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azullumi · 26 days

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“there’s so many fishes in the sea but i never learned how to swim” ; aventurine

summary — a guide to pining presented by yours truly, aventurine.

pairing — aventurine (w/ gender-neutral reader)

tags — fluff, secret pining but like aventurine can be too obvious, not proofread, 0.8k ; headcanons

tagging — @toorurs (sorry boo i forgot to tag 😭)

note — i know i could have done better with this one, my brain wasn’t just working and im also on a trip. this is day 6 and 7 of writing for him until i get him !!

Aventurine yearns for connection yet he erects tall walls of self-preservation, fearing vulnerability, attachment, and betrayals (the shadow of his fear of losing someone dear to him all over again will haunt and follow his steps). He’s always distant, seemingly detached to the people around him like a leaf that never touches the ground as the wind carries it away; his only drive for relationships is due to mutual-benefit or a give-and-take situation. So what happens to him when he falls and yearns for someone?

Love is violence, he knows that but his eyes would stumble after your shadow and he wonders what it feels like to live in it. He’ll lie under your gaze and he’ll dream what it feels like to be seen, what it feels like to be loved by you. He will seek ways to be close to you but not close enough that you’ll know the rhythm of his heart spells out the letters of your name. In each moment of longing, it is all tinged with a taste of bitterness as this yearning, though desired, is a precarious precipice—everything will crumble and fall once he speaks about it.

So he settles with stolen looks with wishful thinking that you’ll cast a glance at his direction, he settles with the small things at first before he begins to become selfish—he’ll make up reasons just to see and talk to you, think of excuses just so he could linger a little longer in your presence. He’ll make up games and initiates bets where he knows he’ll always win but would let himself lose anyways; winning or losing didn’t matter to him in those moments with you.

“Go ahead, guess.”

You fell into a deep thought, staring at the two hands balled into fist that are in front of you. Your eyebrows were scrunched, trying to listen to the voice of your instinct but everything was silent inside your head.

“Take your time. After all, whoever loses has to follow what the winner wants.” Aventurine spoke and you could discern the hint of amusement in his tone as he watched you fall into some sort of predicament—all you had to do was to choose which one of his hands was the coin in. It was just one of the simple games you’ll play with him every time you see each other. Come to think of it, his visits to your department have been quite frequent despite having no particular business, official or not.

“Shh. I’m thinking.” You answer, lifting your index finger to your mouth in a hush gesture. It took you a few moments of silence and thoughtful humming before you pointed at his left hand, “That one.”

But he opens his left hand to show nothing on his palm, his right hand revealing the coin at the same time, and you are hit with a wave of disappointment. A chuckle slips past his lips and you just sighed—there was nothing you could do but to admit defeat. “Well then, what do you want me to do?”

Aventurine, without a single second of hesitation, answered. “Let me take you out to dinner.”

The thing is you could have laid yourself bare to him, you could tell him all of the sins that taint your skin, the words left unspoken in your mouth, the growing mold in your lungs. He’ll see the rot and will choose to stay, he’ll see the cobwebs and dusty bookshelves, and he’ll love you still, he’ll see the torn wallpapers and ruined floors and he’ll still adore you (he’ll find you where you are most ruined and he will love you there).

(His hand would gently tug and hold at the cuffs of your sleeves, letting the warmth and closeness of his touch linger in hopes that you’ll see him in the sun that holds you gently.)

Many people claim that they love you but do they adore you the same way as he does? Would they cross bridges for you when he’ll swim oceans just to see the way your eyes catch the light? Would they traverse the stars just to listen to the sound of your laughter?

(He’ll see the dirt in your hands and will help you wash it off when others would simply walk away.)

He’ll think of you as he laid in his bed, satin sheets all wrinkled and messy as his pillows scattered around his form, and he wondered how nice it would be to have your things among his. to have the smell of your perfume mixed with his, to have you in his arms before he sleeps (he has dreams of his dreams and you’re always in it).

All this yearning, longing, and adoration will turn into a sword that will make him bleed the more he holds on to it and you’ll stay in his thoughts as the blood will run dry on his being. He simply hopes he crosses your mind once in a while so that he won’t feel pathetic for thinking of you all the time.

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vibingandsimping · 8 months

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Random sfw + nsfw thoughts/headcanons for randomly assorted characters from BG3! Excuse any grammatical errors or poor phrasing… it is nearly midnight and I got off work.

Send requests or thoughts in my ask box. It will always be open!

Forewarnings/tags: Trying to keep this gender neutral… mentions of sweat/scent, blood-drinking, possession/control, some tooth-rotting fluff, fingering (receiving + giving), oral (receiving), hate-fucking, some ass-play mentions?, nipple-play, dirty talk, degrading, praise, validation.

Characters involved… Astarion, Wyll + Gortash

Astarion,

If you have warm-blood… such as a living creature. He adores that- his fingers trail along the expanse of your skin and if you could see his eyes you’d swear his name made sense. It has been so long since he had his own warm skin. Since Cazador stripped him of his innocence and life. He lives vicariously through your body. He may be dead but you breathe life into him and he swears his cold-heart no longer beat still.

He admires your features. The more unconventional ones. Like the wrinkles in your skin, the uglier scars that line your flesh. Moles, freckles, stretch marks… they all remind him of how uniquely alive and different you are. He’d kiss each one if you’d let him as his tongue singed praises.

He’d craft you a perfume or cologne to your scent. His senses are heightened as a vampire. He’s pressed his nose against the crook of your flesh more times than he could count. He’s smelt your skin and sweat… all of your essence. He has tasted and inhaled the scent of your blood. With that information, he presents you a mixture of herbs and other properties. Once applied to your skin, it illuminates your personality. Truly, as he said, he missed his calling.

As we all know… this man loves to bite. It is a form of dominance as well intimacy. Your vulnerability and his stake of claim as well as acceptance. You do not truly understand the importance behind the act. He never fed on humanoids until you. You were the sweetest he’d ever tasted… and will ever truly taste. The fact you’d give yourself so willingly gives him a feeling of superiority. As well as a lighter, chest tightening feeling of belonging. As much as you belonged to him, he was also yours.

He truly loves to delve into your pleasure. As much as he is fond of using his tongue… to break you apart with simply his mouth. Watch you crumble and cry from betwixt your thighs, there is also an unremarkable excitement in his fingers. Filling you and stretching you with them. Working to angle and prod the most sensitive parts whilst his tongue slides against yours or along your neck. Licking at the wounds from his feedings. To hear you cry so deliciously from just the thickness and persistence of his fingers strokes his ego. He knows he will fuck you dumb unto his cock.

A shorter smut headcanon but I do believe he’d love cumming on your skin. Your face, chest (particularly loves giving you a pearl necklace, he thinks you look dashing), stomach, thighs… any skin that is available, honestly. There is a strange sense of pride for him in it. To see you covered in him. He also loves to cum inside. Either works, honestly, as long as it is you.

Wyll (this guy has no fics about him. Step up y’alls game)

A true gentleman. He grew up as a son of royalty… what do you expect? If you guys ever had a proper date, he’d dress no less to impress the finest. Honestly, it makes you feel so utterly underdressed. He adorns a wonderful cologne. It is reminiscent of leather, warm spices and a sweeter scent like honey. His vest has gold detailing along a beautiful maroon. Still, in his eyes you are the most stunning thing he’s ever seen. No matter how fancy you dressed. He cannot keep his eyes off you, truly.

We all know he loves to dance. It is something he praises in his dialogue. Still, he wishes no more than to dance with you. If you can or cannot dance, it doesn’t matter. He will teach you the rhythm and steps if you have two left feet. Each time you trip or fall, he simply quirks a smile and offers a hand. He does not judge, only finds some amusement in how adorable he finds you. If you know how to dance? How delightful. He will play some faint music to follow along too. His hand rested along the small of your back and his fingers intertwined with yours. Dipping you and guiding you as the music fades away and you’re left with the trance of his loving gaze.

As much as he is a gentleman, I think he’d love harmless pranks. Gentle teasing of your character to see your frustrations and shock. He’d ‘misplace’ an item of yours to see you scour in confusion. Then, when you look at him, he is holding it out with a devious little smirk. He lets out a chuckle when you stomp over and nearly cuss him out. He loves every side of you and you know that it’s lighthearted fun… and god damn is it hard to hold a grudge when he has a smile like that. Curse him, truly.

He is a simple man, honestly. He takes pleasure in what you take pleasure in. Will indulge your desires and kinks as long as they aren’t particularly destructive. Though, he does have a little… interest. He proposes it one day with some nerve, or, you happen to stumble on it yourself. Nonetheless, he enjoys his ass being prodded during oral. You noticed when a fondling hand upon his balls drifted and brushed against his hole. He stiffened and let out a strained noise. You brushed it again before discovering it was one of pleasure. With that information, do as you will. Just know that it makes him release much easier than he intends. He finds it a dirty (although frustratingly pleasurable) trick when you go down on him.

He enjoys toying with your nipples while either betwixt your thighs or wrapped around you. There is a certain look you hold when his thumbs squeeze and roll them. You arch your back a little more and your thighs quiver as the pleasure shoots between them and enhance what he was giving you. It was truly a sight and he didn’t even have to say anything for you to unravel just the way he’d like. Don’t think it’s just hands, either. He’ll glide his tongue along them, sucking and nibbling til he is assured you’re enjoying it.

Gortash (I’m a dirty Gortash lover… sue me. Durge will get some content later, I swear)

Starting off with the normal Tav… If you manage to ‘fix’ him in a sense, he admires your persistence and patience with him. He had a troubled past that he overlooked and developed some… issues from. Yet, it was your kindness and guidance that led him to stopping the Absolute and creating a better city. He is not perfect, by far. Enver is still a controlling man. He needs some sort of power and dominance to soothe his mind. Though, he does not use fear to control his citizens anymore. He’s truly impressed by the way you swayed him. You can see it in the way he gazes at you sometimes. There is certain softness as his hand grasps yours and he looks to you for reassurance in a moment of vulnerability. He needs you to keep him in reigns.

He loves holding you from behind and to bury his face into your neck. The crook between your head and shoulder holds such warmth and a smell that is yours. It reminds him of the path he has chosen… and the person he gets to cherish for it. He places his hands onto your stomach and allows his sharp, metal nails to tease the skin. To remind you of the still powerful man whose giving up such command and control to you. Someone who grounds him. He might even hum into your skin in content if you do not push him away. Honestly, you will eventually. He could cling onto you like a koala of you did not stop him. He murmurs into your skin about how you two rule this kingdom… and one day you’ll be officially betrothed to him. The thought of him proposing and taking your hand in marriage makes your heart flutter.

