often and no one will believe what they have witnessed. You could have made a crazy food combination or they found you teaching the dog muay thai, to them you can NEVER be boring. It's like, what is she up to, AGAIN?

I also get that you might give them the "puppy eyes" when you get caught doing something you're not supposed to be doing (ex. cheating on your diet) or playing all coy and sweet and they love that!

#astrology #tarot reading #level up journey #tarot #pick a card #pick a pile #pac reading #pick a photo #pick a picture #soulmate #future spouse #psychic readings #tarotreading #Spotify

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gayvecchio · 1 month

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#due south #benton fraser #robert fraser #ray vecchio #this may only make sense if you have terminal f/v brainrot like i do #but this is a parallel to the 'afraid to dream' scene #fraser and ray v and their issues about not being to able to open up completely even to the person closest to them (each other)#they can't admit their feelings and desires no matter how desperately they want to ahhhh #of course all of the messed up repression is tied to their respective father issues #ds30below

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sim0nril3y · 6 months

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I cannot get enough of ghost and his little civilian reader!!! I broke my arm today (boo do not recommend) but now I get to rest and fantasize about my favorite cod men lol. How do you think Simon would react if his girl broke her arm??

Note: oh my, I'm so sorry to hear that you broke your arm, honey. I hope that you are doing okay and that you are on the mend now. Please try to enjoy your time resting and fantising about the wonderful men of COD. I hope that this helped bring you some comfort. Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!Reader Warnings: No mask Simon (It's my personal headcanon in his regular life he probably wouldn't wear it), established relationship, broken arm, talk of pain, talk of pain medication, hospital talk, canon-typical swearing.

Simon was cursing himself. If he had been quicker then he might have been able to catch you before you slipped onto that patch of ice. Maybe if he’d been more observant Simon might have been able to steer you around it and avoid the problem all together. Hell, if he hadn’t insisted on walking on the side of the pavement closer to the road then it would have been him slipping and you wouldn’t be in agony sitting on an uncomfortable hospital bed after hours of waiting in A&E.

Not long after you’d been admitted they had taken you away for an x-ray to confirm that you had broken the bone, but that was something that Simon could have told them with utmost certainty considering he had heard the sickening crack of the bone breaking. It was a sound that was going to haunt his dreams for months, along with the sounds of your sobs and cries of pain, they had been imbedded into his mind and even now were echoing.

After you had been returned to him Simon kept a strong hand planted on you at all times, as if you were something that could be lost easily. It seemed to deescalate his anxiety just being able to hold you, that was something you even noticed through the haze of the pain relief they’d given you that hadn’t seemed to kick in entirely yet as your arm still throbbed in agony.

“Oi…” You said gently, gaining his attention as it focused in on your arm. Reaching over with your good hand to gently pinch Simon’s chin and force his gaze up into your eyes. “Will you stop it with that face?” You requested in a gentle voice. “What face?” Simon replied as if unaware that he looked like he had been kicked in the stomach over and over. “That face.” You whispered, gazing deeply into his eyes and gifting him a delicate smile, even if it didn’t quite reach your eyes from the pain you were fighting. “Yes, it’s broken but accidents happen-”

In a sharp tone Simon replied. “Not with me.” His brows pinched together, as if internally scolding himself for his short tone. “Not… not with me.” He said again, his voice lower and softer. “Accidents don’t happen with me and especially not to you.” You pat his hand that was gripping your knee tight and leaned back into the pillows finally feeling the pain relief beginning to take some effect. It was just in time too because the nurse had arrived to begin to cast your arm into an uncomfortable position to ensure that it would set right.

After that they sent you away with Simon, some instructions for the pain pills and a sling to help relieve the pressure on your broken arm.

Arriving home Simon helped you through the front door, stepped inside behind you and carefully prying your coat from your wounded body. Then he knelt down and began to fight the knots from the laces on your boots. “I could do that, you know?” You informed him. “I know.” Simon answered before tilting his head up to look into your eyes. “But you’re gonna let me help you anyway.”

Gently you tugged your fingers through his hair and nodded in agreement. Simon helped you remove your boots and then rose up to his full height, glancing down at you as he cupped your cheek lovingly. “Let me get you settled, alright?” Coaxing you to walk in front and upstairs, Simon never took his hands from your body, keeping you clasped so that you didn’t stumble or injure yourself further. “Good girl…” He muttered softly as you entered your bedroom, Simon held you from behind and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of your head. “Let me get you out of these clothes, yeah?”

A tired scoff fell from your lips. “I broke my arm and you’re gonna help fix it with your-” “Behave.” Simon smirked. “Fuckin’ brat…” Then shaking his head as he crossed the room to gather some loose fitting clothes for you. They were his clothes. Simon loved seeing you dressed up in his clothes, but seeing you comforted by them after your injury hit him on a whole new level. “C’mere… We’ll get you into something comfortable and then you can rest. Okay?”

Gently nodding your head, you responded with an almost teasing tone. “Yes, sir~” Which earned a tested look from Simon before he carefully began to undress you. It was fine until he removed your shirt, trying to move your arm as little as possible. The movement earned a noise of discomfort from you, eyes squeezing closed and not a moment later Simon’s lips pressed against your forehead. “You’re okay. You’re okay.” He assured you gentle. “Not gonna let anything hurt you. Okay?”

You trusted him. In that single moment you knew you trusted Simon to protect you from any danger that would come your way. There was so much certainty to his voice. There was so much need to make sure that you were never going to be in pain again. “C’mon… bed…”

Now that you were dressed up in some of his clothes Simon lead you to your bed, pulling back the covers and placing you under them, tucking you in tight and ensuring that your arm was raised by a couple pillows. “Here.” He placed the remotes to the TV within you reach but knew that whatever you were going to put on you wouldn’t even last a couple minutes watching considering the way that your eyes were drooping closed now.

“Try and get some rest and I’ll make some food-” “Can you stay for a little while?” You questioned; your tone practically slurred from the exhaustion that was beginning to sweep through your body. “Course…” Simon agreed, moving to carefully slot in beside you, rubbing his fingers over your face, carefully drawing slow lines over your forehead, down your nose, coaxing you further into tiredness. “Can’t… can’t promise I’ll be… be good conversation…”

Simon chuckled quietly, kissing the hinge of your jaw tenderly and then requesting. “Sleep, babe. Get some rest for me.” He heard the way your breathing changed. He felt the way your body sank and your muscles relax and finally he whispered into your ear. “I will never let you fill this way again; I will never let anything or anyone hurt you.” He observing your peaceful slumbering face, knowing it was safe. “I love you.”

