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doublesunsets · 7 months

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fill me with your echo

Echo x Reader PWP/Smut 🔞 Word count: 3.1k

TBBAW 2023 @tbb-appreciation-week

DAY 2: Echo NSFW Prompt "Aroused by their voice"

Author's note: Is this late? Yes. But it was still inspired by that prompt, so credit is due. Please, accept my humble story. I wanted to try something, and it got... complicated (for me). I had never written dirty talk before, but I think I managed to get it where I wanted. -sunset

Ao3 Link

tags/warnings under read more

dividers by @saradika

Warnings: Masturbation / Guided Masturbation / Dirty talk / Voice Kink, /Praise Kink (slightly) / Comm Sex / No specific pronouns are used, but reader has a vagina / Basically, PWP, I am not interested in the logistics of comm sex, this is very indulgent. Echo is not a blushing virgin, and I'm here to prove it.

“412 traffic, F-17, inbound for landing.”

The voice crackled through the communication system in your small office, and you jumped from your seat before Wina could get to it.

“Here 412 traffic, landing pad is clear,” you breathed out in your smoothest voice possible, while Wina tried to take away the mic from you. You were not scared about using a little bit of violence when necessary, so you smashed your hand on her face to keep her away. You were scared of stabbing your fingers with her Zabrak horns, though, and probably stop it and give me the mic filtered through the waves.

“Wonderful,” the voice on the radio answered, and you were able to discern the smile that would be probably accompanying the word. You melted a little, as usual.

With a little trepidation, you tried to calm your heart and prepared yourself to make the conversation as long as possible. You even pretended to be confident enough to use the name you have learned from your interactions.

“How is everything, Echo? Any problems? Do you need me to send some droids there to fix the ship?”

“No, no, we had no trouble out there, don’t worry. You are always so thoughtful, thank you, Fourtwelve.”

“My pleasure, Echo.” Seeing that you were not budging, Wina finally gave up and moved away. She shouldn’t even be in your office, in the first place, she was just nosey. You turned your whole body towards the comm, triumphantly. “You sure you don’t want— I mean, any of you need something else? I could come down there and take you some rations.”

You grimaced inwardly at the hint of desperation in your voice. When the signal came back, a hint of a chuckle could be heard in the background, and you felt your cheeks grow hot.

“Shh, I said!— Uh, I don't, no, no, really. You are an angel, but there’s no need for that.” Someone shouted coward in the background. “But I appreciate it, really, I do. Thank you, Fourtwelve. Over.”

The static felt like a slap in the face. You slumped into the chair and let out a heavy sigh. It has been the shortest conversation since the first one, and the disappointment sat heavy on your chest.

“I wanted to talk to some men, and you had to ruin it. You get strangely overprotective with that clone.”

You turned your chair to face the intruder in the room and frowned at her. “This is my job, if you want to talk with men, go to a bar. Besides, I’m not overprotective about anyone! It’s just that the last time you handled the comms, you made such a lascivious pun that I still have second hand embarrassment every time I think about it.”

“Pft, whatever. You need to relax, this is not even a real job. You don’t know how to have fun, I’ll entertain myself somewhere else.”

You didn’t make any more comments as Wina turned around and left the room. She was extremely annoying, in a rage you stood up and locked the door in case she decided to come back. You were more at ease by yourself, which, even if sounded hypocritical, usually allowed you to talk with some men. A man in particular, actually. But Echo had already commed, he would probably be on his way to a canteen with his brothers, and you didn’t have the chance to speak with him this time.

Echo. You were still giddy at actually knowing his name. It had all started a month or so ago. You were a volunteer in a group that was trying to give clones a chance after they were discarded by the newly founded Empire. It started as something simple, but as time passed, and the Empire started showing their true face, the operation became quite daring and secretive. It was almost like one of those holonovels, about rebels, and freedom fighters on the frontiers, fighting evil by day and having torrid romances by night. In reality, though, your job was pretty dull. You were basically a receptionist; you took messages, managed the landings of your allotted small Coruscant hangar, and occasionally dispatched droids if they were needed. Someone had to do it, though.

One uneventful night, a new voice came over your comms. Well. Not new-new. You had heard that same voice thousands of times, but this one had something that made it stand over the others. It was huskier, angrier. It made you wonder what his owner had witnessed to be so angry at the galaxy, but at the same time speak such soft words to you. You had timidly inquired him and Echo had actually told you some stories from his past, a short version at least, you had no doubt there was more to it. He had told you about his lost brothers and being the last one of his batch, about being imprisoned and then rescued by new brothers, and even how he had adapted to being a cyborg.

