#games that are so good they make me want to grit my teeth and learn how to draw a non-humanoid character

[zosonils]

pokemon fucking black

[ineylesian]

— FELL ON BLACK DAYS

AVENTURINE X FEM! READER

AO3 | NAVIGATION

WORD COUNT — 9.5k

WARNINGS — spoilers for penacony’s storyline, enemies (??) to lovers, slowburn fr (it gets good i promise) mentions of genocide, mentions of child exploitation (not explicit), weapons & violence, smut, fem anatomy reader, sub!aventurine, mentions of traumatic events, one bed troupe

SUMMARY — Risk. It’s the word Aventurine lives by, a motto that claws at your heart when he’s gone. A reality that spills tears when he closes the door to your apartment, leaving only the ache of your heart in his absence. A danger that never guarantees the next time he chases his destiny will not be his last. 

You will never fight to change it, because that’s all it is. Destiny.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — AHHH i love aventurine so much he made me write again <333 i will defend this man to the end of the earth i swear. also holy word vomit, this is officially my longest piece!!

“BREAKING NEWS: Reports incoming that the International Peace Corporation has been seen with an employee suspected of Avgin origin from the planet Sigonia-IV. All habitants from this world were thought to have been wiped out or lost to the galaxy, so the appearance of this mysterious individual has grasped the attention of–”

The broadcast slowly fades into the background, overtaken by the synth and snare of a song that lightly shakes the ground at your feet. 

Sometimes you’re better of dead–

“Oh, you think you’ll be an asset? You’ll have to learn to make tough decisions on the go here if you want to succeed, so tell me…”

There’s a gun in your hand, it’s pointing at your head–

“You want to help this clan? Help claim this world and rid it from the remaining filth that roams?”

There’s a piercing screech amidst the bar, the high pitched wail of the speaker blasting the music fighting against the volume. A few seconds pass before the song picks back up again, a few lyrics skimmed through.

Which do you choose, a hard or soft option? (How much do you need?)

In a West End town, a dead end world, The East End boys and the West End girls–

“...”

“Before your initiation, you must make a prayer to the winds and mountains. Do you swear to devote your thoughts and beliefs to them, and reclaim the glory of Sigonia-IV?”

We’ve got no future, we’ve got no past

Here today, built to last–

“I swear.”

The bass fades and you’re left standing amidst a crowd of chatting people, some high on buzz, others passed out beside the restroom. Your eyes slowly fix forward, coming to a halt as the masses shift in formation, curving in a circle around the biggest table in the casino. Lined with forest green felt and red chips, hands bang against the surface joined in a cry of frustration. 

“God damn it. This is rigged!” A player screams, hot-faced and teeth grit. “YOU!”

He stomps his way around the table, stopping at the dealer’s chair, failing to gain any attention despite the magnitude of his boots on the floor. In retaliation, the man takes a fistfull of the dealer’s hair, spinning him violently around and grabbing the collar around his neck.

Seldom have there been times where you didn’t see him in this sort of setting, a man with glasses that carried the same orange tint as the drink in his hand, die mounted between his fingers as he speaks with a wealthy patron. His words weave like velvet on a fine tailored suit as he invites you to play a game of chance, and before the game has even begun, you’ve lost.

His name is Aventurine, and, just as his reputation precedes him, the corners of his lips turn upward as you enter his field of view. He is never one to be down on luck.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to exit the casino. The drinks have riled you up a bit too much, and I’m afraid you’re no longer sober enough to keep playing.”

The smell of outlandish alcohol hits your nose in a foul wave as he turns, rudely shrugging your hand off of his shoulder. 

“And who do you think you are? Protecting this weasel like that.” You take a step back as he advances, completely abandoning his grip on Aventurine as his gaze focuses on the emblem tailored to your shoulder. “You’re in on this scam too, aren’t you? Fuckin’ IPC, always looking to take money from people.” A sizable crowd has gathered at this point, and with that, guards are quick to stand at your side. You tilt your head to the side, extending a hand to gesture at the coat draped over his empty chair.

“You may gather your things and leave now, sir. Refusal to comply will result in you being forcibly removed.” 

A few more seconds of seething stares pass before he grumbles an insult toward you and rushes to gather his things, attempting to push the guards following him away. You sigh, turning to the dealer, who is now comfortable in his chair, feathered hat placed neatly on his lap as he shuffles the pool of cards pushed his way.

“Alright folks, now that’s over with, how about another–”

“Mr. Aventurine unfortunately won’t be able to join you all this round.” You quickly cut him off, laying the newly layered deck of cards onto the table. “May I have a word, please?”

The blonde takes a glance between you and the rest of the patrons at the table before nodding, allowing a charismatic smile to decorate his face as he slides the cards forward. 

“Of course. Miss Antonia, would you please find another dealer to step in for the remaining games?”

He gathers a kind nod from a nearby waitress, before turning to follow you outside of the casino. As the door opens, strong drafts of icy wind blow against your face, and you hear a shiver from behind.

“Sheesh, couldn’t we at least have talked inside? I didn’t come prepared to stand in the cold…”

You send a look his way, and Aventurine’s hands rise, lips pursed in faux apology. He pushes his glasses farther into his nose bridge as you lean against the casino’s exterior wall, shielding yourself from the chill. It’s clear he’s not taking you seriously, stifling out a yawn and rubbing his eyes before he even spares you a glance.

“Here to lecture me about the, wait…” His eyes suddenly narrow, honing in on your uniform. “Who are you?”

You remain silent, watching as he taps a few fingers against his forehead, thinking. The talisman of the IPC’s Strategic Investment Department sits firmly laid into your uniform. A smoothly carved onyx, inferior to the cornerstone you know he possesses and certainly lacking in power. His eyes linger on the stone for a few moments, biting the inside of his cheek as he tilts his head back up.

“Never seen that stone before..” He says after a few seconds, voice substantially lower. “What rank are you?”

His gaze is opaque, on guard. You resist the urge to bite your lip, figuring lying in this kind of situation wouldn’t be the best decision. Subconsciously, you bring a hand up to your stone, adjusting your coat flap before bringing it back down. 

“P39.”

His eyebrows form a sharp line, but his lips remain flat. The lens behind thick shades linger on the stone, burning into the lights that reflect off of the darkness. He’s never seen someone who isn’t a part of the Ten Cornerstones wear something like this, so who are you?

“If you’re here to try and convince me to do something, I’m not interested. I’ve had enough orders drilled into my head since I came to Jarilo-VI.”

His forefront is confident, but you can see the hand that lingers at his side, struggling to stay put. It reeks of mild uncertainty, and a lack of security. He doesn’t feel safe when he’s not in control.

“I’m here to tell you that your assignment’s changed.” Your response is straight and to the point. There’s no room to betray any underlying feelings of guilt you may have from years passed. “You’ll be with me and my team, we’re going to the Loufu in three days to sort some business out. I suggest you finish your deals here before we go.”

“Well then.” Aventurine clicks his tongue, mild annoyance riding the smile that forms on his lips. “Let’s acquaint ourselves then, shall we? You must know who I am, so please allow me the pleasure of returning the favor.”

A small passage of frosty air rises into the atmosphere as he breathes, hand extending in formality. You take it, slowly shaking, taking in the defensive rise of his shoulders. It seems he has zero tolerance for strangers.

“Nice to meet you, Aventurine. They call this stone the onyx.”

–

The Interastral Peace Corporation only takes workers to be strong-minded and just as toughly willed. In the Strategic Investment Department, greed is a virtue, and wanting nothing but it all is a prayer. Those who earn their spot as a cornerstone will stop at no means to chase their desires. 

Aventurine values risk, but he always loves to have control in his corner. Without control, the chips in his hands are of no use, and his bargains crumble beneath him. 

A gambler's true nightmare, sitting right between his eyes.

Your relation to him is a true mystery, despite all of the digging he’s been doing after arriving at the Loufu. Despite the numerous deals you’ve closed together, he still fails to know anything about you, other than the fact that you have quick wit and fascinating knowledge of the universe. He won’t dare approach you directly, his inhibitions are too high and he knows too little.

However, there’s something off about you and that stone of yours. It’s unlike anything he’s ever seen before.

“Does the IPC really need that many funds to perform a vitality check on the Sky-Faring Commission? From what I remember, this is nearly triple the amount of last year’s fee.”

“Well, Helm Master, from what our reports say, you had agreed to the accumulation of interest based on reports of safety in the Loufu. Based on recent events, there has been a substantial raise in alarm concerning the safety of the citizens here. We hope you can understand.”

Aventurine unfolds his hands, sliding a glossy black dossier over to the woman known as Yukong. After skimming over the first page of analysis, she sighs, and places her hand over the cover.

“Is it possible that we could touch bases on this later this week? I need time to look over these documents and discuss them with my team before making any decisions.”

Biting back a groan of exasperation, you nod, politely shaking her hand and bowing your head when she stands. What you thought was going to be a quick excursion of debt collecting had turned into two long weeks of debate, and you’re starting to lose sleep. After Yukong exits, you run a hand through your hair, allowing the flow from the outside to flood your ears..

You can admit, the place they chose is certainly impressive in its theatrics, blooming with tall fountains of pristine water and a live band of foxians playing classical music on a mahogany stage. 

After a few minutes of jotting down notes you find yourself leaning against the bar’s edge, elbows cool against smooth wood. Your thoughts swirl like the vibrato of the woman singing a cover of a local song in a language unknown to you, but it’s calming, and you begin to itch with the desire to order a drink.

The waiter polishing glasses near you seems to pick up on your wants, quietly gesturing with her hand that she’ll take your order.

“A Rose in Rain, please.”

She makes your drink at an astonishing speed, sliding the glass next to your hands with a smile. You stare at the royal blue liquid sitting at the rim, contemplating if the hangover will be worth it.

Aventurine eyes the finger that rests along the base of the glass, humming quietly to himself. He figures there’s no better way to get to know someone than through a few drinks.

“You gonna drink that or keep staring at it?”

You turn your head, watching as he slides onto the barstool next to you. He raises his three outer fingers, ordering a small glass of Wintry Garden before turning to face you.

It’s been a long month with the Cornerstone. His approach remains restricted, evident in his snippets of sarcasm that he still doesn’t trust you. Your situation is… unusual, so you tolerate it. However, there still lies a fear within that he’ll go deeper than what’s for his own good.

“Do you usually drink? Or are you afraid to spill your guts?”

His words drip with conviction, blindly accusing you with the corners of his mouth tilted upward. It’s been too long, and he still doesn’t know a damn thing about you other than the stone you wear. He needs to flip this in his favor, fast.

Aventurine’s fingers drum against the bar’s edge as he picks up his drink, taking a small sip. The slight tilt of his head inclines you to start yours too, drinking half of the tall glass in one swig. His eyebrows raise in surprise when the drink hits the table, taking all but a few seconds to completely down the entirety of its contents, a resounding clink following.

When you don’t rush to finish your own drink, Aventurine chuckles, crossing his arms as he turns to face you fully. He’s eyeing you, daring smile plastered on his face.

“What, scared?”

He’s challenging you. And it works, since your drink is empty and you’re ordering a second round in a matter of seconds. Fizz sluggishly bubbles down your throat, followed by rich spots of thick, clear syrup.

A few drinks is all it takes for you to begin feeling lightheaded, pressing a palm into your eye to try and alleviate the nausea. Aventurine is at least 6 drinks in, setting down his next with an exaggerated sigh. Raising his hand for another, he lightly dings his glass against yours, the scent of redsunset sauce high on his breath.

“Let’s talk, Onyx.” He remarks, placing his hands on the table as the bartender comes over. “What’s the real deal with you? How come I haven’t seen you anywhere in the IPC and you show up in my faction one random day?”

You cough, attempting to clear your throat before you answer. It’s tough to keep your resolve with the amount of alcohol in your system.

“Maybe you’re just not perceptive enough, I’ve always been around.”

It’s clear he doesn’t like your answer. Another drink down.

“How many years have you worked for the IPC?”

“Almost 4 now.”

“What’s the entrance project that got you into the Strategy Department?”

You hesitate, and he grins, satisfied. This interrogation is going as planned.

“Well then? I’m sure it couldn’t have been that bad, unless you’re more dangerous than you seem.”

It’s your turn to down a drink, wiping a small trace off of your chin as you think.

“Izumo.” You answer, short, watching as his fingers clasp tighter around the glass in his hand. Surprise.

“You really expect me to believe that?” He scoffs, a tinge of fire evident in his voice. “No one goes to Izumo any more, not after the slash.”

“You’d be surprised at the sheer amount of people that go to Magatsu no Morokami to uncover history. The IPC has their eyes set on valuable relics left behind from the war.”

He leans forward, dangerously close to your face. Past the thick orange lens of his aviators, you can see the irate spark in his eyes, alight with a plethora of shades you’ve never seen before.

“It’s not wise to lie to your superiors.”

You back away, sliding your card across the counter to the bartender. The moment Aventurine gets up to follow, you stop in your tracks, holding a small drive in his direction. You have some tricks up your sleeve, too.

“You’ll change your mind.”

He pauses, slightly bent over in a stupor of alcohol. 

“Best keep your cards close to your chest, Aventurine. Snooping in places you don’t belong bodes bad fortune.”

His mouth opens, but no words come out. Slowly, he takes the drive from your hand, leaning back onto the bar’s surface, eyebrows knit in thought. The world is suddenly too loud and amidst a flurry of harmonic bellows and blinding lights, you disappear. 

—

INTERASTRAL PEACE CORPORATION, STRATEGY INVESTMENT DEPARTMENT HQ | ONE MONTH LATER

“I guess I should apologize.”

Several weeks of absence. You look up from the papers on your desk, watching as Aventurine places your drive back on your desk. He straightens back up, waiting for you to respond.

“Understandable.” You answer, finalizing a document with a quick signature. “I would have had my apprehensions too.”

“Still do, but it’s better to work with someone you tolerate, right?”

You look up. He shrugs, eyeing the papers you have scattered around.

You had given him a flash drive with your report on Izumo, or, at least, a report on it. Sometimes things are left best buried. Still, Aventurine is certainly not stupid, and you know that. The final version of the report is vague and full of small incidents that contrast the planet’s true history There are inconsistencies, but he seems a little less hostile for the time being.

“Whatever you’re hiding from me, I intend to find out in due time. But I can’t do that if we’re at odds.” A hand is extended your way, held a little less straight and professional. “Let’s just try and hate each other a little less, huh?”

Fighting the urge to roll your eyes, you take his hand and shake it for the second time. Aventurine smiles at you, a little less pointedly, but still on guard.

“Friends it is, then.”

His grip tightens slightly at the proclamation, leaving your veins seared and eyes wavering. As if you just made a deal with the devil. Your gaze drags along the fancies of his coat, figuring this is just another gamble he’s won. Something closer to certain death; the passion for it intrigues you.

Sooner or later you’ll suffer the consequences of a lie, you tell yourself. There’s no good outcome when striking up an agreement with a gambler, especially one like Aventurine.

Especially when the gambler is holding a knife to your throat.