Masterlist | Ask | 09-12-2023

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frantic-fiction · 4 months

Text

I'll Find My Way Back to You

(Can't find source of pic if it's yours let me know)

Astarion x GN!Reader

Prompt: A century after Tav passes Astarion comes across an artist who is oddly familiar and paints moments that seemed to be pulled straight from Astarion's life.

Thank you to @justporo for letting me use their idea. Go show them some love.

Warnings: Tav's death, brief mention of s*icide, angst with a happy ending

Word Count: 4.6k (Oops kinda went overboard)

Masterlist

“There’s no world I wish to live in without you,”

“My dear Astarion, we will find our way back to each other. This is not the end.”

Over a century has passed—a long, lonely century without Tav by his side. Astarion doesn’t understand how he’s endured, not with the void in his chest that appeared the moment he laid them to rest. The absence of his person, his love, his Tav, has left Astarion once again alone.

For nearly a decade, he found himself trapped in a state of near-catatonia, a prisoner of time within their empty home. He wasted away, the days blending into one another, each marked by a silent ache in his chest—the void left by Tav’s departure. Tears soaked into the earth of the carefully tended grave, adorned with vibrant flowers from Tav’s garden. He often contemplated surrendering to the sun’s embrace, letting its rays turn his existence to ash for a semblance of peace.

He yearned to end the pain, yet he refrained. He made a promise whispered with heavy hearts and painful sobs—a promise that forced them to confront the harsh reality that Tav would always leave first. Instead of embracing the end, Astarion wasted away, a ghost of his former self, yearning for the return of his love. Change arrived when Tav visited him in a dream; the details were blurry, but Tav’s beautiful smile was etched in memory. The sweet words in that dream eluded him, yet upon waking, a faint lightness settled within him. Astarion graced the night with a flicker of energy for the first time since Tav’s passing.

Tav would have wished for him to move on. They would have wanted him to live. The stagnant life he clung to wasn’t what Tav would want for him. So that day, Astarion gathered his essentials into a bag and set forth as soon as the sun dipped below the horizon. Only momentarily stopping to bid his love a final, tearful farewell. Since that moment, he hasn’t stopped moving.

Astarion believed Tav would take pride in the life he’s built—the good he’s accomplished over the many years. He traversed all over Faerun, from Waterdeep to Skull Crag, never lingering in one place for too long. He wasn’t the hero Tav was, but he aided towns against monsters, dispatched goblins, and took odd jobs to help however he could. Throughout his travels, he dedicated most of his time to sharing stories of Tav, ensuring their memory lived on. When he first heard the bards’ songs recounting the Hero of Baldur’s Gate, he knew he had succeeded. Now, you can’t sit in a tavern without hearing tales and melodies about Tav.

Every day, he longed for Tav to be by his side. He yearned to feel their soft skin, experience their tender kisses, and sense their warm arms encircling his waist—the echo of their laughter dancing in his ears. He missed every aspect of Tav and would do anything to see them again. Yet, the world ran out of miracles for him. Instead, he learned with time to cope, to come to terms with their absence, and keep them close to his heart.

***

Astarion traverses the dusty cobblestone of Wyrm’s Crossing and finds himself back in the heart of Baldur’s Gate—a city he’s consciously avoided for most of the century. It’s a place drenched in memories from his past life with Cazador, but mostly, the streets seem to be haunted by the presence of Tav.

His return to Baldur’s Gate remains shrouded in mystery. All he can discern is that he awoke one day in Daggerford, gripped by an inexplicable yearning to revisit the city. A compelling force tugging him down the Sword Coast, Astarion initially dismissed it as mere homesickness, scoffing at the notion. Yet, the persistent thought lingered, infesting his mind until he could no longer ignore the instinct to return.

The city remains strikingly unaltered despite the passage of time and the trials it endured. The same piss-stained cobblestone, alleyways cluttered with remnants of urban life, and a diverse array of inhabitants navigating the night. It’s an unsettling constant, especially juxtaposed against the transformation of Astarion’s existence.

Wandering through the back alleys and side streets, Astarion meanders aimlessly. Occasionally, a sight triggers memories, evoking a lump in his throat. The Elfsong Tavern, once familiar, now bears a different name and identity, a formal establishment concealing the echoes of nights spent in Tav’s comforting embrace. Bloomride Park, the graveyard, and the docks—all weave together, painting a vivid tapestry of Tav’s omnipresence.

Amidst the tumult of emotions, Astarion grapples with why he subjected himself to this emotional turmoil. The urge to retreat, to flee Baldur’s Gate before the dawn breaks, lingers within him. Yet, the itch persists, buried deep within his bones, propelling him forward. He silently promises himself the night to wander the city, and by this time tomorrow, he will be on his way to another town for another adventure.

Venturing into a dim, isolated street, Astarion observes a solitary lamplight spilling its soft glow from a store window. Peering through, he discovers a small art studio. Within, a graceful elf seems to dance with a paintbrush, each stroke deliberate yet flowing. Like a harpie song, Astarion is mesmerized and utterly captivated. He watches on silently, observing the elves happily consumed with their work. It gives him a wave of nostalgia, moments of watching Tav as they painted, unaware he was watching from the door. Astarion could almost hear the sweet hums that filled the room between brush strokes.

Then he freezes, gaze snapping to the paintings that adorn the studio, scattered reflections of his life. Images of Karlach, Shadowheart, and all the others grace the space. However, it’s the depictions of himself that seize his breath. Compelled by an unseen force, Astarion walks right into the studio. In a far corner, he sees an intimate portrayal—an embrace that resonates with familiarity.

The bell rings, and you break from your artistic trance. Startled, you look up, and there stands the pale elf in the doorway—the hero of Baldur’s Gate, Astarion—the man who has clouded your dreams for as long as memory serves. Startled, you look up, and there stands a pale elf in the doorway—the hero of Baldur’s Gate, Astarion—the man who has clouded your dreams for as long as memory serves.

The dreams began as mere fragments—white curls, sharp teeth, delicate hands. Gradually, they evolved into more vivid scenes—muffled conversations by a campfire, laughter and gentle shoves, and stolen kisses between bed sheets—private moments of a stranger, a byproduct of an active imagination intertwined with an elven crush. Or at least that was what your mother would say. Now, the subject of those dreams stands before you.

Astarion, surrounded by the art that mirrors his life, fixates on a miniature portrait. The details are hazy, yet he recalls the campfire, the desperation in his gaze, and a significant confession followed by an embrace.