He also asked about you, if out of politeness or legit interest, you didn’t know, so you had told him the basics, very, very quickly. You preferred when it was him doing the talking. You were in awe at what he had lived through, but to your shame, you couldn’t help the other reaction you had at his stories. Truth was that he could have read you the Communication System Manual, and it would have turned you on all the same. His voice was like spice to you, the more you listen to it, the more you wanted. You had never tried one, but you had to guess this was what trying on aphrodisiacs felt like. You craved it, you wanted to have it whispered in your ear late at night, his naked skin on yours, and his hand exploring your body, while those angry tones melted away into sweet moans.

The static did scare you this time, and you took away your traitorous wandering hand from your thigh. Not the time to indulge in wildly inappropriate fantasies, not that it would be the first time. Since nothing else seemed to come from the other side, you tried to contact them.

“Here 412 traffic, do you copy?”

Static again. Whoever was on the other side didn’t seem to find their words.

You were about to tell them to find another pastime and leave your channel alone, when his voice cracked again through the speakers.

“Hey, Fourtwelve.”

“Echo,” you gasped, and thanked the Force that you had released the button, saving you the embarrassment of Echo hearing his name coming out of your lips like that. You cleared your throat, pressed it again, and tried to appear nonchalant. “Echo, good to hear from you again so soon.” Yes, nailed it. “Is there any problem?”

“No problem at all. I—” he hesitated and you waited patiently. If while waiting patiently you bounced your leg rapidly, he didn’t need to know. “I just wanted to talk with you, but you seemed busy earlier, and there was many people around here as well. Is it now a better time?”

“Yes!” His chuckle should have made you feel embarrassed, but it only fuelled your thoughts. If his rough voice was sexy, his low laugh was damn near Dark Side inducing.

“Good, I am glad. I really appreciate our chats.”

“Me too, I love your voice.” In your excitement, it took you a moment to register what you had said, but his silence at the other side gave you plenty of time. When your brain caught up, your face burned, and you started to ramble, trying to cover up your slip. “I mean, I love your stories, the ones you tell me, with your voice, so that’s what I meant. Because that’s what I hear, so, I cannot listen to the stories without your voice, obviously. So, I really love that you have… a voice with—”

“Stop,” you gulped down the rest of the sentence and clamped your legs by instinct. His tone of voice had been gentle but authoritative, as someone used to scold a child. But you weren’t a child, you were very much an adult, that was having a strong reaction to a man’s voice through a comm. “Good, mesh’la.”

A very strong reaction.

You were sure he could hear your deep breathing, but he chuckled again and couldn’t find in you the will to care. “I’ve been dying for you to say something like that for a while, so you are not taking it back now. Please, tell me, what do you love about my voice?”

It didn’t escape to you that he had made his voice deeper, rougher. He was enjoying this. It was true that you had been flirting with him, but not even in your wildest dreams you had envisioned him actually responding this way. For all that you knew, he hadn’t been paying attention to it. He apparently had, and had been waiting, no, dying, for you to take the next step. You were aware that this conversation could change the nature of your interactions forever, and you were going to seize it like a bounty hunter with their price.

“I love how deep it is.” Maybe not your best line.

“You can do better than that,” he encouraged you, not unkindly.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, your fingers clawing at your thighs, trying to control the pent-up energy that was growing inside you. “It is gruff, but caring, I don’t understand how.” You readjusted yourself on your seat, almost vibrating out of your skin. “It is hypnotic, mesmerising. Sexy.”

Echo hummed at that, and it spurred you on. You wanted to hear that again, you needed to hear every single noise that voice could give you.

“Every time I hear your voice, it is like you're grabbing me by the nape, firm but softly, and forcing me to listen to it. I can’t move, I’m captivated. It gets inside my chest and drives me crazy, makes me feel alive. It makes me want to go to my knees. It makes me want to behave and to be mischievous at the same time.”

“Fuck,” Echo groaned at the other side.

Your breath was heavy and laboured, you felt hot, and even if you were alone in the room, you could feel the weight of his presence. You weren’t sure what possessed you, but it seemed he liked it.

“All that… from just my voice?” It seemed he liked it very much. His voice has turned into a husky drawl, and you whimpered a little. “What else? What else do I do to you? Tell me, cyar’ika.”

There was a pretty obvious consequence of his voice, the dampness of your underwear a cold reminder right now. You pressed your hand into your core, trying to soothe your growing need, and another pitiful whine escaped you.

“What was that, cyar’ika? What are you doing right now?” His words were soft, whispered, but they were commanding, there was no ignoring them.