Although he is so soft with you, he fucks you like he hates you. His cock battering your walls and filling you up so painfully full. He is thick- and makes your mind melt as he stretches you unlike you’ve known. He may not be particularly the longest but he does not lack length. Sadly, foreplay isn’t the best thing he’s at. You can blame it for his inflated ego and quick beds over the years. If you ruined his initial plans and had him submit the Absolute, he seethes in your ear about it. As much as he is a changing man, there is a part deep down that will resent that fact for awhile. He could’ve had everything he’d ever wanted as a boy. “Look at you, such a dirty thing. Soiling my plans, stomping into my heart… and now you’re sprawled on my sheets pathetically.”

When you finally convince or wrangle him into going down on you, it’s a sight. A mess of black hair and hands wrapping around your thighs. His tongue works rapidly, lavishing you in slightly inexperienced licks. Sucking at your sensitive parts before returning to ravishing you with his tongue. It is not that he hasn’t gone down before in all his years… it’s that his ego was so inflamed that he never truly thought or cared for it before you. He’s willing to try and work on better things just for you. As such, this is a way of showing his commitment to you. Not only to indulge in his pleasures but to show he cares about yours.

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coryosmin · 2 months

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complaining to best friend coryo about how you always have to fake your orgasms with your partners/hookups and he’s like…girl let me show you how it’s done

nsfw | mdni | fem!reader | fingering (f), p in v, unprotected sex, etc. | modern au

“you know,” you began speaking as you sat down next to coryo on the couch of your guys’ shared living room. being besties, you both decided to become roommates a while back and it’s been going really well. “last nights hookup was so bad,” you sighed dramatically, resting your head on coryo’s shoulder.

coryo was looking at the TV, playing a video game. he wasn’t playing anything strenuous, just minecraft because he was bored and needed something to do. “why’s that?” he asked, glancing down at you before back at the screen.

“i had to fake my orgasm,” you groaned. “i always have to fake them whenever i hook up with someone.”

coryo froze for a second, pausing his game before looking down at you. “why do you fake them?” he asked, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

“because no one has ever made me finish before,” you said. “and i don’t want to hurt their feelings by saying i didn’t cum.” you explained, looking up at coryo as your head was still rested on his shoulder.

“has anyone ever made you cum before?”

“only myself.”

coryo quirked an eyebrow. “clearly you’ve never been with someone worth your time then,” he exclaimed, pulling away from you to look at your face properly.

you lifted your head up, looking at your best friend. “and what do i do about that?” you asked.

“let me show you how it’s done,” coryo suggested, smirking at you.

which led to you on coryo’s lap, your back pressed against his chest as his fingers were underneath the hem of your pants, fingering your pussy. you moaned, leaning back against coryo who was pressing kisses along the nape of your neck.

“you’re so wet,” he murmured against your skin. he thrusted his fingers fast, the sounds of your pussy filling the room. you moaned in response, grinding your hips in rhythm to his hand. coryo let out a small groan as he felt you grinding against his hand, your ass pressed against his hard cock.

“so good,” you moaned, closing your eyes in pleasure.

and just as you felt your orgasm approaching, coryo stopped, causing you to whine as he removed his fingers from your cunt.

coryo let out a soft chuckle, gripping your hips and moving you to the side so that you’re sitting on the couch instead of his lap. “gonna fuck you now,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead before standing up. his hard cock was prominent in the grey sweatpants he was wearing and you couldn’t help but whimper. coryo palmed his cock through his sweatpants. “be a good girl and take your clothes off for me, doll.”

and you obliged of course. because you’d do anything for your best friend. and for his cock. you took off all of your clothing, throwing it to the side. coryo let out a soft groan, eyeing you up and down. “you’re so beautiful,” he said, sighing. he pulled off his shirt and tossed it to the side before pulling down his sweatpants, revealing his large cock.

your eyes widened at how largely endowed your best friend truly was. “you’re so big,” you whispered in amazement. he had to be at least eight inches.

coryo smirked, nodding his head. “lay down for me,” he said. and you did so. coryo then moved back onto the couch, hovering over you as he grabbed his cock, pressing the tip against your folds and spreading your wetness. the both of you let out soft moans. “gonna fuck you so good, princess,” he groaned, lining his cock to your entrance.

“can’t wait,” you replied, looking down at your bodies as you watched him slowly ease his cock inside of you. you let out a whine of pleasure, grateful for being filled. coryo let out a groan.

truthfully, coryo hadn’t slept with anyone in awhile. he didn’t like having to go out and talk to people when he could truthfully just fuck the pretty girl he already knew. and now he was finally able to fuck you.

when coryo bottomed out, he stayed still for a moment, allowing you a few moments to adjust to his size before slowly thrusting his hips. you both moaned in sync. you wrapped your arms around coryo’s neck, looking up into his icy eyes. you both shared a small smile, truly realizing that you fucking your best friend.

coryo began moving his hips faster, causing you to moan as his cock began hitting that sweet spot inside of you. “oh fuck!” you moaned out.

coryo’s breath was shaky as he thrusted his hips, closing his eyes in pleasure. “god you’re so tight,” he said. “clenching my cock so good.”

“you’re so big,” you replied, moaning.

after a few more thrusts, coryo changed the position. he took his cock out of you, grabbing you as he sat down on the couch. he maneuvered you onto his lap before gripping his cock and easing himself back into your cunt. you let out a loud moan from the change of position, feeling his cock entering you more deeply. “oh my god,” you gasped, your eyes fluttering shut.

coryo grabbed your hips before thrusting up into you at a harsh pace. you both moaned loudly, not caring at the fact that your neighbors could likely hear what’s going on through the walls.

coryo wrapped an arm around your waist to help him thrust into you better. you moaned, leaning your head on coryo’s shoulder as he fucked up into you. “you like having your best friend’s cock inside of you, hmm?” he grunted.

you whined, nodding your head against his shoulder. “love it so much,” you moaned, feeling yourself getting closer.

coryo moaned, throwing his head back in pleasure as he fucked you. “god, you’re clenching me so good,” he said. “gonna cum for me? gonna cum on my cock, baby?”

you nodded your head again, your breathing shaky as you felt the heat in your abdomen tighten. “so close, coryo, please,” you moaned out. “wanna cum so bad.”

“yes, baby,” he said, his right hand gripping your right butt cheek. “fuck, please cum on my cock.”

and with that, you came, hard, moaning loudly as your body began shaking. your thighs quivered as you came. with a few more thrusts, coryo came with a loud moan, spilling his seed inside of your pussy. and when you both finished, you breathed heavily, coming down from your highs.

you pulled away slightly, looking at coryo’s icy eyes as he looked into your beautiful eyes. he reached a hand up to caress your hair. “you don’t need to fuck anyone else,” he murmured. “i’ll take care of you.”

you smiled softly at your best friend. “sounds like a plan.”

#minsasks #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #thg #thg tbosas #coriolanus snow #tbosas #coriolanus snow x reader #fanfic #coriolanus snow smut

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sherwees · 2 months

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cw: oral (fem received.), dumbification (both), embarrassing (haechan), corny stuck under the bed scenario, practical smothering from.. *reads from sticky note* ass, dubcon, you're embarrassed by haechan, haechan has a nickname, haechan is a loser.

side note : it was really fun making haechan's name pink for some reason, I got all giggly and this is a makeup for that stupid nonsense haechan drabble from months ago.

apart of the corny nct porn plots series !!

you just couldnt fucking find it!

you searched, high and low and around the town for your fucking keys! your roommate, haechan was just on the couch; ogling at your frantic figure running in and out of rooms. he didn't even move a muscle or say a word of concern, he just gazed.

maybe it was the skirt you wore? I mean, the pink nike dunks you wore were pretty cool too. it was definitely the skirt, the rear of it would raise from the dash of wind from your retreating feet. when you would bend over and he'll get a tiny view of the taunting miniature cherries but once he looked closer, they were actually heart shaped and a few of them were carved with the word, “pink”.

but it'll only be for a second, he always sighed in defeat and you would look back with confusion each time.

you were running back to your room again before your hand reflexed to hold the white doorframe to bring your legs to a collected stop. once you finally processed the miniscule slip of silver from under haechan's bed, you squinted.. searching for your palm tree key charm..

your head angled lower before you noticed the familiar edge of a leaf.

they were your keys!

your heart and feet leaped and bounced with joy into the male's room, mindlessly. falling to your knees, you rub them in anticipation with a bite to your lip. “I finally found them!” you lilted with a sense of relief in your soul but they were too far.. they didn't seem that far before?

“uhm, channie?! can you reach these?” you yelled but silence only answered. mumbling a little curse, you crouch and shove your body into the cramped orifice.

little did you know, he was standing right there. he leaned on the wall quite comically, his face expressed a light smirk as he watched you unconsciously wiggle your ass, shoving yourself in there. he could now see the view of your waistband, there was a slogan of some sort on it but he couldn't make it out, quite yet.

haechan found you beautiful, pretty, vulnerable.. he'll compliment you for every little change just to make you all flustered and stuttering. when he would give you the smallest touch or even a caress and you would nearly collapse to your hinds.

the little things do truly count.

you rolled your eyes, huffing a “whatever,”; dragging it out purposely to make him somehow summon. but he didn't, so now you were stuck to an unfortunate circumstance. you were relieved on the fact that there was nothing but maybe some shoes, dust or jewelry that fallen through the cracks, he was fairly clean..

the base of your spine ached, the charm of your heart necklace dangled against the hardwood; it's clanging setting as a reminder of your special valentine's day outing with your “friend” yangyang, your boobs also uncomfortably bulged out of your bra cups.

the scritch–scratch of your nails reaching for the hook of the key became an obnoxious rhythm that just tantalized you like a game of cat and mouse but the key would just slide further to the other side. I mean you could just get from under the bed and go to the other side, matter of fact, you were able to do that since the beginning but you were already here.

also... you really didn't feel like it.

before your wrist could dislocate from your arm, you sighed and rested the joint. your finger unconsciously brushed the key to the other fucking side. you gotta be serious.

you prayed that if god loved you right now, he'll push that key right into your hand. to your avail, nothing happened and even when you stretched out your hand once more, nothing happened. you tried to scooch your way out, your patella frictioned and crackled against the ground uncomfortably, the heels of your feet couldn't flex to the ground.. were you stuck? oh shit.

you sighed before trying to rub your palms against the ground, attempting to slide yourself out but they only slid against the hardwood because of the sweat and dust collected from the ground.

you shut your eyes, contemplating absolutely everything. why wouldn't he just help you? why didn't you just go to the other side? are you late? what the fuck? are those footsteps? is someone here? there was a deep chuckle, causing your eyes to shoot open. haechan liked when you were scared.. confused, just simply unaware.

“hey! I know you're there!” the toe of your shoes bumped against the ground when you wiggled again, your skirt bunched up once more. the air hitting the backs of your thighs only adding more of a cloudiness to your nausea from the clustered atmosphere. your armpits were sweaty, ruining your attractive long sleeve white crop top.. you were a hot mess in your imagination.

hair clumped with balls of lint and dust that'll take hours to comb out, lip gloss smudged on your top lip along with the sweat clinging to your miniscule mustache hairs, mascara possibly not smudged to your hopes.. you didn't really realize how high your skirt was raised, it felt like it was initially ridden up maybe enough to see the underline of your ass but you were full on mooning haechan.