You pick up a fallen brush with a trembling hand, placing it in a water cup. Asterion was just as breathtakingly beautiful as your dream portrayed, but to see him in person has your heart hammering in your chest and your breath quickening with nerves. Wiping paint-covered hands on your smock, you took a deep breath and gathered the courage to approach Astarion.

Staring at the portrait, you utter quietly, “This one’s my favorite. Though I wish I could have captured the others’ images better.”

“Tav.”

“I’m sorry?”

“The person you painted. My partner Tav, they used to paint too,” Astarion’s voice carries the weight of unspoken emotions.

“Oh, yes. They were the leader of your group, if I remember correctly. I’m sorry for your loss.”

Astarion remains silent, the canvas now a source of unbearable memories. He moves through the studio, examining the art up close. It’s weird to have your muse perusing around your gallery. It’s embarrassing to have Astarion see just how many pieces have been dedicated to him. What do you do at this point? Should you follow him, tell him about each piece and the dreams behind them? No, that seems pretentious, so you retreat to the canvas you’ve been working on for the better part of the week.

This piece was different—a symbol rather than a person or scene. Rings of unknown runes fan out in jagged edges, evoking a sense of beauty tinged with profound sadness. It disturbed you to your core, but you needed to paint it. It’s how it always goes. Once a dream pops into your head, whether it’s a scene, a person, or a symbol, it refuses to leave until you’ve laid it on a canvas. Picking up the brush, you dip it back into the red paint and continue to bolden the lines.

“Who are you?” Astarion’s voice is right behind you; you jump, knocking a pot of paint over. Cursing softly, you quickly right the pot, attempting to salvage the spilled paint. Paint isn’t cheap, and in your non-upper-class circumstances, every drop is precious.

“Oh, I’m sorry; I have been very rude,” you offer your name. “I, of course, already know you, Astarion. It’s hard not to come across the tales of the heroes of Baldur’s Gate, but I guess—” Your rambling trails off pathetically as something changes in Astarion. There’s tension in his shoulders, a coldness in his eyes. Nibbling on your bottom lip, you nervously play with a loose thread on the smock.

Astarion scrutinizes you with a piercing gaze, his eyes lingering on your face as if searching for hidden truths. The air becomes taut, charged with an almost palpable intensity. Then, as if propelled by an unseen force, he reacts like a tightly wound rubber band snapping. Reaching out, he harshly pulls you to him, bearing his teeth at you. Your stomach drops, shocked by the aggression.

“Have you been following me? Stalking me?” His voice carries a storm of anger, his grip on your shoulders unyielding, the coldness of his touch akin to ice piercing through the fabric of your being. “Don’t lie to me because I’ve shown one person that fucking scar, and I buried them.”

Your heart races, fear coursing through your veins as you whimper a response, tears welling up in your eyes. “I-I don’t know, I’m sorry,”

“Don’t lie!”

“Please, I’m so, so sorry. I don’t know; I have dreams; I don’t know why, b-but I dream of you,” your voice falters, and your vulnerability is laid bare. “I dream of you, your friends, and places I’ve never been. I’m sorry, I’ll stop, I promise.”

As abruptly as his hands seized you, they vanished, leaving you stumbling to your knees, unable to contain the torrent of tears streaming down your face. Curling in on yourself, you can’t stop the cries of apologies and promises of never picking up a brush again, of burning every last piece in the room.

Astarion looks down at you, his expression shifting from anger to a complex amalgamation of horror and something else—perhaps realization. Stepping away, he leaves you rooted to the spot. Your gaze fixed blankly out the window. Odd and conflicting emotions swirl within you—fear, confusion, longing?—all clashing fiercely. Amidst the tumult, one thought emerges with undeniable clarity—this won’t be the last time you see Astarion.

Astarion’s breaths come in ragged gasps as he runs through the barren streets, escaping the grasp of the haunting memories that threaten to consume him. His thoughts are a raging storm, and he pays no heed to the bewildered faces of those he rudely pushes past. The town of Rivington is a blur as he sprints through it, a desperate escape, picking a direction and refusing to stop until his body aches, halting only when the sun begins its ascent above the horizon.

In his frantic need to run, there was no consideration for shelter from the sun’s relentless rays. Mercifully, he stumbles upon an abandoned cave. Dry, dusty, and shrouded in darkness, it becomes his refuge. In a corner, he sinks slowly against the cool, rough wall to the ground, seeking solace in the obscurity.

Astarion pulls his knee to his chest, pressing his forehead against his crossed arms. Shaking and shivering, a stark contrast to the bitter summer heat enveloping the cave, he clings to his vulnerability. Eyes shut tight, jaw clenched, fingernails dig deep into his arms as if attempting to anchor himself in the reality that threatens to crumble around him.

Desperation claws at him, and he yearns for Tav. The desire to feel Tav’s warm embrace, hands crossing over his chest, pulling him close, torments him. He longs for the soft whispers of love and the gentle press of lips. Astarion can’t navigate this without Tav. He’s a mess, barely holding on, living each agonizing day, acutely aware that the best part of him is gone, and he can do nothing to reclaim it.

The cruelty of encountering such intimate moments from his past life with Tav wounds him deeply. These were moments meant for him and Tav alone. Realizing that a stranger could capture those cherished memories intended for one person alone turns his stomach.

Anger becomes a conduit for his overwhelming emotions, and the terrified look on the artist’s face is etched in his mind, an indelible scar on his conscience. Shame burns within him, a searing reminder of the boundaries he violated. Physically assaulting someone in their own space—what would Tav think of him now?

The artist adds another layer to Astarion’s confusion. The familiarity is uncanny—the excited calf raises, the almost-stumbles afterward, the nervous lip biting, puffed cheeks during deep concentration, and the mindless dancing when no one is watching. Every little thing the artist did mirrored Tav, and with all his memories physically displayed, Asterion finds himself lost in a sea of confusion. Why does this stranger resemble his love so deeply?

The bards’ tales of soulmates and reincarnation, once dismissed as mere children’s stories and fiction, now claw at the edges of Astarion’s consciousness. What if? What if Tav found their way back to him? Weirder things have happened in his long life, and the possibility plants a seed of hope within him.

Yet, he forcefully suppresses that hope. It won’t serve him, not now. Instead, he resolves to learn more. By nightfall, he returns to the city, catching the first boat to Waterdeep. After a day and some change, he stands outside the Wizards’ tower, resentment simmering as he contemplates turning to Gale, his best chance at answers.