“I’m—“ you pressed harder the heel of your hand against your clit, the simple act of telling him out loud what you were doing was sending shivers down your spine. “I’m touching, ah, myself.”

“How? Tell me,” he snarled, like gravel on his throat.

“I’m pressing my hand against me, rubbing it a little,” you gasped at the end, involuntarily.

“You are going to do something for me.” He sounded breathy, almost like he was talking too close to the comm. His voice was just a rustle, but for you, it was deafening. You uttered a breathless yes, and he continued. “You are going to touch yourself, and I’m going to tell you how to do it, understood?”

You opened your eyes at that and inhaled loudly, feeling your cunt palpitate at his words. There was only one answer to that. “Yes, sir.”

“Oh, Maker,” he groaned, and then laughed softly, the smirk evident on his voice. “Aren’t we discovering kinks today?”

You laughed as well, a little more breathless than him. Sat back and widened your legs, waiting for him to continue.

“Listen to me, cyar’ika. Take your hand, and get it inside your clothes. Slowly, there is no rush.”

You stopped for a moment, your hand hovering over your groin, and thought about what you were going to do. In reality, you barely knew him, you had never seen him in person actually! And yet, since the beginning, there’s been this connection, not only were you aroused by their voice, but there was something else pulling you to him. If you believed in such things, you could be tempted to call it predestination. You were going to start by calling it a fun time. You took a deep breath and obeyed him.

“What else? Tell me, Echo,” you threw back at him in a pleased murmur, adding some more since he seemed to like it. “Please, tell me what to do, sir.”

“Oh, you naughty thing. Maker, you are going to be so good, don’t you? But first, reach with your fingers to your pussy, don’t really touch it yet, just feel it and answer me, are you wet?”

There was a determination in his voice, Echo was a man with a plan, and he intended to execute it, and since that plan seemed to be your pleasure, you could not complain. You did as he instructed, even if you didn’t need it to know how drenched you actually were already. Every word that came through the comm, every gasp, and growl, breath and rustle, was making you whimper at the back of your throat without even touching you. You did that again for him, you whimpered, low and long, feeling your own wetness slide through your fingertips.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he purred in a soft exhalation. “Slowly, I want you to put your finger down and circle it around your entrance. Yes, like that, I can hear your breath hitching, with just so little. You must be pretty sensitive, or is it just for me? Do you love my voice so much that it has you all worked up before we have even started? Keep circling it, mesh’la, keep gathering and spreading those sweet juices. They must taste so good. I wish I could be kneeling in front of you right now to taste it myself. Oh? Would you like that? That was a pretty filthy moan, I want to hear more of those.

“Now, cyar’ika, move your finger down onto your clit, drag it softly through it. Very softly, treat it like the precious thing it is. You sound glorious, you are being magnificent and oh, so obedient. Now press harder, back and forth, drag it back and forth harder. Faster, now. You must look splendid, I bet that pretty mouth of yours has a fantastic shape right now. Perfect for me. That’s enough, stop.”

You whined pathetically, but complied. A needy sound escaped your throat as your fingers twitched, right above where you needed them, and Echo made soothing noises peppered with praises that had you dangerously close to losing it. His voice had turned huskier and breathier in reaction to your moans, but he still sounded quite composed, unlike you.

“Echo, please,” a hoarse plea.

“Is Echo again, hmm? What happened with ‘sir’, I liked that one. But I have to admit that hearing my name on your lips, begging for me to keep talking is making me lose control a little, cyar’ika, and that doesn’t happen often, I can guarantee you that.

“Guide your hand down again, and stop at your entrance, is it there where you need them? Yes, I thought so. Now, easy, just one finger, sink it in. Maker, it must be so warm and soft. Out and inside again, like that. Easy, mesh’la, was that a pleased sob? You are being so good. I think you deserve another finger. Fuck, that one was good. Oh, what I would do if I was there right now, I bet you would enjoy my thick fingers up your cunt better than yours. I would fuck you with them until you were screaming my name. Faster now, yes, faster. I can almost hear the squelching noises every time you pull them out. Can you feel yourself clenching around them? Go on, feel it for me.

“Those shuddering moans are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. Do you know how hard I am right now? It’s almost painful, I’m hard and hot just for you, just for those sweet little cries. I know you are almost there, your panting is getting faster. Hush, don’t worry, I have you, you have all my attention. I’m not even touching myself, so if you give me one good enough, I will go up there to your office and fuck you hard against your desk as a reward.

“Do me a favour, mesh’la, stroke your clit with your thumb. Now. Good, ner cyar’ika.”