“can you help me..?” you cut yourself off with a cough. “I'm stuck and it's really.. dusty down here!” you whined, tapping the front of your shoes on the ground. you probably creased them but it's whatever. haechan chuckled lightly before walking over, now he could read the waistbands full slogan: “love pink” in a sewn white cursive.

“oh really?” he had that sarcastic surprising tone to his voice that he always teased you with.

“I'm fucking stuck!” you rebutted immediately, trying to use the palm slide out method from before but it only arched your back more, like a cat; the prominent bulge of your pussy poked out a bit more.. he could even make out the small, smooth bump of your labia. he kneeled beside your struggling figure, your wriggling stopped once you felt his hand massage your lower back, his index tracing along your spine until it rested on your ass cheek.

“relax, I'll help you babe..” he reassured, his hand moving to your hip to maneuver your ass on his swelling crotch. you couldn't help but wince at the heat emanating from his growing erection, “haechan..?” you questioned but it came out like a squeak. his hands squeezed on the backs of your hips, his weight pushing you firmly down. “you're so pretty..” he purred whilst gyrating his erection, the tip coincidentally hitting your clothed clit.

“what are you doing? just help me!” haechan just snickered, you tried to look back but you only had view of his grey sweatpants. “you'll be fine.” he said nonchalantly. his hands moved from your hips and slapped on the floor, his head tilted playfully. his eyes were filled with glee along with his lips that tugged into a mischievous grin that made your insides churn with unease.

“besides, I know you'll love it..” he added on to his tease, setting a light slap on your ass. suddenly, his fingers hooked under your waistband; pushing your cherry embroidered panties to your knees. waves of shivers ran through your body as the cool air hit your sodden, pulsating hole; his eyes zoned on the wetness sheened on your plush pussy lips.

��you're so fuckin’ pretty like this,” he growled, his nose prodded at your clit unexpectedly. his large hands groped your cheeks; a resounding clap echoed throughout the room, “I'll be gentle.” you only whimpered before you screamed at the sensation of his tongue darting into your hole, right at your g-spot.

I mean, he was literally smothering himself in your cheeks. you tried to move away from him but his grip was too tight and he wouldn't let go to your prevail. “haechan~ please..” you mumbled whilst blinking constant tears away, your hands balling into fists. he only responded with a slap to your ass, “did I tell you to speak?” he taunted you with a presumed grin.

his hands traveled up your legs, caressing your thighs until he smushed your buttocks in his face once more; you cringed at the disgusting grunt or moan he let out. his tongue worked relentlessly, probing and teasing the warm muscle with a jarring consistency. your back and calves strained, trying to meet with his tongue but he'll only stay at the shallow end; his fingers ghosted and poked at your clit.

“taste s’fucking good..” he groaned once he pulled away, voice husky with desire and drunk from your delicate juices. your stomach swirled with arousal and a weird tension of pleasure that built up at your clit. his hands moved until the waistline of your shirt to cup your breasts; slapping, pinching and squeezing them with vigor.

haechan couldn't bare the tightness of his pants any longer, the mounts of precum that saturated his underwear wasn't ideal. “tell me you want it.” he demanded hoarsely, moving his hand from your clit to readjust his neglected length. “fuck– you taste so good, princess..” he muttered, smacking your ass once again in that same spot.

the pain was less thrilling, the sensations became sore and irritable and even on your tan skin, his handprint will surely visible. with your jaw laying slack on the ground, a puddle of spit evolved on your cheek and your lips grew dry. your throat was beyond irritated from the speckles of dirt and debris that flew and seemingly attached to the back of your throat in lumps.

there was then a pressure, your body trembled and shook; representing your incoming high. “oh fuck–” you slurred, your fingers clenching and unclenching.. really wishing you could just fucking strangle him. something about this made you enraged but it was quickly over thrown when a harsh stinging rushed through your lower region; the warmth of haechan's tongue far gone causing you to shriek and whine, like a child.

“be patient, babes..” you shut your eyes, somehow finding the energy to bite your lips. the corny pet name threw you off so fucking bad, you then realized.

you were fucking, no.. getting TONGUE fucked by your annoying–borderline–obnoxious–hamster–look–alike roommate. not the sexy–maybe–vampire guy that you planned to go out with, and today was valentine's day! and you were spending it, UNDER A BED, sweating, fucked out, hyperventilating, dust everywhere etc etc..

“what the fuck!” you sobbed in real embarrassment, tears welled up in your eyes. he clicked his tongue in mock frustration, you could imagine his jaw clench; “be embarrassed all you want,— there was a shifting of his fabric against his skin before his pants and underwear presumably fell to the ground with a light thud— but I know you want this..” he rasped whilst tugging at his lengthy cock, eyes boring into your heat.

fuck he wanted to taste you again.

his finger spread your moist lips before he attempted to position himself against your indigent hole but the muscle suctioned around it immediately. “fuck, you're a needy one, huh?” he teased, already you could imagine the shit-eating grin on his face before he shoved his quite.. ample cock into you. your body tensed from the unexpectancy and the pure pleasure that coursed through your veins like you were on crack or something..

“you love this, huh? being treated like a fuckin’ slut..” haechan pestered, his hefty tip nudging against your cervix with every shallow thrust. “aw– fuck, channie.” you heaved, your knees nearly buckled; trying to meet his impetuous thrusts.

haechan's hands gripped your hips once again, his gyrations became shockingly and yet excitingly quicker. the back of your hand (which you now realized) covered your mouth, muffling your moans and sobs; tears free falling from your eyes. his torso sheened with sweat, dripping and accumulating between the connection of your moist skin. “oh– fuck please..” you muttered, your tongue slightly lolled out at the familiar pressure building between your legs.

haechan's thrusts of his cock only quickened at the familiar pulsations of your walls, a long groan launching from his throat. “keep– fuck–” his tender bottom lip popped out from his teeth once he stopped his thrusts abruptly; a slip of his precum leaked out of your hole. he was trying to keep his composure but

holy shit.

he eventually resumed, trying to totally keep it together which was totally not working. your beautiful whines, cries and pleads threw him off so bad and your fucking pussy was like.. like..? he couldn't even fucking explain it. “I-I wanna cum inside of you–” he pleaded, he bit his lip and held back a sigh from his embarrassing comment.

“then fucking do it!” you remarked with a whiny pitch to your tone and an unintentional clench. haechan was overcame by that small ministration and took your comment seriously and came immediately, letting out a guttural groan before pulling out. haechan now noticed his bedside mirror, the reflection of him had ruddy cheeks, pupils dilated and plump raw lips. he tried to convince himself that wasn't him. damn he was a loser and he came too fast.

but meanwhile, you laid slack. in shock, confusion and regret; that was such a fucking waste of time. at least you tried convincing yourself that, but you were free! you realized once you slid yourself from under the bed, haechan's back was slumped once he looked at your face; similar to his.

why the fuck did he start crying? before you could even process, you were in his warm embrace. his semi-hard cock laid between your abdomen's uncomfortably, he was mumbling and blabbering about how it was embarrassing that you were his first time and how he didn't even make you cum and how he came too fast and hyperventilating about SEX.

but it's whatever.

“we could always try again..” you clarified, pulling away from him slightly.

he was kinda cute when you noticed his puffy lips and cheeks before the snot running from his nose, he sniffled.

“wait really..?” he asked, eyes filled with wonder and relief.

“yes, really..” he smiled along with you, your heart fucking bursted.. he was so adorable.

“yay! teamwork makes the dream work!”

😽 😽

#nct smut #kpop smut #smut #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct 127 smut #nct drabbles #nct dream smut #haechan smut #haechan x reader #haechan #nct #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 #nct dream #nct hard hours

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eyesthatroll · 7 months

Text

SKIN

pairing luke hughes x fem!reader

summary a late night at home with luke

warning(s) fluff, allusion/mention of smut (barely detailed), not sure what else

word count 1.1k

authors note this piece of writing for luke is probably my favorite i’ve ever written. i truly hope you all enjoy it as much as i do, and as always, any reblogs or constructive criticism is always appreciated <3 — mari

Your fingers navigated the intricate landscape of Luke's curls, a delicate dance that involved caressing the wild tangles, and occasionally tugging at the ends, your nails gently tracing across his scalp. Each pass of your fingertips sent shivers down his spine, evoking soft, contented sighs from him that whispered against your skin. He rested atop you, almost as if he'd melded with your form, his lean legs sprawled languidly over yours, the weight of his body a comforting anchor. His strong arms encircled your waist, offering both a sense of security and profound connection, radiating a warmth that permeated through your skin and enveloped your core. His head had found its sanctuary on your chest, rising and falling in perfect synchrony with your exhaled breaths and rhythm of your heartbeat.

As he drifted deeper into slumber, light snores occasionally escaped his parted lips, an endearing reminder of his peaceful surrender to rest. The muted tones of Sportscenter played softly in the background, an unobtrusive soundtrack to your shared moment, its distant glow casting a soft, blueish hue across your cozy space. You watch the screen with detached interest, not particularly invested in the broadcast, but unwilling to disrupt the stillness of the moment by searching for the remote, which had become an inconsequential trinket in this oasis of tranquility, where the world outside now ceased to matter.

Luke had made an impromptu visit to your apartment a few hours ago, his face illuminated by the glow of victory after his team's hard-fought win against the Rangers. The game had been a grueling, high-stakes battle that culminated in a rousing 6-5 overtime victory. You had been engrossed in the game on your laptop, the backdrop to your frantic efforts to complete some last-minute schoolwork.

As you watched, your heart had soared with pride for the boys on the ice, but it was Luke who had truly captured your admiration. He had been a standout player, netting a crucial goal and tallying four points in total. The achievement had warmed your heart to its core, but what had touched you even more was his choice to celebrate this victory with you. Rather than joining his teammates for a night out at the bar, he had chosen the intimacy of your company, a gesture that spoke volumes about the way he truly felt about you.

Together, you began the lovely task of preparing his favorite meal, fettuccine alfredo. As the savory aroma of the sauce filled the kitchen, the two of you effortlessly slipped into your own enchanting world. Lost in each other's gaze, you began a spontaneous slow dance to the soulful notes of 'Dijon's "Skin," which played softly through your speaker. You melted into his comforting touch, finding solace in the circle of his arms as you both moved gracefully, an intimate dance within the confines of your small kitchen. His chin rested tenderly atop your head, and in that fleeting moment, you yearned for time to stand still, allowing you to exist forever within this embrace. In this singular instance, worries and work faded away, leaving only the idyllic essence of your love, encapsulated in the gentle sway of your bodies to the sweet strains of a love ballad.