The blade is cool, barely holding back from your trachea. Leather gloves hold a fistfull of your hair, shoving you down onto the filing cabinet you were sifting through moments before. Your eyes dart around, only able to see the edge of his shoe pressing against your ankle and the papers you dropped scattered across the floor.

“Just as I thought we were getting along.” His spits, words slithering around your chest and settling around your neck. “It was only a matter of time before you slipped up.”

Confusion spreads across your features, and Aventurine scoffs. His shoe digs deeper into your achilles, and you stagger against the metal. 

“What the Hell are you talking about?” Your words come out choked, gasping for air against Aventurine’s hold.

“That man, the one you had a long conversation with at the meeting tonight? You two seemed to get along.” Aventurine’s breath runs short out of anger, grip scalding against your skin. “You know him, don’t you?”

You close your eyes, tracing the night’s events back several hours. You only recall shaking two men’s hands, one being the esteemed Doctor Ratio’s, and the other the reason why you were down in the IPCs archives. He was dressed nothing short of what a gentleman would wear, offering you many commending words as he spoke of the recent inflation concerning the astral economy. However, you didn’t miss the brilliant stone embedded in the shell of his tie, reflecting vibrant colors you’ve only seen once in your lifetime. And neither did he.

“Pretty stone isn’t it?.” Aventurine continues, pressing your hands against the wall you’re shoved against. “I’ve seen it a lot throughout my lifetime, but I’m sure you know that already. Silly me, forgetting how easy it is to conceal them.”

He reaches for your shoulder, and you push back, using the slightly stagger of his feet to grab the blade’s edge, violently smashing your head into his and spinning him around. His blade traded for your stone. 

“I’d like to know…” His fingers flip the stone around, taking in the colorless mass, like a void amidst the stars. With a quick swipe of his hand, a lighter is held to it, engulfing the black in a dance of pale fire. Aventurine shakes the rising smoke off of him after a few moments, and your eyes narrow.

“...Why you have this?”

Turquoise meteorite, a brilliant blue stone infused with veins of a green just as bright. A kind of beauty that could only be found on Sigonia, tailored in a way only an Avgin could. The crafter spoke of a tactic that could hide the stone’s true color, while keeping its spirit alive with you still. 

Blood drips from your hand, staining your clothes a deep crimson. Gritting your teeth together, you slice a sleeve of your dress shirt off, slowly wrapping it around the wound. 

Aventurine stands, still, fury riding his waterline. His glasses sit beside his feet, hues of purple and blue wavering in the dim light. His hand slowly clenches, in and out, smoothing the cooled piece over his palm.

“What now, Katican?” His voice is quiet, gently ricocheting off of concrete walls. “Came to settle one last score, fulfilling your dream of tracking down the last Avgin? Oh, I bet you’re itching to use that knife right now.”

You step to the side, shaking bloodstained papers off of your feet. The knife drops to the ground, scraping cruelty against the ground as you kick it to a corner far out of your reach. A sharp intake of breath follows, and he steps back.

“I’m no Katican.” Your tone is low, locking eyes with Aventurine, his gaze darts from the knife to you. “The stone was a gift from an Avgin I saved during the second extinction.”

The air is stale, prickling with fear as you pass. Aventurine stands tall, but you know all too well that his greatest fear has come alight in this very room. The thought of coming face to face with a Katican chases him in his nightmares each dusk, a terror looming over his head akin to a raging storm. For once, he’s speechless, completely dumbstruck, mind racing to comprehend all that you’ve bestowed upon him. So little said, yet so great a burden unveiled. 

You would be right in telling him that such information is better left buried. Yet Aventurine knows only how to shatter the destiny that calls for him, and monumental change has left in its wake.

He opens his mouth to speak, yet words fail him. The hand holding the stone sits slotted behind his back, holding on to it as he would a birthright. A piece of his past that would never bless him again, sitting in the shade of Sigonia’s darkest nights, mimicking a color that does not belong to it. He wants to scream, take his knife and shove it so hard into your chest that it comes out on the other side. 

“I am on your side, Aventurine. I always have been.”

After forcing himself to swallow, he straightens up, but you’re already gone.

Distantly, a heavy thud hits the floor.

–

TUMBLEWEED, SALSOTTO.

“I’m Daisy, here this morning with Tumbleweed’s daily weather report. As usual, there’s sun about. However, a rude awakening is coming at around 6pm, as a pretty hefty thunderstorm is coming our way. Make sure you carry your umbrellas! And remember, as our beloved Fleetworld Marc says, thunder only happens when it’s destined.”

Destiny. The word lingers in your head as a pang of hunger hits your insides. Placing your last suitcase beside your bed, you set off for your hotel room’s kitchen. Reaching over and opening a cabinet, you groan when it reveals itself to be empty. 

Shrugging your coat over your shoulders, you pocket your room card. However, when you open your door, you’re quick to step back, feeling your heart rate spike instantly in shock. 

“Uh…” You take a few short breaths, regaining your composure. “Can I help you?”

The man standing before you is no other than Aventurine, chin receding as he looks at you with evident confusion.

“Can I help you?” He retorts, flipping his hotel card up to the light. “This is my room.”

You pull the exact same card out of your pocket, and the two of you share looks of bewilderment. After reading over the numbers on your card for what felt like the 50th time, Aventurine sighs, long and drawn out. 

“Well, this isn’t what I imagined when the front desk told me they could fit a room in for me.”

“I’ll go ask–”

You’re cut off with a swift wave of his hand.

“Don’t bother, I already did. They’re fully booked for the next week.”

Before you know it, both Aventurine and his bags are heading into your… your room. Exhaling, you mutter a quiet “okay..” and follow him inside. However, he’s quick to stop you once you make it past the bathroom, exaggeratedly pointing toward the wall to your right.

“This has to be some kind of joke, right?” Aventurine laughs, pulling his glasses off as if attempting to see better. 

His gaze is fixed on the bed sitting across from you. The single bed, accompanied with a single nightstand and a TV. In that moment, you both share a second groan, and Aventurine palms his face.

“I’ll figure this out.”

In a matter of moments, he’s gone, suitcases set haphazardly on the ground beside you. After a few minutes of thought, you head to the bathroom, soaking your hands in cold water. A brief inhale follows the icy chill that drags over your face, and you silently curse destiny. 

A few hours pass before Aventurine returns, shirt slightly ruffled, annoyance clearly displayed upon his features. The click of boots melds into the soft step of socks as he enters the kitchen, and you silently pass a bowl of fried rice you had been able to scavenge from a local grocery store over. Running a hand through his hair, he nods your way, sliding into the stool across from you and stopping the bowl with his fingers.

“As you could have guessed, there are zero people in this whole building willing to switch rooms with us.”

“Ah, yeah. Tourists are usually snobby.”

A hum signifies his response. Silence encompasses the room as a blanket would, save the soft clangs of silverware on bowls. You fix your gaze on the granite countertops, following intricately woven lines of mixed stone and drawing patterns in each section you come across. Becoming so immersed in the cracks, you don’t even notice when Aventurine passes you twice, once with his bowl, and once without. Seconds turn into minutes as you stare at the sheet of stone, only taken away from thought when he returns to the table, dressed in a black set of silk pyjamas. 

“What’s your story?”

Your eyelashes flutter, taken aback by the sudden inquiry. Raising your head, you push the now cold rice to the side and glance at the man across from you, fingers interlocked in wait. 

You’re shocked at the simplicity of it. The lack of accusations are a breath of fresh air when it comes to his words, typically cold fronted and dripping with malice. You would expect him to be angry still, perhaps even worse, giving that you lied, but you can feel the genuine curiosity lingering within. He seems to want to understand.

“I joined the IPC when I was young, almost ten years ago.” You start, fighting the urge to snap away from his gaze. “In my second year, word was out that there was trouble on Sigonia. It was thought that the IPC had it under control, but everyone knew there was something else coming.”

You pause. Aventurine remains quiet, attentive.

“I took it upon myself to convince my superiors to send me to Sigonia, despite their warnings. But… the work we did there, it wasn’t enough. I could help no one under the bounds of the IPC, so I sought out the Katicans. No more bounds. I was on the inside, where I could do things my own way.”

“Such lovely people, weren’t they?” He questions, apathy leaking from deep within. “Didn’t have a single care in the world other than themselves. They wanted to see everything burn, the women, children.”

“I have never seen a deeper hatred than what lies within them.”

You stop, again, toying with your fingers. Aventurine’s silence beckons you to proceed.

“I could only help so many, and they all ended up dying anyway. There was no escaping them, they were ruthless.” Your voice trails off, shaking your head slightly at the recollection of dark days in the wasteland they call Sigonia. No horrors match the ones that took place there. “I couldn’t imagine what you went through, any of you. And still, you’re alive.”

A word softly chants in your head. Destiny.

“Ever since I was born, I knew what was made out for me was never good.” Aventurine says, a hint of irony in his voice. “I fell on black days without knowing what it was like to live on the other side, and it’s been like that since.”

Flashes of your past mix in with current thought. You remember them, the Avign children, clinging to scraps of life even when it was evident their lives would soon end. Their eyes, just as brilliant as his, drowned by crashing waves, yet afloat on the prayer of hope. You imagine Aventurine was just like them, and you understand. Anger breeds and it seethes.

“How do you control it?” Such a simple question, yet so many answers. 

“I put it all into risk. Every single last bit of it. I gambled, and I won.” His pointer finger gently hits the table, and he raises his hand to wave it through the air. “I survive, and I bet again.”

“A bold motto, I must say.”

A small smile graces his features, shrugging lightheartedly.

“Luck seems to be on my side.”

You look to the side at the sound of a crack, noticing that rain has started to fall. The sky is obscured by deep grays, and the rumble beckons you to the sliding door separating you from the balcony. The crash of drops on concrete is soothing to your ears, bestowing a peace upon your heart you’ve failed to find for a while now. The serenity thickens as Aventurine steps to your side, the hues in a ring of his eyes reflecting the storm outside.

“I didn’t rain much back then.” He muses, gaze following the slow drizzle of fallen streaks on the balcony’s edge. “A privilege I can keep alive, now that I see it so often.”

You look to the side, meeting Aventurine’s eyes halfway. The corners of his lips turn up as he looks past you, covering his mouth as he stifles a yawn.

“Almost forgot about the bed.” He laughs, running a hand over his lower face. “You can have it, I’ll be okay on the floor.”

“Absolutely not!” You counter, head tilting in defiance. “I’ll be fine on the floor.”

“That would be extremely impolite of me.”

“As it would be for me…”

“Will you please just sleep on the bed?”

“I brought extra pillows! I’ll be more comfortable than you on the floor.”

Aventurine stops, sending you a half lidded look. You walk over to your suitcase, swiftly pulling the two large pillows you packed out, holding them at your sides. He walks over to you, snatching a pillow out from one of your arms before walking toward the bed.

“Or, how about this?” He shoves your pillow on top of the hotel provided one. “We put the extra pillows on the bed, and we both take a half.”

You purse your lips, and shrug in reason. After patting your pillow into place, you climb onto the bed, turning on your side to ensure you’re only taking up half of the bed. 

As you land on your other shoulder, you nearly touch noses with Aventurine. He chuckles, eyebrows raising in a teasing manner.

“It’s not often someone gets the chance to be this close to me.”

You groan, tugging the coarse blanket to your chest as you flip to your front. Stifling a few chuckles, Aventurine turns so his back is facing you.

Within a few minutes, quiet snores begin to drift through your ears. You sigh, and roll your eyes. And yet, only peace visits you in your dreams.

–

There have been few nights of your stay in Salsotto without rain. You’ve grown accustomed to the melodic pad of morning to the erratic roar of the night. This night is different, however, as dew is high in the air but the clouds of the afternoon are white, tainted with swirls of pink that bode better weather. 

You fumble with the pearls on your neck, carefully positioning them so they rest on your collarbone. All IPC events require a clearance of wear that is above the standard grade of formal, nothing short of extravagant, explaining the fine tailored suit you wear over your dress. Ivory on cream, a palette that bodes well when making business deals. 

Heels click on pavement, Tumbleweed’s National Museum in sight. Golden lights cast the establishment in an elegant glow, and the stream of classical cello welcomes your ears as you approach. Welcoming smiles are given your way as you enter the building, and you start a long night of shaking hands and business chatter with the esteemed mechanical aristocrat Screwllum. 

Leisure chats of the Genius Society’s next project flow in and out of wine chutes, with gentle opera joining new deals of funding. Another hand shake bodes your farewell to a philanthropist from the Herta Space Station, and you take a seat at one of the tables nearby, attempting to gather your thoughts. Sipping on a glass of sparkling rose, you start jotting down tonight’s business proposals onto your phone.

“Having fun?”

You look up, offering a smile toward your temporary hotelmate as you pull the chair next to you back.

“Was wondering when I’d run into you, Aventurine.” You say, clinking glasses with the blonde. “How many deals have you clinched tonight?”

“More than you, I bet.” You scrunch your nose, folding your arms after sliding your phone his way. Aventurine takes a look through your notes, smile expanding on his face as he progresses.

“...And it seems I would be right.” He exclaims, holding up two full hands. “Don’t feel bad. It’s the natural charm.”

“Mhm. Super natural, and not annoying at all.” You quip, earning a light jab in the shoulder.

Your past two weeks with Aventurine had proved to be an easier feat than you had thought. Beside the snoring (that you had learned to tune out), he had served as a good source of company, squandering your worries of lingering grudges as you spent more time around one another. You were grateful he had the will in his heart to see the reason behind what you had done, although you were a little surprised to see that he had forgiven you with such ease. 

Now, to you, he seemed to be an easy soul forced to carry burdens that were undeserving of him. 

“Hey.”

You’re roused from your thoughts by the gentle tap of Aventurine’s foot against your heel. He cocks his head, and you’re suddenly aware of the soft serenade filling the room, sung by an artist famous for this piece.

“Let’s get our minds off of business for a while. Care to dance?”

He straightens his jacket before standing up, beckoning you to do the same. You accept the hand outstretched, threatening to roll your eyes as Aventurine lays his other on your back, guiding you to the floor.

“Trying to show off?” 

Aventurine slowly spins you into a shroud of spotlight, laughing when your eyes go wide from the precision of his arms slowing you back down. 

“Of course.”

A look is shared between the two of you, and the dance begins. You recognize the piece, Seid Umschlungen, Millionen! (Be Embraced, You Millions!), and fall into a sort of waltz, slow, quick, slow. Your feet move in a symphony of chirping violin and cello vibrato, swirling carefully around other dancers as you step from box to box. 

The music quiets in a moment of repose, and you slow, winding your hands around his neck as you sway, in wait. 

“What’s with the long face?”

The question catches you off guard, as you weren’t aware that your thoughts had reflected off of your face. Lips pursing, you wonder whether taking the chance and ruining the moment is worth it, but the question nags deep within, festering like a cancer that will not cease until it is freed. 

“Do you forgive me?”

Strings echo and rise; Aventurine fits a hand behind your back before spinning you into dance. His eyebrows are furrowed lightly, as if your question had caught him off guard in some sort of way, but you both knew it was coming. Trust is an uncertain entity, not easily won or wagered, never certain in whether it’s attained or lost. Forgiveness is a trial for trust, and within inquiry lie a question of deeper truth that never made it to the surface

Do you hate me, Aventurine?