You came with a strangled moan, your orgasm wreaking havoc through your body, legs cramping over your hand with your fingers still inside you. When you came down from it, soft sobs fell uncontrollably from your lips, and you touched your clammy forehead with your shaky hand, trying to recover control of yourself. The sudden silence at the other side made you recover quicker.

“Echo? Are you still there?”

“Yes, cyar’ika, I’m still with you, I haven’t gone anywhere,” he sounded restrained, but there was a painful edge to his voice that told you it was forced.

“Was it— was it a good one?” You asked him shyly, still trying to get your breath under control.

“A good… Oh. Stars, cyar’ika.” Echo groaned and cursed under his breath, but his next words were softly spoken, a touch of concern in them. “Are you sure about that?”

“Yes, please, come here,” you said, more determined this time. You stood up and unlocked the door, but an accidental glance made you stop at your reflection in one of the panels. “Oh, wow, I look like a mess. First, I’ll need some time to fix myself.”

“Don’t even bother, ner cyar’ika, I’m planning on making a bigger mess of you. Over, Fourtwelve.”

The static at disconnecting the channel drowned your drawn-out moan, and you plumped down on your seat. It seemed that in this one, the receptionist managed to find a torrid romance for themselves at the end.

You couldn’t wait for your reward.

TagList! Let me know if you want to be added/removed, please

@motte-the-goblin @fenharel-enaste @nahoney22 @stunkbiggu @gt13tbbart @dangraccoon

#tbbaw2023 #tbb echo #x reader #tbb echo x reader #echo smut #smut #star wars smut #sunset writes

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bishy437 · 3 months

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he won

bonus:

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bagofstars · 9 months

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#creative writing #creative photography #sunset writes #love

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cracklewink · 2 months

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Harmony Syndrome Part 5/5

The last chapter of my mlp infection AU! Thank you to everyone who followed along. Some final thoughts on my twitter @cracklewink if anyone's interested : )

#mlp #my little pony #mlp infection au #mlp infection #twilight sparkle #Sorry for leaving the ending open ended but I genuinely couldnt decide on just one way for things to turn out and I liked the idea of #leaving it open the most #in my mind sunset's final message is like we found a recording from the later days of the infection and we dont know what happened in the #end because the recordings stopped/ended #In any case I think they were able to put twilight and the others to rest #but who knows who survived the “final battle” and who didnt #also yes Twilight created harmony syndrome but not on purpose lol #it was the result of her botched attempt to create a spell that makes ponies immortal #obviously it backfired lol #and the irony is that twilight ends up dying before any of her friends #if they didnt want me writing my little pony horse tragedy they shouldnt have left mlpfim off on the note that all of twilight's friends #were growing old without her #ending thats been haunting me for five years #if anyones seeing this this is an open au btw so feel free to adopt any of the ideas if you like! : )#tw thanatophobia #thanatophobia

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mournfulroses · 26 days

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Margaret Atwood, from True Stories: Poems; "Sunset II," originally published in 1981

#lit #margaret atwood #poetry #quote #words #fragments #writings #sunset II #typography #true stories: poems #p

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perfectquote · 1 month

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You can never replace anyone because everyone is made of such beautiful, specific details.

Before Sunset (2004), Richard Linklater

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dapper-lil-arts · 3 months

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The Inheritors of Night and Day

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blueskiesofsaturn · 1 year

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Part 4 hehe :) <-<- First || <- Part 3 || Part 5 ->

#rottmnt #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt raph #tmnt #rise of the tmnt #myart #fanart #fancomic #rottmnt fanart #comic #tmnt once in a blue moon #I sure went out of my way to write a sunset duo chapter and then broke the “rise bechdel test” by making them talk about leo half the time #oops lmao

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verademialove · 5 months

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“I guess when you are young, you believe that you will meet many people with whom you'll connect with, but later in life you realize it only happens a few times.”

Before Sunset (2004)

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caelanglang · 1 year

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Living Longer

a message for someone on the edge…

from the waters of the sea, to the sands of the beach, to the concrete of the city, to the floorboards of your home — i hope you’ll be proud of yourself for living longer.

#tw sui ideation #tw blood #a message to myself #but I hope it reaches to those who needed it too #if you’re reading this I’m sending you a big warm hug #and I’m proud of you for making it this far :))#let’s all try to live a bit longer like dazai :3 #the latest chapter is a tease he is definitely gonna make it guys !! ><#and yes I will never let go of my fixation on dazai and sunsets I’m sorry I’m not #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd dazai #dazai osamu #my art #my writing #I hope this means something to you bc writing this out meant a lot to me #my comic

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doublesunsets · 9 months

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Wild Nights

Crosshair x female!reader PWP - NSFW Word Count: 2k

Request from @freesia-writes

(...) either Crosshair or Hunter taking their time absolutely tantalising a fem reader until she’s nearly feral… You can “finish” or not.