The soft glow of the living room provided a warm ambience, while Fast and Furious: Tokyo Drift played quietly on the television. As the two of you indulged in your meals, Luke explained some of the inner workings of tonights game during the commercials, giving you an added appreciation for how arduous the win truly was. You couldn't help but appreciate the way his eyes lit up as he spoke of his teammates' accomplishments, his humility shining through as he downplayed his own success from the night.

It didn't take long before the chemistry between you two grew palpable, and the desire became irresistible. You eventually abandoned the living room for the intimacy of your bedroom, eager to express your deep affection for each other in the tender embrace of the tangled sheets beneath your duvet.

Tonight was a celebration of him, and the man he was. You desired to cater to him, to convey your adoration not through mere words but through actions. To show how proud you were of him and and how deeply your love for him ran.

The sex was lazy and passionate, you doing most of the work as his energy was waning. He planted soft, wet kisses on your neck as you rode him through his orgasm, his soft whimpering of your name prompting your own release. You fell on top of him with a quiet moan, and his hands reached against your back, massaging the sweat stricken skin as he murmured praises into your ear.

The two of you shared a quick shower, washing away the temporary evidence of the heartfelt night you'd shared. You pampered him with your skincare routine, caring for his skin as well as your own. And after brushing your teeth side by side, you both retreated back to the comfort of your bed.

Luke now stirs on top of you, his eyes slowly fluttering open, only to squint in response to the sudden intrusion of light emanating from the television, which now displayed a random informercial.

"I can't believe you're still awake," Luke rasps, his voice a husky mumble from the brink of slumber. His gaze remains fixed on your intertwined bodies, not lifting to meet your eyes. Slipping his hand under your shirt, his fingers trace aimless patterns on your stomach, a gentle and affectionate touch in the quiet intimacy of the night.

A soft smile graces your lips. "I like to watch you sleep."

He snorts, and you feel the rumble of his laughter resonate through his chest against your body. "Such a creep," he teases, his voice filled with fondness.

An involuntary yawn escapes your lips, and as you turn to glance at the alarm clock on your bedside table, your eyes widen at the time displayed – two am. Had you really been laying here, running your hands through Luke's hair for an hour and a half?

He rises from his sprawled position on top of you, unfolding his frame with a contented stretch. His bare feet meet the cool, unforgiving embrace of the hardwood floor with a soft thud as he ambles towards the bathroom. In the dim light, you seize the moment to search beneath the tangled sheets for the TV remote, waiting until Luke returns, before extinguishing the screen.

Another yawn escapes from your lips, marking the shift in positions as Luke draws you close against his chest. Nestling into his side, you're serenaded by the gentle metre of his heartbeat, its soothing echo resonating in your ear.

"Go to sleep, baby, I know you're tired."

You hum in response, finally content with allowing your eyes to close.

#luke hughes #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes imagines #luke hughes fanfic #luke hughes fic #luke hughes fluff #luke hughes x you #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes fanfiction

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charmandabear · 6 months

Text

Ascendn't

Summary

I got mad when the game wouldn't let me hug him after the Cazador fight. So I fixed it. Plus a bit more steaminess in the graveyard scene. (Also, yes, I'm insufferable about this title.)

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Tav Rating: M Word Count: 4.5k Tags/Warnings: post-Cazador fight, Act 3 spoilers, blood kink, biting, hurt/comfort, fluff and angst, soft dom Astarion, enthusiastic consent

It's been a good 10 years since I've written fanfiction and probably about 20 since I've published any online. This boy got me down BAD. I made an AO3 account for this fucker. (Which you can find here.)

“I can do this, but I need your help.”

You’ve never heard him plead like this. He’s usually so cool and confident. He doesn’t need anyone if he can help it. But this is different. Standing over Cazador, dagger in hand, fear and desperation in his eyes.

“I’ll be free - truly, completely free. Isn’t that what you want?”

He knows how to make your heart melt and break all at the same time. Gods, yes, of course that’s what you want, more than anything in the world. For him to be free to live the life that he never got to have, the life that Cazador stole away from him. He was so young when he got turned. And if he doesn’t take this chance, then as soon as you manage to get these damned tadpoles out of your head he’ll be relegated to the shadows once again. You can’t do that to him.

But this isn’t it. This won’t give him the freedom he so desperately craves, no, deserves. It’s just another form of chains. You take a shaky breath and prepare yourself for his disapproving glare.

“I know you think this will set you free, but it won’t. This power will trap you, just like it trapped Cazador.”

Astarion’s face goes slack, the recognition of the cycle of abuse suddenly clear. His eyes on you soften as he murmurs, “You– you’re right. I can be better than him.” He turns a steely gaze back to Cazador.

“But I’m not above enjoying this.”

With a ferocity that you haven’t yet seen in Astarion, he yanks Cazador’s head back and starts viciously stabbing into his neck. Two hundred years of pent up fury and revenge release in a matter of moments. At a certain point, he’s not even stabbing the man, but rather the idea of Cazador and everything he represents.

Eventually he slows and drops Cazador’s limp body to the ground. The dagger falls with a clatter, and Astarion takes a step back. His eyes finally come back into focus and he realizes that it’s over. Really, truly, over. He’s finally free.

His face is awash with an overwhelm of emotions that you can’t identify. He’s panting, first from the physical exertion and then the sobs that wrack his body. He lets out a howling cry filled with pain and suffering and relief and anguish and he falls to his knees, shoulders shaking. Up until this point, you and the rest of your party have been frozen to the spot as you watched Astarion claim his revenge. But something in you breaks free and you rush to his side. Where you need to be. Where you belong.

You grab him tight in your arms and curl into his neck, your own tears mixing with the blood and grime on his bare shoulder. You think with an almost sardonic humor how often your positions have been reversed. Whereas when he leaned into your neck it was often with hunger, or lust, or even just a flirty playfulness, now all you could bring is a shared pain and comfort. You plant a tender kiss just below his ear and he looks at you with tearful eyes, an unidentifiable question present. You wrap your hand around the base of his neck, fingers raking through bloodstained silver curls. Pressing your foreheads together, you sync up your breaths with his, trying to slow them back to an even rhythm. Gods, you love this man so much.

You finally dare to break the silence, whispering, “Let’s get you cleaned up, shall we?” He lets out a weary chuckle and nods. You take one more look into those wet crimson eyes, bloodshot and tired, and smear some of Cazador’s blood left on his cheek in an attempt to wipe away his tears. He takes your hand and kisses your fingertips gently. You suddenly become aware that the other six spawn have been released from their soul-draining chains and are approaching, just as tired and sweaty as the rest of you. The two of you slowly get up to your feet, each helping the other in the process.

“Is… is it over? Is he…?” The woman you vaguely recall meeting in the flophouse in Wyrm’s Crossing, Dalyria, cautiously peers at Cazador’s body. Astarion lets out one final sigh, his breathing finally returning to normal.

“Yes. He’s gone.” He sounds like he can hardly believe it himself. As though saying the words aloud might somehow break a spell and make them untrue.

“What does that mean for us?” Petras, you think, comes up behind Dal. You do remember meeting him, feeling like he was like a knockoff version of Astarion. Trying all the same moves with half of the charm. You feel bad, now, about that judgemental assessment. He looks like such a lost little boy.

“It means you have a choice,” he says with exasperation. Sibling bonds, even when forged in fire, never die. “You can hide here, living in the shadows, like parasites.” His voice is filled with venom. “Or you can be more than what he made us to be. You can choose differently, of course. But the consequences are on your head.”

“What does it mean for them?” Dal asks, and Astarion falters slightly.

“Ah. Now that is a question…” You can tell he had been trying not to think about the seven thousand vampire spawn locked up in the dungeons. He was trying to get Sebastian out of his mind since their conversation. You don’t blame him, honestly. Astarion may have been forced to do Cazador’s bidding, but that doesn’t make the fallout from that any less reprehensible. Worse even that he was good at it.

Astarion had taken a step away from you to talk to his siblings, and you can see him beginning to spiral. You close the distance again and lay a hand on his shoulder. You can feel him start under your touch.

“Let’s release them,” you offer quietly. “They deserve the same chance you got.” You have no idea who Astarion would be right now if he hadn’t gotten kidnapped by the Illithid. If he hadn’t been on this journey, seen everything he had seen. Met you. Honestly, you don’t know who you’d even be if you hadn’t met him either. The thought alone makes you run cold.

“You’re right,” he breathes barely above a whisper. “The poor wretches in the cells are innocent. They shouldn’t have to suffer just because I-” his voice catches in his throat and you see him shake off a dark thought, “lured them here.” He reaches down to pick up Cazador’s staff - Woe, you think it’s called - with a hand still stained reddish black with the vampire’s blood. He looks at it for a moment, considering it carefully, and everything this staff had ever meant. Then he slams it on the ground, red waves of energy emanating from it, using its power to unlock every single one of the cells in the dungeon.

“They’ll need someone to lead them. Take the tunnels into the Underdark. Find somewhere… well, not safe, but less perilous.” Petras eyes light up with fear.

“What? No, we can’t-” he begins desperately, but Astarion cuts him off with a hand.

“Just try to keep them out of trouble.” The exasperated tone is back. How often had he needed to manage Petras’ emotions as much as his own? You vaguely wonder if Petras looked to Astarion as a role model. The other six spawn walk off slowly, exhausted but clearly relieved to be starting anew.

You turn to Astarion, who has just finished redonning his armor that Cazador had stripped him of. His gaze is glassy; you’ve seen this look before, sometimes even when you’re in bed together. He might as well be a million miles away. You gently touch his arm to bring him back to you. He jumps slightly, then a wan smile touches his lips, but not his eyes.

“That’s it. He’s gone. After all these years – these centuries – it’s really over.” He shuffles his feet, antsy and tired at the same time. You hesitate a moment, unsure of the best way to respond, but you finally settle on, “I’m proud of you. You did the right thing.” His smile isn’t free of bitterness.

“I’m glad you think so, because I’m not so sure.” His eyes flick up back to you, but that glassy look has returned. “I just feel numb. What I’ve lost, what I’ve gained – it’s all so much. And gods, all those spawn, free in the Underdark. I need some time, I think. Just to let it all sink in.” You reach out to touch his face comfortingly. Your heart sinks as he gently pushes your hand away, but it settles when he doesn’t let go of it.

“Let’s just go. This place reeks of death and I want to feel alive again.” He gives your fingers a small squeeze and then walks off ahead of your party, making his way down the long corridor into Cazador’s dungeon. Well, not Cazador’s anymore. You briefly wonder what’s going to happen to this place.

At the end of the hallway, you see the Gur standing there, too late to be even remotely useful. You struggle to keep a scowl off your face. You hate how they treated Astarion in your last encounter. You could be sympathetic of their pain, of course; they’ve lost so much to Astarion’s actions. But the fact that they offered no sympathy for him back, the fact that they could barely acknowledge that he was a victim himself? Absolutely despicable.

Ulma stands at the head of the group, and her scowl matches yours. “You killed one vampire, but released seven thousand of his spawn? Have you lost all sense?”