There have been many times in the passing days where you’ve been questioned about your time in Sigonia-IV. A test to determine whether your actions deserved merit. Recounting stories of countless lives you worked tirelessly to save at the risk of your own. Gallons of blood stained on your hands from the guilty, those whose karma ran the empty river beds of the desert red. 

So much, and yet nothing at all. It’s as if life is out to play some game of twisted fate, as you see all of the lives you could not save in the man right before you. The brand slightly hidden by his collar and wispy blonde, jewelry glittering at his wrists, irises that shine in the darkest of nights. Bewitching, yet so alive. 

“There’s nothing to forgive.” He says, after some time. “You did a brave thing, I would be a fool to condemn you for it.”

Elation. It’s the feather touch of his hands, graceful in the way they dip you, nearly stopping time as you lay suspended. Your eyes lock, and you nearly drown in the glow of lavender and maya that stare back. Slowly, you feel one of his hands leave your back, dipping in his suit pocket and coming to rest in your vision. 

“Their memory is always alive somewhere. It’s up to us to keep it.”

You’re lifted to stand, and, amidst a rather slow spin, Aventurine pins the turquoise meteorite you’d thought was long gone onto the span of dress fabric above your chest. The resounding smile shared is trust.

You twirl and sink until the song comes to an end, stopping in a hold of hands and interlocked legs as orchestra is overtaken by voice. In the midst of fading spotlight, your breath evens out, and you find yourself following the gambler’s hand to escape the noise, elbows brushing on a balcony railing as you stare out into the fading daylight.

The sky is tinged with the baby blue of afternoon, arising into a deep interweave of violet and blush. A small, red casino chip flips between Aventurine’s fingers, rolling to sit between his pointer and thumb in short pauses.

“Got any tricks up your sleeve, gambler?”

Aventurine tilts his head to the side, invigorated by the rise of your lips, challenging, daring. The game you propose has risk, but what is life without taking leaps blind? Aventurine is sure he can see you now, after all.

With a flip of the chip and a wave of his hand, the red disappears, and a cool sensation lands firmly on your lips. His face is inches away from yours, fingers gently pressing against the chip that severs the distance between you.

“There are tricks to any risk, as long as you know what you’re doing.”

You raise your hand, sliding the chip from your mouth and palming it. When he doesn’t move, you tug on his collar, chin tilting upward to press your lips to his. The sensation is warm, gentle, as if you tread on ice that threatens to shatter. Honey sears your tongue, and you revel in the touch of his lips, soft as the velvet of his tie.

The moment is all too short, yet your mouth feels numb as you break away. In a moment of silence, you take the hand that sits lightly clamped around your wrist, sliding the chip in his palm and closing his fingers.

“I think I’ll be gambling a lot with you, Aventurine.”

His face moves closer, and you look down for a moment, noticing the hand that sits behind his back.

“I look forward to it.”

–

INTERASTRAL PEACE CORPORATION, STRATEGIC INVESTMENT HQ | TWO MONTHS LATER

Knock, knock.

“Coming.”

The door opens in fluid motion, revealing a room cast in gloom, tan shade, blinds drawn. 

“Hey, Aven.” You sigh, placing a chaste kiss on the blonde’s cheek. “Long day?”

“Long day.” He mirrors, offering to take the stack of papers off of your hands. You accept, slipping into the chair across from his desk. “Are you done for today?”

“Mhm.” 

Aventurine sits in his desk chair, shrugging the navy coat he sports onto the back. You stretch your arms behind your back, watching as deft hands undo the cross hatched tie representing the cornerstones from his collar. As he sets the piece down, his office phone starts to buzz, and he groans.

“Hello, this is Aventurine… Uh huh, what time?” He draws circles into ebony, holding the phone to his shoulder as he reaches for a notepad. However, as he clicks the pen in his hand, he nearly drops the phone, clearly startled. “Can you repeat that? Si- okay. I’m coming.”

In a flurry of movement, he stands, tie and coat snatched. 

“We have to go, right now.”

His tone is impatient, brimming with anxiety and unwilling to contest. You blink a few times before following him out of his office, grabbing his coat to hold onto as he fits his tie back to his shirt. The walk is silent, save a quiet “thank you” when you hand the coat over and the click of shoes on tile. Your nerves rise as you move, watching the way he frets with his gloves, tugging on the ends repeatedly. 

In a matter of minutes, you arrive at the boardroom of the IPC’s Strategic Investment Department, stopping at the edge of the table as Jade turns around, followed by a concerned looking Topaz.

“Ah, Aventurine. What a surprise, I was sure not to include your name in the list of attendees tonight.“She sends a look to the white haired cornerstone, before directing her gaze to you. “Unfortunately, ranks below P40 are prohibited from attending this meeting. Guards, please see her out.”

You push against the guard that seizes your wrist, but are unable to resist as more come to his aid. After having the door shoved in your face, you’re dragged to the hallway outside of the meeting hall, forced to sit in wait. 

30 minutes. Another 30. An hour before the doors open, with Aventurine first, Topaz following close behind. He rushes past you, eyes on the ground, gone within seconds. Concern etches your features as Topaz runs up to you, lips pursed in distress,

“Aventurine-” She pauses, hand on her chest as she catches her breath. “Please go after him. You’re the only one that he’ll see now, after what just happened.”

“What happened?”

At your inquiry, she shakes her head, nodding her head toward the direction Aventurine took off in.

“It’s best you hear it from him. But, please, go see him tonight, he needs someone who’s close to his heart.”

Worry is quick to seep into your features, but you nod. A quick visit to his office and you’re off, taking the next jet off of Pier Point, to Klimt Republic. Weaving through streets and bullet trails full of life, you arrive in the heart of Klimt just two hours later, standing on the penthouse floor of an apartment complex worth more than the entire block you’re on.

Knock, knock.

Silence. You hesitate, and knock again. 

The shuffling of feet hit the floor, and you wait in anticipation, hands firmly at your sides as the noise stops. After a few moments, the door slowly opens, and you sigh in relief.

Aventurine stands, slightly hunched against the doorframe, hair disheveled, eyes red and irritated.

“Aven, what happ-”

A pair of hands seize your wrist, tugging you inside and slamming the door behind you. 

“Not now.” Your eyes widen at the plea in his voice, whole with a basal need that makes your chest tighten. “Please, just, make me forget about it right now.”

He looms over you, yet the shadow he casts is the antonym of threatening. Fear reeks off of him like vodka, as tears brim on his waterline. The feeling spreads to your skin like wildfire, and you feel him shake as you take his face in your hands, breathing shallow and scared.

The first taste of his lips is sweet, but the salt of his tears is quick to sink in. Clumsy and trembling, your bodies rock and hit walls as you make your way to his bedroom. You throw his coat to the side as he does yours, pushing him down onto his bed as you break for air. 

Aventurine’s hair flows out around him as he falls onto the mattress, shrouding him as a halo would. You chase after him, littering his neck with soft bites that elicit soft groans from the skin beneath. You unbutton half of his shirt before diving for his collarbone, reveling in the whines that respond as you nip and bruise. 

His hands reach for your pants, and you stop him before he can reach for your panties. 

“Ah-ah, hands behind your head.” Your voice pools out smooth, running a hand down his shirt. “Just relax and let me take care of you.” 

Gently pinning his hands above him, you let go, and he complies. You reward him with a kiss, messy and careless, pulling a string of saliva between your lips when you leave them. Your free hand pushes hair out of his eyes while the other works on the zipper of his slacks, watching as his fingers lock together as you apply pressure.

A shudder leaves Aventurine’s lips as you pull his boxers down, hand gently running along the length of his dick. Teeth tug at lips as you spit on your hand, working at his cock while running your free fingers along your folds. His neck lifts up as your hands move faster, and you grin, choking the noises that threaten to spill from your mouth at the display before you.

A sight like heaven, an angel laid out for worship. Aventurine’s skin is coated in a soft sheen of sweat that shines in the dim light, hand laid over one eye whilst the other remains barely open. Under the mix of hues that resemble wild fields of flowers, blush coats his cheekbones, a light to the darkness that blooms on his neck. The vulnerability of it makes your heart soar, and you feel a fire ignite in the depths of your being that fails to stoke.

The hand that toys with your clit lifts, prodding at Aventurine’s mouth as you lower yourself on his cock. Muffled whines vibrate around your fingers, and you moan at the fullness that envelops you. You swirl your fingers in his mouth, biting on your cheek as his tongue wraps around them, sucking on the sweet taste of you. 

His hands abruptly reach up, fingers winding and tangling in hair as they pull you down, replacing fingers with lips. The sensation is hot, as if an unquenchable balm has set your skin alight. 

“Feel good?”

“What kind of- ughh- question is that?” 

You clench around him as if it's instinct, and Aventurine calls your name as he would a prayer. His moans are akin to song, divine in melody, alluring in a way that shuts your mind off from anything else but him. One of his hands leaves your hair, fingers clumsily clamping around your own, holding you like fine china. 

The stretch of his dick does little to quench the hunger within, you crave more, a devout worshiper crying a hymn of need. Your motion becomes erratic, a twist of limbs and friction that siphons tears that streak down your cheeks, falling to mix in with the sweat on your lover’s face.

“Gonna-” Aventurine chokes on his own words, eyes shut harshly as he blinks back ecstasy. “Cum.”

Your words are lost to you, only managing to groan in response as Aventurine pulls you back to him. His lips seal over yours in a searing kiss, arms winding around your back to hold you still as your orgasm shakes you. White light flashes through closed eyes as you spasm around his dick, mixing with the cum that leaks inside of you. 

The room is quiet, save the howling wind of night and the dance of unstable breath. Blankets shuffle as you drop to Aventurine’s side, allowing him to drape your discarded shirt over your bare chest. Time seems to cease as you meet his gaze, touch serene as the plains of distant worlds as he encourages you to come closer. You accept, eyes closing for a moment, feeling the warm fan of his breath over your nose.

“The IPC is funding a project to excavate Sigonia.” The silence breaks, peace shatters and your eyes snap open. “Turquoise meteorites are rare, so they’ll scrape the whole planet dry until every last piece is gone.”

Your face falls, corners of your lips pulling downward. Aventurine’s eyes are half lidded, seemingly already accepting the fate of the planet he calls home. He refuses to look your way, eyes focused somewhere past you, the sorrow spreads and leaks into your soul as it opens further. A place so full of hatred and loss, yet a place that he will never be able to let go of. It burrows within the deepest neurons, refusing to snap and forget.

“You have to say something, Aven.” You pull at his face, forcing him to meet your gaze. “Whatever you have to do, I’ll help you.”

“The IPC doesn’t have time to listen to Avgin.” He sighs, hope stale on his breath. “Not even if it's the last one alive.”

You still, fingers falling to rest against his cheek. Aventurine’s eyes close, brows furrowing lightly against pale skin.

“Sigonia will fall, and only Kakavasha will remain.”

Defeat. It seems that what events occurred in that meeting room left no room for conversation. Guilt flows through your veins like it’s replaced the red, and your chest aches, latching onto the horror that no doubt holds sovereignty in his head.

Kakavasha. Blessed by the heavens yet cursed by the living world. Such a beautiful name that deserves no hell it endures. 

Amidst the quietude, Aventurine’s hand slithers under the blankets, latching onto your wrist. He traces skin, knuckles brushing against your own, coming to rest intertwined.

“Can we try something?”

You nod, and your hand is slowly lifted to the air, palm against palm between your chests. You’ve seen this motion back on Sigonia, yet it’s always remained distant to you, and the words echo in obscurity. 

“I’ll go through it once, and we can do it together.”

You nod, once more. Aventurine closes his eyes for a moment, reciting a prayer lost to you in time.

“May the Mother Goddess thrice close her eyes for you… keeping your blood eternally pulsing. May your journey be forever peaceful… and your schemes be forever concealed.”

A brief pause passes. You sigh in unison, and lock eyes. A voice whispers within the depths of your mind, and you smile.

The memory is always alive somewhere. It’s up to us to keep it.

“May the Mother Goddess thrice close her eyes for you… keeping your blood eternally pulsing. May your journey be forever peaceful… and your schemes be forever concealed.”

As the last words drift off of your lips, you bend your fingers, slotting them between his. Aventurine shares your sentiment; hope flashed in the gentle smile that graces his lips. Your eyes wander, and notice that a single tear trails down his face, disappearing into his skin as it rolls.

Outside, you hear the crack of thunder. You pull Aventurine in, and in your clutch, the downpour begins.

–

Some months later…

The chatter of voices on the phone rouses you from sleep, rubbing a hand over your eyes in annoyance as you come to. Light spills through drawn curtains and open glass doors, filtering the room in hues of honey and hazel. 

“Mhm. Alright, I understand. Let’s schedule the interview for today.”

Songs of canaries and mourning doves flow through the air, and you sit up, raising a hand to block out the sun’s gaze. Aventurine sets his phone down on the bedside table, stifling a yawn with his hand. You roll onto your side, hand propped up onto your chin as you soak in the sight of your lover.

His hair is slightly ruffled from sleep, bangs astray and cast into his eyes. Only the top button of his sleep shirt is buttoned, leaving lean, sun kissed skin on display. 

“It’s rude to stare, you know.” You roll your eyes, allowing him to pull you in for a kiss. “Morning. Sleep well?”

“Mhm.” You hum, knowing full well tonight has been one of the worst nights you’ve slept yet. Aventurine sees right through you, but chooses to say nothing, opting to pull you forward so half of your body drapes over him.

Today Aventurine leaves for Penacony. And, seeing as he was called in for a meeting, he’s probably leaving even sooner now. 

He seems to read your thoughts, offering a comforting peck to the corner of your lips in apology. Your hands card through his hair, head resting against his collarbone. 

You have your apprehensions about Penacony, having heard whispers on the streets of mysterious disappearances of people in the world’s famous dreamscape. The IPC has had a limited number of run-ins with the family, leading you to assume a recent grounds of suspicion has arised, and Aventurine was chosen as the solution. In his eyes, it’s just another gamble of life or death.

You’re roused from your thoughts by a tap on your cheek, making you look up at him.

“Don’t worry about me, sweetheart.” His words do little to soothe you, but you listen regardless. “The risks I take are always foolproof.”

Risk. It’s the word Aventurine lives by, a motto that claws at your heart when he’s gone. A reality that spills tears when he closes the door to your apartment, leaving only the ache of your heart in his absence. A danger that never guarantees the next time he chases his destiny will not be his last. 

You will never fight to change it, because that’s all it is. Destiny.

His phone rings, and the two of you groan before he gets up and tells the person on the other line that he’s on his way. You watch from his side of the bed as he throws his clothes on, grabbing two packed suitcases from the side of the bed before bending over to give you a kiss. The touch of his lips is bittersweet, nearly taunting as it is over before it even begins. You peck him again, running a hand over his hairline to straighten his bangs.

“Be safe out there, Aven.”

He smiles, so radiant it rivals the sun and all that it shines on. You think yourself blessed to see it survive.

“I will. Luck is always on my side.”