Note: Hopefully it gets close to what you had in mind, Free! I'm not so sure about the tantalising part, but there's definitely some teasing 😁.

I have no idea what happened here, Crosshair wanted that, don't ask me. It went a little bit out of hand, so I turned it into a proper one-shot. First time writing Crosshair, please be kind, he is hard (no pun intended). Extremely indulgent. Training room fantasies, am I right? Timeline is before Order 66, in case anyone wants to know.

This was so much fun, thank you again for the request! 💜 -Sunset

✩Ao3 Link

The drops of sweat fell down your neck as you tried to stabilise your heart. You knew what to do, deep breath, one, two, let it out, and your heart slowly went back to its normal rhythm. The rain threw itself to the floor to ceiling window of the training room, while the waves crashed as well, making it impossible to distinguish which way was the water coming from. You hated being stationed in Kamino, it was like being trapped inside a gigantic washing cycle. Only storms and sleepless nights spent alone in a training room.

“Odd hours for a training session.”

The deep voice startled you, and you turned around quickly. Its owner was watching you, lounging at the door like a wave just brought him there. He was… strange for a clone, was he even a clone? Maybe he was a bounty hunter like you, but then why would he be wearing the black glove of the Republic? He had to be. Those muscles were too perfect to not be engineered, and those legs looked good enough to—

“Are you done?”

You spluttered, embarrassed at being caught ogling him, and put your hands on your hips in an attempt to command some respect. “Identify yourself, trooper.”

“Crosshair.” He squared his shoulders and entered the room, letting the door slide close after him. “I know who you are, I’ve seen you training regs.”

“Is that what you want? Some training?”

“There’s nothing you could teach me.” He took a studiously slow step towards you and you repressed the urge to take one back. Something about the way he moved made him look dangerous, even if he was unarmed. “But there is something that I want. You.”

“Is that so?”

“Let’s say, I have you in my scope.” The mirth in his eyes told you there was a joke there that you were not getting, but the tone of his voice didn’t let any doubt about what he was actually saying.

“Please, you wouldn’t even know what to do with me,” your tone of voice matched his sassy one to your surprise. Why were you enabling him? Oh, Maker, were you flirting? Were overconfident clones your type tonight?

He stopped in front of you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him, a high contrast with the cold room. “We could make it a game. We could see how long it takes until I turn you into a whimpering mess.”

While he spoke, he started circling around you, a brief touch to your arm, his fingers drawing the curve of your hip. When he reached your other side, you looked over your shoulder to his warm eyes. By the suns, he was smoking hot. His white hair fell down on his forehead, and it was blinding under the neon lights of the facility. Blast it, if he wanted to play, you could play. What he was offering was definitely better than training by yourself, there was nothing wrong in taking it. You raised your chin and turned to face him, and he took it as the permission it was. He half-smiled, the corner of his lip barely pulling up, and circled your wrist with his fingers.

“Good choice.”

“You sure think highly of yourself, don’t you?”

He didn’t respond, just let his fingers travel up, through the back of your arm, with enough pressure that the contact felt oddly grounding. From your shoulder, he followed then the angle of your collarbone to the hollow of your neck and rested his palm flat there, on top of your breastbone, his fingertips just grazing your neck.

It made you feel conscious about your heart, which was thundering against his palm. Deep breath, one, two, let it out. He made a non-committal noise, and his hand slid up your neck until his nails grazed the hair of your nape, his thumb resting under your jawbone. He put some pressure into it and you allowed him to lift your head.

Meticulously, he bowed his head to you and his breath fanned over your neck. You waited for lips that never came.

“Are you not going to do anything?” You told him, tone annoyed despite yourself. He was getting under your skin too fast for your liking.

“I am.” His lips were still not touching you, but for a second you felt the tip of his nose trace the skin under your ear.

“A conversationalist.”

Crosshair huffed and before you could make another sarcastic comment about it, he grabbed your shoulder and spun you around, making your back collide with his chest. His hand was grabbing now the front of your neck, still forcing your head up, which rested on his shoulder. You closed your eyes and felt his strong body at your back, a solid wall that burned like the scorching sand of Tatooine. His chest was still, almost like he wasn’t breathing, barely moving, and while he was not choking you, the strength and precision of those fingers was clear to you. A thrill went down your spine at the thought.

“You are a sniper.”