“They were innocents. To kill them would have been an even greater crime.” Astarion couldn’t possibly sound more tired. You don’t blame him, these are the last people he wants to defend himself against right now.

“Some of those innocents are your fucking kids,” you grumble under your breath, hopefully not enough for Ulma to hear, but just enough for Astarion’s benefit. It’s clear that she couldn’t when she retorts, “And our children? What of their fate?”

“Cazador turned everyone we brought him into spawn. I can only assume your children are somewhere in those wretched cells. You’ll find them in the Underdark, although you may not like what you find.” The grief is plain in Ulma’s face, as well as the rest of the Gur. You feel a little more sympathy for them, but still no warmth.

“This is…” Ulma searches for the right word to capture the enormity of the situation, “difficult news.” She probably could’ve done better. “We will need to decide what this means.” She lets out a heavy sigh. “Thank you for what you have done – slaying Cazador was a great justice. As for the rest… well, time will tell.” Astarion nods curtly, and you’re relieved to be able to push past them and leave.

You and your party finally trudge back to Elfsong Tavern to rest. The rest of your companions are eager to gossip about the day’s events, everyone having something to say. You shield Astarion from their nosiness and distract them while he bathes in the tub in the corner, washing away more than just the physical dirt.

Later that evening as everyone else is beginning to tuck into bed, Astarion comes to you, finally ready to talk again. You can smell his signature fragrance, an earthy citrus with an undertone of spice, and it’s positively intoxicating. You’ve grown to really love that smell, and even the slightest whiff makes your head spin. For the first time maybe ever since you met, his eyes look… soft. Almost warm, even.

“I should probably start getting used to the shadows, again,” he muses with a light smile. “Who knows how long I have left in the sun?” Your heart drops. This had been your greatest fear, that he would feel resentful of the fact that you convinced him not to go through with the ritual, thereby committing him to an indefinite lifetime in the darkness. You know how much he’s grown to love the feeling of the sun on his skin. Not to mention how it makes his skin look, soft and kissable.

“Don’t say that,” you plead with him. “We could still find a way to control the tadpole.” He shakes his head, his freshly washed curls bouncing slightly.

“Maybe, but even if I could control it, it’s a dangerous game. I’d spend every day waiting for something to go wrong. For the tadpole to find a new trick, reassert itself, make me a slave again.” His eyes grow lighter, discovering the truth of what he’s saying as he says it. “Maybe never seeing the sun again is just the price of freedom.” You reach out and give his arm a reassuring squeeze, relishing the feel of his cool, toned arm beneath the warm linen. Even after all this time, being this close to him makes you a little lightheaded. You feel the blood rush to your cheeks and neck, almost as though it’s aching to be drunk.

“I’ll be with you either way,” you breathe softly. You can’t help but glance at his lips. “I hope you know that.”

“I think I do.” He sounds genuine, a bit of a rarity for him. Lest anyone believes Astarion to have a sincere bone in his body, he adds, “Assuming we survive, of course. Because a horrible death is always just around the corner with you.” You playfully shove his shoulder for teasing you. He laughs and gently pulls you in by your lower back and you feel the heat rising again. Your breath catches as his eyes rake over your body and face. He lingers on your lips for a moment before darting back up to your eyes.

“There’s… something I’d like to show you, if that’s alright? Something out in the city.” He cocks his head and looks at you with an almost impossible combination of bashfulness and lust. Being this close to him and breathing in his heady scent makes you dizzy. You manage to recover just enough to quip, “If you want to sneak off for a cuddle, you can just ask.” He lets you go and you feel a significant drop in your internal temperature.

“I’ll try to restrain myself if you do,” he says with a cheeky smile. He takes you gently by the hand and leads you out the Elfsong Tavern.

The graveyard is quiet, almost serene. Astarion walks forward towards a tombstone covered in ivy and, with something bordering on reverence, brushes the vines away to reveal the text engraved in the crumbling stone.

Astarion Ancunin 1229 DR - 1268 DR

He wipes the dirt off his hands and steps back next to you to get a better view of the stone. You stand together in silence for a moment, as if in prayer.

“Nearly two hundred years and I never came back. Not since the night I woke up down there.” His gaze is overtaken by that glassy look, the one you recognize to be him reliving his trauma. “I had to punch a hole in the coffin and claw my way through six feet of dirt. Then when I finally broke the surface, retching up dirt and congealed blood, Cazador was waiting. From that day on I was his.” He sneers at the memory. Then he pauses, considering, “Until today.”

He comes back to himself with a shake of his head, and his eyes return to this plane. He adds, as much to himself as to you, “Now I need to figure out who I am. What I want.”

“And what do you want?” Your mouth is dry as you ask the question. You can hope for the answer, but you wouldn’t dare presume. He might need to figure that out on his own, and if that’s the case, you will respect that.

He turns to face you, his red eyes full of more warmth than you’ve ever seen. Your heart leaps into your throat as he smiles and says, “You… I want you.

“You were by my side through all of this. Through bloodlust and pain and misery. You were patient. You cared.” As he’s speaking your heart starts beating loudly, blood pumping through your arteries at an almost vulgar rate. You know he can tell, and he chuckles softly. Cupping his hand below your ear and gently stroking your cheek with his thumb, he adds teasingly, “You trusted me when that was an objectively stupid thing to do.” He pulls you even closer and rests his forehead against yours. You could never get tired of this. As much as you love those moments filled with heat and lust, there’s something so tender about these intimate gestures that aren’t about sex.

“I feel safe with you. Seen. And whatever the future holds for me, I don’t want to lose that.” You grasp at the back of his shirt, looking for purchase as you fall so much more deeply for him. Your voice is barely above a whisper as you breathe, “You won’t. Whatever comes next, I’ve got you.”

“Thank you.”

You two stand there for what feels like both an eternity and a fraction of a second before he pulls away and looks at the grave again.

“Well. I should probably fix this.” He pulls a dagger from his belt with practiced fingers and kneels beside the stone, carving something into it. You kneel beside him and see that it now reads

Astarion Ancunin 1229 DR - 1268 DR 1492 DR -

His new life. For the first time in two hundred years, he can call it his own. You find yourself at a loss of what to do, or what to add, so you self-consciously pick up a nearby wildflower and gently place it at the base of his gravestone. He glances at you sideways and smirks, “Cute.” You both sit back on your heels to admire his work. He heaves a great sigh, letting go of centuries of tension and fear.

“I’ve been dead in the ground for long enough. It’s time to start living again.” He turns to you and takes your hands. “With everything life has to offer.” His voice has taken on that gravelly tone that sends a shiver up your spine. You don’t want to pressure him, of course, but your desire for his touch is getting harder to ignore. These gentle grazes, lovely though they’ve been, have set your skin aflame.

“Meaning…?”

His eyes glint mischievously and that familiar flirty lilt comes back to his voice. “If a night of passion is on offer, I could be persuaded.” Your body leans toward him instinctively, breath heavy in your chest. The words are out of your mouth before your brain catches up, “Sounds good to me.” He gets close to your face and you can feel his breath on your lips before he pulls away suddenly. He’s teasing you, and you know that he’s relishing in the satisfaction of it.

“You know,” he says with a feigned innocence, as though he doesn’t know the effect he has on you, “I didn’t care for you when we first met.” The sudden shift in tone knocks you back to reality, and you can’t help but laugh. He impishly glances up at you through his lashes.

“But I do now. Being with you is about more than lust or manipulating you into a tactical alliance.” He takes your hand, cheekiness gone, and looks you squarely in the eye with a rare earnestness. “I love you. I love this. And I want it all.” You will never tire of hearing those words. He reaches behind your ear and tenderly pulls you closer to him, finally giving your lips the reprieve they’ve been so desperate for. It’s a soft kiss, gentle, yet it still makes you burn up inside.

He pulls away far too soon, and you gaze back at him with starry eyes. His features is soft and smiley, but in an instant he raises on his knees so he’s towering over you and he takes on that stern expression that makes your temperature rise. He shoves you back onto your elbows before bending down to crawl up your torso hungrily. He kisses you again, this time with more intensity. He pins you down with the weight of his chest and then traps you further by nudging your leg up with his knee, eliciting a small gasp of surprise from you. You couldn’t escape even if you wanted to. And you most certainly don’t want to.

His body presses against yours and you curl your leg around him, pulling him tighter. An almost imperceptible grunt escapes his lips and you smile through your kiss. You can feel his smile in return and you lace your fingers into his silvery hair. He deepens the kiss, rolling his hips harder against you and your mouth opens involuntarily. He takes advantage of this momentary lapse and makes his way toward your neck, marking the trail with kisses. You seize up and your fingers tighten in his hair, encouraging him silently. But he needs more than that, and you know exactly how he’ll respond.

“Use your words,” he hums between kisses. You squirm beneath him, trying to sound even remotely dignified.

“You can,” you manage to gasp out as you try to suppress the moans that his lips are tearing from your throat. He flicks his tongue right over his usual puncture wounds and then gently trails it up the shell of your ear. You shiver with the intensity of it all.

“I can… what? I can’t know unless you tell me.” How the fuck does his voice stay this even? You can bearly even think straight, let alone string full sentences together. And yet he remains calm, nigh indifferent to the effect he’s having on you. But as cool as he is on the surface, you know how much he wants it. You both love the teasing, each night a challenge to see who can outlast the other.

“You can bite me,” you breathe and he nips at your ear ever so lightly, causing you to choke out the last few words, “if you want.”

“If I want? But what do you want?” He emphasizes the pronouns in a singsongy tone, and even hearing “I” and “you” in the same sentence does it for you. He’s still grinding against you all while assaulting your neck with filthy kisses. You try to remember what words are.

“I want you,” you gasp, trying to keep your words legible, “to bite me.” You suck in sharply through your teeth as he hitches your leg up a little higher. He grabs both of your wrists in one hand and pins them above your head.

“Are you sure?” his tone is still infuriatingly innocent. He knows how much you want this, and you know what he wants in return. You’re not quite ready to give it to him yet. But gods how you wish he would break first tonight. Odds aren’t looking great as his free hand slips behind your lower back causing you to arch it off the ground slightly.

“Yes,” you groan in agony as his lips continues their heinous walk up and down your neck and collarbone. “Please, Astarion. I want you to.” He nips you again at the same time that he presses his thigh right at the apex between your legs. He tightens his grip on your wrists and whispers sharply in your ear.

“Beg for it.”

That’s it. You’ve lost. You cry out in a delicious mix of pain and pleasure. The words come tumbling out of you, unbidden and unburdened.