And he leaves. You turn to the window, awaiting the rain.

[acmelxvr]

Take A Seat, Inquisitor

Pairing: Female Lavellan x Solas

Summary: Solas finds the Inquisitor in desperate need of some relaxation in the Winter Palace. And, well, he can provide.

Genre/Tags: Explicit, Canon Compliant, POV Third Person, Spoilers for Dragon Age: Inquisition, Drunk Sex, No Penetration Though, Thigh Riding, Praise, Dirty Talk, Ear Licking, Edging, Orgasm Denial, Biting, Premature Ejaculation, Mentions of Oral Sex

Word Count: 3,900

Notes: This is my first Solas fic so be gentle pls...I also posted it on AO3, you can read it there by clicking this link if you want :3

“And that’s how I ended up hunting wyverns in the Frostbacks with only two pairs of breeches!” All the nobles and Inquisition personnel in the small circle laugh at the lord’s story, some more forced than others. The ball at the Winter Palace wanes into the early hours of the morning now with no end in sight. Although drinks and food are still being served, the massive crowd has thinned into small packs of chattering lords and ladies who would dare not make the faux pas of leaving too early.

“I think I’m going to explore the library.” Lavellan murmurs to Leliana, Josephine, and Cullen. The excuse is enough to dissuade the rest of the crowd from protesting the Inquisitor’s departure from the group, but her three advisors are unconvinced.

“Take me with you.” Cullen pleads through gritted teeth, smiling a bit too wide as he barely follows along to the conversation taking place. Josephine tuts at the Commander but simply nods at Lavellan. 

“Good idea. You might find some of the more intellectual attendees who would be interested in learning more about the Inquisition.” Josephine’s eyes twinkle at the possibilities, and the Inquisitor nods politely.

“Yes, I will most definitely be doing that.” She says flatly, causing Cullen to snort and this time earn a light kick from Leliana that could easily be passed as a stretch of the knee. As Lavellan begins to take her leave, the Spymaster grabs her arm and turns to speak over her shoulder to avoid any eavesdroppers.

“You did well tonight.” She starts. “You are a complete natural at The Game, despite the many forces working against you.” Lavellan smirks at the praise, knowing Leliana probably thought she would trip over her own two feet. “You’ve earned a respite, even just for a few hours before our work starts up again.” The last part she fully whispers, leaning in conspicuously. “For once, I will advise you to not listen to Josephine.” She smiles knowingly before dropping the Inquisitor’s arm. 

Lavellan chuckles. “You read my mind.” She takes small steps through the ballroom towards the vestibule, occasionally saying hello to people she passes. Her mind spins with the possibilities of her alliance with Empress Celene; what it means for the Inquisition, for the Dalish, for herself. The Inquisitor is still deep in thought when she looks up and realizes that her body seemed to auto-pilot her straight into the Grand Library. The guards that used to be stationed near the entrance have disappeared, gone hours ago once the threat against the Empress’s life was neutralized. She worries over this for a moment, before dropping her shoulders and taking a deep breath as she remembers Leliana’s words.

Her fingers trace over the many titles packed into the various shelves, some in languages Lavellan doesn’t even recognize. She smiles softly as she picks up a book by a professor in the Free Marches collecting Dalish songs and tales. She leans against a desk, facing away from the Grand Library entrance, while she flips through the pages and remembers a much simpler time. 

“I figured you’d be hiding in here.” The voice makes her jump, yelp, and drop the book at the same time. She quickly turns with her hand over her hidden dagger strapped to her thigh, only to sigh when Solas snorts with laughter. “The Inquisitor should not be so easily caught off guard.” He exclaims, the two flutes of champagne in each hand shaking as he chuckles to himself.

“Yes, well, forgive me if it pleases you.” She snips, then grimaces when Solas raises his eyebrows slightly at her short tone. “I’m sorry. I had finally escaped from all those people out there…I guess I got a bit caught up in what I was reading.” Her explanation is jumbled, but Solas places the two drinks on the desk before waving her off.

“Do not apologize. I’m certain you’ve had a much busier night than I. I can leave, if you wish.” He points towards one glass as an offering. Lavellan nods gratefully before grabbing the thin spine of the delicate piece and holding it close to her chest.

“Please, stay.” She says. “You’re good company.” Solas smiles and shakes his head as another laugh escapes him. He heads towards the shelf Lavellan previously occupied, now examining the tomes himself.  With his back towards Lavellan, she can’t help but take in Solas’ form. He towers over her a bit and his broad shoulders also help distinguish Solas from the Dalish elves she’s used to. Even in the alienages, Solas stands out as…bigger.

Lavellan coughs, a flush climbing her cheeks as her mind wanders to more depraved thoughts about Solas’ body. Solas was certainly free with his verbal affections, but they had only just started engaging in physical affections recently. Even then, they had only kissed. Lavellan didn’t mind waiting, of course, but it felt as though every time it developed into something more that Solas pulled away. 

Solas clears his throat, bringing the Inquisitor out of her thoughts as though he has eyes on the back of his head and can see how she’s examining him. Or maybe being a mage with a speciality in the Fade lets him read minds. Lavellan’s eyes widen as the drink begins to take hold. Can Solas read minds? She thinks, half seriously. “Inquisitor?” Solas asks.

“Yes!” He turns to fully face her as he holds a book in his hand. “Yes, sorry. Long night.” She mutters, taking another sip. She can feel Solas’s gaze on her as she redirects her vision to a different corner of the room. The shadows dance along the wall as the various candles around the room burn low. There’s a moment of silence, as though Solas is deciding to address the tension in the room. 

“I asked whether you enjoyed your time in the Winter Palace tonight.” Solas leans against the bookshelf, a sly smile gracing his face. “The way you managed to navigate the nobility, the ballroom floor, and an assassination attempt was particularly stunning.” He swirls his beverage in one hand as he flips through his chosen book. Solas’ choice of words cause Lavellan to finally bring her attention back to him. She scrutinizes him for a moment, furrowing her brow as her eyes rake over his stature from head to toe. Finally, she smiles too.

“Solas, are you drunk?” She asks. She giggles as Solas opens his mouth to give a quick retort, but closes it when he realizes he doesn’t have one. He shakes his head in slight embarrassment and drops his eyes as the Inquisitor continues to quietly laugh. “I guess I need to catch up.” Lavellan murmurs as Solas regains his footing in the conversation.

“I will admit to partaking in more drinking than I usually allow myself. All the power, intrigue, danger, sex…” He notices how Lavellan crosses her legs when he pauses. “Well, I suppose it’s nice to go unnoticed for an evening. To engage in behavior that is unbecoming of me.” Lavellan shakes her head, alleviating his fears that she thinks less of him now. “You haven’t answered my original question.” He states, placing his book back on the shelf.

“Enjoyed is not the word I would use.” She pauses, thinking deeply on her answer. “I’m glad I was able to play The Game well enough. It was almost satisfying being able to talk circles around humans.” Solas nods ruefully, staying silent. “But I was on edge the entire time. Constantly waiting for something to go wrong. And when the Grand Duchess was dragged away…” She trails off. 

“Power can be suffocating, sometimes.” Solas finishes Lavellan’s thought. They’ve both finished their drinks at this point, the flush on Lavellan’s face indicating that she’s just as tipsy as Solas is. “There are times when a decision needs to be made. Even the correct choice is never an easy one.” Solas’s expression turns serious, and Lavellan cocks her head.

“So you think I made the right choice? Going with Empress Celene?” She asks. The candles in the Library have dimmed even further as the moon creeps higher above Halamshiral. Solas tilts his head back against the fine wooden shelf, crossing his arms and looking down at the Inquisitor.

“Is my praise necessary for you to feel at ease?” His question makes Lavellan laugh, a true laugh that comes from her stomach. It’s infectious to Solas, a smile creeping onto his face replacing the scowl he had moments before. “Briala and Celene could never have ruled together, and Gaspard is a disaster when it comes to court. In the Fade I’ve seen whole nations crumble because someone would rather force a compromise than make a real decision.” He moves towards Lavellan, all social grace completely lost, and places a hand on her shoulder. “You made a real decision, ma vhenan. They are never easy.” 

Lavellan looks up at Solas, who is only now an arm’s length away. “Ma vhenan?” She restates, teasing Solas now. “That is an odd way to pronounce ‘Inquisitor’, Solas.” Her hand creeps up to rest on top of Solas, the space between the two elves shrinking as he moves to grip her waist.

He rests his forehead against Lavellan’s, rubbing her shoulder with his thumb adoringly. “You looked breathtaking tonight. You were magnificent, awe-inspiring. You’ll forgive me if I drop your title. I couldn’t bear to hide how I feel for you any longer.” He pulls back momentarily to kiss the top of her head, one hand moving to the small of her back. She leans into his touch, and for some minutes the pair is silent, their embrace only betrayed by the soft skitters of someone passing through the hallway.

The trance is broken as Lavellan gives a soft push to Solas. “I should head back now. There are people probably looking for me.” She groans and rolls her shoulders, her muscles tensing back as she recalls what it feels like to have a dozen pairs of eyes on you at all times. She turns to leave, but Solas captures her arm.

“You’ve played your part for the night, vhenan.” Solas pulls Lavellan flush against him, her backside against his groin. Solas forgets his inhibitions as he pulls her collar back to plant a kiss on her neck, making Lavellan gasp. Another kiss and a roll of Solas’s hips makes her groan louder, planting her hands on the desk. “Relax with me. Forget your duty, even for a moment.” Solas’ words cause a small pit of guilt to form in his heart, but it retreats when Lavellan moans again. 

“Josephine would personally see to our executions if we were caught having sex in the Winter Palace.” Lavellan’s skin is practically lit on fire with every single one of Solas’s touches, his fingertips dancing down her waist. “And I think the Orlesian nobility would die from heart attacks if they found two naked elves here.” She turns to face Solas, who stops momentarily to grin wildly, showing his sharp canines.

“I haven’t said anything about being naked.” Their faces are inches apart, both of them breathing heavily as arousal sits heavy in their stomachs. “There are many things one can do to relax without being naked, if their imagination allows it.” Solas whispers in Lavellan’s ear. He pulls away and guides Lavellan to a plush couch in a dark corner, far from any immediate entrance into the library. Solas lets go of her hand and sits on the couch, spreading his legs wide. He leans back on the couch, throwing one arm over the velveteen, and pats his thigh, beckoning Lavellan to sit.

To sit on him.

Lavellan swallows as she takes the sight in. She’s imagined, dreamed of sex with Solas dozens of times, but this was something entirely new. Something she hadn’t even begun to consider, but was still enticing nonetheless. “Is this something you want?” She asks him.

“Yes.” Solas answers so quickly that Lavellan is taken aback. “Nothing would bring me more pleasure right now than to give you pleasure.” He holds out a hand for Lavellan to grab, and tugs her on top of him. “It is selfish of me to admit, but I do not kiss you the way I do solely for your benefit.” He rolls his thigh up causing Lavellan to cover her mouth as she moans. “I do it because I also enjoy it. No, enjoy is too simple of a word.” He turns his head to think while Lavellan grips his shoulders with both hands. “I relish it. Feeling you against me, with only some layers of clothing to separate us…Fenedhis, ma vhenan. You’ve undone me. I haven’t been this overcome with desire in a long time…You make it difficult to control myself.” He plants his hands on her hips. “Let me guide you. Let me show you what I mean. We can reckon with our indulgences in the morning.” 

Solas’ words have Lavellan dripping. she nods, and plants herself fully onto Solas’ thigh, moving her hands to Solas’ neck and jaw. He starts pushing her back and forth against his leg, adjusting the pressure by examining the way her face contorts just so. She moves to cover her eyes but Solas stops her. “You are so beautiful right now, vhenan. Do not think about how you might look, but focus on how you feel.” She obliges Solas and slowly drops her fingers back to his jaw. Solas notices how his words make her quicken the pace, if for a moment. “Ah, so you do need my praise to feel at ease. Very well.” 

Solas keeps one hand on Lavellan’s hips, and moves one to the back of her head, entangling his fingers in her hair and pulling her down so he can whisper to her. She gasps as he presses up into her, causing her to roll her hips on her own. Although she can’t see it, she knows Solas is smiling with pride right now. “Just like that, perfect. You are a natural at this, vhenan.” His lips move against her ear as she forms a rhythm, her moans forming a perfect harmony with Solas as he groans from the pressure building in his own sex. The slight push and pull causes him to rub against the smooth fabric, making him knit his brow in concentration to ensure he somehow doesn’t cum before she does. He can’t remember the last time he did something like this with someone else; and while he’s relieved himself plenty of times since meeting the Inquisitor, he didn’t allow himself to think their relationship would get this far.

Lavellan whines loudly when Solas grinds up against her clit, the wet patch on his thigh exciting him more than before. He pulls Lavellan so that way they’re face to face, and kisses her like it’s the first time. She heaves against him, pressing her chest against his to get a better angle. Solas groans, louder this time as Lavellan’s knee presses up against his erection. Like everything else about Solas, it’s somehow bigger than she expected. “If you keep stopping, Inquisitor, you will inflate my ego. And getting you into this position has made me prideful enough already.”

 He kisses her again, sloppily this time, the alcohol ignoring any expectations of how their first time together would go. Solas presses his tongue against Lavellan’s, his eyes rolling back at the vibration of her moans. He finds her chest with one of his palms, kneading her and finding a nipple with ease. She yelps when he pinches and rolls, her thighs beginning to shake. Lavellan’s pace has quickened to a point where her thighs burn, the strain of muscle mixing with her pleasure. She begins to chant his name, panting and whining when Solas lets go of her nipples and moves his hands to her backside, massaging Lavellan and gripping her with a strength she didn’t know he had. “Do you know how many times I’ve finished thinking of this exact situation? How I’ve dreamed of having you completely?” Lavellan shakes her head. “Thirty four times I’ve spilled myself over my own hand thinking of how beautiful you’d look like this. For the first time in my life, my dreams cannot compare to the real thing.”

Lavellan gains confidence through Solas’s words and leans forward, almost coming in for a kiss but at the last second, she moves past Solas’s lips. Instead, she focuses on his ears; she licks a long strip from his jawline to the tip of his ears, noticing how Solas shivers and making him wonder how the hell she figured that out. She laughs while still moaning and gasping for more. “I knew you were sensitive here. Had to be, because I noticed how you pulled away the first time we kissed when I went to grab you,” She moves her thumb just underneath the other ear, making Solas jump in shock and pleasure. “Here.” She finishes, returning her mouth to latch onto Solas’s helix. She licks a circle around the apex of his damned ears, running her tongue up and down the ridge before returning to his lips. “Imagine what else my mouth can do.” Her breath mixes with his as both of them pant, although Solas does close his eyes momentarily to see the picture she’s painted. 

Solas bites his lip, almost drawing blood by how close he’s come to cumming over himself. Both of them are sweating now, Lavellan’s pristine hair stuck to her forehead. “Fenedhis–” She presses her knee against Solas’ cock again as she moves her clit down onto him, “–Fuck–”, he groans loudly as her pace quickens and she begins to babble quietly in his ear. If someone had walked in on them, Solas was too preoccupied to notice.

