#They feel like they need light colored hair.

[freeluigihesbae]

𝓫𝓾𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓯𝓵𝓲𝓮𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓭𝓮𝓮𝓻 𝓮𝔂𝓮𝓼 - 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝟐

(3,362 words)

part 1

summary:

luigi fell in love with you for those sparkling eyes where his dreams of falling in love first came true. but how did it happen?

(*) - picture only for outfit, not physical appearance of reader.

𝗍𝗐: 𝗇𝗈𝗇𝖾

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Luigi couldn't sleep the entire night, twisting and turning after intermittent 15 minute periods of shitty sleep because he couldn't forget your eyes. Those orbs had so much love and concern in them he might as well place you in a field full of flowers, and he wouldn't be able to distinguish you from them.

It was like someone gave him a potion to drink, except it didn't have to touch his tongue; only his eyes.

What were you?

He kept asking himself the same question.

Now, it's not different. Luigi grabs the phone from his nightstand.

3:34 am

He groans, throwing his face into the bed. There was nothing to do to compensate for the sensations he felt when he looked into your eyes. And those weren't just any eyes to him, no no no. They were these doe eyes, perfectly round and enrapturing like they were meant for him to see and better yet, drown in.

He opens his eyes, staring at the ceiling while letting his mind do its work and paint the memory, which he watched dancing around in the space above him.

Love at first sight isn't the right phrase because something is beautifully obsessive with how he feels. He wants to hold you and look back into the world you hold in your eyes.

He thinks about your eyes, thinking of them akin and second to the Earth. Colorful, yet they were only one color. Bright, yet they didn't shine unless the sun draped its light over them. He doesn't care though, because he doesn't need the world around him to supplement the love and glimmer that he already saw.

In a room pitch dark, he knows your eyes would be the stars it was missing.

Luigi forces himself to close his eyes, squeezing and un-squeezing them but refusing to open them again because if he did, he'd be staring right back into your eyes and that was going to kill him.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You wake up, groaning at once when you realize that stupid cast is still on your leg. It isn't helping that you have a ridiculous number of credits, clubs, and extracurriculars that you had to stop participating in for the sake of your injury. Guilt has its side effects.

It's 7am, and you push yourself out of bed, grabbing the back of your leg for support. There's nothing to look forward to today, you think, as you make your way to the bathroom. You pat your head, realizing your hair looks like a nest which you didn't need a mirror to confirm, but nevertheless, it leads you to your dirty mirror.

You blink a few times at the bright light you turn on, shoving your face into your hands before looking up.

Your eyes widen. You remember the instance from yesterday, where you bumped into Luigi and- and-

You have a date? with him at 3pm!

Your eyes widen, neck straightening out awkwardly before you cough and smoothen yourself out. You quickly turn the faucet on, feeling a small rush of energy before you get yourself ready for a 9am class.

You already knew who Luigi was, but you never knew his name. You saw him on posters and countless pictures that were hung or shared around campus. Rumors used to spread that he'd be with the new hot girl on campus, one of whom was Ash.

Ash was your closest friend but because of conflicted schedules, you hadn't got the time to catch up but nevertheless, she had messaged you that her homecoming crush had rejected her. A call with treats and a nice relaxing session was in the works for later that evening, but for now, you focused on getting ready to push through your AM classes.

You run and turn the water, letting the warm droplets hug you in all their sweetness as you hum away a nice, relaxing tune.

You realize you're hugging yourself, rubbing slowly. Luigi's hands suddenly come to memory, wishing yours rubbing around your body were his instead, no matter what they were doing. You remember the way his features had softened and spilled with adoration when he saw your crying face.

You hate to admit it, but the moment you pulled you into the hug and placed his hand in that comforting, reassuring manner on the back of your head, you felt butterflies. But not just any butterflies - no no no. These were butterflies that were iridescent and awoke a certain desire to stay in his arms and beg the universe to make the stars align so that at some point, he'd hold you again.

You had enjoyed your time at Penn, but watching everyone else get into a relationship had done its job, wearing down on you. It's not that getting into a relationship just because everyone else was, was the important thing. Rather, it seemed nice: comfort, kisses, hugs - having someone that truly cared about you and could be the one-point failure.

Except, they wouldn't be a failure if they really were the one for you.

But, you can't keep your hopes up too high. After all, Luigi was just feeling bad about snapping at you and this was a perfectly appropriate way to say sorry - the cast gave you extra points so if there's anything good coming from it, you sure hope your meet-up will be the one.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Luigi tries to focus, but can't find it in himself to glue his eyes onto the teacher's screen like he should.

It was 2:30pm and the last thing he cared about was his damn class.

"You must be regretting what you did with Ash, huh?" Luigi's friend, Arvind, nudges him in the ribs for which Luigi scoffs about and turns to respond to.

"Nah. I don't know why you guys made her think I like her because I never did." Luigi is curt - the last thing he wants to think about is Ash and the whole fiasco from yesterday.

"Listen man. That was their idea. I didn't take any part in it. Just want the best man to have someone to go to HOCO with." Arvind snickers but his eyes soften when he watches Luigi's face stay the same. "You okay? What's on your mind bro?" Arvind asks with real concern this time and Luigi smiles before turning away and fiddling with his fingers.

Here goes nothing, Luigi thinks, before sharing the secret inside of him.

"I think I have a date?" Luigi blurts it out, trying to get the words out of him as fast as possible.

Arvind's jaw drops.

"Yo, were you seeing another chick this entire t-" "She's not a chick, and no, I just met her yesterday." Luigi's smile disappears as he internally rolls his eyes. Of course this is what Arvind would say - why did everything have to be so unserious and so...degrading?

Where was true love? Not the time, Luigi thinks, as Arvind is jumping around in his seat.

"You bagged a chick in less than a day BRO," Arvind is shaking Luigi's shoulder, who's biting his tongue, wishing his friend would shut up. "You gonna get laid after the date?" Arvind is laughing to himself and Luigi can't stand it any longer, pushing his chair back before nearly spitting his next few words out.

"She's not a chick. She's a woman and I think I have a date to get to know her and treat her better than you and all the others guys in our stupid friend group ever would." Luigi stands tall, looking down on Arvind whose features contort into shock. "That's what I thought. All of you are so damn shallow." Luigi quips and walks away, thankful that everyone else was leaving class because he could hardly wait.

He pushes the doors open, bracing himself for the cold while running through hundreds of scenarios for how Cafe Amore would go, unable to contain his excitement. His previous anger dies down as his mind is now refocused on you, letting his mind flicker back to your beautiful eyes.

He forgets that he never got your name because he's already calling you something else in his mind. A name he hopes he never has to stop uttering.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Your 2pm class just finished, which meant you had no time to get ready. You limp out of the building as fast as you can, where you just completed the class and to your luck, Cafe Amore is right across the street.

You whip out your phone, fixing your hair and thankful you took the time to get ready half well before putting it away.

You're wearing a shorter-length, high rise and black leather skirt with a baby pink satin shirt tucked in*. Your belt is silver, with small charms lining the links it's made of. Your hair is in a faux ponytail, thanks to the claw clip you used earlier. You know you look good because there's never a day where you go without compliments, but it was those butterflies again.

You wanted to look good for Luigi and it was hard to admit that you looked perfectly fine.

You walk into the cafe, closing your eyes at the sweet smells of tea and chocolate that permeate the air. You take a deep breath in before walking over to the very back, choosing an isolated booth to set your bag down before quickly fixing your outfit and looking out the window.

The sun is yet again in your company, it's warmth making you feel less alone despite Luigi not sitting in front of you. You lean your head against the window, smiling as you wondered what your little meet-up would be like.

You question why you're feeling so invested, like this was an actual date. It wasn't, it really wasn't, but something in the way he held you yesterday tells you otherwise about, not this being a date, but about what existed between the two of you.

The time is 2:58pm, and you calm yourself, knowing that Luigi would come.

He does.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Luigi is panting, running through the crowds of students hoarding the sidewalk as he tried to find the cafe. He completely forgot that his class was on the other side of campus, nearly half a mile away from the cafe. It would take ten minutes exactly by walk, but by the time he walked out of class, it was 2:51pm.

That means he had to run.

So he did.

Thanks to his efforts, he checks the time to see a wonderfully sitting 2:59pm. He takes a moment to set his back against the glass of the cafe, watching his own breath create vapor in the atmosphere before turning around and fixing his curls. He thinks he looks stupid but in this moment, he draws on the compliments his friends had always thrown him and takes the risk, opening the door and walking in.

The cafe is busy and warm, which Luigi quietly thanks them for, but no matter where he turns his head, he doesn't find you.

Panic slowly builds up as he walks around, tilting his head and checking each table. People start to look at him oddly and after 30 seconds, he thinks that you're not here.

In a last ditch effort, he turns the corner away from the front counter and walks towards the back, where he always studied. No-one ever went to sit there, especially since the cafe owners made it a point to reserve it for him due to the lack of traffic around the place.

He knew you wouldn't be there, but still, it was worth a try.

He walks forward, eyes slightly crest-fallen while holding onto hope you might've sat there. From his line of vision, he can't see the inside of the booth since he's standing directly behind it.

After a few steps more, his lips part and he gasps.

There you are.

Your head is perched against the glass but your eyes are closed, letting out tiny breaths as you're clearly fast asleep. Luigi can't help but close his fists, feeling his entire body viscerally react with adoration as he took in the details of the satin wrapping itself around your frame, one that was much smaller than his. He appreciates the sunlight reflecting it's beauty on the faux stones that line your earrings, all while staring at your lips that were dutifully lined with lip gloss.

It's illegal, he thinks, that he can't kiss you in this moment.

But the one thing he was waiting for the most was your eyes.

Luigi walks over before sliding into the opposite booth, sitting down and quietly setting down his items. He hesitates, but finally slides a hand onto one of yours, that's innocently sitting on the table. His index fingers slowly reach out, as he's gulping in fear of you getting scared.

"Hey." He softly speaks, tapping the inside of your half out-stretched palm and slowly, he watches your eyes flutter open, eyelashes stuck together. Your head lifts up, making him quietly giggle at the red spot on the side of your head that was leaning on the window. Your lips smack together slowly as he watches you lick your lips and finally, finally.

You look into his eyes.

Luigi thinks he's going to pass out just from how breathtaking the sight is. You're just waking up from your sleep, unaware of the world around you for a few seconds and in that time, Luigi reads it all. He basks in the way your eyes glimmer in the autumn sun that's quietly adding to the ambience.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You gasp, realizing you fell asleep for a few minutes.

"Luigi I'm so sorry. Oh my god-" You cover your mouth gently, not wanting to mess up your make-up before you hear him laugh.

"You look really pretty when you sleep. I don't mind at all." His fingers are in your palm, you realize, which he only adds to by squeezing his fingers around. You take in a small breath, eyes fluttering again as you feel the electricity between both of yours' skin.

"Oh." You quietly respond, but inside, you're scrambling for a good response. Was he flirting? Was this real?

You stare back into his eyes which are intently watching you. It doesn't take a detective to see how he's desperate. What for, you can't tell, but there's a certain boyish desire you see twinkling in his pupils, thanks to the sunlight.

"So..." Luigi starts, smirking at your expression. He knows exactly what he's doing, you think, before you parrot him.

"So..." You giggle before he pulls his hand away. Instantly, you miss it but you don't say a thing, because this isn't a date.

"What can I get for you on our date?" Luigi asks and his eyes widen before he's stuttering. "I-I- didn't mean that it's just like casual - what do you want to eat?" He asks, waving his hands around and before you can answer, he slaps himself across the face. "D-Do you want to drink something? I can get you something to eat with it. You don't have to eat something because the two aren't like- like mutually exclusive-" "How about we check the menu together?" You cut him off, giggling ridiculously hard at how nervous he is. He looks up at you and he fights back every urge to close his eyes, unable to take the stare coming from your now crescent shaped eyes, adorably crinkled from your laughter.

Luigi stops, letting out a breath before he looks up to his side. You're already standing up and holding out your hand. He gulps before sliding his hand into his, nearly fainting at the size difference.

You're feigning confidence but in truth, it's overwhelming when he stands up. He's at least half a foot taller than you and it's taking everything in you to not fold into half and let him carry you to the counter instead.