He actually chuckled at that, and got closer to your ear, brushing his lips softly against its shell, lowering his sibilant voice. “Clever girl.”

You reached back and clawed at his thighs, but he clearly wasn’t planning on rushing. He started tracing down your figure with his free hand, the curve of your breast, down your stomach, and over your hipbone. One finger sneaked itself under the waistband of your leggings, and stayed there. As a promise.

He barely had touched you but you felt your knees weak already, and refused to let him know that. Trying to break your resolution, his lips dropped to your pulse point, delicately, and a whimper struggled to escape your throat. You swallowed it down in a harsh breath, but your nails sank down harder into the firm muscle. He didn’t flinch, though, Crosshair carried on down your neck, turning them into wet kisses and leaving a trail that quickly cooled down on your skin. The goosebumps were because of that, you lied to yourself.

“I’ve been thinking about this for so long,” he hissed, almost like he was talking to himself. “Seeing those regs poor attempts at flirting with you was painful to watch. Someone as extraordinary as yourself deserves only extraordinary things.”

“And are you?” You breathed, wetting your lips. “Extraordinary?”

“You have no idea.”

A thunder reverberated in the room and you gasped, pushing yourself harder against him. His hand took advantage of it and abandoned your neck, travelling down to your breast, and started kneading it over your clothes.

The solid presence of his body behind you exuded power and confidence, he had you in his hands, quite literally, and he hadn’t needed to do anything. The most intoxicating feeling was the delicacy of his movement and what hid behind it. Because you could feel the restraint, the tension in his body. You realised, then. This man could wreck you, take you with the same violence as the storm outside, but instead he was waiting, like a snake coiled, ready to strike.

He knew what he was doing, he was waiting, looking through his scope. Waiting until you put yourself in front of his crosshair so he had a clean shot.

The bastard wanted you to beg.

You tried to breathe. One, two. Your legs were trembling. One, two. He bit your earlobe. One, two. He pinched your nipple. One, two. Dank Farrik.

“Crosshair, I need yo—“

You didn’t have to finish your sentence.

In a smooth movement, his hand sneaked inside your clothes and grabbed firmly your whole cunt. A whine left your throat and you heard him snickering behind you.

“Still not moaning,” you told him, breathless, but steady.

“You speak with too much dignity for someone this wet for me.”

You felt his fingers slid between your labia, through that wetness that sure enough was there, probably since the moment those eyes pierced into yours. Finally, unhurriedly, he penetrated you with two fingers, finding no resistance, only a warm and drenched welcome. You wanted to scream at him to move faster, but refused to give him the satisfaction and grabbed his thighs, enveloping them completely this time, and squeezed hard.

“You are missing the show,” he rasped, while he started kissing your neck again.

It took you a moment to realise what he meant, his fingers were only barely intruding and his kisses were more a dragging of lips, but your mind was drunk with his presence. You opened your eyes and there, in front of you, you saw yourself. Reflected in the window, with the storm as a background, and Crosshair right behind you. One hand between your legs, while the other grabbed your breast desperately, he returned your gaze.

And he looked devastated.

The visual crumbled your resolve, without looking away you opened your mouth and the lewd sounds he wanted came out of it. He closed his eyes and buried his face in your hair, and you felt a sigh break loose. Crosshair dragged his fingers out of you, and dead on target went directly to your clit and circled it in tight motions almost violently. Your body jerked in his arms, after all the pent-up sensations the intensity hit you perfectly, and soon a fire began to concentrate in you, begging to spread out.

You were dimly aware of Crosshair humping your behind, panting heavily still with his face hidden in your hair, while the frantic pace of his fingers started to match the rhythm of his hips. Your moans were not the only sound in the room now and hearing him whimper against your skin was almost enough to take you over the edge. Almost.

Emboldened and a little bit desperate for your release, you lifted your arm and reached behind you, grabbing his hair and yanking until his face was next to yours. He hissed but it was silenced quickly by your bruising kiss, that he accepted enthusiastically. The moment your lips parted, his tongue invaded your mouth and you yanked at his hair again while a white heat spread like wildfire inside you. Crosshair swallowed your scream, and kept massaging you until you rode it out completely.

By the time you came back, he had stopped humping against you and was simply slumped over your shoulder, hugging you from behind, one hand still inside your clothes. You were still pulling at his hair, so you untangled your fingers gently and stroked the side of his head.

“I don’t know how this game of yours worked, but I feel like I won,” you whispered.

You heard a dry chuckle as his body vibrated slightly against yours.

Outside, the storm had subsided a little bit.