“I’m going to–I think I’m gonna–” Solas nods approvingly while Lavellan’s release reaches its peak. Solas closes his eyes, tears forming in the corners as he pleads with himself to hold off for just a bit longer. In a final move of complete desperation and arousal, Solas latches onto Lavellan’s neck.

And bites.

Lavellan yelps and it’s what finally sends her over the edge. She cums on Solas’s thigh, stuttering and gripping onto him while he licks at the marks his teeth had left. Both of them are moaning, although Lavellan has the sense to cover her mouth. When she finally comes down from her orgasm, Solas leans back to examine his work. Lavellan looks down and breathlessly laughs. “I made a bit of a mess.” Is all she says, and Solas lifts her momentarily to examine her handiwork.

Solas’s thigh is so soaked that Lavellan’s juices had even begun to pool next to Solas in those final moments. He smiles softly and pats Lavellan approvingly. “It is an easy enough task to warm my hands and dry my clothes, as I have done before. Do not worry.” Lavellan moves to get up off of Solas and onto her knees in front of him, but he stops her. “As much as the thought entices me, and believe me when I say it does, I’ve stolen enough of your time tonight.” She crinkles her brow in confusion, and gestures towards Solas’s groin where his erection is clearly visible, and pre-cum has even started leaking through his trousers. 

“Ah.” He says, and while he does entertain the thought longer than he should have, he still shakes his head. “This was for you, not for me. And besides,” He stands up and kisses Lavellan. “I can’t imagine there won’t be more opportunities for me to catch up.” Lavellan snorts, giving another kiss to Solas before smoothing down her attire and hair. 

“How do I look?” She asked sarcastically.

“Magnificent.” Solas responds, moving closer to brush her hair with his fingertips. He plants a gentle kiss on her forehead. She seems to be remembering something and laughs; Solas tilts his head in a silent question.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you curse like that. I didn’t think ‘fuck’ was even in your vocabulary.” Solas’s cheeks flush red and he coughs in surprise.

“Yes, well…” He stammers underneath Lavellan’s stare. “You bring out a part in me I thought I put away long ago.” Solas smiles lightly. “And that part is inclined to curse, occasionally, when underneath a fascinating woman such as yourself.” This time, Solas is the one to let go. He nods towards the Library entrance, and Lavellan sighs before squeezing his hand and stepping quietly into the hallway. He waits until he can no longer hear her footsteps before sitting down and throwing his head back against the couch. The late hour and sudden physical activity has him utterly spent.

The elf looks down, his cock practically bursting against his leg and begging to be taken care of. “I’m not that depraved.” He murmurs. Solas’s eyes close, and while he tries to think of more important matters, he can’t remove the image of Lavellan on top of him from his mind. The way she bounced on his lap, how her mouth felt against him, makes Solas bite his knuckles to hold back a moan. How she jittered when he marked her, claiming the Inquisitor all for himself as her neck bloomed with purple splotches from his sharp teeth and how quickly her release came from an action that felt as natural to Solas as blinking. Solas breathes in, then out through his nose, attempting to bring himself back to reality, but he can’t help but recall the offer she left on the table before Lavellan took her leave. Her lips would look so pretty wrapped around him, gagging and moaning as she would try to take him all the way, his tip hitting the back of her throat—

Solas jolts suddenly as his orgasm hits him like a slap against the face, the dark stain of cum now spreading down his thigh. Solas bites down hard on his palm, unable to fully hold his voice back as the smallest movement against his trousers prolongs his release even further. When the immense pleasure finally subsides, Solas opens one eye hesitantly to assess the damage. He groans into his hands, a conjured flame able to dry his clothes but not the Orlesian, and definitely expensive, couch.

It’s hours later when the morning sun rises over Halamshiral that the Inquisition takes their leave. Solas blearily rubs his eyes and yawns, although when he catches Lavellan’s smile he can’t help but reciprocate despite his weariness. The Iron Bull looks between the pair before laughing and slapping Solas on the shoulder. “Sleep well?” He asks simply, although Solas knows the Bull well enough to know that his questions are never simple.

“No, I had a long night.” Solas quips, eager to head back to Skyhold and be as far away from the Winter Palace as possible. The unspoken part being that he is more eager to finish what he started mere hours before.

“Yeah? Spend some time cleaning in the library?” The Iron Bull asks, looking at the way Solas and the Inquisitor blanche before guffawing loudly. As he walks away he shakes his head. “You guys are not fucking subtle.” 

[ghost-proofbaby]

OH SAY LESS 14 WITH ASTARION PLEASE

so this is my first time publicly writing and posting astarion, so please be gentle. higher word count solely because i felt the need to add lore because, ya know, first time writing him! also, i changed the line just a tiny bit to better fit the character and scene. ALSO, uh... this is a little fade to black. i'm sorry. it just got too long.

14. "Oh, you're hard to please."

warnings: foreplay, sorta fade to black smut (it's there if you squint your eyes), an ungodly amount of pet names, mentions of past sexual abuse and healing from it, technical game spoilers, not edited, 18+ so minors do not interact

pairings: astarion x afab!reader (no pronouns used)

wc: 4.4k+

join the smutty party! send me one of these smut dialogue prompts with a character

How long had it been since Astarion had actually enjoyed sex? Craved it, even? 

If he recalls correctly, it had to have started to become tainted well over a century ago. Somewhere between the first and the third victim, when he’d realized how every single beautiful soul he had entrapped were simply being lured to their own death. And then, the sour taste left in his mouth only became more pungent the longer it went on, the more he came to the realization of just how used he felt. His body was no longer his own – it technically hadn’t been his from the very second he’d emerged from his own grave, and Cazador had been waiting for him – and everything about the act became an old rehearsed dance that he’d grit his teeth through. A chore, something to make his stomach churn, something to regret. A means to an end. 

Plainly put, it had been a while. 

But then you happened. You, who hadn’t blinked an eye when the first time you met him, he’d literally threatened you with a gods damned blade to your throat. You, who had repeatedly trusted him, even when it had been an objectively stupid thing to do. You, who had always offered him the utmost patience and genuine understanding, to the point in which if he thought about it too hard, he’d probably cry. You, who had led your group of misfits with brain worms right into victory, with plenty of personal demons defeated along the way. 

Personal demons including Cazador. 

Maybe that’s when things changed for Astarion. He’d already fallen for you before your group had reached Baldur’s Gate, he’d already gotten to know your body intimately before ever laying eyes on that ridiculously oversized brain you somehow made look easy to defeat. But that had been different, hadn’t it? He hadn’t really wanted to do that (not meant as an offense to you – certainly not after all was said and done), but had thought he needed to. To gain your trust, to gain your protection. And in the end, it turned out he never needed to do such a thing. You’d never said it outloud, probably at risk of making him feel even more regret after you’d learned all his secrets and darkest corners, but he knew. 

And knowing that you didn’t view him as something purely sexual, as a means to an end, as an item to use – well, it had the opposite effect of his request to no longer be viewed in that light. 

“What are you doing?” he says as he quickly looks up from his current book he’d been pursuing the moment you’d entered the room. He hardly cared for the words on the page – he just needed a way to pass the hours until you were available again. 

It was a hard habit to kick. Being so codependent on you, even with the end of the world resolved and the gift of safety being handed over to him on a silver platter. 

“We received mail,” you’re grinning wickedly as you hold up an embellished envelope, delicate fingers pinching the parchment as if it were the greatest gift to ever exist. He’d argue the real gift at hand was the last three months – time spent with you, in a place he can call home. But nothing could impede on your good mood as you throw yourself down on the mattress beside him, “From Withers, of all people!” 

His brows shoot up for just a moment before his face twists up with something akin to distrust, “Withers? What in the Hells does that sack of dust and bones wan-” 

“A reunion,” you cut him off, the look on your face warning enough against his attempt at an insult. “He’s reaching out to all of us to bring us together for a celebration, to check in on everyone, let us see each other again. Apparently, we were the easiest of the bunch to find.”

Astarion quickly lets out a tut as he snaps the book shut and discards it on the bedside table closest to him, “Well, we certainly need to fix that. Soon enough all of those little shits are going to end up on our doorstep, preaching about the power of friendship and how they want to check in on us.” 

You snort at that, laying flat on your back with your hair wildly spread out in a makeshift halo behind you. The sight causes something to stir within him, his gut twisting as he watches the way your knees knock together before slowly falling apart, your legs settling down as flat as the rest of your body.

He hadn’t taken you since that night at his grave. Before the epic final battle, before the two of you had made the decision to settle down somewhere for some well-earned peace and quiet. 

The moonlight dances past the open curtains, and his breath catches in his throat at the way the blue shadows dance across your skin. It almost reminds him of the first time he’d seen you fight. It hadn’t just been the blood splattered across your cheeks that had really gotten the better of his curiosity (even if that’s what he had told you when you asked), it had been the sunlight. Those rays of gold that had mingled with your own aura of warmth after you had helped the tieflings for the first time. 

You put the sun to shame, truly. And he missed it – Gods, did he miss it – but he was content to bask in the peace of night for a few months more before he finally cut you loose from the leash to begin your next phase of adventures to find him a cure. You had promised him you would, had already dedicated plenty of free time to research, and all you really needed was his word to begin. 

He’s selfish. The two of you can find a way for him to walk in the sun once more another day; all he wants right now is to bury himself in your warmth, to slot his body between your thighs, to hear every breathy gasp and the way you’d practically sing his name-

“Star?” you’re looking up at him from an awkward angle, eyes owlish and chin tilted painfully far back as you clearly await an answer to a question he’d been too lost in a daydream to overhear, “Did you hear me?” 

He clears his throat and adjusts the pillows behind his back, keeping him propped up as he admires you, “Of course I did, darling.” 

“Then what did I just say?”

“Something about how we’re absolutely not going to this reunion, yes?” 

Your smile is nothing but patient as you flip onto your stomach. He watches the way your shorts ride up your thighs, how the top of the soft fabric bunches at your waist. His fingers practically twitch with the need to weasel their way under it, to press his cold fingertips into warm flesh and hear you preen. 

Whenever you’re ready, you had whispered to him one night shortly after saving the world. Just tell me when, and I’m yours. 

He was ready. Insatiably ready, really. 

“Very funny. I said we should go, though. It’d be nice to see everyone again, wouldn’t it? All our friends?” 

You’re still talking about this damned reunion. Astarion has half the mind to figure out a way to summon the insufferable skeleton right here, right now, and drive a dagger into his bones until he’s truly nothing but dust. Solely for the distraction. 

“Your friends, my dear,” he corrects gently, “We both know they’re only overly fond of one of us in this relationship, and it certainly isn’t the one that they repeatedly threatened to stake.” 

The furrow of your brows is impossibly cute – he knows that look of determination. It’s the same one you wore when he mentioned it was likely that the two of you would never find a cure to his condition. 

“Our friends,” you insist, “Karlach adores you, Star. And Wyll has always been proud of you, whether he told you as much or not.”

“And what of Gale?” 

Your lips twitch at that, “Gale… certainly wouldn’t stake you on sight.”

“Ah, yes,” he flourishes, trying to keep his eyes from wandering anywhere but where your hands press into your cheeks as you prop your face up to speak to him, “Not staking me. The ultimate sign of kinship.” 

Focusing is a losing battle when you roll your eyes, and he finds his mind overtaken with insatiable lust again. Imaginative ways that he could have your eyes rolling for him under different circumstances. 

“You’re not getting out of this. They are your friends just as well as mine – so argue all you want, but we’re going to the reunion.” 

“Are you sure there’s no other way I might be able to…” he pauses with intent, finally lifting one of his docile hands to your cheek, letting his finger graze the skin with a feather light touch before it travels back into the mess of your hair, “Persuade you otherwise?” 

You almost fall for it, too. Your eyes flutter shut, your head tilts into his touch as if you were starved for the connection. But even with the lack of sexual intimacy, you both know there hasn’t been a day that has gone by in the last three months where Astarion hasn’t found a way to get his hands on you.

Holding your own, resting his cheek on your shoulder, spinning you like a child in the kitchen – he had quite the sudden arsenal of romantic gestures that didn’t involve old wounds. It had been awkward here and there, some of them landing and some of them leaving you both looking like fools, but he was trying.

Almost as hard as he was currently trying to not jump your bones. 

When you recognize the innuendo for what it is, however, you harden immediately. Your shoulders set, a frown settles, and your eyes open with set determination he knows he can’t falter without speaking plainly to you. 

“No.”

“No?”

You’re quick to lift yourself up onto your knees, putting distance between yourself and his hands, “The days of weaponizing sex are over. I don’t even want to joke about that.” 

And, oh, he’s finding himself in quite the mood tonight, because as soon as you’re retracting, he’s following. As you settle on the haunches of your calves, he’s lifting up from his reclined position, leaning forward so that his face is breaths away from yours. 

“I mean it,” you warn, narrowing your eyes and holding up a finger in that small space between you two. 

He tests his luck, wasting no time in snapping his fangs just millimeters from your skin. You both know he wouldn’t actually bite you, but it still humors him to see the way you whip your hand out of his reach. 

“Were you not the one who insisted that we ask before we bite?” you snap, and his smile only worsens. Like a cheshire cat, like a child never scorned by the world – he’s radiant and basking in the moment. 

He lets out a small hmph before saying, “You’re no fun, my dear. Come on – just play with me for a moment, won’t you?” 

Your face softens at his teasing tone, and he can see the way he’s withering away your defenses one by one. There was once a time where he’d done it with malicious intent, but this time around, it’s with nothing but good intentions. 

If you asked him, he’d go as far as to swear it on his own grave. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologize as if you’d done something wrong, and it makes more than half of his own playfulness drain from his face in absolute displeasure. Before he can so much as open his mouth to scold you about unnecessary apologies, you’re continuing on, “I just… After everything we’ve been through, it’s not something I find particularly joyous to joke about.”

What a rare thing, to have found someone to bare your soul and all your burdens to, and watch them offer to help you shoulder the weight without second thought or regret. 

He’s never met someone like you in all his years, and he might never again. 

“And if I told you I wasn’t joking?” he asks slowly, carefully, trying to choose each word with the utmost care, “I’m not weaponizing – I’m offering.” 

Whenever you’re ready. Just tell me when, and I’m yours.

He was ready. Very, desperately, sorely ready. 

The topic of the reunion is all but forgotten as you process his words, nose twitching as you decipher all that’s he laying out before you. “I want more than an offer.” 

“Excuse me?” 

He can’t help the small laugh that leaves him as he sits up properly, leaning into your space fully now with one hand pressing into the mattress just beside one of your thighs. He can feel the heat radiating from you, smell your blood rushing to your head as you try to be sensible. It’s a pitiful excuse for an internal war; all he has to do is close that conveniently small distance between your lips with his own, and you’ll have lost all sense of logic. 

“You’re…” you trail off, searching his eyes as if he holds the answer you’re currently looking for, “You’re sacred to me, Astarion. You must know that. And it will take much more than some joking offer to convince me to have sex with you when I know-”

“I’m not joking,” he’s nearly whining, letting his forehead fall forward to press to yours, “Gods, I am not joking about this. Cross my heart and hope to die again.” 