"I'm sorry if I walk a bit slow, this cast is really holding me back. Sometimes I wish someone would carry me everywhere." You snort, tightening your grip around his hand but he furrows his eyebrows.

"Did you have a long walk to the cafe?" Luigi asks and you can tell there's genuine pain in his eyes because it's true.

Luigi feels pain bloom inside thinking about how you probably had to drag your foot across the stupid campus. Did he want to punch the fibers of fate for doing this to you?

Maybe.

You stutter but decide to lie a little, just to test his water.

"Y-Yeah I had a long walk here." You say, biting your lip when Luigi's face becomes even sadder.

"I'll help you with that." Luigi says, his face serious and you tilt your head, questioning him silently. No need to speak, because he answers by tipping you back and picking you up bridal style and you squeal, wrapping your hands around his neck and widening your eyes.

"I-Is this okay?" Fuck, Luigi stares into your eyes and feels his own knees shake before he brushes the thoughts away, smiling at your reaction.

"L-Luigi you don't need to do this I was ki- OH!" You jump when he throws you up a little to adjust your position in his arms, making you giggle and dig your face into the crook of his neck.

"You're such a menace. Put me down." You try to fake seriousness, but you both know you're lying. You totally love it and he doesn't think twice before not believing you.

"Too bad." Luigi starts walking and you can't stop the laughter spilling from your lips as you repeat yourself, increasingly more unserious every time and Luigi finds himself giggling too. You both ignore the stares from others in the cafe, lost in your own world of the hilariousness of the situation.

Luigi sighs before putting you down gently, smack dab in the front of the counter where the cashier is staring incredulously. You throw your head back, laughing and watching Luigi cover his face.

"I can't believe I just did that." Luigi mutters and you slap his chest.

"I can't either but I-" you stop yourself, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of saying you liked it, but you can't stop the intensity of his stare.

His curly locks are spilling over his hairline, sharp jawline complimenting his stubble and high nose bridge. His look is curious yet intense, desperate to know what you are going to say.

"You?" Luigi stares at you, waiting for you to finish your sentence and you part your lips, moving in an inch closer-

"Ahem." The cashier is staring at you both with a blank expression and it makes you both stand apart, like a pair of thieves just found guilty.

You were... but let's move on.

You and Luigi share a look before he reluctantly looks at the menu, rambling away about what his favorite pastries and dishes were. You stare at him lovingly, hanging onto every word he spoke with intention.

"Get the strawberry - caramel coffee. It's the best thing they have and," Luigi stops talking before looking you up and down. "It matches your outfit." It evokes a stupid laugh from your mouth and Luigi has to bend, keeping his hand on your back to stop your from falling.

"Okay." You nod, moving to open your purse to pay but the cashier is already saying a soft thank you and moving to get your drinks and pastries.

"What?" You ask and turn to look at Luigi, who's got a mischievous yet arrogant smirk on his face.

"Apple Pay. Used my watch, bambi." Luigi says, ignoring the look of surprise on your face.

Bambi.

He just called you bambi.

That seals the deal for you because for the rest of the date, he keeps calling you sweet things, dropping bambi every now and then to reignite the butterflies which are now desperate to escape.

Desperate to escape by making you smash your lips on his. Or the other way around. :')

~

starting taglists soon. if u want to be added to it, please comment on my PINNED POST on my blog, not on my other posts. thank u!

[nickeverdeen]

Fireworks | Vi x fem!reader

Pairings: Vi x reader (romantic)

Type of fic: Fluff, Small Comfort

Warnings: Light Flashbacks

Summary: Going on a date with you is something was very much looking forward to and while taking you to a promised location there’s a change of plans when a certain public event pops up.

——————————

Vi stood in front of the mirror, feeling uncharacteristically nervous. It wasn’t like her to fuss over her appearance, but tonight wasn’t just any night—it was a date night with you.

Normally, she wouldn’t bother much, but you deserved better than the usual. So, for the first time in a long while, Vi had made an effort. She’d washed her hair until it gleamed, the faint scent of a spicy, woodsy perfume clinging to her skin. Her usual torn-up jacket was replaced by a fitted button-up shirt and clean pants. The look wasn’t overly fancy, but it was polished enough that she hoped it’d impress you.

She took a deep breath, trying to ignore how much her hands were shaking. It’s just her. She already likes you, idiot.

The knock at her door snapped her out of her thoughts. She opened it to find you standing there, looking stunning as always.

“Wow,” you said, giving her a once-over with a warm smile. “You clean up nice, Vi.”

She smirked, though the tips of her ears turned pink. “Only for you.”

The streets of Piltover were bustling tonight, and you led Vi through the winding pathways, chatting easily about your plans. Vi listened, but her attention was split between your voice and the way your hand brushed against hers as you walked.

When the crowd thickened near the plaza, Vi’s instincts kicked in. Without a second thought, she reached out and took your hand in hers, lacing her fingers through yours.

You glanced back at her with a small smile. “Everything okay?”

“Just… didn’t want to lose you in this mess,” she muttered, squeezing your hand lightly.

You didn’t let go, which made her heart skip a beat.

As you reached the heart of the crowd, Vi suddenly stopped. You noticed her hesitation and turned back, stepping to her side.

“Vi?” you asked, following her gaze.

She was staring up at the sky, her eyes wide and glittering with wonder. You looked up, realizing what had caught her attention—fireworks. Brilliant bursts of color exploded across the dark sky, painting the city in vibrant shades of red, gold, and blue.

“Ah, that’s what all the commotion’s about,” you said, understanding why the streets were so packed. “Fireworks happen a lot here during the season.”

Vi didn’t answer. Her eyes stayed locked on the sky, her expression filled with awe. But as each firework burst, the loud pops and crackles made her flinch, her shoulders tensing involuntarily.

You stepped closer, gently wrapping your arms around her from behind. She stiffened for a moment at your touch but quickly relaxed, leaning into your embrace.

“You okay?” you asked softly, resting your chin on her shoulder.

She hesitated before nodding. “Yeah. Just… remembered something.”

You held her a little tighter, understanding without needing her to say more. You kissed her shoulder gently, offering comfort in silence.

“I’ve never seen them this close before,” Vi admitted after a moment, her voice quiet. “We used to see them sometimes in Zaun, but they were so far away. Like little sparks, not… this.”

You smiled, brushing your thumb over the back of her hand. “Well, now you’re up close. They’re kind of magical, huh?”

“Yeah,” she said, her voice soft, almost reverent. Her gaze flickered down to you, a small smile playing on her lips. “Thanks for bringing me here. Even if it’s… loud.”

“Anytime,” you said, squeezing her hand.

For the rest of the show, you stayed close to her, watching as the fireworks reflected in her eyes, making them sparkle brighter than you’d ever seen. And despite the tension in her frame with every crack and boom, Vi looked happier than she’d been in a long time.

[anakinstwinklebunny]

ANAKIN SKYWALKER HEADCANONS

Author's note: this may be.. different

Anakin Skywalker who has an incredible long-term memory but an awful short-term memory. He is the type to remember something from years ago in painstaking detail—like the exact color of your dress the first time he saw you or a specific phrase you once said that made him laugh—but completely forget why he walked into a room five seconds ago.

He’d be so frustrated with himself, too:

«I can rebuild an entire podracer from memory, but I can’t remember where I put my damn lightsaber five minutes ago!»

If you would just tease him about it, his lips would twist into a pout;

“Well, at least I remembered the anniversary of our first kiss.” (Cue him smugly crossing his arms while you roll your eyes.)

Anakin Skywalker who has a diary that he writes in with a glittery gel pen;

He’d sit cross-legged on his bed in the quarters, hunched over the journal with the sparkly pen in hand, writing furiously:

«Mission Log: Obi-Wan still doesn’t get it. He says I’m reckless, but who saved his ass again today? Oh, right, me. Also, y/n smiled at me when I said goodbye, and I’m not saying it means anything, but maybe it does. Anyway, I need a new purple pen—this one’s running out of glitter ink.»

Anakin Skywalker's diary would be filled with doodles of podracers, little hearts around your name, and the occasional rant about sand;

Humming softly, he bent over the page, scrawling your name in his bold, messy handwriting. He frowned, mumbling under his breath about his uneven letters before shrugging it off. Next to your name, he started to doodle little hearts, as if each colorful heart was the show of his affection. Pink, silver, gold���he used every glittery color he had, filling the margin with love-struck decorations.

He felt ridiculous, like some love-struck teenager, but he didn’t care. This was for you, even if you’d never see it. A quiet, glittery tribute to the person who made the galaxy feel a little less dark.

He paused, tapping the pen against his lips thoughtfully before scribbling, «You’re my favorite everything», right under your name. The ink shimmered in the dim light, catching his eye in a way that made him grin.

A soft knock startled him, and his head snapped up, his heart skipping when your voice came through the door.

“Anakin? You still awake?”

Scrambling, he slapped the diary shut and stuffed it under his pillow, cheeks burning as he tried to change his expression into something casual. “Uh, yeah! Just… meditating!”

When the door slid open and you stepped in, his breath hitched. You were in your sleepwear, hair slightly tousled, and that soft smile on your face made him melt. You tilted your head, eyes narrowing playfully.

“Meditating, huh? With glitter on your fingers?”

He looked down, cursing under his breath at the sparkling pink smudge across his thumb. “Uh… yeah, it’s a new technique.”

Anakin Skywalker who has a sketchbook, where he draws A LOT of things. Podraces, you, ships, speeders, random people on the street

Anakin Skywalker who once brought you flowers after a mission;

He trudged through the Jedi Temple’s halls, boots barely making a sound on the polished floor as he fidgets with the bouquet in his hands. Well, bouquet was a generous term. It was more of a sorry-looking cluster of flowers, their once-vibrant petals now limp and pale, some barely clinging to their stems. A petal fluttered to the ground just as he took another step, and he stopped mid-step to glare at it, like he could will it back into place.

He groaned softly, running a hand through his messy curls, smearing a streak of dirt across his cheek. This had seemed like a good idea earlier. Why does everything he does fall apart before it even gets to you? His pout deepened as he plucked out the most shriveled flower, tossing it to the side with a defeated sigh.

Finally, he reached your chambers. Standing outside the door, he took a deep breath, smoothing down his tunic with his free hand and rearranging the flowers one last time. Maybe if he held them at just the right angle, you wouldn’t notice the sorry state they were in.

The door slid open, and there you were, rubbing sleep from your eyes, your expression softening the second you saw him.

“Ani?” you murmured, stepping aside to let him in.

His voice was unusually sheepish as he held out the flowers, eyes darting everywhere but your face.

“I, uh… I picked these for you. On my mission. But, um… they didn’t exactly survive the wait.”

You looked down at the wilted bouquet in his calloused hands, a few petals already scattered on the floor at his boots.

“They’re perfect,” you said softly, reaching for the flowers.

He blinked, pout fading into something almost hopeful. “You don’t have to say that. They look terrible—”

You cut him off with a kiss, lips pressing to his tenderly, hands resting on his chest. He stiffened for half a second before melting into you, his arms wrapping around your waist, the bouquet forgotten as it dangled by his side.

“You’re such a sweetheart,” you whispered against his lips, kissing him again for good measure.

He huffed, but his cheeks were pink, his free hand gently stroking your back. “I just… wanted you to know I was thinking about you. Even while I was out there. I saw them and thought you’d like them.”

“I love them,” you assured him, cradling his face in your hands, thumbs brushing over the dirt smudges on his cheek. “And I love you for bringing them to me, even if it meant walking through the Temple like this in the middle of the night.”

Anakin Skywalker who sneaked out with you to lower levels of coruscant;

As you passed by a flower stall, the vibrant colors caught his attention. He paused, eyes scanning the rows of flowers, before reaching out and plucking two purple blooms—one light lavender, the other a deep, rich violet.

“Perfect,” he murmured to himself, flashing you a smile as he walked back to you, holding the flowers gently.

“Here,” he tucked the lighter lavender flower behind your ear. Fingers lingered on your skin just for a moment, a little touch, a little enough to make your heart skip a beat. You giggled softly, cheeks flushing.