“Please, Astarion, bite me. Please please please. Bite me. I want to feel your fangs pierce my skin. I want to know the feeling of my blood inside you. Gods, please, I can’t take it any longer and if you don’t bite me soon I think I might-”

Thank the realms that he cuts you off in that moment, acquiescing to your begging, because you have no idea how you planned to finish that sentence. The sharp moment of pleasure as he sinks in, followed by the loveliness of feeling your blood flow into his mouth. It makes you feel slightly lightheaded, and the high it gives you is better than any you might hope to achieve on Elendren pipeweed. The gentle feeling of his tongue lapping at your neck contrasts beautifully with the sharp tension of him sucking the blood out of you. You can feel him starting to get lost in your neck, his grip on your wrists loosening. You use this moment of vulnerability in Astarion to get him back by arching your back even more to move your hips against his. You hear the sudden intake of breath through his nose and you smile to yourself smugly. He knows what you did and isn’t about to take it lying down, metaphorically speaking.

Once he’s had his fill he draws away from your neck, lips stained red with your blood. He sits up again, one knee between your legs as he looks down on you. He tsks quietly as he shakes his head, drawling, “So naughty. What am I to do with you?” You prop yourself up on your elbows and return his gaze wickedly, your blood tickling your neck as it drips down toward your shoulder. He swipes at the drop with a long pale finger and lasciviously sucks your blood off his fingertip. Your smug grin is back, knowing how weak he is for you.

His face drops into that stern expression again, but this time a devilish smile plays on his lips. He puts his hand on your chest gently, then takes a hard turn as he grabs you by the throat. Not enough to be painful, nor enough to constrict your breathing, but just enough for him to have control. He studies your face for a moment, admiring its beauty, before he yanks you upward commanding you to look him in the eye. He leans in for a forceful kiss as he keeps his hand tight beneath your jaw. You start to lose yourself in the kiss, melting into him, and he takes the opportunity to sharply push you away, his pointer lingering on your chin to show that he’s still in control of where you look. He lets you go and leans back confidently, enjoying how you’ve become extremely pliable in his hands.

He stands to loom over you for a second more, then reaches for your hand to pull you up. You’re completely under his power and couldn’t be more than happy to give him whatever he wants. You take his hand and he pulls it behind his back, pressing your chest into his.

“You’d better be good for me,” he murmurs against your lips, once again denying the kiss you ache for. “We wouldn’t want to punish any bad behavior, now would we?” He caresses your face momentarily and then turns with your hand still in his and pulls you toward… somewhere. Honestly, you couldn’t care where. You love him, and you love this, and you’ll go wherever he leads.

#astarion fanfiction #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x gn reader #astarion x gn!tav #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate 3 spoilers #astarion angst #astarion fluff

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juuuulez · 6 months

Note

WE NEED MORE CARL JERKING KFF HEDCANNONS PLSSS

can’t believe i’ve just done a carl grimes jerking off trilogy…….but i have no regrets

once again, turned this one into a small oneshot, with x reader!!! soooo enjoy (also could definitely be read as same reader from capulet)

NSFW under the cut, all characters depicted are 18+, MDNI.

Due to your relationship being secret, yourself and Carl often had to go outside the compounds of both Alexandria and the Sanctuary to truly enjoy each others company.

Because of this, you two struggled to be intimate with each-other, as the time and place was never right. It was always too dangerous, or there wasn’t enough time.

Usually, you’d meet in the woods. It was like a fun game, stalking around the trees, careful not to make any noise. Whoever saw the other first got to lunge, try and capture their prey.

The two of you would roll through the twigs and grass, fighting to see who could pin the other down, prevail as the strongest. It didn’t really matter, except for bragging rights, until your next scheduled tousle.

You’d ended up near a fallen tree, Carl still squirming on the floor as he attempts to get you off him, but you’re determined to stand your ground. You snake your hands up his arms, using all your strength to pin his wrists above his head.

That’s it, he’s lost. As such, he accepts his punishment (or reward, for feeding your ego?), letting your mouth come down onto his to capture it in a hot kiss.

It’s heated, feverish from the start, licking into Carl’s mouth, your tongues swirling together in a mess of teeth and spit. It’s always like this, as if it’s the last time you’ll ever see each-other, that this moment will cease to exist ever again.

You take mercy on him, releasing his wrists from your grip, allowing him to grab onto the flesh of your hips. Now, you can snake one hand into his hair, the other gripping just below his jaw.

Wanting to shift into a better position, one where you can feel him under you, you sit up. Eager to keep your lips connected, Carl follows, shifting backwards enough so that he’s leaning against the fallen tree, with you seated on his lap.

A steady rhythm grows, arms tangled around each-other, holding on like a lifeline. You develop a slight motion of rocking against him, the movement encouraging your heated makeout session, Carl palming your ass over the thick fabric of your jeans.

Eventually, breathless, you pull away. It calms down, transitioning into something softer, peaceful. You kiss over Carl’s face, lips dancing on his cheeks, forehead, nose. In turn, he tilts his head back, resting against the tree while you adorn his body with your love.

Deciding you’ve spent too long here, guards down, you begin to stand. Carl’s hands fall from your hips, his back straightening again, eyes downcast.

You follow his gaze, a small grin spreading on your face. “My poor boy.” You coo, leaning back in to kiss at Carl’s cheek, an embarrassed blush spreading across his pale skin.

There was an obvious tent in his jeans, arousal having developed over the course of your making out and heavy petting. It was impossible to miss, and you openly acknowledging it caused Carl to squirm at the attention.

When you reach down, letting your palm ghost over the bulge, his breath hitches. “You don’t have to. It’ll go away.” He assure you, that nervous glint in his eye. So cute.

“No, no, I want to.” You tell him, one hand settling on Carl’s hip, the other working at his belt buckle. He calms down a little at this, leaning back against the tree, submitting to your actions. Yet, he’s still watching you observantly, wanting to gauge your every reaction.

His cock is half-hard in your palm, slender and pale as the rest of him. You give it a few slow, leisurely strokes, savouring the way it hardens under your touches, growing to its full length. The tip reddens, a pinkish hue enveloping the head of his dick, appearing strained just from the slightest ministrations.

Carl let’s out a soft moan, causing your gaze to flicker up to him. In response, he clamps his teeth down on his bottom lip, silencing any other reactions. But your smile is sweet and caring, despite how you’re currently jerking him off, leaning in to continue kissing over his cheek, then down to his neck.

“It’s okay, baby. Let me hear you. It’s just us.”

It’s impossible to resist, causing Carl to grip onto your arm, his other hand fisting the leaves and dirt as he pants heavily next to your ear. You practically thrive off his reactions, learning exactly what makes him feel good, trying to wring as much pleasure from the boy.

When you squeeze over the head, his legs jolt upwards, body curling inwards, towards you. You continue the motion, running your thumb over his throbbing tip, watching as Carl drops his head onto your shoulder with a needy moan.

It’s perfect, so perfect.

You continue to pleasure him, whispering sweet nothings into his ear as you twist your hand over Carl’s cock, over and over, manipulating your actions as he nears the edge. Faster, tighter, and then you’re putting a firm pressure on the swollen head, nibbling on his neck, as sticky streams of white finally spill onto your enclosed fist.

“Good boy.” You whisper, continuing to milk out his orgasm as you nurse Carl’s softening cock, careful not to let it brush against the rough fabric of his jeans.

With a sultry grin, you bring your hand up, watching his wrecked face as you lick the substance from your palm. It’s salty, coating your tongue and lingering on your tastebuds, leaving the hand shiny with saliva.

The lewd act causes Carl to gasp, eyes blown wide as he watches you, absorbed by this side he’s never seen before. His body still tingles from the aftershocks, and when you lean forward to kiss him again, he can already feel himself returning to attention.

He’ll never jerk off alone again.

#carl grimes x reader #carl grimes #carl grimes x you

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windienine · 1 month

Text

the best game of 2024 was an hour-long visual novel demo, and i can't tell you how it ends

attack and dethrone god.

okay. oh my god. soul of sovereignty by ggdg (of lady of the shard & deltarune fame) is discounted for only a few more days, so i need to get this one out while the iron's hot.

so: i'm inviting you along on another journey. we're following a polite gentleman of the wizardly inclination (loïc) who is approached by a sickly woman in dire need (ysmé). all she requests, in her plea, is an escort to guide her to the nearby temple. his decision to support her may turn out to be the most important choice he ever makes.

... have you ever enjoyed the kind of narrative that traps two people with heavily contrasting motives and personalities together in an unbreakable contract? do you like stories of absolute devotion?

i could look at this shot forever ngl

... are you compelled by immersive speculative fantasy worlds where the use and study of magic heavily influences the rhythm of people's day-to-day lives?

(really intriguing magical linguistics system going on here)

... do you ever promise too much of yourself to others, sometimes, even when it's a bad idea?

... if it was possible -- if you could -- would you abandon your humanity for the power to change your world forever?

and, whatever you may feel in your heart about the above...

do you want to see behind the eyes of a hot trans girl as she bullshits her way into a truly volatile level of power and influence and gets everything she wants?

(+ her pet dilf lovely assistant)

if even one of these elicited a "yes," i think you'll love this story.

i'll go out of a limb:

i think, if you open up your heart, you'll find yourself falling for both of the leads. It's a game that really wants you to look at it from every angle, take it apart, and ask questions about loïc, ysmé, their stories, and what they believe to be true about the world and one another. subtext -- especially the charged subtext this story throws at you and hopes you'll piece together -- is a beautiful thing.

the number of talksprites in this demo is kind of staggering

the jrpg-inspired world of the mosaic and its surroundings is as vibrant as it is profoundly lonely, color folded into every facet of its character as you move through it. appropriately, it's really invested in a lot of questions that arise not just from high fantasy as a genre, but from the modern fantasy sensibilities of jrpgs and the interrogation of what divinity even means in a world where the gods are forces you can interact with and draw power from, however indirectly.

what can i even say? that gg and toby fox's collab score for the prelude is downright heavenly and made it onto my work playlist right alongside the deltarune ost the day it came out on bandcamp? that gg's art, especially their use of light, conveys every scene with vivid beauty?

i wouldn't be posting so much of it if i didn't want to eat every CG. oh my god. he's so pretty. it's not even fair

beyond all of that, i think the game's main resonance point with people is that gg's writing is genuinely thoughtful. they use art detail and deft character writing to convey everything about the leads, using the limited time you get with it to paint layers and layers of information on who these people are and why they make the decisions they do. soulsov's roughly an-hour-and-change of text, expressive talksprites, and lush CGs is infused with so much heart and so much horror and so much intrigue that it leaves you feeling like you're a part of this world, carried along for the ride right alongside the two leads. gg clearly really adores these two, and that level of passion makes everything loïc and ysmé do shine even brighter. in spite of (or perhaps because of) all their friction and flaws, they're easy to love.

(it's really fun to read aloud as a script, too! ysmé's a hoot.)

i hope you experience it with high expectations and an open heart. i don't think it will disappoint. it is, perhaps, just a little bit magical.

i hope you see it through to the end!

#soulsov #soul of sovereignty #indie games #deltarune #long post #i'm not saying everything i want to say here but #i need you to discover the rest and leave a nice review #ok??#i love it

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shootingstarwritings · 3 months

Text

First Impressions

Coming home from another exhausting day, Lydia threw herself onto her couch and screamed into a cushion.