If he has to beg, he will. 

He’s spent two hundred years in an insufferable position of pure misery, pure shit, and the realization that he’s finally free has everything clicking into place. Proof of the change exists solely in the fact that he could have resorted to his tired old seduction routine from his life before to get what he wanted, but instead, he’s trying to just communicate. 

It was a novel moment. 

But he could appreciate it later, when the crotch of his pants wasn’t becoming increasingly uncomfortably tight and he wasn’t watching you closer than prey. When his stomach wasn’t so tight with desire and anticipation, just waiting for your word to indulge. 

“Do I need to beg?” he sighs, his lips brushing against yours ever so slightly from proximity. He catches the shiver that runs up your spine. “We both know I’m not particularly fond of it, but if I have to get on my knees for you- well, actually, that’s the entire point of what I’m asking.” 

You laugh at that, and his gut twists again, because it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever had the opportunity to hear. Something more breath than any vocality, something sharp and spelling out the loss of words on your tongue. 

Your silence is enough for him to push it all a step further. Forehead still leaning against yours, he properly presses his lips to yours this time, slotting them between softer than a feather’s caress. Finding home as he can physically feel himself steal your breath away. His fangs just barely nip your bottom lip, unintentionally but still eliciting a delicious reaction of a gasp that makes him graze you a second time just to feel the way you’re leaning into him more, becoming absolute putty in his hands. Pliable for his taking, and Gods, he wants to take you. 

Something snaps. 

All hesitation has vanished as he grabs at your hips quickly, making use of the way your brain has gone blank from a simple kiss in order to lay you out below him. He moves you with ease, incredible speed in slotting himself between your legs before he’s caging your entire body in with his own. The squeak that leaves your lips from his manhandling affects him even more than your gasps had, a low growl shaking his chest as he kisses you deeper. Tasting, begging, searching – he wants this, but he needs to know that you want this just as badly. 

Your hands find purchase on each of his shoulders, squeezing tightly as if needing something to tether yourself to. You pull him in closer for a second, eagerly returning the kiss, almost feverish in the way you drink him in. But the next, you’re pushing him away, a game of want and sensibility still clouding your judgment impossibly. 

You always were stubborn about things like morals. And, well, it wasn’t very moral to just jump right into sex with your traumatized boyfriend who had explicitly said not to view him in terms of sex, was it? 

It was Astarion’s own damn fault. 

He could have just acted like a normal person, initiated a normal conversation in which he renegotiated his boundaries. But you’ve been on his mind all day, and he’s long since proven since the very day that you met him that he has little to none impulse control. 

“My, my,” he murmurs, pulling back from the kiss, eyes wild, looking at you with even more hunger than he had the first night you’d given him a taste of your blood in camp, “You’re just an impossible thing to please, aren’t you? Do you want me near, do you want me far? Tell me, my love, what do you want?” 

He settles all his weight onto one of his forearms as the other slowly brings his hand to your side, caressing over the soft fabric of your shirt – a shirt he’s quickly realizing is actually his own. He recognizes those flowy sleeves, that lacing across the chest, the off-white tone that had seen better days. Given all its wear and tear, he’s almost sure that it’s one of his shirts he had grown most comfortable wearing during the nights of your adventures against the Netherbrain. 

It’s cute. A sort of domesticity that he can ponder over later, when your legs aren’t hanging on his hips and your breaths aren’t coming out staccato as he hovers just out of reach from you. 

“I want whatever you want,” you whisper. Your eyes flutter open, looking at him with pupils so dilated they could swallow him whole. 

“Let me be very clear, then,” he hums, cold fingers creeping their way to the hem of the shirt, slipping beneath with practiced ease to find the smooth skin of your hips below. They dance and skitter up, up, up until he’s brushing against your ribs, “I want you. I want that warm cunt of yours, I want to feel every gasp and breath as your walls squeeze around me. I want to fuck you until you’re unable to walk on your own two legs, until you can only remember my name. I want to watch you come undone, my dear, and for it to be my own undoing.”

Your lips quiver in anticipation, and he feels your thighs tighten their hold on him, “Such pretty words. And… and no ulterior motives? No sense of obligation?” 

“None at all,” he smiles, a predator closing in on his prey, “I’m choosing this. If you want it, if you’ll have me, then I’m ready, pet.” 

Pet. The nickname rolls off his tongue, and he can imagine your walls fluttering just as your eyes do. 

Your hands lift from his shoulders to bury in his hair instead. One cradling the back of his head, the other resting on the nape of his neck as you toy with a snowy curl. It unfurls him further, has him humming lowly as he dips down to recapture your lips and bring you into him even closer. Closer. He needs all and any space between the two of you to become nonexistent. To feel every inch of your skin pressed to his, to allow you to physically curl up into his chest just as you had his mind all those moons ago, to make a home in a room with your name on it already somewhere between his third and fourth rib. 

“Do you really have to doubt if I’ll have you, my love?” you mutter against his mouth, smile breaking the kiss momentarily before he’s back with a vengeance. You don’t care – you’re apparently in a chatty mood, dodging his kiss to get your last words in, “There’s been a space in my heart for you since the moment I first met yo-”

“Yes, yes, very romantic,” he interrupts urgently, suddenly tugging your shirt up, “But, truth be told, love? I’m hoping there’s a space between your legs for me at this moment.” 

You snort, eyes pinched shut as you attempt to shake your head at the ridiculousness of the words that just left his mouth. At any other moment, you might point out how the outrageous comment is just another defense mechanism, veering him away from having to acknowledge the gentle sentiment behind your own words, but now’s not the time. When you open your mouth, probably to say something exactly along those lines, he rolls his hips down against yours, pinning your lower half deep into the mattress. You feel just how hard he is through his trousers – it’s impossible to miss, but he’s deliberating being sure that you feel it as he lets the tips of his fangs sink into your bottom lip. 

The resolve of fighting against his wishes is quickly dissolved. One thing after another, and Astarion has you bare beneath him before any other distractions or annoying conversation can send the two of you further off track. Your, his, shirt is tossed to one side of the room. Your parents fly to the other side of the bed. Only once he has the entire spanse of your body nude and vulnerable to him does he take the time to pause, to look down at you with absolute adoration. 

“Gods, you’re beautiful.” 

He’s said those words to you a million times before. Consistently greeting you with them, muttering them in the dead of night, whispering them as he kisses you awake. But they never lose their weight. And certainly not now, as he’s looking down at you like it’s the first time he’s ever seen that freckle on your chest or the curve of your stomach barren before him. 

“Please, if you’re comfortable with it…” you start, voice laced with desperation, but he shakes his head. 

He’s full of interruptions tonight, “Consider me comfortable with anything unless stated otherwise for this moment, my sweet.” 

“Take off your clothes, Astarion.”

His giddy smile should annoy you. That smug satisfaction in finally, finally getting his way as he undresses himself at almost twice the speed that he had stripped you. And yet he knows you’re enjoying yourself just as much as he is. You’re reveling in drinking in the bare caricatures of his body, every inch and every curve exposed to you just as you are to him. And when his cool skin meets yours again, his body sinking right into that space between your thighs that you’ve granted to him, you let out a short gasp that reminds him that you want this just as badly as he does.

You’ve waited just as long as he has. 

It almost mirrors that night on his grave. The slow descent of his body against yours, the way he slides a leg up to spread your own even further for him as he crawls his way back home to your lips. Unlike that night, however, he isn’t taking quite as much care, his movements far faster and far more needy. 

He’s been waiting long enough. He’s denied himself long enough. 

It really doesn’t matter when the last time he had enjoyed sex had been, because all that he cares about is that here and now, in this moment with you, there’s not a trace of imperfections to taint his enjoyment. 

Cazador is dead. The brain has long since been defeated. You are both safe. 

As he sinks into your heat, the only thing on his mind is that contentment, overwhelmed with the feel and smell of just you. 

He’ll never be a slave again. Never be viewed as something to simply be used and disregarded again, if you have any say. And one day, some day, he’ll even feel the warmth of the sun again. Thanks to you.

But until that day, the warmth of your love is enough.

When you sigh his name out so delicately, jaw all but unhinging itself in bliss as your back arches in reaction to his touches, he knows he’s made the right choice. 

And he supposes he lied, in a way, earlier. 

You’re not that hard to please – not when it comes to him, at least. Not when it’s his hands trailing along your skin, not when it’s his lips and fangs nipping at every opportunity. And certainly not when it’s his name that’s being chanted like a prayer from your lips in time with every thrust, every stroke, every single movement with the sole purpose of making both of you come undone. 

Astarion no longer questions when the last time he enjoyed sex was in the aftermath of it all. With you, pressed into his side, sweaty forehead nuzzling his chest, the only thing he cares about is the next time he’ll be able to do so. 

“We’re still going to that reunion,” you murmur, half asleep, fading away from him quickly to fall into blissful unconsciousness. 

He almost doesn’t breathe in fear of disturbing you. He’ll waste the night away, laying here, still as a statue for your comfort. 

It’s no surprise when he refuses to put up a fight, instead his hand simply drawing soft stars across the back of your bare shoulder blades as he sighs, “Yes, dear. We will. Now sleep.”

“I love you.” 

The words tumble from your lips so carelessly, so easily and without hesitation, he nearly shakes you awake to hear them once more. Again and again, he needs to hear them, to be reassured that you feel for him as ardently as he does you. 

But he has the rest of your forever to hear them. So he lets you sleep, sending you away with a simple press of his lips to your temples as your breathing evens.

“And I love you, my dearest sun.”

[i-smoke-chapstick]

please i am begging i need a edward x oswald x reader threesome fic so bad will give you my firstborn child

‘YOU CAN BE THE BOSS,

-GOTHAM! NYGMOBBLEPOT X READER-

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; Do two tops make a bottom? No. But TWO tops and one bottom? Well…it’s something.

⋆ tags/warnings. GOTHAM!nygmobbleput x female reader. SMUT!!! THREESOME!! Edward and Oz are both partial to bondage. They are both tops so they need a bottom to balance them out. Them both being a bit of a whore for your attention. Lots of kisses, body worship, need I say more? Oh, also, they fight like a married couple. They are too competitive for their own good.

♫ “As close as i’ll get to the darkness / He tells me to ‘Shut up, I got this.’ / Malt liquor on your breath, my my.” You Can Be The Boss by Lana Del Rey

Hands. Hands are all you feel, two sets of them specifically. They can’t keep their hands off you. And neither of them are intent on letting go any time soon.

You mewl against the headboard, struggling against your restraints. It’s not new in your relationship. Both of them seemed keen on tying you up. You aren’t quite sure just where Edward managed to get his hands on bondage rope, ball gags, and ankle cuffs, but you’ve learned not to ask questions.

They stand above you, hovering over you. Oswald’s tongue darts to wet his lips, and makes a curt nod to Edward. You notice the discreet gesture, one that silently says ‘My turn. No if’s, and’s, or but’s.’ You’d laugh at the childish action of calling first dibs, but it’s hard to make a coherent thought with Ed tracing patterns on your thighs.

You watch Ed grumble, and silently move aside.

Oswald’s nails dig into your thighs as he positions himself, he looks like he’s concentrating a bit too hard. Holding himself back. The moment he enters you, it feels heavenly. His cock drags across your velvet walls gently, slowly. Too slowly.

“No.” Is all Edward chimes in. You let out an embarassing whimper in confusion as Oswald continues his movements. Ozzie rolls his eyes and grits his teeth, face flushed from the feeling of being inside you.

“What do you mean ‘no’?”

Ed cocks his head, observing. He sounds unamused.

“She wants you to go faster.”

“I know that,” Oswald huffs out, ruffled. He doesn’t stop moving, and your breath hitches. “It’s called teasing.”

“Obviously.” Edward growls out, a little louder than intended. No insult to his intelligence to be taken lightly. “I just meant-“

Oswald let’s out a condescending laugh, corner of his lips twitching. “Oh, Edward. So impatient.”

Ah. So Ed just wants his turn now.

You watch Edward sneer, and Oswald turns to look at you.

“Is he right, my dear? Do you want me to go faster?”

He’s being awfully patronizing today, not that you mind. You let out a noise of agreement through the gag. Edward’s eyes light up at that, wolfish grin spreading across his face. One of Ozzie’s fingers comes down to gently trace your lips, and before you know it, he’s pistoning into you.

Cradling your body gently, and pounding into you. You feel him pressing gentle, loving kisses all over your neck and shoulders and chest, in contrast to the harsh thrusting of his hips against your skin.

Eddie’s eyes are narrowing in on you, chest rising and falling as he watches the show.

“Ah, so beautiful.” Oswald is whispering sweet nothings in your ear, trying his hardest to keep his composure, and failing. “So sweet.”

You wonder if he’s deliberately showing off in front of Ed that he has you. You watch Edward’s eye twitch.

Oswald lets out a broken laugh, borderline condescending, as he spills inside you first. You watch him breathe hard against your skin, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. He thinks he won whatever kind of game him and Ed are playing.

“That’s enough.” Edward says harshly, taking off his glasses. Oswald sends him a wicked triumphant grin. You feel the weight of the bed shift as Edward lays down his long limbs, and positions himself on top of you.

You miss the feeling of a cock inside of you. You pull against the rope, and Ed finally fixes his attention off his pseudo-argument with Oz onto you.

You feel Ed’s hand clamp down on your throat, and watch Oswald’s eyes darken. Careful.

“My turn,” Ed whispers to you, gentle, and instantly fills you back up in one swift movement. You feel the familiar feeling of hot, feverish friction. Edward’s other hand goes down to rub harsh circles on your clit, that makes your back arch up into him.

Ed lets out a low groan, and his eyes flit to Ozzie’s, who clicks his tongue. Ed holds his gaze, showing off.

“You’re acting like a child.” Oswald sneers and whispers under his breath, as if he wasn’t doing the exact same thing just moments prior. Edward pushes hard into you again. You can’t help the high pitched squeak of surprise that comes from your throat. You squrim against your bindings, aching to touch him.

“Don’t be a sore loser, Oswald. It doesn’t look good on you.” Ed responds. “I think she likes this much better.” Another squeeze to your throat has your eyes glazing over in overstimulation.

In defiance, Oswald turns away, jaw clenched, and Ed get’s the one up. He finishes inside you, just like Oswald, cum sticky and dripping down your inner thighs.

“A little crude, don’t you think?” Oswald scolds, and joins Ed back above you, motioning to the mess they’ve made of you.

You watch Ed roll his eyes for the millionth time. They stare at each other, predatory, and you realize this is just the beginning of tonight. One round. They truly won’t stop until you’re either too broken to concentrate…or you’ve chosen a winner.

Good luck.

[m4y4wasnthere]

betting at the bar

dallas winston x fem!reader short fic

warnings: MAJOR smut. barely any plot. , alcohol mention, degrading, minor mention of cat-calling, smoking mention, choking

a/n: i never bothered to learn alot of card games, so js pick wtv u want

the lights were a dim red, almost straining you’re eyes as you focused on the hand you had infront of you.

you were in a card game, playing with Tim Shepard, Buck, a few from Tim’s gang, and none other than Dallas Winston himself.

you had a good rep, mostly known for your looks. it wasn’t all that bad, until people start thinking you don’t have a brain. thats why this game was started, Dallas and Tim had a bet on wether or not you were just a pretty face.

you were aggravated with their belittling towards you, the bet and bickering between them beforehand took place right infront of your face. they both had no shame. you were about to prove them wrong.