He grinned mischievously, then slid the darker flower into the breast pocket of his jacket. "For me," voice low, teasing.

You stared at him, smile widening as the warmth spread through you. “Now, that’s a perfect match,” you whispered, giggling.

“Mm-hmm,” the grin on his face stretched even wider. You could see the mischief dancing in his eyes, the way his lips curved up as if to say, «this is my favorite moment ever»

Anakin's face softened for a moment, and then a gleam sparkled in his eyes. “Wait, wait,” he said, holding his hands in front of him like he was about to snap a photo, just like you did. He mimicked your pose, grinning widely “Got it,” he repeated with a smirk.

“Got it,” you said with a laugh, pressing your hands together like you were taking a picture in the air.

Anakin Skywalker who as a young baby used to give you flowers from Jedi temple garden;

“This is for you!” he’d chirp, holding the flower up as if it were the most precious gift in the galaxy.

You’d kneel down to his level, heart melting into a puddle at how shyly he’d avert his gaze, cheeks tinged pink. “For me? It’s beautiful, Ani.”

His smile widened, bright enough to rival with the Coruscant sun. “I thought it’d look pretty on you,” he’d mumble before stepping closer, his small fingers fumbling to tuck it behind your ear.

Affection swelled in your chest as his fingers brushed against your skin, before he’d pull back to inspect his handiwork with thoughtful expression. “There,” he’d declare softly, looking utterly pleased with himself.

Your little arms would wrap tightly around his neck, voice muffled against his shoulder. “Thank you, Ani. You’re my favorite Jedi, you know that?”

“You’re my favorite everything.”

Anakin Skywalker who would eat most of your food he'd find in your chambers

Anakin Skywalker who smells like vanilla

Anakin Skywalker who loves when you stroke his back in the morning while he's still sleepy and just nuzzling to his pillow;

Soft, golden glow of the sunrise gently filtered through the curtains in your chambers , casting a gentle illumination across the side of the room. Anakin laid sprawled across the bed, body entangled in sheets. His breathing was slow and steady, tousled curls sticking to his forehead in a mix of shadows cast by the night and the faint morning light. You, propped up on one arm, tenderly stroked his back, fingertips gliding over his skin while time to time pressing gentle kisses to his bare shoulder. The sensation stirred his body slightly, and he shifted beneath your touch, acting like a contented puppy who curled up to enjoy the affection.

his words laced with a lazy, sleepy drawl. "Don’t stop," he murmured, a soft groan escaping his lips with his eyes remaining closed. With a gentle smile, you continued your gentle caresses, tracing small circles across his back, watching him shift and sigh while his muscles relaxed under your touch.

But as you took your hand away to change your position, he stirred once more, rolling onto his side to face you. His eyes were half-lidded and clouded with the remnants of sleep, a soft, pleading expression in his tone. "C'mon... more... please," his hand reaching out towards you, pulling you closer, fingers grazing along the sheets. You let out a soft chuckle, but without hesitation, drew closer to him and your hand shot out to find itself in his curls. With delicate fingers, you ran them through the soft strands, lightly massaging his scalp, causing a small hitch in his breath.

Anakin Skywalker who read tons of books, watched a lot of videos about gardening all to make you proud that he could seed tulips and make them grow

Anakin Skywalker who secretly sips on your coffee, always muttering that «sharing is caring»

Anakin Skywalker who makes «your mom» jokes

Anakin Skywalker who constantly hacks their stats in every video game he plays

Anakin Skywalker who uses the word «fuck» like a comma.

Anakin Skywalker who definitely has a has a roblox account and even though he's a softie, he bullies some kids there;

He logs in with the most ridiculous username, something like DarthSlayer69, and his avatar is over-the-top—dark cape, glowing red eyes, and a lightsaber accessory. He’s spent way too much time customizing it because, of course, he has to look intimidating.

And then? He enters some innocent game like Adopt Me! or Brookhaven and immediately starts causing mayhem.

"Get off my property, kid," he types in the chat, standing in front of a house he didn’t even buy.

In Tower of Hell, he’d purposely push people off platforms, then type: "Too slow. Guess you weren’t strong enough."

If anyone dared to clap back, he’d go full into fighting back; "Do you know who I am? I’ve fought in wars. You’re just a noob with bad Wi-Fi."

When you walk into the room while he’s cackling at his antics, you took one look at the screen, and roll your eyes.

"Anakin, are you bullying children again?"

"No, angel, I’m teaching them a valuable lesson." He'd say too smugly

Anakin Skywalker who uses two-in-one shampoo and conditioner yet still has the softest hair ever, which obviously makes you mad because you have to use tons of products to make your hair look decent.

Anakin Skywalker who fixes your lightsaber too often;

Anakin leaned back against the workbench, arms crossed over his chest, as he watched you sheepishly place your lightsaber in front of him. His expression was equal parts of amused and exasperated

"Again?" he drawled, raising an eyebrow.

You shrugged, avoiding his gaze as you fiddled with the hem of your tunic. "It... broke."

"It broke," he repeated, tone dripping with mock disbelief. He picked up the hilt, turning it over in his hands like inspecting some troublesome droid. "No, sweetheart, you broke it. What did you do this time? Smash it against a rock? Use it to pry open a door?"

"I didn’t!" you protested, immediately crossing your arms in self-defense. "I was fighting, and—"

"And you lost control," he finished for you, shaking his head with a chuckle. "You know, lightsabers are meant for precision. Not..." He gestured vaguely, as if mimicking you wildly flailing the weapon around.

At the sound of his full title, he grinned, as if it alone was enough to satisfy his ego. Setting the hilt down on the bench, he reached for his tools. "Oh, I’ll fix it. Like I always do. But you know..." He shot you a sly glance. Uh, oh.."If you keep this up, I’m going to start charging you."

Your face flushed at that, and you jabbed a finger at him. "Are you going to fix it or just stand there and tease me all day, Master Skywalker?"

"Charging me?" You blinked, incredulous. "With what? We don’t even use credits in the Order!"

He leaned in closer, smirk deepening. "Not credits, sweetheart. Favors." his eyes roamed down and up your body

Your stomach did a little flip "Favors?"

He nodded, picking up a small tool and starting to carefully disassemble the damaged saber. "Mm-hmm. Maybe you take over my chores for a week. Or you could cook dinner for once instead of ordering ration packs. Or..." He set the tool down and leaned in again, voice dropping to a near-whisper, eyes darting down to your lips. "You could just kiss me every time you break it."

you scoffed "That’s a ridiculous system," you muttered, but you didn’t pull away when he leaned even closer

"Is it?" he murmured, breath warm against your skin. "Seems fair to me. I put in the work, and I get a little reward."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the grin that spread across your face. "Fine," you relented, leaning in to close the distance between you. Your lips brushed against his in a soft, quick peck, and you felt him smile against you.

When you finally pulled back, he looked far too pleased with himself.

"See?" tone smug. "Much better payment than credits."

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[bright-side20]

A little Elriel scene inspired by the song 'Each Time' by Tamino. And by the way, if you're still wondering what Azriel's voice might sound like, go listen to this man.

The meadow spread wide beneath the pale light of the stars, a world painted in silver and red. Dark crimson flowers blanketed the earth, their petals glistening with dew. The air hummed with stillness, broken only by the soft rustle of the breeze through the grass.

And there she was, stretched out among the blooms, as if she were a part of the earth itself, born from its sweetest dreams. Elain’s hair spilled over the flowers, her golden waves shimmering like liquid sunlight against the dark. Her dress, soft and flowing, perfectly tracing the curves of her body, the color of deep cobalt, seemed to drink in the faint starlight, its rich hue contrasting beautifully against the dark crimson blooms. She looked like a vision born of twilight, her eyes closed, her lips faintly curved in a smile so serene it made his chest ache.

Azriel stood a few paces away, his boots rooted to the ground as if moving closer would shatter the fragile perfection of this moment. He’d spent centuries yearning for peace, for stillness...but now, in her presence, he knew this was what he’d been searching for.

Her.

“Azriel.” Her voice broke through the quiet, soft. She opened her eyes, and he froze at the sound of his name on her lips...soft, intimate, as if she had reached deep inside him and touched something only she could awaken. “I didn’t mean to disturb you,” he said.

She smiled “You’re not.” She patted the space beside her, an invitation as natural as the way the flowers leaned toward her, as if she were the sun.

He hesitated only a moment before joining her, stretching out on the soft grass. The scent of the flowers rich mingled with hers, wrapping around him in a way that made it impossible to think of anything but her.

They layed there for a moment in silent peace and He hadn’t spoken, afraid to shatter the moment.

It suits her, he thought, this place, this stillness. It suits us.

Yet beneath that peace, something restless burned in his chest. It wasn’t enough to simply lie here beside her. He wanted to reach out, to touch her , to feel the warmth of her skin against his. He wanted to tell her that this...this stillness, this closeness...was his idea of eternity. That no court, no battle, no crown could ever compare to this. That he could spend a thousand years lying here, beside her, and still crave more.

Elain gazed up at the stars, her expression soft. But Azriel couldn’t look away from her. The starlight painted her skin with an ethereal glow, kissed the curve of her lips, and made her seem more like a dream.Her sweet combination of jasmine and honey had woven itself into his senses. He wanted to drown in it, to seal this beauty in his mind forever. Each time again, and again, he thought, desperate to savor this moment.

“It’s beautiful, almost surreal,” she murmured.

He inclined his head in agreement as he replied, “It is.” But he wasn’t talking about Rosehall or the stars. He couldn’t tear his gaze from her, couldn’t stop the tide of longing surging within him.“But nothing this perfect can last,” he continued, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

Elain tilted her head, studying him. “Maybe it doesn’t need to last forever,” she said. “Maybe it’s enough to feel it. Even for a moment.”

Her words sliced through his defenses. “It’s always worth it,” he responded.

Her gaze briefly drifted to his lips before meeting his eyes again, and he didn’t know why it thrilled him. “Do you ever wish you could stop time?” she asked.

"Every day," he responded, hating how easily she seemed to see through him.

Her hand moved then, her fingers brushing against his with a touch so light it sent a shiver through him. He barely dared to breathe as her small hand slid to fit perfectly against his scarred one.

“I think I’d stop it here. Right now. If I could,” she said.

“Elain,” he said, her name breaking from him like a prayer...desperate and raw.

She turned fully toward him, her hair spilling across her shoulder . “Yes?”

He stared at her, his heart pounding so loudly he was sure she could hear it. He wanted to tell her everything...that she was the light in his darkness. That he thought of her every waking moment. That he dreamed of her every night. That he would give anything...anything...to be the one she chose. That every moment without her felt like a lifetime lost.

But all he could manage was a broken, “You deserve more than this.”

Her brows knit together, confusion in her gaze. “More than what?”

“More than I can give you,” he said, his voice cracking on the words.

“You’re wrong,” she said softly.

He shook his head, his jaw tightening. “I’m not.”

She didn’t pull away. Instead, he felt her fingers tighten more around his. “Maybe you don’t see it,” she said, “but I do.”

Azriel’s breath hitched. He wanted to believe her. Gods, he wanted to believe her more than anything.

“Elain,” he murmured, her name once more a plea. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”

“Why not?” she asked, her voice calm yet insistent.

“Because I’ll believe you,” he confessed. “And that’s dangerous. I can’t...”

Azriel closed his eyes, unable to bear the weight of her gaze any longer. It was too much...the hope in her expression. He let out a shuddering breath, his head tilting back toward the stars.

But then, the air between them shifted.

It wasn’t just the soft sound of her moving closer, the gentle rustle of her dress brushing against the roses beneath them. It was the way her warmth seemed to bloom, creeping over him like the first rays of the sun at dawn. It was the kind of warmth that promised a new beginning, the kind that reminded him what it felt like to truly be alive.

He inhaled deeply in her scent...And then he felt it,the faintest brush of her breath against his lips.

He opened his eyes.

She was so close, her face just inches from his, her eyes searching his. Her breath mingled with his, warm and soft. His heart thundered in his chest, each beat screaming at him to move, to act, to close that impossible gap between them. But he couldn’t. He was overwhelmed by the reality of her, by the weight of his longing.

"Elain…" he whispered her name again, she kissed him, and he knew, in that moment, he was utterly undone.