A groan escapes Astarion as he hangs his head, and a series of knocks echo on the thick wooden door. “This better be worth it…”

The door swings open on its own into a dimly lit foyer. Astarion follows a familiar path, the cool air and faint scent of ancient tomes embracing him. He ascends the staircase with nostalgia and reluctance, each step echoing the countless times Tav and himself sought knowledge and assistance within these walls.

As he pushes open the study door, a scene unfolds before him. Gale is hunched over a worn scroll, graying hair ruffled, and a small pair of reading glasses set on the tip of his nose. The room is bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, creating an intimate ambiance. Notes adorn the margins, evidence of Gale’s ceaseless quest for understanding.

Gale looks up, a broad, warm smile gracing his features, and Astarion is momentarily transported back to the times when this sage was only a joke he poked fun at across camp. Removing his reading glasses, Gale pushes up from his desk, an air of welcoming familiarity enveloping the room.

“Well, look who the tressym dragged in. How are you, Astarion?”

Astarion stiffens as he is pulled into a spontaneous hug by Gale. The embrace is both unexpected and oddly comforting, a physical manifestation of the genuine camaraderie they’ve shared through the years. Astarion, unaccustomed to such displays of affection, awkwardly pats Gale’s back before gently pulling away.

“I’m afraid I’ve been better.”

Gale’s eyes convey concern and understanding as he gestures for Astarion to sit. The worn chair creaks under the weight of memories and the weightier burden of Astarion’s troubled soul.

“Then sit down, my friend, and tell me how I can help.”

***

Days of tireless research and a network of favors exchanged between magical acquaintances have led them to a glimmer of hope. Though not expansive, the discovery hints at the possibility that souls entwined so tightly may have a magnetic pull toward each other. A pull is so strong that souls can find each other in different lifetimes. Tales have described soulmates experiencing memories from previous lifetimes together, but they were vague at best. The specific remains elusive, shrouded in mystery, yet it’s enough to kindle a spark of hope within Astarion’s lonely heart.

Gale, ever the bore, offers a gentle reminder, “Now, just remember, if you try to force feelings before—”

“I would never!” Astarion’s retort carries a venomous edge, an unspoken warning to watch his following words carefully. Gale raises his hands in defense.

“My point is the brain is a prickly thing. It’s best not to rush anything it’s not ready for.”

“Yes, yes, you have said this five times already. Would you please activate the portal? I have an apology to make.”

Anticipation hums in the air, a palpable energy that courses through Astarion. A fleeting smile graces his lips, and for a moment, the weight of his grief is replaced by a glimmer of life.

Looking at Astarion with a fondness born of shared trials, Gale responds, “Of course, Astarion.”

With a confident shake of his wrist, he activates the magical circle, and the room is bathed in a radiant glow of bright runes, their purple luminescence dancing in the semi-darkness.

Astarion steps toward the portal, his heart pulsating with trepidation and newfound hope. However, before crossing the threshold, he turns around to face Gale, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Thank you, Gale. I will not forget this.”

“It was my pleasure. Now, I expect to meet this lovely artist sooner rather than later.” Gale’s parting words hang in the air, infused with the hope of rekindling a connection beyond the realms of understanding.

Back in the heart of Baldur’s Gate, Astarion swiftly navigated the bustling streets, an air of anticipation accompanying him. His purpose was clear—to reach your studio and beg for your forgiveness. A brief pause along the way allowed him to acquire a small bundle of daisies, a spontaneous choice fueled by the memory of Tav’s fondness for these delicate blooms.

As Astarion approached the studio, a surge of uncertainty clawed at him. Hesitation gripped his every step, the shadow of fear etched across his features. The fear in your eyes during the last encounter was seared into his memory. Had his previous outburst irreparably damaged any chance of reconciliation? The conflicting forces of his desire to see you again and the instinct to flee wrestled within him. Yet, he pressed forward, forcing himself down the street, and there you stood.

The scene that greeted him was a chaotic masterpiece of colors. Paint adorned your cheeks and arms, a testament to the artistic fervor that consumed you. Your hair, a cascade of untamed strands, framed a face that mirrored both exhaustion and creative passion. Astarion had a sudden urge to brush the strands away and press a soft kiss to your cheek, something he often did with Tav.

Your weariness was palpable—shoulders slumped, eyes half-lidded. Perhaps, he pondered, he should postpone this encounter, allowing you the reprieve of rest. The realization that he might be the last person you wanted to see compelled Astarion to take a step back, an unspoken retreat.

But just as he moved to leave, your eyes jumped up to meet his, you froze mid-stroke, and Astarion couldn’t read your expression. He should go. Why did he think this was a good idea? He’s just about to run when you nod for him to come in. Obliging, Astarion found himself standing awkwardly within the studio; you went back to painting. Your brush danced across the canvas, applying a vibrant shade of blue in deliberate strokes. Astarion’s attempts to break the silence faltered, his words dissolving into the room’s stillness.

“What are you doing here, Astarion?” The steadiness in your voice pierced the calm. You tried to hold on to your anger for the man all week. But upon seeing him standing so lost on the street had your resolve crumbling. You can’t deny the mild excitement that fluttered through your veins upon seeing him again.

His voice, momentarily lost, found its way back. “I-I came here to apologize for last week. My behavior was deplorable, and I wish to make things right.”

A wry amusement flickered in your eyes as you evaluated the bouquet, now slightly worse for wear under his tight grip. “And you believe a bundle of broken daisies would win you my forgiveness?”

Astarion, caught off guard, looked down at the bruised bouquet. “Um…well, I was hoping for roses, but they were fresh out.”

A snort escaped you as you put down your paintbrush and approached him. A tentative touch on his forearm transferred the flowers from his grasp to yours, eliciting a shiver down his spine. The longing to reach out is strong, but Astarion holds still as you retreat.

Intently studying the daisies, you began to divide the bundle into two piles. Astarion watched silently, recognizing echoes of Tav’s essence reflected in your actions. While understanding that you were not Tav, the profound sorrow gripping his heart seemed to ease in your presence.

“Half,” you declared suddenly.

“Pardon?”

“Half of the daisies survived.”

“And where does that leave us?”

With a theatrical flair, you pondered the question, pacing the room. “That, good sir, is the question. What is my forgiveness worth? I did luck out; daisies are my favorite, so you’re a step farther than roses would have gotten you.”

Astarion, grasping the playful undertone, decided to play along. With a hand on his hips and a wicked smirk, he responded, “Well, I am a pretty lucky man. Now, please, I beg, what more can I do to gain your forgiveness?”