Dallas bet in your favor, you were smart and weren’t just any dumb broad.

You weren’t too close with Dal, you guys always had some sort of awkward tension between the two of you, had no clue why or when it started. He didn’t necessarily do anything bad, Dallas just made it clear he avoided you.

Your attention was quickly brought back to the game when you heard Tim speak up.

“C’mon pretty lady, why dont you pick a damn card already.” He winked at you with a ugly smirk. You knew Tim as well as you knew Dallas, good enough to know he was an alright guy but ugly when he got drunk. He was drunk off his mind and you knew by the way he was flirting.

Dallas grit his teeth, remaining silent, his eyes piercing into yours from across the round table. You threw down your hand with a sly smile, and you sipped your wine.

Jaws dropped throughout the table, and the only one unsurprised was Dallas. He slyly smirked as you watched a few of the guys throw their cards down in a hissy fit, walking away. Tim lost a few bucks to Dallas, and you started collecting your earnings.

“I swear she cheated Dal.. I swear..it! She must’ve bribed someone with her looks or somethin’” Tim’s words were slurring together as he failed to comprehend his loss. “Go to bed man, you lost fair and square.” Dal threw his beer bottle in the trash and looked over at you again.

“What made you wanna bet in my favor Dal? Never thought you’d think so highly of me.” you walked over to his side and leaned your back on the table. “ don’t get the wrong idea man, i know you ‘s all” he reached over beside you to get a dollar off the table surface, making his face inches from yours.

“You know me?” you said in a slight mocking whisper. He kept his arm planted behind you, making your face start to heat up. “You think I don’t know why you dress up like that, doll?” His eyes drifted around your face, starting to linger on each detail of your body more than the last, “short little miniskirts that make your ass barely peek out, just enough for guys to peek but not get the full thing.. tank tops that make your tits pop out.”

His voice was slow, low in a whisper. His words struck you, and you blushed at how descriptive he was.

“Dal I don’t know what you’re talking about I-“

“Don’t lie to me, man. I’m not stupid.” Dallas broke away from you, and turned away. Making his way towards the stairs that led up to his room.

You stood there stunned, unsure of what to do.

He stood at the step of the stairs, without looking back at you said, “you coming or not?”

“What?” Your eyebrows furrowed, his message unclear.

“I’m not letting you walk home after drinking all that wine, you’re staying here tonight.”

He took a cigarette out and lit it, getting a drag and looking over his shoulder before speaking again.

“I just complimented your tits, what other way would I ask you to sleep with me, doll.”

Your face blushed from his forwardness, but you quickly followed him up the stairs, straight down the hallway to his bedroom.

He opened the door and it smelled like cigarettes, beer and him. His smell wasn’t something you could easily pinpoint, it wasnt bad, it was just, there.

He took off his shirt, revealing his toned body. Slightly sweaty from the body heat of the bar in general, you couldnt help but stare.

“Like what you see? Take a picture or whatever the saying is.”

You quickly looked away from him and stood awkwardly infront of the door.

“I thought you hated me or somethin’ Dallas, are you that drunk?”

He walked closer to you, making you back up against the door. You felt goosebumps rise when his breath hit your ear.

“ never hated you, ‘m not drunk. How’d you expect me to act with how you look?”

He placed his arm on the doorway above you, trapping you against his body and the door. Blush was creeping on your cheeks.

“you don’t know how much you effect me, do you, doll?”

You werent thinking as you trailed your fingers along his abs and rested your hands ontop of his chest, and you certainly werent thinking when you kissed him.

His hand creeped under your skirt, groping your ass. Your heartbeat was quickening with each second as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

He swooped both his arms under your ass and picked you up, your legs subconsciously wrapping themselves around his torso.

The kiss didn’t break once, both of you starting to form beads of sweat across your bodies.

He laid you on the bed, pinning you down in the process.

“You’re just gonna let me handle you like that? You’re such a fucking whore.”

“Dallas..”

You whimpered his name. You reached out for him, wanting to wrap your arms around his neck, anything for him to be closer.

He pinned your arms above your head, kissing you aggressively. “You like it when I handle you rough like this, huh doll?”

“Yes” you barely managed out “please don’t stop dally..”

He unclasped your bra with one of his hands and threw it to the side. He immediately started sucking on one of your tits, pinching and kneading the other.

You arched your back, giving into him more, your free hands tangled themselves into his hair.

“Dallas finger me please. I’ll do anything.”

You begged him to please your aching core, your panties being soaked.

“Mm, you’re so needy. How’d ya think the other guys would react if they ever saw you so desperate?” He traced the middle of your underwear with a finger. “Only they’ll never get to see you like this. You’re mine doll. You got that?”

You nod your head and whimper to his slight touch. His finger moves away, “Say you’re mine y/n.”

“I’m yours Dallas. All yours.” You gasped out his name.

He took your panties off and slid his finger over your wet folds painfully slow.

“Dal-“ He pushed his finger in, and starts pumping in and out of you.

You moaned and scratched his back, until you had an idea. You started to rub his hard-on through his jeans, he groaned in response.

“Doll, stop that.”

You certainly didnt stop. You tried to go at the same speed he was fingerfucking you at until he pulled his finger out and stopped touching you entirely.

he stepped away from the bed and started unbuckling his belt, unzipping his jeans and pulling them down.

He didn’t break eye contact once.

“Dallyyy” you whined for him. His silence was making you want him more.

“You needa learn how to act properly slut. Either ya shut up or your not gonna be able to walk for a few weeks.”

He aligned himself up to your folds and you stayed quiet, you knew he meant what he said.

He inserted himself in and you both groaned, “Dal, fuck me please. I’m sorry for teasing, ’m sorry, just please, make me feel good”

He looked down at you and smirked. He started slow but gradually got faster and wrapped his hand around your neck.

Blissful moans and whimpers kept escaping your mouth, the room being filled with you and skin slapping.

“Dally, I’m gonna-“

“You can hold it.”

You ached to release, your mind slowly becoming numb to the amount of pleasure you were receiving. Your tongue stuck out, and you could barely hold it in any longer.

You felt him twitch inside you, and his thrusts becoming sloppier.

“Doll, I’m gonna cum. Cum with me. Now.”

You released on his command and you felt his warm load fill you to the brim. You moaned his name over and over again throughout your high and sighed as he pulled out of you and laid next to you.

“Dallas, what uh, what does this make us?”

You were laying next to him, your head laying in one of his arms.

“I dont know man, we can talk about it in the mornin’. go to sleep doll.”

He pulled you onto him in a lazy embrace. The two of you didn’t speak at all the rest of the night, you stayed up for a bit listening to his peaceful breaths.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍷ɞ˚‧｡⋆

[nothomegal]

“The little owl family” (Part 6)

(RZ!Michael Myers x GNReader)

Summary: your and your little sister’s life had an 180° turn when your parents got into a severe car crash, dying on the spot. You, being already past 18 had to figure out how to keep things afloat and give yourself, specially your sister, a good future. And you did! It was hard but you did it and became the absolute hero in the little girl’s eyes. People would often involuntary smile at the dynamic of your two, so wholesome and supportive, the perfect family bond.Bond that a certain Boogeyman noticed as well…

Warnings: a very light reference to suicidal thoughts at the beginning.

Word Count: 4k

Additional info: Gender Neutral reader. (S/N) = sister’s name.

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5)

It's been a day or two after that late meeting between (S/N) and Michael. And... Things went oddly well from then! The little girl became more relaxed in his presence, and would often send him small waves when (Y/N) wasn't looking, and Michael would often answer with the same little wave. It became a little secret game of theirs, it was simple yet fun. The numerous close calls of getting caught or suspected by the older sibling would always awake the childish mischief inside of the man, the possibility to fool around a bit made him feel oddly comfortable and at ease, like momentarily experiencing the childhood he never had.

He also noticed that (Y/N) themselves began to act more on ease around him. There weren't as many death glares sent at his direction, mostly just some cassual glances as if to check what he's up to or where he is. He won't lie, he kinda missed the attention he used to recieve, but this calmer and passive (Y/N) wasn't too bad neither, it kinda made him feel more normal and welcomed actually.

But soon he began to notice that maybe this sudden passivity didn't start out of nowhere, and the reason would be uncovered pretty soon...

. . .

A light groan escaped through (Y/N)'s lips as they make their way towards the kitchen after putting their little sister to sleep. While walking, they've been holding their bandaged hand close to their chest, an instinctive attempt to soothe the throbbing pain that only increased over the days. They're pretty sure their awful sleeping also played a huge part of why the pain is so unbearable. The countless nights they've spent guarding the door of (S/N)'s room and staying on high alert durning most of the day over the past week really drained them, both phisically and mentally. Leaving just enough energy to breathe and maintain a positive actitude around their sister.

They let a sight of relief once they stopped in front of a counter that had all the medicines in. The older sibling reaches for the container of painkillers only for it to be suddenly snatched away right under their nose.

Already knowing who did that, they slowly turn towards the responsible of it, tiredly glaring at that stupid emotionless masked face they hated with burning passion.

The two of them remained still, observing each other in silence. Michael didn't even tilt his head, meaning that he wasn't wondering or asking, no... He wanted to know what they're doing and he wanted to know it now.

—"...What?"— you eventually blurt out.

No answer or movement.

—"I'm not going to kill myself, I just need some medicine because my wrist hurts..."— you elaborate tiredly. —"Can you give in back, please?"—

Still nothing.

The container was actually at a reachable distance. If (Y/N) really wanted they could probably snatch it back. But of course they're not stupid to attempt that, Michael is a very deceiving specimen and things are never as simple as they look when it comes to him and his shenanigans, (Y/N) learned that the hard way.

—"Look. I'm. In. Pain. I need this because I no longer can handle it. Please, give me back the container."—

Nothing.

They grit their teeth out of anger and frustration. Is this bastard mocking them now? Silently enjoying their suffering? Or he's genuinely oblivious of their clearly not okay state?

—"You did this to me, remember?"— you snap as you lift your bandaged hand to show it. —"You broke my wrist, it's been hurting for days and right now it's freaking unbearable. So please, just give me the painki-"—

Their heart nearly stopped when their injured wrist was suddenly grabbed by the masked man. All (Y/N) could do now is stay frozen and helplessly stare at the black eye sockets of the rubber mask, which were staring right back at their shocked expression. They didn't even notice their hands became shaky, anxiety slowly flooding their mind as they suddenly remember who is the man in front of them.

Michael Myers, the man who escaped Smith's Grove by killing with his bare hands anyone who stayed on his way, the man who scarred his own little sister for life by kidnapping her and killing everyone dear to her just because, the man that somehow escaped death and kept his reign of terror for an entire year without anyone being able to do anything... This man, this monster did horrible things, things that he can do to them whever he wants, and he may do it right now as punishment for their boldness and lack of self preservation.

(Y/N) doesn't even know what face they're making, their emotions are too unstable. The stress, frustration and exhaustion are way too much to handle right now. They can't even use the energy to mantain a stone face, not when they're trying to keep themselves from breaking down on the floor and scream out of the frustration.

They just want it to stop. They want him to go away and leave them and their sister alone. They want to stop feeling worry every second of their existence, to stop these anxiety spikes whenever the blade of his knife runs through their body as he teases them, to stop feeling fear whenever his dark gaze moves away from them and is casted on their little sister, to stop feeling guilt that creeps through them whenever they see sadness appear on the little girl's face when she catches them being upset, they wish they could make her smile again, please, make her real smile return...

They... They just want to stop feeling in danger... Feeling hopeless... Feeling like they failed...

Please...

Please... Make it all stop.

Whatever look they had, it was enough to make Michael suddenly let go of their arm. However, instead of walking away or stand still, he steps forward and closer to them, body langage unreadable as always.

(Y/N) doesn't move, they don't even look at him at this point. They simply let their arms fall limply on their sides and lower their gaze, not even noticing the hot tears sliding down their face.

They're so tired, they're done.

Their breath hitched when their body made contact with Michael's larger and warmer one, following comes the sensation of something equally solid and warm wrapping around their form in a firm grip.

The embrace was tight, maybe even tighter that the one from the night he broke in. It was hard to breathe, though (Y/N) is unsure if it's due Michael's strength or their own choked sobs they could no longer hold back. This gesture, though simple, broke them completely...

The more they quietly cried, the tighter the embrace got, as if the man was really trying to force them to spit all the angst out, and maybe he was. It's no secret that Michael has no knowlege about comfort, it's something he lacked most of his life after all. But now, right after seeing their gaze change, everything inside of him is yelling to grab (Y/N) and never let go. Their gaze... Oh, he knows that look.

That look on their eyes... It wasn't fear, it wasn't anger, it wasn't even hate. It was something dull, dull and lifeless, almost pleading for him to...

He presses his masked face against them. The only thought of having their blood on him makes him feel weird. Seeing (Y/N), who's usually composed, strong willed and straight up wild when it comes to the safety of their sister, so weak and broken in his arms, made the man feel very odd, a nasty and unpleasant type of odd.

—"...You."—

They grumble through gritted teeth as they press their forhead against his shoulder, as if really trying to hide their face.

—"I hate you..."—

He can feel (Y/N)'s fist collide with his back. Though the impact wasn't weak at all, it wasn't enough to make Michael let go, all the opposite, he only brought them closer.

—"I hate you."—

They repeat a bit lounder, tone cold yet broken.

—"Why do you still tormenting me? Why?... Why don't you just... J-Just..."—

Their voice breaks at the end of the sentence and is replaced by more cries. The punches soon ceased too, their hand slowly sliding off Michael's back. Soon their sobs began to quiet down and turn into ragged uneven breaths. They are mad, at themselves, at this man, at the world, at fucking everything!... But what pisses them off the most is that this bastard, the main responsible of their mysery, the devil everyone knows for the atrocities he commited, he's... He's somehow comforting them... Genuinely comforting them...

—"Why are you doing this?..."—

Silence.

—"Why are you making it look like you care?..."—

Because he does.

—"Why?... Why?"—

They kept repeating the same question over and over despite knowing that they will never get an answer. And to be fair, even if Michael could answer, he wouldn't. He doesn't know himself what he's doing or where this attachment came from or leads to, all he knows is that he desires to have (Y/N) close, hold into them like a predator into it's pray and never ever let go. But even with this unholy obsession, he can't deny the strange sense of comfort and completion (Y/N) brings him just by being around. Ever since (S/N) questioned him about his intentions and the strange attachment with the older sibling, he couldn't unsee or deny the way they make him feel. And even when they say they hate him, glare at him, try to hurt him... Even after all these unwelcoming actions, he just can't stop himself from wanting them around, from wanting them...

The two remain like this for a long time, even after (Y/N) stopped talking and crying they didn't move.

(Y/N) was a mess, both emotionally and mentally, yet they couldn't deny the fact of feeling a tiny bit better after letting it all out. Michael's grip on them remained tight, strong like steel, impossible to escape. It was like a cage... But a very needed cage.