It was soft at first, tentative, like the brush of a rose petal against his lips. But as she deepened the kiss, her hand pressing gently against his chest, feeling the erratic beat of his heart beneath her palm, Azriel kissed her back, pouring all of his desperate, hopeless longing into that moment. She opened for him, softly moaning as his tongue slid to meet hers, and it was the sweetest sound he'd ever heard. Her taste ,sweet like honey lingered on his lips, the most intoxicating flavor he'd ever known. His fingers found her waist, gripping it with a mixture of need and disbelief, as though anchoring himself to the reality of her. She was here, she was real, and even if only in this perfect circle, she was his.

For the first time, he felt alive.

But just as he began to surrender to the moment, the world around him started to fade. The roses danced like ghosts in the wind, the stars flickering and dimming, and the warmth of her touch slipping through his fingers .

“No,” he choked out, a deep, gnawing panic clawing at his chest.

And then, with a jolt, Azriel awoke. His breath was sharp and ragged, the weight of the dream still heavy on him. The cold darkness of his room swallowed him, and with it, the warmth of her vanished entirely.

"Elain," he murmured into the emptiness, and the ache of it...her absence...was enough to break him all over again.

But the memory of her lingered...etched into his soul, a cruel reminder of what he could never have. He felt a shadow stroking his bare shoulder as if consoling him.

His hand moved to his head, fingers threading through his hair as he tried to calm the storm inside him. He closed his eyes, tilting his head back, letting the motion soothe the tension in his neck. His gaze fell to the nightstand, where the headache powder and earplugs sat quietly, a reminder of her care. How much longer could he stay away from her? How much longer could he pretend that the cold distance between them wasn’t slowly tearing him apart?

[kalmiaphlox]

The Perfect Girl

AO3 Link / Masterlist

There's still one piece not in place. Astarion holds his hand out, flexing his fingers, a devious grin upon his face. “Your panties, please.” With a roll of her eyes and a muttered, “Insatiable…” Hircine peels off her sheer panties, slapping them into his awaiting hand. They're damp. 

Having been married for a while now, Astarion has learned all the inner workings of his wife, Hircine, quite well he thinks, but tonight, something is... off, be it her scent or mood, that woman just isn't right.

He'll get to the bottom of it one way or another, and if he gets to play with her tits, then all the better.

Pairing: Astarion x Named Female Tav (Hircine)

WC: 4.9k

Main Tags: Fluff, Smut, Body Worship, Focus on BOOBS, BREASTS and TITTIES, Mild Praise Kink, Mild Scent Kink, Thigh Riding, Breast fucking, a little Panty thievery, Established Relationship

Sharp, full-bodied and extra sweet, something about her scent changed.

Anytime in the last two days that his wife drifts by, Astarion’s mouth waters and his head follows her path unconsciously. It can’t be a new perfume, there’s nothing artificial about this enticing smell.

Nothing out of the ordinary was eaten recently, there’s been no strange happenings in the mines, and Hircine’s not even particularly burdened these days, so what’s caused this alteration?

He likes it, obviously, but he needs to know why.

Tonight, Hircine lounges on the sofa in one of those short, tulle nightgowns she likes that tend to flounce around with her every dainty movement. The sleeves are long, the collar and hem ruffled and the pale pink color gives her a playful aura that offsets her ever-present seriousness. Her gray hair spills out all across her back and arms, not held back by any of the pins and ties that keep it out of her face during work hours.

She was moody today, if not outright snappy, and now she lays chest down, running a hand along the rug with her bare legs in his lap while Astarion translates some abyssal documents, occasionally sneaking glances to figure out his approach. Her irritation waned once they left the mines so maybe work stressed her out, but if Hircine’s weighed down, there is a sure fire way to relieve that tension—for both of them, because it’s hard work suffering this mood.

Clearing his throat, Astarion sets down the parchments and quill on the end table. “Love,” the point of an ear angles in his direction a few degrees to indicate she’s listening, the brat. “Will you come here?”

He can hear the quietest indignant exhalation as Hircine pushes herself up and turns around to crawl over to his side, leaning all her weight against his arm. “Mm?” She huffs.

What is this absolute creature of a woman?

Patting his lap, Astarion smiles tightly, muzzling the urge to be snippy back. “Sit, please.”

Thankfully, she doesn’t question his words and swings a leg over, straddling his lap so the nightdress bunches up around her toned thighs. The gold ring of her hazy lavender eyes reflects the light as they dart around anywhere but at him, and the full bottom lip juts out in the smallest pout.

No one would guess she’s almost one hundred and fifty with this childish attitude.

He rests his hands on her shoulders, rubbing up and down along the soft fabric of the nightdress. “What’s wrong, pet? You’ve been… under a rain cloud all day.” She frowns in response. Gods below. Dropping his hands to her thighs, Astarion tries again. “Are you in pain?”

Hircine twists her lips. “No…”

At least it’s words this time.

He slides up over her hips, running his thumbs along her smooth belly, feeling how she quivers at the touch though the frown sticks to her face. Now she’s just being difficult. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” she says simply.

Easy enough.

Cupping her shapely breasts, Astarion squeezes them together, flicking the pad of his thumbs over her peaked nipples. Her thighs clamp down over his legs and she keens softly.

Hmm, something’s off. They feel different, and while Hircine loves having her breasts touched, she doesn’t react this strongly to it.

“Not that I’m necessarily an expert on your tits, love, but they’re… heavier than usual.”

Her face flushes a plummy hue that makes his fangs ache, and oh, isn’t it so obvious? Hircine swallows audibly. “It’s just that time for me.”

“I thought you didn’t experience menstruation.”

“Not exactly. The magic stops the bleeding part, not the… hormones.” So none of the fun, how boring.

He leans forward, trailing his nose along her jawline to inhale her heady aroma. Fuck, it’s good. “That explains why you smell so delightful then. I’ve been losing my mind over this.” Giving her breasts another firm squeeze, she whimpers, maybe a little too pitifully and Astarion releases her, concern stomping all over his lusty intentions. “I'm not hurting you, am I?”

“They're jus’ sens'tive.” Hircine mumbles.

“Is that so?” Is it strange to admit he likes whiny Hircine? She's always so uptight and repressed with her desires, avoiding being too loud or saying exactly what she wants. He needs to coax those wants and needs out of her with each meticulously placed touch.

Her hands find his under the layers of tulle, placing them back on her chest as she stumbles over her words. “No, I—I want you to—to, uh, touch them—me.”

“Gently?” Astarion asks.

“N-No, harder. Please.”

He freezes, all sound drowning out by the roar of blood rushing past his ears. His wife, Hircine, the uncompromising business woman who never asks for anything, asked for him to be rough.

To her lovely, perfect tits.

If words like that aren't meant to break a man, then what can?

Such a sight should be complimented by her bouncing on his thick cock while inarticulate moans and sighs of pleasure ring out into the room, but they aren't there yet.

That doesn’t mean they can’t play in other ways.

Astarion grasps her breasts, kneading the buttery flesh with amusement at how unusually swollen they are—overflowing handfuls, and he brings his mouth over where one of those tender buds lies beneath her nightdress, latching onto it through the fabric. She rocks in his lap, and he pulls her forward squeezing her tight against him before calming those movements to brush their lips together. “Slow yourself, love.”

Hircine pulls away, clearly displeased. “Why?”

He smiles, all sharp fangs and hunger, squeezing her tits with enough force that her breath catches in her throat and then Astarion lets go, a flood of remorse at no longer holding them. “Get up.” He commands. “We're going to have some fun.”

Quick to listen, Hircine takes to her feet, heavy lidded with want as she stares at him, awaiting further instruction.

“Take it off.” His hand flicks in her direction. She looks down, grabbing the hem of her dress, holding it out as if to say ‘This?’ and he nods. As if it could be anything else.

Lifting her hands, Hircine deftly unhooks the collar from the back, pulling the fabric forward over her shoulders so it drops to the ground where the fabric pools into a pink puddle at her feet. A satisfied hum slips past his lips as he takes her form in. Slim and graceful, the silhouette of his wife’s body haloed by the fire is all soft curves and toned muscles crafted from years of dancing and sword play. Narrow shoulders, thin waist, rounded hips covered by sheer lacy panties, all places he'd like to run his tongue and fingers—another time. Astarion’s focus has been drawn elsewhere for the night.

“Face that way.” He points to his right and she does so without question. Trailing down from the flutter of her lashes, to the sharp edge of the clavicle, his eyes alight at the top of her breasts, following along to the slightly upturned points of those delectably tightened nipples, the same ghostly white as her mouth—he tries not to think about it too often, it works him into an insatiable frenzy when she forgoes her usual dark lipstick.

It's factually untrue. I am an expert on her tits.

They are bigger—fuller, only just so. Any lesser man or woman wouldn't notice, but Astarion spends plenty of time touching, staring… occasionally tasting. How could he not see the change?

Well, he didn't, did he? Though he can pinpoint why.

“It must have been terribly uncomfortable for you throughout the night, when your dresses are all tailored perfectly to your measurements. Poor things were smothered in all that tight cloth.” He tuts sympathetically as he stands, crossing to her side silently. With gentle hands, Astarion turns Hircine towards the fireplace, feeling as the radiating heat warms her soft skin while he glides his palms down her arms and back up to her neck, brushing gray strands of hair aside before moving to her jawline to tilt her head back against his shoulder. Their lips meet, melding together in a slow, roiling passion that will lead down a path of no return should they continue. The taste of her is so light and refreshing as he flicks his tongue against the pursed seam of her mouth.

Astarion breaks away, planting some tender kisses along the crook of her shoulder, hooking his arms under hers and cupping her breasts once again as he does, swaying them from palm to the tips of his fingers to feel their weight.

Delightful.

Oh, to sink his fangs into the soft flesh of one, draining every last drop of blood until she's just a lifeless corpse... Not the best or most wanted idea, but fuck if it doesn't make him hard.

Hircine looks down at his ministrations in puzzlement, finding his current actions underwhelming. Astarion grins against her shoulder blade, playfully jiggling her breasts in his hands so they ripple and bounce.

An unamused glare is flashed his way, but all it does is make him laugh and nuzzle against her cheek. “I’m just letting Belbol and Iiyola breathe, pet. It’s no surprise you were feeling so poorly today…” And finding himself merciful, Astarion decides she deserves what she asked for.

‘Harder.’

Taking her pert nipples between his thumb and forefinger, he twists and pulls. The sweet songbird cry that erupts from Hircine is cut short when she claps a hand over her mouth, falling limply back against his chest.

Well, that just won’t do.

He drops his hold on her to force Hircine to stand on her own, moving away with hands on hips, clicking his tongue in disappointment. “Hircine, my love, I won’t tolerate any quietness tonight. If I’m touching you, I had better hear it.”

“But—” She starts to say and Astarion wags a finger in her face. “No ‘buts’! We both know the servant’s won’t step foot out here. I want to hear you, and you will be heard. Understood?”

She chews on her lip and nods. “Yes, Husband.”

What a chore it’s been, ignoring his own arousal but Hircine being obedient is too much. Whiny, begging, obedient… Maybe he just likes Hircine doing anything. The confines of his pants is unbearable now and as much as he’d like to only please his wife, it feels a little unfair to be left out of all the fun, not that he’s missing out on anything playing with her tits.

Astarion jerks his chin up slightly, tapping his chest haughtily. “You know, I’m also starting to feel a little restrained… There must be something in the air. Strip me down, love.”

The powerful shiver that tracks down her body at his words leaves Astarion biting back a moan. How can she be so perfect for him? Needy and wanting, only ever bowing to his demands. Pliable, malleable, flexible. She’s all of that and more.

Like annoyingly tight-lipped for everything except his cock.

Stepping forward, Hircine closes the gap between them, the heat from her body leaching into his skin through his clothes. What control he has to not pull her flush against him, to feel her breasts pressed against his chest as he grinds his throbbing erection into her hips, anything so Hircine knows how he hungers—yearns for her.

Instead, Astarion fastidiously watches her hands as they rise up under his chin, taking the blue cotton collar of his shirt between her trembling fingers, sliding down to the first button which she carefully undoes while her glowing gold eyes flick back and forth between his face and the task at hand. Another button is unhooped, then another until Hircine reaches the hem of his shirt, fiddling with each side almost shyly.