Your new assignment was supposed to meet you at Hangar-19 ten minutes ago. If you were lucky enough, they had left already and you could go back to bed, you thought to yourself, strolling leisurely through the halls of Tipoca City. You were not in the mood to start a several rotations mission with a new team.

The bastard, as you had started calling him, left shortly after your encounter with flimsy excuses about early calls. You had wanted to search for him in the database, only to realise that he never told you his number, so you had no way of finding him.

When you arrived at the hangar, an Omicron-class attack shuttle threw your hopes out into the ocean. Their owners, clad in black armour, were waiting for you at the ramp and one of them approached you while you tried to remember the rank and name they had given you. Maybe you should have read further than the two first lines.

“I’ve been told to meet with my new assignment here, Sergeant…”

“Hunter. We were expecting you, yes.” He turned and your eyes followed the direction of his hand to the rest of the team. “This is Clone Forc-“

“Crosshair!” You gasped as his white hair came into view when he removed his helmet. Crosshair smirked and puffed out his chest at your reaction.

“Ah! You know her? Nice!”

“This explains where you were last night.”

Your new assignment looked pretty interesting out of the sudden.

Tag list (reminder to let me know if you are not interested in being tagged or if you want to be included!)

@motte-the-goblin @fenharel-enaste @nahoney22

#crosshair x reader #tbb fanfiction #tbb crosshair #fic request #smut #star wars smut #sunset writes

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bagofstars · 9 months

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#creative writing #creative photography #sunset writes

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thoughtkick · 1 month

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You can never replace anyone because everyone is made of such beautiful, specific details.

Before Sunset (2004), Richard Linklater

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asoftepiloguemylove · 17 days

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William Shakespeare // pinterest // Feel Good (2020-2021) cr. Joe Hampson & Mae Martin // Natalie Diaz These Hands, If Not Gods // Sandra Cisneros Woman at Hollering Creek: Stories; "Never Marry a Mexican" // Holland NUMBER BOY // Richard Siken Crush // 스물다섯 스물하나 Twenty-Five Twenty-One (2022) dir. Jung Ji-hyun // Sappho // Dodie She // Maureen Seaton Furious Cooking; "Swan Lake" // unknown // Frank Ocean Forrest Gump // แปลรักฉันด้วยใจเธอ I Told Sunset About You / I Promised You the Moon (2020-2022) dir. Naruebet Kuno & Tossaphon Riantong // Danez Smith Recklessly (via @tendermimi)

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zorosdimples · 24 days

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DUSK, RESPLENDENT

pairing ⟢ astarion x gn!reader

warnings ⟢ minors: please do not interact! i will block you. not sexually explicit, but highly suggestive… smut-lite! descriptions of blood, blood sucking, bite marks, scars, etc. this occurs after astarion first feeds from tav. reader has breasts and a vagina and is called “beautiful” once (i swiped a line from the game).

word count ⟢ 1208

notes ⟢ this particular scenario has been rotting my brain since september. my first official bg3 fic—please enjoy!

It’s impossible to miss the heat of his crimson gaze scorching your flesh.

You’ve felt it ever since the night you discovered his secret: that quiet evening when the stars shined as silent sentinels, the embers of the campfire danced into ash, and the ghost of a breath roused you. You offered Astarion your neck—swanlike, untouched, vital—prey allowing predator a taste of divinity as he buried his glistening fangs into your skin. Agony bled into a hazy euphoria as the vampire fed on your lifeblood. You barely had enough stamina to push him off (lest he leave you drained and lifeless), rivulets of you the color of his irises running from his gums to his chin, dripping onto the forest floor.

Many moons have since passed, though your mind always revisits the feeling of his weight atop yours, the strength of his jaw, the vitality in his sated stare. The sun starts its golden descent as you bathe in a creek by camp. You scrub your skin with vigor, almost without care as you seek to shed layers of sweat, grime, and gore. The midsummer air is stifling and the cicadas play their shrill song, but the chilly caress of the water makes you giddy.

It takes no small effort, but once your hair and body are stripped bare (clean enough), you remain in the water and watch pinks and oranges and yellows bleed and bloom across the wide sky. Some may say that resting for even a moment in a situation like yours—with a mindflayer parasite in your brain—is to accept death. But if you were to die at this very moment, surrounded by beauty? You couldn’t dream of a more peaceful end.

You feel your visitor’s presence before you see or hear him. It starts as an itch at your nape, nagging and unsettling—insistent. “Enjoying the view?” The playful lilt of Astarion's smooth voice never fails to set your nerves alight.

As you turn to face him, the water laps at your collarbone. You spy the pale elf along the bank, donning only his breeches. Cheeky bastard. “I could ask you the same,” you quip.