“Hey Lyd,” her husband Carlos said as he came into the living room. Chewing on some leftover chocolate cake from the fridge, he sat down on the other side of the sofa, taking one more bite and swallowing before asking, “‘nother rough day?” The crumbs were probably all over the living room by now… to Lydia's immense chagrin.

“The hell do you think?” said Lydia, the pillow muffling her voice. She looked up and glared at her annoying beloved. “More asshole clients not interested in my business proposals for like the 12th time this week, motherfuckers that lose any and all interest as soon as they hear my voice over the phone, and every smug prick that landed a deal just telling me, ‘Just work hard, this is a meritocracy! Nobody thinks less of you cuz you’re a woman.’” She made sure to put on her ‘bro-voice’ as she regurgitated the same garbage everyone of her male peers that managed to keep getting sales said to her.

“Damn, I’m sorry honey.” Carlos shifted over and began to massage her back. Lydia let out a low moan as Carlos worked his magical hands once more. The knots in her back slowly untangled and her head began to clear. It was so difficult to think with all the stress causing her head to turn all soupy. “I just wish there was something I could do.”

“... There is something I’ve been thinking about.”

“Oh?”

“You’re on vacation starting tomorrow, right? Three weeks?”

“Yeah…?”

“Nothing. Forget I said anything.” Carlos continued asking, but Lydia insisted nothing was wrong. She also had to make sure that she would get out of work after just a few more days. All she needed to do was meet with a few more clients and they could enjoy the summer together.

Carlos still seemed incredulous, but eventually he relented and walked back to his office. “You’re the best, honey,” said Lydia before he shut the door behind him. Carlos looked over his shoulder and beamed at her with a loving glint in his eyes. Because of his job as a programmer and debugger, most of his work could be done at home. The rest of his time was spent taking care of some errands that Lydia was either too tired or simply hated doing (mainly cooking and taking care of any bugs or spiders).

It also made it convenient whenever Lydia needed to take a break from herself, without his knowledge of course.

The rest of the day was spent recuperating from the day’s stress. A few rhythm game rounds and a scalding hot shower was enough for Lydia to regain her upbeat and chipper personality. Around midnight, the two of them cuddled in the bed.

They had been married for months, but somehow holding each other beneath the sheets never got old. In fact, it somehow got more personal and intimate with the passing months. Light kisses on skin, stroke and caressing flesh that smelled like home, and the faint yet steady heartbeat never failed to relax Lydia’s mind and allow her to comfortably slip into a lengthy slumber.

Tonight was the sole exception.

“Mind if I’m the big spoon this time?” Lydia whispered to a half-asleep Carlos. Opening just one tired eye, Carlos just mumbled something and nodded before flipping over. Lightly tittering to herself, Lydia wrapped her arms around Carlos and squeezed him tight. She rubbed her face against his back and took a whiff. Chestnuts--the scent of his favorite conditioner. Lydia was truly glad she had introduced such a world of bathroom supplies to him.

“You’re the perfect man,” Lydia muttered, her voice muffled as she buried her face into the space between his neck and shoulder. “You won’t remember, but I almost feel bad for doing this.”

Carlos was barely even able to let out a questioning hum before Lydia’s body began to slip inside of him. Carlos let out a gasp as his body tightened in response to the sensual penetration. It wasn’t too dissimilar to the first time Lydia had pegged him. “Huh—! Whu—! Oh…WOAH!"

Lydia didn’t stop her possession. She thrust into Carlos, her petite yet rotund form slipping into Carlos’s thinner and hairier body. Carlos let out muffled moans as she shoved his face into a pillow with her free arm. He could do nothing as Lydia humped her hips further into his own fatter and hairier hips. His legs kicked and convulsed on the bed as he could hardly struggle.

“I love you, Carlos,” Lydia whispered, licking his sweaty neck. “I just need to borrow you for a few…” She nibbled on his ear lobe. Most of her legs had already melted into his. Not too long afterward, she pushed her chest into his own. She giggled at the sound of Carlos’ long, drawn-out moans as her boobs became replaced with his pectorals. “It’s nice being a man from time to time. So big and hairy…” she muttered to him.

Carlos’ continued to moan, breathing deeply as Lydia fucked herself into him. Soon, she was comfortable enough to drop her free arm and force it into his own. “Haah…! Haaahh… you’re a kinky one, Lyd…” he said in between fast, tense moans.

“I know, baby,” she said, half her head already phasing through his wider back. “I know.” As the last of Lydia melded into Carlos, he let out a long moan and collapsed onto his back. His hips thrust into the air over and over as Lydia acclimated herself inside of him. Each limb was dangerously full.

“HAAAH! H-Holy shit… I-I’m… I’m--!” Then, with one last hump, Carlos’ cock exploded all over his boxers. “Ahh… Ahh… J-Just… Just do whatever you want, babe…” he said in between labored pants as he lost consciousness. Although it felt like a completely new experience, it was truly the third or fourth time this had happened. And just like the previous times, Carlos would believe that it was just a strange and hazy dream from a mind that needed to be a little more open to experimenting in the bedroom.

At least, that was what Lydia would tell him.

Speaking of…

Lydia let out a moan as she felt her borrowed muscles and the familiar weight of Carlos’ body. She stretched her toned and hairy limbs with a little giggle. It wasn’t fair that Carlos always got to feel like that whenever he woke up. It was part of the reason why Lydia would always rub up against him in the morning. She just couldn’t get enough of the muscle and hair. However, as the giddiness of yet another successful possession began to wear off, Lydia found herself yawning and slowly drifting off to sleep. Taking over another’s body always took quite a bit of energy, for both the possessor and the host body.

Tomorrow was a new day for Lydia.

“Great, glad to hear it!” Lydia said with Carlos’ deep and friendly voice as she spoke to her fourth client.

“And I’ll follow this meeting up with an email with more details of the deal. Mm-hmm, mm-hmm,” she said, giving Carlos’ cock a nice and firm stroke. None of her clients had any idea that the man they were speaking to was Lydia’s husband. Being able to roleplay and pass off as her husband to these strangers, knowing that she was able to fool these sexist pigs that would’ve sneered and turned up their noses at just the sound of her voice, light up Lydia’s borrowed loins. “Thank you so much for your time and have a great day!” Lydia forced Carlos to say before hanging up.

She threw Carlos’ head back and let out a loud, unbecoming moan as her borrowed cock grew to full mast in her grip. She threw an arm back and took a whiff of Carlos’ natural musk. “Mmm, Carlos. Just another day of me inside and we can get our vacation started. I just have a few more clients to talk to.” She chuckled as she flexed a bit more in her husband’s body. Lydia was already done with all the clients in her schedule. She had some privacy for the rest of the day…

“Oh, Carlos…!” she said as she began to explore her husband’s body once more.

#male possession #male body possession #f2m possession #husband possession

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werelosingdaylight · 1 year

Text

That’s my girl

Shuntaro Chishiya x Suguru!Reader

Suguru Niragi x Sister!Reader

REQUESTED? Yes • [No]

WORD COUNT: 1330

SUMMARY| Being Niragis sister and Dating Chishiya was bound to cause conflict between you and Your brother, but when Niragi crosses a line by threatening Chishiya in front of you. You decide it’s time for him to get a reminder from when you were kids, and a little warning that if he kept coming after Chishiya, he wouldn’t be able to do it again.

WARNINGS: Violence from Reader to Niragi.

Adm note: Last post for the night! Also, I know that in reality you would never do this to your sibling, or maybe you wouldn’t be able to take down Niragi but it is a fanfiction! I love you all, be sure to let me know what you think!

You loved your brother, truly you did, but he had turned into a completely different person. He was no longer the sweet boy who would help you with homework, or the boy that needed you to scare away his bullies. He became the bully.

You had both been pulled into this game and were separated from each other, when you reunited you didn't even recognize your own blood. After finding out Niragi was your brother, Chishiya asked you out; originally it was just for his plan because he assumed you were just like Niragi. Like brother Like sister, right?

Until he actually ended up falling for you that is, because while you mirrored your brother in certain aspects you also had some of the complete opposite traits. Niragi was a shoot first and ask questions later type of person, where as you went through every possible option and only resorted to killing when there was no other choice.

Your brother was upfront with what he wanted and would take it with no remorse, You would keep what you wanted to yourself and manipulate others into giving it to you but let them think they wanted to give it to you. You were two halves of the same coin.

After falling for your complex mind and you holding his heart in your hands until you crafted its rhythms to only beat for you, he told you about his plan and how originally he was only using you. Of course you had been hurt but after realizing you could die at any moment, and you would rather die in the warmth of his embrace than by yourself just to be another name and face lost in the game of death, you accepted him and his plan.

Everyone in the beach knew who you were, who wouldn't when Niragi shot someone because they accidentally pushed you into the pool, and one thing they noted was that while Niragi was protective of those he loved; you were worse.

While Niragi was quick to kill a threat to the people he loved, you would mentally torture them or beat them so bad that they would start shaking from being in the same room as you. You enjoyed the fear that came from people, and they had quickly learned not to cross you, not because of your brother but because of you.

So, the news of you dating Chishiya had spread faster than a wildfire in a drought, Niragi was not happy with the news and had been threatening Chishiya into breaking up with you. It was only recently that Chishiya decided to confide in you about it, but he also told you not to do anything you would regret.

After that you kept a closer eye on your boyfriend, and you're glad you did because the scene in front of you had your blood boiling. Niragi was in Chishiyas face, his gun pointed to your boyfriends temple but despite the gun to his head Chishiya kept his calm composure

When Niragi was seemingly done he walked away like he had won a big prize. You sent Kuina, without a doubt your closest friend at the beach, who had been standing beside you watching the scene, over to make sure Chishiya was okay; you knew he would say he was fine but you needed to disappear without her stopping you.

Once she had her sights set on Chishiya, you sunk back into the crowd, disappearing from their line of sight as you blended into the sweat covered bodies of the partiers. Your sight was firmly set on your brothers disappearing form, hurrying through the crowd; being careful not to let your two piece untie, you followed after him.

Mentally you cursed his longer legs, both of you had been blessed with legs that made you faster than others; his being long but you had what your mother called 'Athlete Legs'

"Niragi!" You called after your brother once you had escaped other people vision, you were in some alleyway, normally where they disposed of traitors and threw them into the dumpster.

"Hey, little sis. What made you want to pay me a visit?" He asked but his voice was teasing, the way he addressed you had also changed, back in the real world he would affectionately call you 'little monkey' because you enjoyed climbing trees when you were younger, and to be honest you still did, but never got to because you're now an adult and for some reason it's looked down upon for adults to have fun.

Without saying anything you kneed him in the balls, causing him to lurch forward, where you took the opportunity to grab the gun off his shoulders and hit him on the back with it. His head smacked into the concrete with such force that you heard a crack followed by him groaning; you broke his nose.