Her heart is hammering in her chest, sending a beating upon her poor rib cage in its fraught attempt to escape from Hircine's body, breaths shallow and quick as she pushes the cotton from his shoulders.

To take her in his hands… He wants it. He needs it.

The shirt falls away from him with ease, dropping to the floor. “Oh, good girl.” Astarion praises, drinking in the way she trembles with excitement, a leaf rustling in the wind. Then he rushes forward, taking a fistful of Hircine’s thick hair to wrench her head back and slam their lips together, tongue demanding entry to her mouth.

Ever eager to receive, Hircine opens for him, letting their tongues tangle together. Warm and inviting, decadent and soft, they share breath, taste and fervent affection.

His darling wife, putty in his capable hands.

Physically that is. Astarion still doesn't have her heart, not yet, not truly.

But I will. Whatever it takes.

Taking a plush lip between his teeth, he pulls, tugging on it gently while keeping a firm grip on her hair. A mesmerizing whine escapes Hircine’s throat and Astarion swallows it, claiming her mouth once again. Gods, she smells of berries plucked fresh from the vine muddled with spices, and the taste… like a rich barrel aged wine with hints of oak and tannin upon his tongue. Divine, this wife of his is.

It’s time to get back to business though.

They separate, panting for breath, foreheads pressed together and Astarion presses his lips to her cute nose. “My beautiful girl,” his hands once again find her breasts, thumbs circling her areolas with a contained passion. He makes an amendment, giving her tits a playful squeeze. “My beautiful girls.” Hircine flutters her lashes, hiding any annoyance at his statement, not that she’s ever seemed to care much where his fixation is concerned.

Bending her backwards till her back arches in a curve, Astarion leans down, taking a tight, pale nipple in his mouth, sucking hard until Hircine gasps out an “Oh, gods, yes!” He pulls back with a satisfied pop, watching her tit bounce in place. They will be feasted on with utmost reverence tonight.

“Can you get the rest of my clothes, love? I want to see how perfect you are on your knees.” His breathy voice whispers across her skin, raising gooseflesh in its wake. If it weren’t for Astarion holding her up, she might have collapsed into a lust-filled pile of limbs at his words with the way she softens in his embrace.

To have his wife be so willing… His cock twitches in his pants at the sight.

Never taking her eyes off his, Hircine slips down to her knees, skimming her delicate fingers along the firm muscles of his abdomen, sparking trails of electricity across his skin. Fingering the edge of his trousers, she looks up, asking silently for permission to continue.

“Good girl. Go on,” Astarion coos and she dives into her task, ripping the end of his belt from the strap, much to his amusement—and disappointment. Astarion pulls his hips back, letting dissatisfaction drip from his words. “Slow down, pet. I need you to take your time.”

Hircine blinks, reigning herself in with a weak nod, ensuring a more appropriate pace is taken to de-clothe him. Belt is discarded and trousers worked down over his hips until they drop to the floor where Astarion steps out of them. Gods, his poor cock is straining against his underwear, leaking pre-cum in its sorry state.

Playing with the elastic band of his underwear, Hircine rises on her knees, dragging her wet tongue from his navel to where she torturously slow reveals the flushed head of his shaft. Her lips are silken as she kisses his cock once and pulls down his underwear completely, much to Astarion’s unquiet relief.

Oh, to fuck that beautiful mouth of hers until she gags…

Next time, he concedes.

“I know you could love on my cock all day,” he starts to say and Hircine nuzzles against his member in agreement, taking him at the base in her warm hands, her pale lavender-gold eyes seek his reactions. His lip is sucked into his mouth, swallowing down a groan when she finds the head again, laying sweet kitten-licks against his glistening slit.

She's so good to me.

A brush of his fingers across her cheekbones and into her marble gray hair that is so pleasing to wind into his hand, Astarion takes a gentle fistful of it and pulls Hircine back so her neck is bared to him, but he doesn't bite. “Like I said, you can do this all day, but that's not what I want right now. Up.” With a tug of her hair, Hircine drops his stiff cock like a forgotten toy, the pout returning to her face in full force as she stands on wobbly legs.

This moody creature, what will he do with her?

There's still one piece not in place. Astarion holds his hand out, flexing his fingers, a devious grin upon his face. “Your panties, please.”

With a roll of her eyes and a muttered, “Insatiable…” Hircine peels off her sheer panties, slapping them into his awaiting hand.

They're damp.

Every synapse within his body misfires and Astarion goes statue-still, unsure of what he wants to do. The smell, the feel, the taste. He'll have it all.

Collapsing backwards onto the couch, Astarion mashes the panties against his face, huffing her intoxicating aroma so it's all he knows. It would be all too easy for him to get off with these now, shove them in his mouth as he strokes his cock until it bursts. Mere moments would pass with how wound up he is.

“I thought we were going to have fun?” Hircine interrupts his lusting, her voice whiny and quiet. When he turns his attention back onto his wife, she stands there with arms crossed exactly the way he likes, right under her bust so her tits are propped up and squeezed together.

The sight is absolutely mouth-watering.

Tucking the panties behind him so they can be added to his collection later, Astarion outstretches his hand, pulling Hircine closer when she places her hand within his, guiding one of his legs between hers. “Well, I’ll have to rectify that issue immediately. Sit your pretty cunt on me please.”

She pauses momentarily at the command before lowering herself slowly—obediently. As she does, Astarion takes her breasts in hand, leaning in to suck a nipple into his mouth, flicking his tongue over the hardened bud until she grasps at his hair, pulling him further into her soft chest. He massages the other, feeling the give of its flesh and enjoying Hircine’s whispering whines. He’ll hand out a correction soon if her volume doesn’t increase. Her heat is dripping when it meets his skin and the smell of her arousal is driving him to the brink of insanity, moaning into her tit, fighting the urge to sink his fangs into it and bleed her till there is naught but a husk left.

Pillowy, delicious, and perfect. He adores these things, and the one they are connected to.

With one last hard suck, Astarion lets go, pinching her other nipple between her fingers and Hircine bucks her hips in response, slicking up his leg something glorious. “My sweet pet,” he begins, trailing his lips along the top of her breasts, “I want you to fuck yourself on my thigh,” he nibbles at her collarbone, earning him a hushed sigh that's a whisper from the gods themselves, “and I’m going to devour Belbol and Iiyola as you do, and you cannot stop until you come, not even for a moment. If you stop, I won’t touch you again for the rest of the night. Can you do that for me?”

“Ye-Yes.” Hircine whispers, her fingers entangling further, making a mess of his styled curls.

Bouncing the leg she’s sitting on, Astarion pulls back and watches her tits jiggle in tandem. Gods, he aches for them. “Can I bite you tonight?”

Her cunt clenches against his leg, thighs squeezing him as she nods and that nearly destroys all of his self control.

He regrettably tears his eyes away, staring into the shining rings of her eyes to save some thread of sanity with a shaky breath in to steady himself. He needs to last through this.

Moving up so she’s situated closer to the top of his thigh, Hircine places her arms behind her body, resting her hands on his knee so her back is arched, jutting her chest towards him.

The little vixen… She’s too much for him some days.

No time is wasted as he dives towards her chest, cupping her breasts to lavish attention on each nipple, alternating sucking, pinching and lightly biting. Gods forbid Belbol and Iiyola not get equal attention. Hircine is working as directed, rocking her lower lips against his skin, angling her hips down to build friction on her clit.

Her mewls of pleasure are music to his ears, feeding Astarion encouragement when he does something she likes.

Settling back against the couch while Hircine rides his thigh, he watches—admires, the way her curvy hips gyrate to some unheard beat, heavy breasts swaying in tandem. He licks his lips at the sight, wanting them covered in his bites and spit and scent, anything to mark her as his. “You need to be louder, Hircine.” He reminds her with a click of his tongue.

A rough twist to a nipple has Hircine crying out loudly, “Oh, fu—! Yes! I will be! Please, please, please!” Hips moving faster as her chest heaves under his touches. Now that was the right move.

Nearly a whole breast is sucked into his mouth when he takes one again, tugging it up and swirling her peak with his tongue while the other tit is palmed and squeezed aggressively, awaiting its turn.

Alternating to the next finally, his teeth graze over that luscious nipple, gently taking it between his teeth to pull on. He looks up and their eyes meet. Hircine’s jaw hangs slack at the sight, a sharp, erotic moan breaking out of her throat as she buffs her clit hard against his leg.

Releasing her breasts, they are now flushed and puffy from how hard he’s worked them. I think it’s time, Astarion thinks to himself.

“Which one?” He asks, breathless.

Hircine rocking slows, but doesn’t stop as confusion shatters through the lusty haze on her face. “Wh-What?”

“Which one do I bite? I’ll let my good girl choose.” He croons dreamily.

Her breath hitches and thighs bare down on him again. “The le—”

“Use her name!”

She’s able to muster a weak eye roll. “Ah~ Belbol.”

Astarion flicks the underside of Iiyola. He’ll find her a different reward later. “Good choice, pet.” Giving no time for any snark, Astarion plunges his fangs down into the chosen breast, relishing as her rich blood instantly fills his mouth. The bite is the last push Hircine needs to tumble over the edge, physically and metaphorically, as her arms give out, falling backwards limply while her orgasm pulses through her body, drowning him in more of her essence. Astarion wraps his arms up her back, holding her tight while he drinks another mouthful of that effervescent life blood spiced so wonderfully with her release.

Two more deep swallows are taken before he unlatches, running his tongue along the rivulets that dribble out. Hircine likes to be light-headed after his bite and anymore than that makes her unresponsive, so he strictly regulates how much blood he takes. To her, the high is fun, making her quite giggly and ‘floaty’, whatever that means. Four to five draws of blood tends to get her there without leaving her dopey and it fills Astarion up nicely for the day.

The wound sealed, he continues to suckle at her breasts and nipples, laving over those peaks with his tongue the way she does to candy, not yet ready to let them go. Each hard pull has Hircine shivering in his arms, her body involuntarily twitching with the aftershocks of her orgasm and bringing forth quiet, pleased sighs from between her bitable lips.

Regaining her faculties, Hircine wraps her arms tightly over his head, keeping his face buried between the two luscious pillows of her chest.

He could die and be reborn here again and again… and again.

“—on my face?”

The end of that sentence is the only part that makes it into his ears when Hircine's heartbeat is pounding wildly against his head. “Can you repeat that, love?” He speaks directly against her sternum.

She wiggles in his embrace as her skin heats up with embarrassment. So she said something scandalous… “Can you come on my face?” Her voice cracks at about six octaves by the end, turning to a squeak that is certainly only audible to cavvekans and one tit-obsessed vampire.

Astarion barks a laugh before pressing a kiss to her chest and pulling away. “Well if you insist, my darling pet. On the floor now, I'll paint a pretty picture on you.”

Crawling off of him in quick excitement and leaving behind his slick coated thigh, Hircine perches between his legs, awaiting her prize while sucking her lip between her teeth.

He could devour every bit of her, here and now.

It won't take Astarion long to reach his tipping point, but since he helped her reach euphoria, maybe she should return the favor… Not that he really cares for tit for tat between them.

Taking his cock in hand, he sees how she stills, her gaze hungering for what's to come. Edging closer to the end of the couch, Astarion wiggles it in her face. “Fuck me between Belbol and Iiyola.”

Her eyes grow wide in excitement, breathing stutters. “Can-Can I taste you first?”

With his other hand, Astarion caresses her jaw, slipping his thumb into the wet heat of her mouth to press down on her tongue briefly. “Of course you can, my sweet girl. You know I love it when you ask.” With that said, he reclines back on the couch.

Hesitant at first, Hircine takes him in her hands, bringing her lips to rest on the glans, slowly spreading her mouth open to engulf his cock, taking him all the way to the base.

His perfect girl, always eager to choke on his cock.

The flat of her tongue trails along the underside as she pulls back up, hollowing her cheeks. Astarion’s head drops against the couch with a breathy groan, straining already to not spend himself down her throat.

She must sense his closeness, quickly removing her mouth so an obscene string of spit and his precum threads his cock and her lips together.