You hummed softly, tapping your chin. You keep Astarion in suspense for a moment before you suddenly turn to the man. “How about…I get dressed, you take me out to dinner, and we’ll go from there?”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” The agreement hung in the air, a hope for something more lingering.

***

The dinner evolved into an evening stroll, a seamless transition from pleasant chatter to playful banter. It was an unexpected evening, but the time spent with Astarion was so easy, so familiar you didn’t want it to end. Reading about the saviors of Baldur’s Gate was intriguing, and dreaming of a vampiric elf held its allure, but nothing compared to the tangible presence of the real Astarion.

Astarion embodied the epitome of perfection – handsome, intelligent, and endowed with a wit that had you giggling all night. He was the quintessential gentleman, the embodiment of every mother’s hopeful wish for their child.

What started as a single date quickly snowballed into a series of enchanting encounters – one date led to two, then five, until you found yourself drawn into his orbit every week. The pace was exhilarating, and being around Astarion felt like being charged with an electric current. It was not just addictive; it was a whirlwind of happiness, and you couldn’t help but revel in it.

If one indulged in whimsical tales, the idea that Astarion might be your soulmate would have crossed your mind. His ability to read you so intimately sometimes felt like he delved into the depths of your mind.

The dreams persisted, evolving into a kaleidoscope of memories that intertwined your moments with Astarion and a phantom era where someone else shared his company. Astarion, at times, would cast glances at you as you transferred another dream to canvas, an anticipation lingering in his eyes. Despite his attempts, he couldn’t veil the disappointment when the visions resulted in nothing more than another painting adorning the wall.

Then, it occurred on a serene spring day, three years since Astarion first entered your studio. The sun had yet to set, and you found solace curled up with Astarion. Limbs tangled, chests pressed together, hands intertwined – a tableau of intimate connection. His cold nose nestled against the crook of your neck, his white curls playfully tickling your nose.

Behind your closed eyelids, soft images of a forest clearing unfolded – Astarion shirtless, beckoning you towards him. Something clicked, and suddenly, the foreign memories that greeted you each night became a mosaic of your own experiences. The floodgates opened, overwhelming you with a lifetime of moments – kisses beneath the stars, laughter resonating around a campfire, and heart-stopping close calls with death.

Astarion often spoke of Tav, a robust and kind soul who played a pivotal role in shaping him. He wouldn’t be who he is today without them. You now knew a bit better; yes, you had nudged him along the way, but his growth was his own, and you couldn’t be more proud. To think of the years he spent without you, the grief he must have had to push through. If the roles were reversed, you don’t believe you would have been strong enough to keep going.

Startled from his slumber, Astarion found your body descending upon his, your hand meeting his chest with firm slaps. “Stop you, little gremlin.” Groggily, he attempted to restrain you in a tender embrace. He was met with your swift departure from his lap. He heard the patter of your feet retreating from the bed.

“You are a bastard, Astarion!”

Fully alert and by your side instantly, “What did I do, my sweet?”

Worry etched into every crease of his face as he cupped your jaw, looking frantically into your eyes. You intertwined your fingers with his, your other hand reaching out to caress the skin of his hip. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

Astarion scrutinized your face, his eyes delving deep into yours. The faintest furrow of his brows betrayed his thoughts. As if following an unspoken script, he pulled you in by the waist, foreheads gently meeting.

Glistening with unshed tears, Astarion whispered, “You remember?” His voice trembled.

“Yes… maybe it’s all still tangled. But yes, I remember Tav – well, I remember us.”

Astarion’s smile widened, his fangs peeking out, and his lips met yours in a heated kiss spinning the two of you around the room. It was a slow dance of lips as if Astarion had all the time in the cosmos to savor this moment. While you could quickly lose yourself in the embrace, you were privy to all his subtle tricks. You turned your face when he attempted to draw you back into the kiss.

“Gods, Astarion, for three years, you knew and never said anything. I’ve painted you for almost as long as I could wield a brush, and for three years, you knew why!” Another slap graced his chest, and tears trickled down your cheeks, eagerly wiped away by his thumbs.

“I wanted to, my love. The moment I realized I wanted to. But this couldn’t be rushed; you can’t rush the mind.”

“Star, I’m so sorry I took so long,”

“No, stop; you took as long as you needed to return to me.” His forehead rests against yours once more, and the room stands still for a moment. “What matters is you’re here, in my arms, and I’m not letting go anytime soon.”

A choked sob mingled with a chuckle, and you nuzzled closer into Astarion, hiding your face into his neck. “Gods, I love you, Astarion.”

“And I love you.”

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Okay loves, let me know what you think. I've been working on this for over a week and still find some sections I'm not all that happy with, but I want to move on to other pieces. Any and every interaction makes my day.

Taglist: heartfully10, ayselluna

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 #reader insert #astarion imagine #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion #fanfic #writing #soulmates #soulmate au #reincarnation #frantic fiction

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bachiras-toaster · 2 months

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dating the blue lock boys as student council members : ̗̀➛

BLUE LOCK MEN x gn!reader

content. explicit, making out, bachira having a getting-caught kink, bottom!nagi hinted, blowjobs

ft. bachira, nagi, reo, isagi, rin

MEGURU BACHIRA

A person who’s face belies their hidden nature. He’s certainly the type of person to shamelessly abuse his power; he knows that no matter what he does, he’s talented enough for his position not to be shaken within the Student Council. Despite his childish and chatty personality, Bachira is arguably one of the scariest members— As stated by Isagi, because the whole ‘innocent’ bit is just as facade, and he can tear into the heart of any student and cause them to break. To any outsider, he’s the kindest ray of sunshine; to the rest of the Student Council members, he’s the hidden wild card of the group.

And when it comes to you, Bachira loves to fool around with you a lot, it’s a wonder how he’s never been caught up to this point. He’s obsessed with the idea of luring you into the Student Council meeting room and hanging out there when it’s empty, closing out the room to any people who could potentially be passing by, and kissing you in seats the two of you should not be sat in. Sometimes he’ll even kick other students out of free classrooms for ‘serious Student Council business’ just to make out with you against one of the desks. You tell him repeatedly that you shouldn’t fool around in school, but it’s like the thrill of getting caught makes it all the more enticing for him— Especially with his status.