“I am indeed.” Lithe fingers tease the waistband of his pants. “But I can't help but feel as though something is missing.”

Walking a few steps toward the shore, you reveal more flesh, water skimming the top of your breasts. “It wouldn’t happen to be a rogue vampire, would it?”

“And if it is?”

“He should join.”

You sink beneath the creek’s surface, allowing him some privacy and urging your face to cool down. When you plant your feet on the silty ground and stand up, you rub crystalline droplets from your eyes and blink a few times before your companion comes into focus.

“Hello, beautiful,” he greets with a smirk before approaching you, dexterous fingers grasping and pulling at the fat around your hips. “I can't help but feel as though you’ve been avoiding me.”

Without thinking, your fingers weave through Astarion's moonbeam hair, gently tugging on the curls. The elf pulls you closer with a pleased hum. “Whatever gave you that impression?” you ask.

“Don’t play coy; I haven't so much as gotten a breath alone with you.” His gaze softens; you see a flash of vulnerability, but all too soon, it disappears. “Do you…regret this?” A chilly thumb grazes the puckered scar on your neck. The featherlight touch plucks a shudder from you, your spine bowing—strung for him.

“Quite the opposite,” you admit. Your attention flits down to his lips. Maker, you know they would feel divine dancing with your own, slipping down to carry the tune across your flesh, skating lower and lower until—

“So,” he says, palms sweeping up your arms and the slope of your shoulders until they rest on either side of your neck. He strokes the delicate flesh, his touch unhurried yet charged; restless. “You wouldn’t begrudge me another taste, hm?”

Perhaps you should be embarrassed by how eagerly you want this to happen, how many times you’ve envisioned him tasting your blood again—and perhaps tasting something more (such thoughts have fueled many solitary searches for pleasure within the canvas walls of your tent). But living in the dusky shadows of near-certain death has made you hopelessly brazen.

You lean in, petal-soft lips grazing one of his pointed ears. “It’s yours for the taking.”

Astarion’s irises darken at your words, pools of congealed blood. He drops his head and presses a lingering, open-mouthed kiss to your scar, his molten breath warming your body, melding you to his touch.

He bares his fangs and bites you, piercing the puffy tissue, a satisfied groan rumbling his throat and resonating in your veins. The pain is dizzying but dulls quickly, the jarring sensation of knife-sharp incisors tearing your flesh carried away by the flow of the creek. Fuzzy pleasure soon clouds your mind. The sloppy lap of the elf’s tongue against your wound is all you can discern; you want to feel him everywhere.

The vampire’s moans shudder deep within his chest and reverberate through your body from where you're connected, vibrating lower until they settle in your core. A delicious pressure rocks against your belly and seems to relish the softness. It feels like he gluts for an eternity—like this is all you know—housed within a single, precious breath.

When Astarion surfaces, fangs retracting, you stumble in his embrace, coming down from your high. The ache of want remains as you rest your forehead against his freckled shoulder, and morphs into need as your vision clears. His eyes are unfocused, crazed with bloodlust; you’ve never seen them so red, glowing like moonlit wine. His chin is slick with ichor, and—absentmindedly or not, it’s impossible to tell—his tongue darts out to mop up some of the remnants of your sweetness.

One, two, three heaves of your chests pass before you crash together with a swiftness that betrays desperation, errant waves succumbing to the tide.

You never liked the tang of your blood until you tasted it on Astarion’s silken lips. It’s…cloying. The syrupy copper overwhelms your senses as the elf smears a claret gash across your mouth. He drunkenly sucks on your tongue, fangs nicking the muscle, urging you to give him more. Your fingers twist and twirl the pearly down that covers his chest as he squeezes your ass, pulling you so close that not even a whisper could get between you. You’re engulfed in a heady fire, one that can’t be put out by the cool water around you—especially as the vampire’s cock nestles between your clenched thighs, bumping against your clit.

A crashing sound in the surrounding forest interrupts your shared bliss. The moon ascended and the stars awoke while you were wrapped up in one another. Lightning bugs glimmer and flit through the dark woods, and you know that you both need to leave. Supper will be soon; any absences will be noticed. But before he pulls away, Astarion places a prim kiss on your lips.

“Meet me by the campfire after everyone else has fallen asleep,” he whispers against your cheek.

Your heart trills as you watch him disappear into the night—excited for the adventure to come.

#if this is messy i’m sorry i just had to let it go. it’s imperfect but it’s full of love (and lust)#banner is a detail of ‘sunset on the sea’ (1872) by john frederick kensett #astarion x reader #bg3 x reader #astarion <3 #༄ kae writes

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