"I warned you to leave Chishiya alone, this is your second warning. Keep bothering him? I'll make sure you stay down, as of now; you are dead to me. You are not my brother, and if you keep coming after my boyfriend you won't be breathing anymore. Am I understood?" Your voice was cold to the point where a chill went down to Niragis bones, he knew you meant every word you said.

He nodded, blood pouring from his nose as flashbacks faintly played in his head of Highschool; he was no longer in the borderlands but back in the deserted area with his bullies, only now it was you who was squatting beside him without a care for if he was okay.

He felt something cold press against the back of his head as you moved to put the pressure of your knee into his spine, causing pain to course through every atom of his body. "I said; Am I Understood?" Your voice rang out again, somehow even colder than before from not receiving a verbal response.

"Yes. I understand." His words came out weak and scared, for once in the borderlands Niragi was terrified, and it was at the hands of his own sister.

"Good." You threw the gun down the alleyway, knowing by the time he grabbed it you would be gone and even if you weren't he wouldn't have the heart to kill his little sister. Getting off of his back, you made sure to stomp the heel of your foot into his right hand, the same hand he shoots his gun with, until you heard another crack. He wouldn't be shooting the gun for a while.

Making your way out of the alley, while your brother unsteadily got up from the ground, you walked back to the front of the beach. Going to where Kuina stood with Chishiya at her side. "Where did you run off too? I turned around and you were gone." Kuina had asked because Chishiya didn't need too, he knew what you had done and it made his heart warm with a feeling of reassurance; you wouldn't leave him.

"I just had something to take care of." You shrugged off her question like it was nothing, because to you it wasn't. Everyone's attention turning to Niragi who was limping into the main area with a bloodily nose and cradling his broken hand, you didn't miss the glare he shot your way, but underneath that you could see the hurt hidden away in the shadows of his eyes.

"Did you..?" Kuina was cut off by you raising an eyebrow at her and responding as you grabbed Chishias hand that rested in his jacket pocket.

“No one gets to mess with my boyfriend except for me, not even my brother.” Kuina looked taken aback by your response, not even hiding the fact that you had injured Niragi, nor were you worried about the fact that he might come after you.

Meanwhile, Chishiya felt nothing but pride bubble in his chest as he thought ‘That’s my girl.’

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brideofmbappe · 7 months

Text

Missing My Baby || Kylian Mbappé

Pairing: Kylian Mbappé x reader

Raindrops pelted the windows as Kylian stared out, the pitter-patter echoing the rhythm of his racing heart. He had been restless, consumed by thoughts of you. The heated argument still played in his mind, the words exchanged and the raw emotions that had torn you both apart. He missed you terribly; the laughter, the shared moments, the love. Each day without you felt like an eternity, and his regret weighed heavily on him.

He poured himself into football, channeling his emotions onto the field.

The stadium lights illuminated the pitch, casting an intense glow that mirrored the fire within Kylian. As the opponents charged, he couldn't help but see them as an embodiment of his frustrations.

His movements were fueled by a mix of anger and determination. With each dribble, each pass, and each shot, he unleashed his inner turmoil upon the game. The ball seemed to be an extension of his emotions, driven with a ferocity that only he understood. Scoring felt like a release, a brief moment where the weight on his chest lifted.

But even as he dominated the match, a void remained. In between plays, his mind would drift to thoughts of you. He remembered the way your eyes lit up when you saw him, the soft touch of your hand in his, the countless memories that now seemed distant. The cheers of the crowd were a bittersweet symphony, a reminder of how much he had to prove – not just to them, but to himself as well.

Practice was both a sanctuary and a battleground.

Kylian pushed himself harder, the physical strain helping to momentarily overshadow the emotional pain. Yet, there were moments when he faltered, his concentration slipping as your name echoed in his thoughts. He would catch himself, frustration and sadness clashing within him.

The other players noticed the change, the usually happy Kylian appearing somewhat distant and preoccupied.

Nights were the hardest. Exhausted from training and the game, Kylian would return home, hoping to hear your voice, to share the events of the day as he had done countless times before. He would step into the shower, allowing the water to cascade over him, masking the tears that mingled with it. He would close his eyes and for a fleeting moment, imagine that you were there, that the distance between you had vanished. But reality always came crashing back, a cruel reminder that he was alone.

In those moments, the emptiness felt suffocating. The arguments, the regrets, the echoing silence – they all merged into an overwhelming ache that refused to subside. He would call your name softly, almost expecting you to respond from the next room.

The loneliness would settle in, a heavy weight that seemed impossible to escape. And as the water spiraled down the drain, so did his tears, carrying away some of the pain but never truly washing it all away.

But Kylian wasn't the only one struggling.

You had been grappling with the aftermath of the argument as well. The silence between you was deafening, and the emptiness in your heart was unbearable. Every corner of your life seemed to remind you of Kylian, the joy he had brought, and the love you had shared. Each night was filled with tossing and turning, your thoughts consumed by his absence. His words during the argument had cut deeper than you had ever anticipated. The pain was etched into your every thought, replaying his hurtful phrases over and over again.

You found solace in the little pieces of him that remained. Clinging to his pillow, you would bury your face in it, desperately inhaling the lingering scent that was uniquely his. It was a bittersweet comfort, a connection to a time when you were intertwined in each other's lives. But nothing couldn't fill the void he had left behind, and it certainly couldn't mend the shattered pieces of your heart.

Nights turned into days, and days turned into weeks, but the ache persisted. You moved through life like a ghost, a mere shadow of the vibrant person you once were. The laughter that used to flow so easily now felt like a distant memory. The world had lost its colors; everything seemed to be draped in shades of gray.

Sometimes, in the midst of your loneliness, you swore you could hear his voice. A whisper carried by the wind, a faint echo in an empty room. Your heart would skip a beat, hope sparking briefly before reality crashed down again.

You would find yourself turning around, half-expecting to see him standing there, that familiar grin on his face. But it was always a cruel trick of your imagination.

Part of you longed to reach out, to bridge the gap that had formed between you two. But another part of you held back, afraid of being hurt again, afraid that things might never be the same. The battle waged within you, tearing at your insides and leaving you feeling utterly lost.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months. The pain had become a constant companion, an unwelcome guest in the house of your heart. You often wondered if life would ever regain its vibrancy, if you would ever find the strength to forgive or move on.

The uncertainty was suffocating, and you clung to the memories of what once was, hoping that someday, the wounds would heal and you would find a way to piece together the fragments of your shattered heart.

On a rainy night, the sky's tears seemed to mirror the emotions in both your hearts. The doorbell rang, interrupting your thoughts. With cautious hope, you opened the door to find Kylian standing there, soaked to the bone but with a determined look in his eyes. In his trembling hands, he held a bouquet of white roses.

His voice cracked as he began to speak, the words tumbling out in a rush. "I've missed you so much. I can't stand not talking to you. I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry for what I said. It was all my fault, and I wish I could take it back. I regret it all, every word, every moment we've spent apart. I can't bear to be without you. I've been dying to see you, to hold you, to tell you how much you mean to me."

Tears mingled with raindrops on his cheeks as he poured out his heart, his emotions laid bare. The sight of Kylian, usually composed and strong, brought a pang of sympathy to your heart. You couldn't stand to see him like this, broken and vulnerable.

"Kylian," you whispered, your voice a mixture of forgiveness and understanding. "I've missed you too." And with those simple words, the dam holding back your emotions cracked, and tears streamed down your face as well.

Without another word, Kylian pulled you into his arms, his grip strong yet tender. The scent of rain and his cologne filled the air as his embrace melted away the days of distance. The world seemed to fade around you both as he lifted your chin, his eyes locking onto yours.

His lips met yours in a kiss that spoke volumes - a kiss filled with longing, regret, and a burning desire to make things right. It was a kiss that rekindled the fire that had been smoldering within you both. Slowly, he pulled away, his forehead resting against yours as his thumb wiped away the remnants of tears from your cheeks.

"I've been so deprived of your touch ma belle," he admitted, his voice a mixture of husky desire and vulnerability. Without breaking eye contact, he scooped you up in his arms, effortlessly lifting you off the ground. A surprised laugh escaped your lips as he carried you, your heart pounding with a mix of joy and relief.

As he ascended the stairs, each step brought you closer to a reunion you had both been craving. He set you down on the bed, his hands running over your body as if he were memorizing every inch. You could feel him trembling, his breathing coming out ragged as he looked at you, his eyes dark and intense.

You reached for his shirt, pulling it off his shoulders, eager to see him again. He leaned forward, pressing soft kisses along your collarbone, and you felt yourself melt under his touch. His lips brushed against yours, his tongue slipping between them.

You moaned softly, kissing him back, eager for more. His hands slid up your waist, his fingers brushing against your breasts, causing your nipples to harden. Your hands moved to his belt buckle, undoing it with ease, eager to get at his flesh. He stepped back, watching you intently, his eyes dark and hungry.

You could tell he wanted to rip your clothes off, but you weren't about to let that happen just yet. You smiled mischievously as you slowly undid his pants, pulling them down to reveal his boxers.

His cock strained against the fabric, and you couldn't wait to see it again. You ran your hand up the length of his shaft, feeling him throb in response. You gently tugged at his boxers, sliding them down his legs, exposing his cock, already glistening with precum. You looked in his eyes as you took it in your hand, stroking it gently.

He groaned, his eyes closing as he savored the sensation. You kissed his tip, swirling your tongue around the head, tasting him. He gasped, his hands tangling in your hair, pushing you harder against him. You moaned, loving the feel of his cock in your mouth.

You began to bob your head up and down, taking him deeper and deeper, sucking on him like crazy. His hips thrust forward, meeting your motions, urging you to take more. You looked up at him, a smile playing across your face. "Oh yes," you heard him whisper. "That feels so good." You smiled, moving faster, wanting to bring him to climax.

You felt him tense, his breath coming out in ragged gasps as he held you close. You kept going, determined not to stop until he came. You felt him explode in your mouth, his cum filling your throat. You followed Kylian's lead as he guided you towards the bed, both of you eager to finish what he had started.

He lay you gently onto the soft sheets, and then knelt between your legs. He spread them wide, inviting him into you. He took you with one long stroke, burying himself deep inside you. You threw your head back, arching your body towards him, your muscles tightening around him. He groaned, his teeth nipping at your neck. Your nails dug into his back, marking him.

Kylian pounded into you hard, making you cry out again and again. He was close, and you knew it. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him even deeper into you. "Oh fuck, yes!" you cried, your body convulsing as you came. He groaned, slowing his pace, but never stopping. You clung to him, feeling every inch of him buried inside you.

You couldn't get enough of him. Finally, he gave one last thrust and collapsed on top of you, his body still shaking. You could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He kissed your shoulder, breathing deeply. You turned your head and kissed him softly. "I love you so much mon amour," he said breathless. You smiled, stroking his cheek.

"I love you too kyky."

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