NAGI SEISHIRO

Honestly, he doesn’t even particularly want to be a part of the Student Council. Nagi just happens to be exceptionally great, despite not even trying. Because of that, he was offered a position as a member. He only heard the benefits of potentially skipping classes, so he was eager to join, but he supposed he had forgotten that he would actually need to pay attention in the meetings that he attends…

He would much rather spend time with you than attend any of the meetings. You’d sometimes need to convince him to stop spending time with you and focus on his Student Council duties instead. You need to make promises to him that if he attends his next meeting, you’ll be sure to reward him with a session of him laying back while you do all the work as soon as the two of you got home— Which he supposed is enough to get him through an hour of talking from the Student Council President.

REO MIKAGE

Admittedly, he only joined the Student Council initially for the boost in reputation and because of pressure from his parents. But now that he’s there, he feels like he really can’t be bothered carrying out any of the duties he’s supposed to. The only thing he finds fun about being a part of the Student Council now is getting to brag to you about what kind of power he has in that position and how he can practically force the school to respect you.

Unfortunately, being the simp that he is, he can’t help but unintentionally abuse his power in order to appease you— Unlike Bachira, who will purposefully abuse his power. Reo would be more than happy to punish students who have wronged you, or manipulate certain events just so you can get the role that you wished. I mean, how could he refuse? After you give him everything he dreamed for and more in the privacy of your own lives?

YOICHI ISAGI

The entire school wonders how someone like Isagi ended up in the Student Council, especially since he didn’t exactly size up to any of the other members. On multiple occasions, he was mistaken for a secretary, or a coffee-boy— Anything but an actual, contributing member of the group. Despite this, he tries his hardest to prove himself to the rest of the members and the rest of the school that he’s worth standing amongst the academy’s finest, and he uses his power and status for the bettering of the institution. He’s fair and just, never once even standing on the path to becoming corrupt, and it’s all to ensure his own popularity and role.

Which is particularly the reason why he can get so nervous whenever you insist on doing it in the meeting room. He can feel beads of sweat tracing down the sides of his face as you unbuckle his pants, sinking down to your knees in front of him while you ensured him that it was okay. He would constantly look between the top of your head and the entrance of the room, feeling a hard-to-swallow lump in his throat as the possibilities of getting caught raced through his mind— It was one of his greatest fears. But it never stopped the two of you from repeating this action over and over again every time a meeting ended and you snuck in.

RIN ITOSHI

The Student Council President. Although it’s no surprise that he secured that spot, there’s a lot of speculation about whether his position was the result of nepotism since his older brother had been the previous President and his parents made up a large portion of the Academy’s donations. He finds that being called a ‘nepo baby’ is one of the greatest insult to him, and won’t be hesitant to shut anyone he even alludes to such a possibility. He works tirelessly to maintain the school’s image, and keeps up an almost pristine reputation for himself. He’s counted on as one of the most intelligent of all of the members, and can find himself getting frequently annoyed at the laziness, incompetency, and sometimes downright stupidity of his team. But they’re a group of people only he can insult; if anyone else tried it, they’d be dead.

Being the President of such a difficult to maintain group, he constantly finds that he needs to let off steam. If he ever decided to do it with you inside the school, he’d never do it while there would be other students possibly roaming around. He’d always wait for after-school, or even before classes begin in the morning, to have his way with you. What the two of you get up to depends on how he feels. If he just needs a wake up before lessons, it can lead to the two of you making out in his chair. However, on the days where he finds himself a little more pissed-off than usual after an after-school meeting, he’d pin you down against the desk and practically force those moans out of you. You’re a real stress reliever for him. He doesn’t know what he’d do without you.

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doumadono · 1 month

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Warnings: threesome, fem!reader, m/m/f, oral (m & f receiving), fingering, rimming, anal, orgasm denial, dom/sub, names calling, poly relationship, unprotected p in a & p in v

Synopsis: Bakugo's birthday is a special day, and you with Kirishima plan a steamy morning for your boyfriend

A/N: the prompt is: threesome for Bakugo's birthday ft. Kirishima I decided to post this one a bit earlier. Happy birthday, my sweet little gremlin!

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST BAKUGO'S BIRTHDAY EVENT 2024

Despite being pro heroes, Bakugo and Kirishima shared their flat with you, a sidekick working for their hero agency.

You weren't quite sure how it began, but eventually, you found yourself in a relationship with not just one, but both of your bosses.

And you didn't mind in the slightest. Both of them were such distinct personalities, and you felt privileged to know both sides of them.

Kirishima, known for his gentle nature, was not only as endearing and sweet as a puppy in public but also had a darker side that yearned to dominate those around him in his private life.

Bakugo, on the other hand, was the most snarky, driven, and grumpy man you'd ever met. Yet, behind the doors of your luxury apartment, he was quieter than his public persona, often letting Kirishima take the lead in decision-making.

Today, however, wasn't just any ordinary date on the calendar. It was April 20th - Bakugo's birthday.

Of course, Dynamight wasn't one for celebrations. He saw them as mundane and completely unnecessary ways to mark getting one year closer to the inevitable end, as he often referred to birthdays.

After all, it was Bakugo's birthday, and with a little help from you, Kirishima had planned a surprise that would leave Dynamight speechless.

As the first rays of the sun peeked through the curtains, Bakugo was rudely awakened by a firm hand gripping his already hard cock. He was having a vivid, wet dream about you and Eijiro when he was jolted awake by the rubbing sensation, growling in frustration. Katsuki groaned, his crimson eyes fluttering open to see Kirishima's smirking face.

"Happy birthday, Kats," red-haired purred, his hand moving up and down Bakugo's shaft. "Were you having naughty dreams again? I bet you were, considering you were grinding your dick against my ass in your sleep," Eijiro chuckled softly, lying on his side and watching Katsuki.

Bakugo grunted, his hips bucking up into Kirishima's hand. "Shut up, Eijiro," he growled, his voice husky with sleep and slowly accumulating desire.

Kirishima leaned down, capturing Bakugo's lips in a searing kiss. Their tongues danced together, exploring each other's mouths with a familiarity that only came from years of being lovers.

Bakugo's hands found their way into Kirishima's fiery locks, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss.

Breaking the kiss, Kirishima trailed wet, open-mouthed kisses down Bakugo's neck, nibbling and sucking on the tender skin, leaving marks that would last for days.

Bakugo groaned, his head falling back as Kirishima's sharp teeth scraped against his collarbone. Kirishima's hand never stopped moving, pumping Bakugo's cock with a steady rhythm that had Bakugo writhing beneath him.