How is he meant to maintain composure in the face of such a woman?

Now coated to perfection, Hircine brings her body higher, aligning her beautiful breasts with his aching member and embraces it in her heavenly soft warmth. She squeezes her tits together more firmly for some grip, sliding wetly up and down on his shaft. What a dream; Astarion could never ask for anything better.

It only takes a few passes until the urge is unbearable. His hips jerk upwards with a gasp as his control snaps. “I’m—Oh, gods!” Come erupts from his cock, spraying up onto Hircine’s face and breasts, which she continues to massage over his cock, extracting every last drop of spend from him like the greedy woman she is.

Knowing he gets sensitive following an orgasm, Hircine frees him from the succulent cradle of her breasts, inspecting the mess as come slides thickly down her tits.

Astarion tuts quietly, hating wastefulness. Fingers slide over one of her nipples, scooping up his spend to bring it to her lips which she opens dutifully for, sucking his fingers clean with a self-satisfied smirk on her face. “There’s a little something on your chest, pet. You should take care of it, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

She hums in agreement, raising her breasts to swipe her tongue along the top swell of them. They spill over in her small, yet capable hands as she licks up his mess.

Once done, Astarion plucks his shirt from the ground, wiping the rest of his spend from her face and anywhere her tongue couldn’t reach. “Fabulous job, love. Come here.” Ever keen to be in his arms, she dives into them, curling up against his chest and burying her face into his neck.

“Do you feel better now?” He murmurs against her hair, reveling in her body heat.

She nods. “Mm-hm.”

“Good. Next time your tits hurt, let me know immediately so I can give them relief. Just the thought of Belbol and Iiyola suffering in silence makes me ill. I can’t bear it.”

Her hand snakes down to his chest, pinching one of his nipples suddenly. His shocked yelp has Hircine giggling to herself. “I don’t think you need any reasons to give them relief, Husband.”

“True,” Astarion palms a breast in his hand, a soft smile on his face. “Of course, the same extends to you as well, pet. I’m always here for whatever you need.”

Her arms wrap around his neck, holding him close. “My perfect husband.”

“And my perfect wife.”

-belbol - gift -iiyola - treasure

[sterifels-blog]

keegan p russ x reader

The first time Keegan darkened the door of your flower shop, it had been an accident. A gruff man dressed in heavy leather, his broad shoulders beaded with raindrops, boots tracked with road grit. He had looked so entirely out of place in your sunlit haven.

You were surrounded by cascades of daisies and lilies, roses blushing in tight little bundles, and bursts of carnations peeking from glass jars along the countertops. Everything smelled alive, fresh, verdant—a quiet rebellion against the steel and asphalt world just beyond your frosted windowpanes.

He hadn’t meant to stay longer than necessary. He came for a bouquet, small and simple, to bring to the grave of an old friend—a ritual made heavier by the weight of memory on his back.

But then, he saw you.

You stood behind the counter, delicate as the peonies at your elbows, your hands brushing pollen dust from your apron. A stray curl framed your face, the warmth of your smile so unguarded, so incandescent, it knocked the breath from his chest. For a moment, he didn’t hear the rain anymore. Didn’t feel the wet chill soaking into his collar. It was just you, tilting your head at him with that sweet, quizzical look, like you couldn’t quite believe this storm-weathered man was there at all.

“Hi there! What can I help you with?” you’d asked, voice like sunlight filtering through trees, and he’d been lost. Truly, hopelessly, lost.

Keegan kept telling himself it was coincidence the second time. And the third. And the fifth. But the truth was, every time he passed through town, every time the engine of his motorcycle growled to life, your flower shop was an inevitable destination. He never admitted it aloud—not even to himself—but he craved the sanctuary of your little haven, a bright corner of the world where nothing smelled like oil and gunpowder, where life bloomed in a thousand colors instead of bleeding out in shades of grey.

The shop was small, unassuming. A little bell jingled overhead whenever he pushed open the glass door. Inside, the air was always warm, humming with the gentle hum of a fan in the corner, the faint rustle of leaves brushing against one another. There was a permanent smell of damp earth and petals—heady, sweet, and grounding. Tiny pots of violets lined the windowsills. Shelves stacked with watering cans, shears, and delicate floral books stood along the walls. It was quiet but not silent; there was always soft music playing in the background, something light and romantic, the sort of thing that felt like it belonged in a movie.

And there you were. Always. Behind the counter or kneeling on the floor, tending to some new arrangement. You wore mismatched earrings some days and bright scarves others, your hair pinned back or loose in soft waves. You moved like the petals around you: with purpose, with grace. Sometimes you hummed to yourself, completely unaware of how it made Keegan freeze, just for a moment, to watch you.

The dichotomy was laughable. Him, all scarred knuckles and broad scowls, smelling faintly of the road and whatever diner he��d last stopped at. You, all softness and quiet energy, a whirlwind of color and fragrance in this little shop that couldn’t have been more out of his world.

“Back again?” you teased one afternoon, the dimple in your cheek betraying how much you enjoyed the sight of him stomping the mud from his boots at the door.

He cleared his throat, trying to ignore the way his pulse picked up just from you looking at him. “Yeah. Thought I’d grab something for… my mom.” The lie was flimsy, but you didn’t question it. Didn’t need to. Instead, you led him to the bouquets you’d just finished arranging, explaining in that soft, sing-song tone what each flower meant.

The irony wasn’t lost on him—that he kept coming back, kept buying flowers that would inevitably wilt and die. But it wasn’t about the flowers. It was about you. The way your fingers brushed his palm when you handed him the change. The way your smile lingered in his head long after he left. The way you’d once slipped a sprig of lavender into his jacket pocket without saying a word, and he found it hours later, pressed between his fingers like something fragile and irreplaceable.

Now, it was a habit. An addiction, almost. He didn’t know if you noticed how often he came—how his visits stretched longer with every trip. But he noticed. He noticed how the rough edges of his life felt just a little softer after walking out of your shop, a paper-wrapped bundle of flowers balanced carefully in his hand.

“Next time, you could stay for tea,” you’d suggested one day, half-joking, but not entirely. Keegan’s chest tightened, a strange warmth spreading behind his ribs. He didn’t know if he deserved tea with someone like you, in a place like this. But maybe— just maybe, he’d try.

Because if there was one thing he knew for sure, it was this: that little flower shop, with its mismatched pots and cheerful music and the person standing at its heart, was the brightest place he’d ever known.

[kteezy997]

Beyond Business- part eight// t.c.

Warnings: cursing, kissing, mention of sex, secret relationship,fake relationship

In the hours that followed, Timmy and his three friends hung out in the living room area. His hairstylist came, publicists and managers showed up. It became quite crowded and loud. Much to the contrast of the way it was when it was just the two of you.

Kylie nor any of her entourage came, not that you expected her. She usually just showed up to the venue without him, waiting inside while he walked the red carpet. People thought that was honorable of her, to not take his spotlight. But the truth was that it was the way Timmy wanted it. He never was one to walk the carpet with a girlfriend, ever.

He never intended for his personal life to be so mainstream, sometimes overwhelming his career accomplishments. But he soon realized that it came with the territory in Hollywood. He didn’t wish to exploit himself even more with Kylie Jenner on his arm, posing for photos when all he wanted was to promote the film he had dedicated so much of himself to.

You kept up with your assistant duties, ordering lunch for everyone, getting drinks, and catering to Timmy when he needed.

It was getting close to time to leave, so you approached him. He looked dapper in his Tom Ford suit and blue tie, worn more like a scarf.

“Timmy, can I do anything else before I go get ready?” you asked.

He pursed his bottom lip, shaking his head, “No, I don’t think so. Remember what I said about your hair, though.” he winked.

You rolled your eyes playfully. Then his phone started buzzing, you looked at the screen in his hand. Kylie was calling, he gave you a look that you couldn’t quite decipher before walking away with it. You saw him put the device to his ear, answering with a simple “hello.”

You resigned to Timmy’s large bathroom to get ready for the Globes. You put on some burgundy and black eye makeup to go with your dress, and a neutral-colored lipstick. You curled your lashes, brushing them high to the heavens with your best mascara.

You gave yourself a blowout, making sure your hair was as fluffy and flowy as you could manage. Then, it was time for the lovely dress. You felt so grateful Timmy picked it out for you. You wondered if he ever had a say in anything Kylie wore to events. Probably not.

You put your everyday rings and necklace on, along with a couple spritzes of your favorite perfume and you were officially ready.

You opened the door, walking out to find your heels that you left in the living room.

“Ayyyyeee!” you heard Timmy hollering when he saw you. “Aiden, get some photos of her.” he instructed his photographer friend.

“Damn, y/n, you look hot!” Aiden exclaimed, “Now, come pose for me.”

“Oh, no, no that’s okay. I don’t really like pictures of myself.” you attempted to object, but to no avail. You put your high heels on.

"Over here," Timmy instructed pointing near the window in the living room, where he wanted you, "where the light's coming in."

You had never posed for photos alone before, and the boys could tell, so they were very helpful and encouraging. It was kind of fun, and you noticed the smirk on Timmy's face as he kept scanning his eyes up and down at you.

.........

Later, on the way to the Globes, Timmy instructed his friends to ride in a separate car, as you and he needed to "go over some things."

Once you were alone together in the car, he grabbed your face, and started to devour your neck, suctioning his lips there. He moaned against your skin as he held your jaw.

You placed your hand on his arm, giving it a squeeze, "You're insane. You are literally on the way to see your girlfriend."

"You don't have to call her that. And I am nominated, you know. That is why I'm going, it's not to see her." he gazed at you, shaking his head slowly. "Fuck, you look amazing." He leaned in, kissing you on the lips this time.

His lips were soft, but the feeling of them was overshadowed by the tickling of his mustache on your top lip. The sensation made you feel like you could almost sneeze, so you pulled away with a giggle.

Timmy grinned at you, "What?"

"The 'stache." you explained, running your finger over the whisper of hair on his upper lip.

He blinked, realizing, "Oh." Nonetheless, he kissed you again, laying his hand on your thigh. "Mm," he pulled away, "will you stay over at my place tonight?"

"Are you sure? Will she find out?"

"Yes, I'm sure, and no, it's none of her business anyway." he brushed the subject off, as usual.

"So, you don't ever sleep with her?" you cringed at the thought.

"No," he rolled his eyes, "I haven't in months."

You felt relieved knowing that there wasn't a chance of him overlapping you and her. You hoped he hadn't recently been sleeping any woman for that matter. "She's not suspicious about you and other women? Does she know about us?"

"She doesn't ever say anything. And besides, I don't care what she does; she can go screw her baby daddy, or her bestie Stassi, or whoever she wants to. I really don't give a shit, so it's none of her business what I do."

"Do you think that's fair to her?"

"Why are you so concerned about her?" he put his arm around you, "She and I just keep up an image, that's all."

You shrugged, "I don't know. I mean, I don't care for the way her family flaunts their money or the impossible and dangerous beauty standards that they set. Not to mention that she has copied clothing designs from smaller businesses, but at the end of the day, Kylie is just a girl, the same as me, you know? She doesn't deserve to be hurt any more than the next person."

Timmy nodded, "Yeah, but it is no more serious to her than it is to me. So, stop worrying." he pressed his forehead to yours.

"Okay." you whispered, unable to stop the smile that crept on your lips. You felt butterflies in your stomach when he touched your forehead.

The car came to a stop, and you could hear people yelling and cameras snapping outside. The driver got out, and Timmy said, "Alright, assistant, time for the show."

…….

You weren’t nervous on the red carpet, because it wasn’t about you. All eyes were on him. Fans shouting, cameras flashing, famous actors, directors, producers, all making a point to get Timmy’s attention and talk to him.

This part of your job was always a bit of a whirlwind, but you always enjoyed the rush. You would follow a few paces behind him, he would hand you sweet little gifts given to him from fans that you would always take to the car to keep them safe. You would look through them all together later.

You made sure to get pictures of him with fans and some celebrities, to send to his mother. She always loved seeing them. Some photos would just be keepsakes for Timmy as well. He trusted you with that sort of thing.