Moving lower, Kirishima licked and sucked on Bakugo's pierced nipples, causing Bakugo to hiss and arch his back slightly. Bakugo's hands moved from Kirishima's hair to his shoulders, his nails digging into the firm muscles as he tried to regain some control.

But Kirishima was having none of it. He pushed Bakugo's hands away, pinning them above his head as he continued his assault on Dynamight's body.

Bakugo struggled, trying to free his hands, but Kirishima proved to be stronger, at least this time. "Eijiro," Bakugo growled, his eyes flashing with an anger that was quickly replaced by arousal.

Kirishima just smirked, releasing Bakugo's hands and moving lower. He licked a trail down Bakugo's stomach, his tongue dipping into the navel before moving lower still, along Katsuki’s blond happy trail. Bakugo's cock twitched in anticipation, and Kirishima blew a cool breath over the head, causing Bakugo to groan and buck his hips.

“Fuck,” the blond-haired man grunted deeply.

The birthday boy wasn't aware that you were seated in his armchair on the opposite side of the room, watching the scene unfold with anticipation.

You couldn't deny it, watching boys together was a massive turn-on. Especially when Kirishima took charge — he was always slow and passionate, unlike Katsuki, who went straight for the main event at the first opportunity.

Without warning, Eijiro took Katsuki's cock into his mouth, sucking hard.

Bakugo's eyes rolled to the back of his head as he let out a guttural moan, his hands fisting the sheets as Kirishima's head bobbed up and down. Kirishima's tongue swirled around the head, lapping up the precum that was already leaking out.

Bakugo, who was usually so brash and aggressive, seemed almost vulnerable at this moment.

Kirishima bobbed his head up and down, his mouth working Bakugo's cock expertly, his tongue swirling around the tip, making Bakugo moan louder. Kirishima cast glances at Bakugo's flushed face from beneath his long, dark lashes.

Why did guys always have such great lashes? You pouted to yourself, pondering the unfairness of it all while fondling your breasts.

"Oh, fuck, Kirishima… Yes, just like that," Bakugo moaned, his hips thrusting forward, his cock hitting the back of Kirishima's throat.

Eijiro gagged slightly but didn't stop, his hands now working Bakugo's balls.

Katsuki’s cock was hard as steel, his tip aggressively red, his entire shaft throbbing with desire.

Just when Bakugo thought he couldn't take it anymore, Kirishima stopped, releasing Bakugo's cock with a pop. "Not yet, handsome," Eijiro mused, trailing his tongue slowly up Dynamight's body. "You need to earn your orgasm," the red-haired cooed.

A frown creased Bakugo's forehead; the blond panted, attempting to thrust his hips to create friction against Eijiro's abdomen, but it was futile. "You're a fucking tease," Katsuki growled, then pulled Eijiro into a heated kiss, wrapping one arm around his neck.

Red Riot pulled back from the kiss after a moment, giving Katsuki's temple a peck. "We've got a spectator," he whispered in a seductive tone, turning to you with a wink.

Bakugo shifted his gaze, and you could swear his cheeks deepened in colour upon seeing you there, dressed only in your lacy, white underwear, watching them with a slight bite to your lower lip. "Hey, Katsy," you greeted him softly.

It wasn't the first time you'd been intimate with either of them, though. The arrangement was straightforward — you could be with each other whenever the mood struck, but it stayed behind closed doors - the boys didn't want the world to know they were in a poly relationship. The media would catch wind of it in no time, and it could actually harm their reputations. And you'd always respected that boundary. You found yourself leaning more towards Kirishima, appreciating the gentler nature of your sex with him compared to Bakugo's roughness. But you’d never been with both of them at the same time.

You rose from your spot with a sway in your hips, making your way to the bed. With a flick of your fingers, you unclasped your bra, letting it drop to the floor with a soft thud. Like a predator stalking its prey, you crept onto the bed towards the boys, planting a kiss on Kirishima's lips before turning to Bakugo. "Happy birthday, Dynamight," you whispered in his ear, teasingly licking his earlobe. You turned to him a second later, your eyes meeting his crimson ones, and you saw the pure hunger in them. You leaned in, your lips brushing his slightly chapped ones, a soft, slow kiss that promised a day filled with passion and pleasure.

Katsuki’s hand reached up, cupping your cheek, deepening the kiss, his tongue exploring yours.

Your hands roamed his body, feeling the hard planes of his muscles beneath the pads of your fingers, your digits tracing the lines of his abs. You felt his cock stir against your palm, hardening even more with each passing second. You broke the kiss, your lips trailing down his neck, licking and nibbling, eliciting a low groan from him. You lazily stroked his shaft, gently sucking on the pulse point on the side of his neck, ensuring to leave a hickey behind, a sign of your fondness for one and only Bakugo Katsuki.

"You two idiots are spoiling me rotten today," Bakugo growled, rolling his head back on his pillow. “Goddamn, this feels so fucking good. Happy birthday to me, I guess," he growled, his voice low and husky.

You felt his calloused fingers traced a path down your spine, sending shivers down your body as you started jerking him faster.

With one swift motion, he rolled on top of you, effortlessly pinning you down on the mattress and peppering your chest with kisses and nips. He then got off you, kneeling beside your head and stroking his own cock. "Be a good girl and open that pretty mouth for me," he commanded.

You complied without hesitation, welcoming the mushroom head of his cock onto your flexed tongue seconds later.

Meanwhile, Kirishima took off his sweatpants, watching the two of you while lazily stroking himself. "Shit, you guys are so hot," the red-haired whispered, giving his own palm a lick before returning to stroke his dick.

Bakugo was surprisingly gentle with you this time, slowly moving his hips as he kissed you deeply. Of course, he couldn't resist fondling your breasts and slipping his rough hand between your thighs, rubbing your folds through the lace of your panties. “Someone’s wet, tsk!” he commanded with a grin that curled the corners of his lips upwards.

You used your hand to slide his foreskin a few times after pulling his cock out of your mouth to spit on its head. All the while, you glanced up at him, admiring the slight frown creasing his forehead as he hissed, watching you work. With your free hand, you gently cupped and fondled his ball sack between your fingers.

“Shit,” Bakugo rolled his head back a little. "This little minx is going to be the death of me one day."

Kirishima couldn't hold back any longer and knelt beside you as well, leaning in to playfully suck on Katsuki's nipples, toying with his barbells. "Kats, love," Kirishima whispered after sharing a passionate kiss with his boyfriend. "I want to... I need to fuck you, please," his voice was nothing but a plea.

Bakugo grabbed a fistful of your hair, gently pulling your head back, earning himself a sad pout from you. He glanced at Kirishima, giving the red-haired's cock a few quick strokes after spitting on its tip. "Go ahead."

Kirishima moved to kneel behind Bakugo, admiring his boyfriend’s tight ass. He licked his lips in anticipation, knowing that he was about to give Bakugo the best morning of his life. His strong hands spread Bakugo’s cheeks apart. He leaned in and licked Katsuki's hole, his tongue swirling around it, making it wet and ready for his fingers. He flicked his tongue against the puckered hole several times, humming. Then, Eijiro reached for the nightstand and grabbed a bottle of lube, squirting some onto his fingers.

Bakugo moaned as Kirishima inserted one finger, then two, into his ass, moving them in and out in a slow and steady rhythm. “Suck my cock,” he growled, lightly tapping your cheek to grab your attention as you were completely engrossed in listening to his pants while Kirishima fucked his ass.

As the obedient girl you were, you ran the tip of your tongue along your lips to moist them and took his throbbing cock into your mouth again, gently bobbing your head back and forth as Bakugo resumed rubbing your pussy.

He pushed your panties aside, revealing your glistening pussy, juices already escaping due to your intense arousal you were experiencing. “Tsk, you naughty brat,” Bakugo growled as he pushed two of his fingers inside you, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit, eliciting a loud moan from you; your sounds were muffled by his throbbing member fucking your mouth.

Kirishima could tell that Katsuki was ready, so he lubed up his cock and lined himself with his boyfriend’s ass, gently poking the tight hole as he slowly entered Bakugo's ass.

Bakugo's breath caught as he felt the fullness of Kirishima's cock inside him, stretching him to the limit. “Fuck.”

Kirishima's movements were slow and deliberate, allowing Bakugo to adjust to the sensation.

Soon, Bakugo's moans grew louder, and he pushed back against Kirishima, urging him to move faster.

Kirishima obliged, his hips snapping forward as he thrust into Bakugo over and over again. “You’re so tight for me, handsome,” the red-haired praised.

Bakugo's hands gripped your hair tightly as he kept on fucking your mouth, his knuckles white as he felt the tight knot building inside of his tummy. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna cum,” the blond warned in a husky voice.

Kirishima's hand reached around, finding Katsuki’s cock and stroking it in time with his thrusts. Eijiro's thrusts grew more urgent, his own moans mingling with Bakugo's. "No, no, no, handsome. You'll cum when I say so. This time, you're not in charge here," Kirishima growled, nibbling at the back of Katsuki's neck, increasing his pace. Red Riot gripped Dynamight's hips tighter, pounding into him relentlessly, their bodies slick with sweat.

Bakugo's moans grew louder, his body tensing as he neared his climax. With a final thrust, Kirishima nearly sent Bakugo over the edge, his cock throbbing inside of Katsuki as he spilled his seed in his boyfriend’s asshole, slowly pulling out, watching his semen trickle out and pooling on the sheets between Bakugo’s legs. “Holy shit, Kats, I love you so much,” Eijiro grabbed Katsuki’s chin and turned his head around to kiss him passionately.

Bakugo's cock throbbed intensely in your mouth, and just when you thought he was about to release, he pulled away, muttering something about fucking you hard. You couldn't quite catch his words though; your mind was still foggy from watching the boys getting laid.

Moments later, all you felt was a rough tug at your ankle, causing you to slide towards the center of the bed. Bakugo leaned forward, planting kisses along the valley between your breasts and trailing his warm, wet tongue down your body. With his canines, he caught the edge of your panties and pulled them down your legs. Then, he nuzzled his nose against your moist mound, inhaling the strong, multifaceted scent of your arousal. Bakugo didn't hold back of course, eagerly licking your slit and lightly nibbling your clit, savoring the taste of your wetness on his tongue. “Fuck, you’re so delicious, little cunt,” he murmured, blowing cold air on your slick entrance which made you shudder in pleasure. He sucked your pussy lips into his mouth and let them go after a moment with a loud, wet sound.

Soon, you felt the tip of his cock rubbing up and down against your entrance, all hot and hard.

He positioned himself at your entrance and pushed inside roughly, making you cry out in pleasure and pain. He was monstrous, filling you up completely.

Kirishima lay beside you, slowly tracing his tongue along your collarbones before moving down your chest, flicking his tongue around your perky nipples.

Bakugo’s cock was slamming into your pussy with a force that made you see stars.

“That’s it, slut, that’s it,” Katsuki growled, a bead of sweat forming on his temple as he kept on fucking you hard enough to make the bed creak to the rhythm of his thrusts. He was relentless, fucking you with a ferocity that literally took your breath away.

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with your moans and gasps. Bakugo's thrusts became erratic, his grip on your hips tightening as he chased his release. He reached out to rub your clit, his fingers roughly circling it as he continued to pound into you, slapping your slit from time to time. “Who’s been such a naughty, needy slut?” He hissed through clenched teeth.

"I was, I was!" you whined, threading one hand into Kirishima's hair as he teased your nipples, while the other gripped Bakugo's forearm as if trying to anchor yourself.

Dynamight’s tip grazed all the right spots inside you, and you rolled your hips, craving more friction while moaning his name.

Suddenly, Bakugo gripped your hips tightly, lifting them off the mattress effortlessly. This forced you to arch your back as he thrust into you from a new angle, reaching deeper than before, penetrating the deepest parts of your sweet pussy. He turned his gaze towards Kirishima, pleading evident in his crimson eyes, silently begging for permission to finally reach his climax.

With a merciful nod, Eijiro spoke up, "You've been such a good, patient boy. You can cum now, handsome."

With a final, particularly hard thrust, Bakugo came, his cock spurting cum inside you, his orgasm ripping through him, causing him to cry out in ecstasy. “Ooooooughhh, God! Fuuuuck!”

Your orgasm followed shortly after, and your pussy clenched around his dick rhythmically, your juices coating his shaft entirely as you screamed his name, repeating it like a mantra.

You both collapsed onto the bed, your bodies slick with sweat and cum.

"Happy birthday, Katsuki," you whispered, your voice hoarse from screaming as you reached your hand out to stroke his slightly unshaven cheek.

"Happy birthday, my love," Kirishima accompanied, pressing a kiss to Katsuki’s forehead.

tagging: @shonen-brainrot @gold24fish @b134ch-m4h-ey3z @proherodabisballsack @bakugoscunny @misafiryanki @hornydynamight @pridefulbakugou @einexx @crystalwolfblog @doumaslotus

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