After about an hour of red-carpet photos and happy conversations, you knew it was time for Timmy to head inside. He had previously handed his phone over to you, and you noticed that Kylie had texted him several times. You didn’t want to bug him as he was doing his own thing, but you knew that the woman was restless. So, you showed him his phone with all of the notifications, and he sighed.

“Okay, let’s go. I’ll take you to your table.” he leaned in close to your ear, “I’ll have to kiss her tonight. But don’t be upset. We just have to sell it.” he whispered.

You knew how the machine worked, and you understood. “It’s okay.” you said to him.

He grabbed your hand, innocently leading you through the sea of people to get inside the venue.

January 24, 2025

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @lixzey @bitchyunknownuser @ducktapebar @aoi-targaryen @yukideadinside @elloise0 @thatoneweirdgirl17 @mel-vaz @sammy-halpert @iwishchalamet @that-one-fangirl69 @jindongdongie @briefkittenearthquake @imnotoverlyobsessive @timhalchala

[sadistic-kiss]

Use Me (Kinktober Fic)

Succubus Reader x Various JJK Men

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.Chapter Ten.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

Choso wasn't the one to overdo it when it came to smoking. He was a stoner through and through and could out-smoke anyone. But he had to say he was feeling higher than he'd ever been before.

Which was a little strange…

His room seemed clouded with smoke that waved around like the ocean. He could have sworn the window was open… The LED lights he had flashed different colors, colors other than the ones he had set, like red, blue, and purple. This further drew him into the hazy illusion of being somewhere besides his room, somewhere out of this world.

And then there was you.

His sinful angel.  

You were kneeling between his legs, licking and sucking upon his pierced cock with care. He expected you to go for the kill with how hungry you must have been but no. You waited patiently for him to pull his cock out and then looked at him with big wide eyes until he told you to go ahead. He sat back melting into the couch as you took the reigns. You had been patient so he thought an award was to be given.      

Your lips upon his length, and your eyes blinking up at him with that greedy lust that he always enjoyed. Truly this is an award for both of you if you thought about it.

Not too much… He had reminded himself as he moaned, hips twitching for more. He couldn't keep his half-lidded gaze off of you. You were much too beautiful, wickedly so. You worshipped his cock like it was something he bestowed upon you from heaven itself. You kissed his tip appreciatively and then went in with your tongue. Flicking up and down, getting him nice and wet. When the pre cum bubbled at the top you plopped his cock into your mouth with a loud suction pop.

“Mmmm~.” you hummed as your eyes rolled.

“Ngh-” he hissed reaching out to grab your hair, you were licking greedily at him, sucking and searching for more of his cum.

“Good girl…mm,” He spoke breathlessly as he neared his peak. “…are you going to swallow every last drop?”

You nodded and squirmed eagerly.

That was all he needed as his head lolled back and he took a choked breath, However right before he was going to burst you pulled away from him.

“Ah-“ His eye pinched in pain from the swift loss of pleasure. “-What-“

“I~” You looked at him with a lean of your head. “I change my mind… I want you here…” You touch between your legs.

Cumming in your mouth and cumming in your pussy were two different things. The first one gave you power but the second one gave you...well power too but much more. He thought a nice meal would be fine as long as he wasn’t going overboard…but now…he was unsure about that one.

He leaned forward, rubbing your arms gently, he wasn't selfish so he wasn't gonna make you give him a blow job and that's it so he offered something else.

“You want me to eat you out?” He gave you sly smirk as he took his hair down, he knew you liked feeling his tongue piercing against your clit. Along with pulling his hair out of his scalp but he didn't mind. It always made you squirm and make the cutest noises.

“No…" You shook your head, even though he saw how your eyes lit up, "I want you…Choso ~” You got up to brush your lips upon his, nuzzling him gently. “…please~”

You twirled in hair around your fingers and rubbed him gently. Your voice echoed within this foggy domain.

"Choso~?"

He was like a man lost at sea and a siren was calling to him.

"Please~."

Being coaxed to do as you wish.

“Don’t you want to feel me…?”

And he did not have much will to hold back.

"I want to feel you..."

He flicked his head, already signaling for you but he still questioned your behavior, “Have you been good?”

You climbed up with a cutesy giggle, “I think so…”

"You think so?" Choso teased but he wasn't making any room for using critical thinking here.

You already had the poor boy wrapped around your finger.

Especially so as your lips connected.

That tongue ring sliding over your lips, already begging for entrance which you granted with pleasure. Kissing Choso was always slow and sensual, he was a deliberate man who liked to put thought into whatever he did.

Choso let out a little chuckle as his fingers slid upon your leather panties, “So wet, is this for me?” He questioned as he pulled your head back with a tight grip of your hair, his lazy eyes looking you up and down waiting for an answer as he teased you sinfully.

“Hm~ yes Choso~ yes all for you~.” You whimper digging your nails into his shoulder while he played with you.

You were already using your power to play with his mind and hide your tattoos. They were drawn out all over your body, curling around your skin showing just how much you have eaten tonight, but Choso couldn’t see it, much too distracted and clouded in the sea of lust you created for him.

But you will allow him to believe he has control here.

That’s always been the game.

In truth, you always had the control.

Choso was pleased with your good behavior, unaware of what was actually going on. He hooked his finger into the fabric, pulling it to the side as he guided you to his cock. Your hips rocked with excitement as the tip touched upon your pussy.

“Settle down.” Choso chided but he didn’t show any sign of actually meaning his words. He sucked in a breath as he pushed against your warmth.

“Hmph~!” You gasped feeling his cock pop inside your cunt. “Ahhh~ Ch-Choso!” Your back arched, his piercings rubbing your inside making your thighs shudder.

Choso’s eyes fluttered and he bit his lip, hands tight around your waist. He kept dragging you down his length until you were nestled in his lap. Your body trembling against him. He hummed in bliss. You always fit him perfectly. So warm and snug. Sliding his hands to your ass he gripped your plump flesh and lifted just enough for him to thrust up at a slow pace.

A long drawled-out “ooo~” left your lips as he fucked you slow and allowed you to feel every drag of his piercings.

"Yeah? Feels good pet?" He questioned with a smirk.

"So-ah so good~mm-" You felt yourself slip for a second, releasing your illusion, but quickly you grabbed Choso to bring him into a lip lock. You hoped he didn’t get a chance to see the flash of your tattoos.

Unfortunately- he did.

“Mm-“ You were pushed back by your shoulders, lips disconnecting with a smack. as

Choso looked at you with a glare. “What was that?”

“Wh-what was what?” you try to look confused, trying to do some damage control.

He shook his head not at all falling for it. “Pet…I thought you said you didn't eat?"

“I... never said I didn’t eat.”

“What? You said you were hungry!”

“Yes...right... Nanami made me really really sad, like i was super sad, you know how Gojo will cry sometimes and eat a tub full of ice cream yeah yeah that's how i felt! I was super sad and it made me hungry. That part wasn't a lie!”

Choso puffed his cheeks out as he rubbed his fingers into his eyes. He wasn't sure if he should be mad at you or himself because he knew you could play games but he was caught off guard when you were sad. So that part was true... so maybe he won't be too mad at you.

He finally settled you with a firm gaze.

“Show me.”

“Show you what?”

"You're true form, stop with the illusion."

The funny thing the entire time this was happening he was still hard inside you sooo~ perhaps you weren’t in too much trouble here.

"My...true form?"

"Mhmm..." He nods.

"Are you...sure?"

"Positive."

“Oookay...” You snap your fingers, your image becomes hazy before correcting, and then he is finally able to see... you.

Black markings curled around your body like vines to a rose, your wings were much fuller and fanned out lusciously, and your tail swayed behind you. Tiny baby horns stuck up taking the place of your cat ears and your eyes glowed.

You felt Choso’s cock twitch inside you... he was always in awe of your true form.

He pressed his thumb to your bottom lip, “Open your mouth…”

You did as you were told, as Choso proceeded to poke at your now pointy canines.

He thought of a past conversation, how Sukuna spoke about being bit by you. He said it was the best orgasm he had ever had. Unlucky for him, it would take him out if you were to bite him and he'd cum inside you. Anything to do with you had a toll. Even touching you. But he still wanted to know what it felt like to have your teeth bite into him just as he was about to cum.

You could sense the lustful thought drawn to your teeth. You were able to pick out sexual desire from anyone. That's how you know about their deepest darkest secrets. You know how Choso really likes your appearance. You didn't need to transform into any fetish, you were his fetish.

Once Choso pulled away you asked him a question that you already knew the answer to.

“Do I scare you Choso?” Your voice has also returned to its ethereal form.

He could listen to you talk in your natural tongue for hours. But some might find it a bit creepy. It sounded almost distorted and eerie, like the robotic voice in the song Parasite Eve. He knew that was something else you tried to hide, but it was pleasant to his ears.

There was a moment of silence as Choso took in your appearance, his lazy gaze in awe as his fingers trailed over your horns, then wings, and then your tail. Slow, gradual, and full of purpose.

You liked it, liked how he made you feel so beautiful.

You were a creature that wasn't like them, an enemy as a matter of fact. Yet he was forever drawn to you even within this supposedly 'monster' form.

If anything he might like it even more.

He finally swallowed a dry lump and said, ”No, but I’m pissed you tricked me.”

Your lips fixed into a pout as you slid your arms around his neck, your lashes fluttered softly, “I’m sorry…”

“You get to do it yourself.” Choso moved to grab his blunt and lighter with you hanging around his neck.

That's when you really began to throw a fit, “Nooo~.” you mewled watching as he lit his blunt.

He blew the smoke to the side, leaning back into the couch with one arm behind his head, “Get to it pet.”

You whined as you began to ride him, feeling good but not as good as you both knew you could feel. It was always better when they helped, but you suppose this little punishment wasn't as bad.

Truly Choso didn't think you were ‘sorry’ but truly he wasn't ‘pissed’ either.

It was something both of you knew.

Choso could have put his foot down and told you to hop off, but then his cock would miss the squelching of your pussy. He could have been more cautious with how much your succubus features have grown but he loved how they looked while you rode him. Especially as your wings expanded and fluttered with excitement, and your tail swished rapidly. Your eyes were a bright glow and your tongue swiped upon your vampire-like teeth. Sometimes you would even nick him in the heat of passion but he didn't mind.

He was beginning to realize... (what you already knew) ...he loved it best when you were in your true form. Perhaps that was his secret fetish and why he liked to wait until you were fed. Because he gets to see you like this.

There were a lot of things that Choso probably could have done but he was a man lost at sea and he decided he was quite alright with crashing his boat into rocks and drowning... as long as it is with you.

He even broke his own punishment near the end. All he needed was your breathless  “Please Choso~ I can’t do it like you~” and he was surrendering with a fake ‘sigh’.

“Hmm…Alright alright.” he murmured as he held his blunt by his lips and grabbed your hips.

You screamed in pleasure as he picked you up and dropped you down with each powerful thrust. The build of an orgasm was getting faster and faster- and then just as he thought- 'Bite me'- within a flash, you sank your teeth into his neck making his lips fly open in a loud shout, blunt tossed away.

“Fuck!” Choso shouts and then grits his teeth. He came so hard he was seeing stars and felt his body zap to life. It was like he had an out-of-body experience. Then he felt the siphoning. He could feel his curse energy drain right along with his blood and cum.

The pain mixed with the pleasure mixed with the slow exhaustion was overwhelmingly intense.

It was like a feeling he had never felt before. A feeling he could not explain. And within the deepest part of his mind, he felt as though he were at ease and if you decided to drain all his blood and kill him right here perhaps he wouldn't be so mad.

This high was something he could never get enough of. No wonder why your times with Sukuna always end with him being covered in bite marks. If he could handle it he'd have you bite him all the time.

Just as his vision began to fade, you moaned against his neck, pulling back while licking your bloody lips.

“Are you okay?” you question with a watery gaze, "I... didn't do too much did I?" you ran your thumb over his cheek.

He smiled softly, noticing how worried you were about him. Even though he was just your food, it was starting to seem you may be getting a bit attached to them... and vice versa. He liked that thought. And the thought that you could be sad over them and worry like this. That the thought of hurting them has you so scared that you are extra careful.

“I'm fine…” he murmured wrapping his arm around your waist. “…stay like this for a minute yeah?”

You smiled sweetly, leaning forward you were going to kiss him but thought otherwise. You had taken enough from him, more than you had ever done in one sitting. Biting was normally Sukuna’s thing, he had enough curse energy for you to do both but you knew Choso wanted to try. So you made sure you just gave him a little taste and backed off. Just a few minutes of cock warming and then you will need to stop touching him. You rest your head on his chest instead, playing with his hair as you enjoy this peace and quiet-

-*SLAM*

The door was kicked open as a very drenched Toji stomped in with water dripping onto the floor.

“What the- what the fuck dude?” Choso choked in bewilderment as the angry man grabbed your hair and pulled you back.

“Ai~.” you drawl playfully as Toji points at you.

“Is this her!?” he growled.

“Uh… I think- think so?” Choso spoke with uncertainty not understanding what the hell was happening. “Why are you fucking soaked…”

“Hehehe.” there were giggles at the door as three versions of yourself laughed.

“You’re coming with me!” Toji dragged you off Choso’s dick as you whine some more.

"Bye Choso~!" You waved all the way out till your hand disappeared.

Your clones moved out of the way while cooing. “Ooooo~.” they giggled.

Choso let out a sigh, he was hoping he was your last stop, then you could have cuddled with him and warmed his cock. Something caught his eye, weed that was smooshed along with the wrap.

Toji must have stepped on it when he came in.

“Aw, man…I was gonna finish that...”

*Ding*

His phone chimed and with a tired hand, he flipped it over to read the screen.

Blue Balls: DONT FEED HER SHES HAD ENOUGH TO EAT!!! 😠😠😠😠😠

Choso deadpanned.

'Well, it is a bit too late for that jackass.'

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.Chapter Eleven.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

[coryosbaby]

helloooooo i read your donnie darko fic and omg i love it!!! youre an amazzzzing writer!!! i have a request for donnie darko if thats okay!! maybe a smut with a fem reader? their at a party and they both run into each other for the first time and they both become equally obsessed with eachother? you can take it from there!! if you dont feel like it feel free to ignore this:)

note: I don't feel like writing smut right now so I didn't include it. buuuut I love this concept and might make it into a little blurb series with smut later on!! so here it is :)

CW: awkward first meets, oversharing, alcohol briefly mentioned, allusions to sex, alternative reader/alternative Donnie, and becoming friends <3. Both are in college.

Your head pounded as you slammed the bedroom door behind you. It had been a long night-- you weren't necessarily a party-goer, but you had came with one of your friends and you needed to find a quiet place to settle your thoughts. The bedroom you had made your way into appeared to be a boy's room, but you paid it no mind as you plopped down on the bed. It appeared to be clean, so you took the chance. You laid back as your hair pooled around you. Glow 'n the dark stars were stuck to the ceiling. Some were different colors, a jumble of rainbow pooling together in your vision. As you watched the blurred lines between the ceiling and the glow of them, you nearly jumped out of your skin when you hear a voice behind you.

"Hey, dude. This is a no-enter zone. If you're that guy from earlier, disrespectfully get the fuck out, please."

The boy seemed to have been in the bathroom which connected to the room. He was tall, with jet black hair and blue eyes; he didn't appear to be a member of the party, because he was in pajamas and a freshly rinsed toothbrush was in his hand. You sat up quickly from your spot, your face flushing.

"Sorry!" you said sheepishly. "I thought this room was empty."

The boy rolled his eyes. The look on his face told you he was about to give you a piece of his mind, but before the words could spill out of his mouth, he seemed to stop in his tracks.

The light from his window had caught on your face. Donnie couldn't see you before, but now you were revealed to him in such a way that made his breath catch. He softened-- he would've been nicer if you were a girl, regardless-- and his anger seemed to dissipate.

"No, no," He cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair. ''s fine. No harm no foul."

Your eyes were wide and your pupils slightly dilated. Were you drunk? Donnie figured it was definitely a possibility, but perhaps not. Maybe it was the way you were looking at him with wide, perplexed eyes.

"I'll go," you reply. "I didn't mean to invade your space."

You stand, your skirt pooling to your feet. You cringed a little when your jewelry made a jingling sound in the quiet room. As if this situation couldn't be awkward enough. You were about to make your way to the door, but the boy's voice stopped you again.

"Uhm," he started. "If you-- if you're drunk, or somethin', and need a place to sit down, I don't mind if you stay... my sister's room is probably being occupied by her fuck of the week, so."

So he was Elizabeth's brother-- that made sense. You were acquaintances with her, but besides that the two of you didn't talk much. You knew, however, that she was the one that had thrown the party.

"I'm not drunk," you replied, then paused. "But.. would it be okay if I sat here for a while? It's too loud down there."

He gave you a soft smile, and your stomach flipped a little. He was cute, and appeared to be around your age. You knew he was only a few years younger than Elizabeth, but so were you.

"Yeah, sure."

"Cool," You made your way back over to the bed, gently sitting down. "So what's your name?"

"Donnie," He grinned a little. "You don't have to sit on the edge of the bed, you know. You were just laying down on it."

You liked the way the name rolled off of his tongue-- sultry and sweet at the same time. You enjoyed the way his eyes raked over your face like he was committing it to memory. You shuffled around on the bed, a grin spreading across your face as you watched Donnie disappear into the bathroom again. His smile was contagious.

"I'm (Y/N)," you replied, loud enough so he could hear. "Your sister is in my ap class at University."

"Oh yeah?" you heard shuffling, and the sound of a pill bottle opening. "I go to University, too. Not that one, though. Longwood."

"No shit? I applied there, too."

He walked back into the room, plopping down beside you. He sat up against one of the pillows, his arms draped lazily over his head. You tried not to stare at the biceps he had.

"Too bad you didn't go. You seem like someone I would be friends with."

You shrugged, your words soft as you said, "We could be friends now, if you want."

He smiled. His thigh grazed yours, just barely, and it made goosebumps trail across the skin. "You're right. We could be."

After a moment's silence, you examined the shelf in front of his bed. Donnie seemed to be an avid DVD and CD collector, and when you caught sight of one of your favorite movies, your eyes lit up.

"You like Nightmare on Elm Street too?"

"Obviously,” he replied. “Which one is your favorite?"

“The first one.”

“No fucking way. The sequel.”

“A sequel can never outdo the first movie, dude—“

“Says who?”

“Says every rule of film ever.”

The conversation seemed to flow easily after that. One of you ended up putting in Nightmare on Elm Street, and you sat comfortably next to Donnie. Somewhere along the line, your head rested on his shoulder. Your eyes were almost close to fluttering shut when your flip phone lit up beside you.

'Where r u? Need someone to pick me up' read the notification. The words belonged to your little sister. You sighed-- it seems that you weren't the only one who was ready for a night out.

"Shit."

Donnie looked over. On the screen, Freddy Krueger reached out one of his clawed hands. "What?"

"Nothing," you replied. "I just need to go pick up my sister, that's all."

"Oh. Yeah, okay. That's cool."

"It was nice meeting you." you said.

"It was nice meeting you too," and then, as you made your way to the door, "Hey...uh, Could I maybe get your number?"

"Of course."

You fumbled for a sharpie in your bag. When you pulled it out, you grabbed ahold of Donnie's arm. You wrote down your number in bold letters, ignoring the way his pulse point throbbed erratically when you accidentally pressed against it with your thumb.

"Be careful, or it'll wash off." "Trust me, if I lose this i'll torture myself for the rest of my life."

The smile never left your face as you closed his bedroom door behind you and descended down the crowded stairs. Perhaps you had made a friend.

--

General taglist:: @mysticpenguincreation @nightmare-niko @iheartinkonpaper @becauseseaotters @emmalandry @princesstiti14 @aerangi @kaithoughs @jamespotterismydaddy @wildgirllz @nemesyaaa

[bitchfitch]

I'm trying to design the grinning thing and

For some reason. every single time I make a character whose like, explicitly fucked up and absolutely eats people, i make that character blond and twig thin. And now I'm struggling with that bc i don't need a third blond twink who craves man meat. But I also can not picture the grinning thing as being anything Besides bottle blonde. Which I guess makes them unique bc Bagri/Echo and Chase are both natural blonds. but still it Feels too similar and samey.

I know this blog literally has spooky twinks in the title, but dammit i want the twinks to be more aesthetically varried.

[ennuijpg]

NINE ♥ 240118 'dopamine' for m countdown

[id: 6 gifs of nine from kpop group onlyoneof. he is performing the choreography for 'dopamine' with the 5 other members on a stage lit in blue, purple, and red lights. he is wearing a black blazer with a deep v-neckline, black slacks, and a silver chain necklace. the colored caption reads: nine — 240118 'dopamine' for m countdown /end id]

[askallianything]

The cheesy comment catches Alli off guard, but melts her heart all the same. She bashfully smiles as she tries to hide her blushing face with one of her hands, quickly putting it down to hook the moon bracelet around Jiro's wrist. She checks the manual before putting on her own.

"It needs an app... of course it needs an app. Oh! But the color of the light and vibration intensity is customizable~!!"

Alli taps the bracelet and is quickly followed by a disappointed frown. Hopefully she could find a way to get the app on her... vintage... phone.

"You're cute when you're shy, you know. Do I make you nervous~~?"

She teases her partner, putting the bracelet manual aside and leaning in for a kiss before admiring his nude body one last time. As if it just hits her, the domestication of sleeping together in such comfy clothes makes her blush and even softly giggle to herself.

A soft sigh escapes her lips as Jiro pulls her against him. To be enveloped in his arms- it made her feel so safe.

"Jiro.... you were supposed to be paying attention to the movie!"

Alli pouts, quickly followed by a giggle that gives away her sarcastic intentions.

"I had a lot of fun. And we'll have lots more fun in the future, right? Lots more movie dates too! Lots more of... just being with each other~~"

Normally, thoughts of the future scared her. But the certainty of Jiro's presence makes everything feel a lot more manageable.

"Jiro, love, ..."

She whispers, looking up at her beloved.

"I hope you know how much you mean to me. And how much I love you- like, is love even a strong enough word for how I feel about you? And I hope you know that the next time you're hard, I'm going to suck and fuck you until you don't have a single drop of sweet cum left to give me."

Alli innocently giggles as if she didn't just say what she did.

"I know this is a bit hypocritical for me to say, but I don't want you to ever have doubts about my adoration for you, mkay? Tell me how you want my love and I'll give it to you."

She kisses his jawline much like she did when greeting him, unable to reach his lips without getting out of her comfortable position, but her hands reach each of his cheeks with a gentle caress. Alli gives Jiro a few head scratches before dropping her arms, pulling out her hair tie on the way and wrapping it back on her wrist.

jiro!!!!

which one is ur room

I think I found it

but I can't read kanji so idk if it's urs :P

oh rite!!

I'm @ mrtkrnken for our sleepover!!

He hadn't expected her to come over so soon, but the timing was good at least. Jiro was filing the last of the patient records away when he received her message. He could just message her to head to his office. He could confirm his room was the only one where the nameplate was only in kanji as opposed to both. He could even say he was on his way... But that wouldn't be as fun, now would it? Grinning to himself, he makes the trip back to his dorm. He spies Alli standing in front of his door looking through her phone. Taking advantage of her distraction, he walks up behind her placing a hand over her eyes while the other hand secures her phone in case she drops it. He whispers a quiet "Boo" in her ear before planting a kiss on her cheek.

[coconut530]

a lil’ late-night Greyson for y’all

[amplexadversary]

Ahh, tv shows where I can't tell apart the male leads, my beloathed.

Seriously either we need to go back to lighting our sets more, or long hair on men needs to come back into vogue, because I can't keep living like this.

I can't keep taking two seconds to try to determine who is who every shot because I miss what's going on in the scene!

Controversial opinion, but you need to follow the silhouette rule in live-action projects too, at least in regard to characters in the same show or movie! If you absolutely *can't* hire actors with different heights, hair, or builds, you need to work something out with the costuming department to get a distinct shape!

[kittlyns]

I had yet another long, strenuous day yesterday and didn't finish work until super late and then I couldn't fall asleep until well past 2am cuz I was in so much pain from standing literally all day

[the-kipsabian]

do you think i could get silver hair for wembley....