No matter how much they try to deny it, deep down (Y/N) knows that they needed this, they needed someone to hold them tight as they spit all their concerns, pain and frustrations out. But that means nothing, that doesn't change the way they view Michael. Though his gesture is laudable, how do they know it's genuine? How do they know he's not taking advantage of them? Could this be his attempt to deceive them? Make them emotionaly dependent? And for what?... For what?!

What does he want from them for fuck's sake?!

They take one last deep breath, shuting down the swarm of thoughts and questions and finally calming down enough to speak properly.

—"Alright... I'm better, a bit better."—

But Michael made no movements, his grip remained strong.

They sigh again, a bit more annoyed.

—"Michael, really. I'm okay now. I-"—

They tried to lift their hands up to push themselves away, but a sudden yelp came out when they moved their injured wrist too harshly, making them recoil and Michael to finally let go.

—"Okay-... I'm not okay."— you grumble as you hold your bandaged wrist closely, trying to soothe the throbing pain.

When the ache somehow stabilized and (Y/N) looked up at Michael again, they were surprised to see him holding their car keys right in front of their face. They stare at the item a bit dumbfounded, questioning where the hell he wants them to go, until it eventually clicks.

They know what he wants them to do, and this is a golden oportunity to recieve propper help to their injury. But the anxiety and guilt of leaving their little sister alone, again, at night and with this man, is already eating them alive.

A couple of seconds of inactivity pass, and though (Y/N) was taking quite some time to decide, Michael remained stoic as a statue, patiently waiting for them to decide.

—"I..."— you sigh again, but with more determination. —"Nevermind. You're right, I need to go."—

They dry off the remaining tears on their face with a single rough wipe with their forearm. They have to quit crying, they embarassed themselves enough by having a meltdown in front of this bastart, which apparently was so bad and pity that he had to comfort them. Beside, they must stay strong, not just for their own sake but also for (S/N).

They reach for the key, but don't take it right away.

—"The terms are the same i suppose. I stay quiet about you and you don't disturb my sister, yes?"—

There is no movements from the man. Despite not seeing his eyes, (Y/N) had a gut feeling that he understood and accepted the deal. They mutter a quiet 'okay' before eventually taking the keys, without any issue suprisingly. Once all was settled, the older sibling steps aside but doesn't go towards the front door right away, instead they walk towards the stairs.

—"I'll make a quick check on (S/N) before I go, okay?"— you quickly explain before going up, not bothering to see if he did anything in response or not.

Suprisingly, Michael doesn't follow them, not this time. He remained at the bottom with his head turned towards the staircase.

To some the attention and worry (Y/N) shows for their little sister may seem overwhelming, but for Michael it is something to admire. They always place the little one in front of their own needs and safety, always checking on her and making sure she's safe and happy. Even after he came into their life, he saw the ammount of effort (Y/N) had always put into mantaining (S/N) away from him, to keep her hopes strong and always mantain that happy smile despite knowing it will dissappear as soon as he comes near...

(Y/N) is a good sibling, a very good and caring sibling. Is that how Judith could've been with him if given a chance? Would she ever made the same effort to treat him the way (Y/N) treats their little one? Would he be able to be as good to Angel? Was it too much to ask for her to remember him, to know who he is, to know her big brother was back home and be together as family ones again? Was it really so much to ask?...

"I wanna help you..."

"...But I don't know how..."

"...I wanna help you... But I don't know how..."

"...I wanna help you, but I don't..."

"YOU MOTHER FUCKER!"

Something inside of his chest squeezed uncomfortably, painfuly almost. He still remember these words and the way 'boo' screamed at him and the hate in her voice. It hurts, it hurts so much every time he remembers... He doesn't like the pain, it upsets him. Just why couldn't she recognize him?... What should he have done for that night to turn out different?...

The sound of footsteps softly going down the stair broke his train of thoughts.

—"Good news, (S/N) is still asleep. Doubt she will wake up until sunrise but I wouldn't go upstairs anyways, that girl sure wakes up from the randomest noises."— you comment quite casually.

However, they suddenly stop in their tracks when they reached the bottom and noticed that Michael wasn't following them with his gaze. A tiny detail that threw them off quite a lot.

—"...Are you alright?"—

The question made the tall man pause and realize that his hands were tightly clutched into fists. He slowly relaxes them, though an unpleasant aftertaste in his mouth and the general tension in his body remained.

Despite not having a clear answer, (Y/N) gives him a somehow knowledgeable look.

—"Remembered something bad?"—

He stays unresponsive for a moment, until he moves his head, giving a slow and barely noticible nod.

(Y/N) of course got a tag surprised, since it's the very first time Michael actually does something to answer them instead of staring blankly and let them figure out the message on their own. They don't focus on the sudden gesture though, instead they let out a small hum as they nod as well.

—"It happens... I too remember things I don't want to, a pretty nasty feeling gotta say."—

No answer.

(Y/N) seemed like they wanted to say more things, they decided against it and instead resumed their walk towards the front door. They stop to put some shoes and jacket, not minding too much the fact of them wearing pijamas. But before exiting, they look back at Michael's tall figure staring at them from the darkness, his pale masked face being the only visible feature.

—"I'll do my best to return before dawn, but no promisses."—

No reaction from the man, as expected.

They turn around and open the front door and pause again.

—"...Thank you, Michael."—

And after these words, they finaly step outside and softly close the door.

The masked man only tilted his head at this last sentence. Though these were three very simple words, he couldn't ignore how they affected him.

And the tension and ache from his memories were now completely gone, as if these bad feelings never came in the first place...

. . .

After a long wait and a ton of scolding from the doctors for neglecting their sleep and health, (Y/N) was finally driving back home. Luckly their wrist is healing fine, the sourse of the pain were the bad placement of the bandages and the overuse of their injured hand. Though they don't remember all the details, it seems like they'll be okay.

It was already dawn and the sun was slowly raising. However, they weren't too concerned, it was still early and there is no way (S/N) is awake, that girl sure enjoys lazy mornings after all.

And even after arriving home everything seemed in order, no weird vibes coming out the building and no funny feelings in their gut.

But the second they enter and close the front door...

—"(Y/N)!"—

A happy joyful voice exclaimed their name before something small launched at them into a hug with enough force to knock out some oxygen out of them. Nevertheless, the older sibling miraculously manages to mantain the footing and catch the little girl in a hug.

—"(S/N)?! How long you've been awake?!"— you ask in surprise and concern.

—"Oh... Uh..."— she thinks while poking her cheek with her finger. —"I think the little arrow on the clock was pointing at the number 5."— she innocently replies.

—"You've been awake since 5 of the morning?!"—you almost exclaim as you kneel down and take her hands. —"Are you okay? Were you scared? Did you know I was at the hospital? Did Michael do anything to you?"—

As an answer to their waterfall of question, the little girl childishly giggles.

—"It was all okay! But... I did get a tiny bit scared when I woke up and you weren't in the house, I though my nightmate of you dissappearing became true!... But then I saw Michael, and he explained that you went to see a doctor!"—

—"Michael... Explained?"— you arch your brow.

As soon as that question left their mouth, the tall man appeared at the entrance of the living room with a small toy ambulance in his hand.

—"Oh..."— you blink as you stare at the small item. —"I... I guess that makes sense how he did it."— you momentarily relax, but suddenly tense up again as you redirect your gaze to your sister. —"But seriously are you okay? Were you out your room this whole time?"—

The little girl shrinks in her place a bit flustered and embarrassed.

—"Well... I know you said last time not to exit my room when I had to stay with Michael, I swear I tried to follow your request! But..."— she bites her lip as she shrinks more. —"Please don't be mad, but I was just too scared to stay up there. You never left at night before! And... And when mom and dad left it was night too and-... And-..."— she starts hiccuping a bit by the end.

The little girl is interrupted when her sibling suddenly hugs her, holding her in a tight, secure and loving embrace.

—"Oh songbird, no... I'm so sorry if I came harsh on you, there is no way I can be mad at you for feeling scared for me."— you say as you place your head over hers. —"The first time I left, I was scared too... I was scared that when I come back you wouldn't be here..."—

A small gasp escaped the little girl and she quickly leans back to face her sibling.

—"You have nightmares of me disappearing too?!"— she asks quite surprised.

—"Yeah, I do."— you reply softly. —"Ever since I managed to convince the old ugly people to let me keep you, I sometimes have nightmares where they take you away."—

(S/N) frowns a bit, her childish mind not expecting that her usually super brave and calm sibling had such fears and concerns.

—"So please, don't feel bad, okay? Let's just be happy and celebrate that I made it home safely and you didn't disappear, yes?"—

—"Yeah... Yeah you're right!"— she exclaims, her happy-go-lucky tone returning. —"And Michael actually wasn't that bad! Though I wasn't in my room we still did our own things! Like, I presented him my toy dinosaurs while he stayed in thaaaaat corner over there and listened."—

—"Uh-huh..."— you mutter quietly as you glance at the tall man, who only tilted his head.

Man, if what the little girl is saying is true, then (Y/N) definetely owes Myers a medal for handling their sister's speech. Don't get them wrong, they love (S/N) to death and absolutely adore when she shares her interests and stories she invented about her toys or for their 'owl siblings' series! But sometimes she may get a bit too engaged with it.

Wait... Could that mean that Michael is being genuine with-.

—"And so... (Y/N)."—

(S/N) voice calling them snapped the older sibling back to reality.

—"About the 'celebrate' thingy..."— she says, suddenly shy.

—"You want me to make a cake, aren't you?"— you throw her an unimpressed look.

—"Yes!"— she giggles as she plays with her fingers. —"The cherry one, pretty please?"—

(Y/N) only rolls their eyes with a smile as they stand up and start taking off their jacket and shoes.

—"I guess I could make us a cake, remember the ingredients we need?"—

The little girl practically ignites in joy.

—"Yes! Yes I remember! Let me see if we have the all!"— she hurriedly says the last part before running into the kitchen.

The older sibling only chuckled as they finish undressing. They start going towards the kitchen but stopped right at the entrance, eyes already placed on the tall man.

—"Have you ever tried a cherry chip cake?"— you suddenly ask after a short pause.

The man slowly tilts his head to the other side.

—"I'll take it as a no. I'll make enough for you to have some too."— you pause. —"Don't get me wrong, it doesn't mean I trust you or enjoy having you around, but... I definetely owe it to you, for keeping an eye on (S/N) and such, and... And for what you did tonight."— you throw him a tiny smile before walking into the kitchen.

Michael didn't follow, not yet. His mind kept repeating that last image of (Y/N) over and over, from their suprisingly calm voice to the soft look in their eyes. But what would make his breath shake was the smile. It wasn't fake, it wasn't nervous, it wasn't out of politeness... It was a genuine, small yet sencere, dedicated to him and him only smile.

He lowers his gaze and places his hand on his chest, gripping the fabric of his coverals tightly.

It's hard to describe what exactly this set of emotions is, it all feels new. All he knows is that he suddenly feels warmth, a very soft and pleasant type of warmth...

It feels very familiar... Yet so distant and forgoten... As if he haven't experience these emotions for a long, long time...

...

...Happy.

He feels happy.

[intoanotherworld23]

Stairs Are Better Anyway

Pairing: Reader x Chris Evans

Warnings: NSFW 18+ ONLY DNI, this whole thing is pure smut and sex, there’s filthy language, unprotected sex, sex on stairs

Summary: Chris was always a fan of taking the stairs especially with you on it

Hearts, reblogs, and comments are greatly encouraged and appreciated! I love to hear back from everyone on my works!! If you wish to be added to my Chris Evans tag list please do not hesitate to ask I would be more than happy to add more people! Thank you guys so much and enjoy! XOXO

"You just don't know when to stop do you?" Chris grumbled as you laid across the stairs knees bent with your legs spread enticing him even more.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Acting completely innocent in this current situation.

"Oh sweetheart you never learn do you?" Watching as Chris crawled up the stairs until he was hovering above you lips pressed against yours. "Teasing me like that at the party."

His hands were all over you as you wrapped yours around his neck. Gripping onto him when you felt him push his body tightly against you. Feeling how hard he was for you and wiggling your hips just to push him a little bit further.

Chris growling into your mouth as you grinned knowing you got him. Not wasting any time in lifting up the bottom of your dress revealing your laced panties that already had a wet spot forming. Helping Chris unbuckle his pants and push them down his legs to the edge of his ankles.

"This what you wanted?" Mumbling against your lips. "To be fucked like the good little whore that you are."

"Yes." Your panties being pulled to the side a cold breeze hitting your core a shiver running up your spine.

"Tell me how badly you need it Y/N?" He teased as he rubbed the tip of his cock up and down your now soaked folds. "I want to hear those pretty lips beg for me."

"Chris I need you badly it hurts." Biting your bottom lip as he watched you with hungry eyes. "I want you inside me so badly."

"I don't know sweetheart I'm not believing you." Sighing loudly in frustration as he played his own game with you.

"God Chris please fuck me so hard on these stairs that I can't walk for a week." Pleading up at him as you tried moving your hips hoping you could slip him inside of you.

"That's my good girl."Leaning forward pressing his entire cock inside of you a gasp slipping past your lips. "Holy fuck you are so wet baby."

Lifting his hips back up only to slam down into you. Whimpers and grunts filling the air as he quickly picked up his pace and found a steady rhythm. His head remained pressed into your neck as he nibbled on your skin. His arms enclosed around your head to feel even more close to you.

Moaning loudly into his ear every time he sharply thrusted into your body. Your back pressing into the edge of the stairs, but you pushed through the discomfort, and focused on Chris. Moving your arms so they wrapped around his back. Putting some slight pressure on his lower back to feel more of his movements.

"That's it baby your doing so good for me." Words of praise echoed in your ear when you whined and whimpered for him. "Look at you stuffed full of my cock."

Chris leaned himself up only to watch as his cock would disappear inside of you. Drenched in your arousal making this squishing sound that had him really to start howling like some wild animal. He loved to watch as you would take him so deeply, and was always amazed you took him well every time.

"You want harder baby?" He teased his thrusts becoming slow and sensual. "Does my girl want me to fuck her harder?"

"Please Chris fuck me harder." Gritting through your teeth the frustration you felt never receding.

Rocking himself into your whole body to the point you were afraid you two would break the stairs. Feeling as he unleashed all his energy and power into you both of you in a state of euphoria. Seems like you weren't the only one who needed this either.

"God you look so good getting fucked on the stairs like this." Your left hand gripping the railing of the stairs.

Cheeks felt like they were on fire like someone was sticking a hot poker in front of your face. A drop of sweat descending down Chris's face and onto your chest. Rolling down your chest and in between your breasts. It felt cool for a brief second but then soon evaporated from the heat.

"Just like that." Crying out as your legs wrapped around him like a vine.

"This is all you needed didn't you baby?" His tone mocking as he looked at the pleasure on your face.

The new angle had your toes curling so hard you were afraid they would sprain. You were getting so close you could feel it in the pit of your stomach. Chris didn't once slow down as he pounding into you so deeply he could see a bulge in your stomach.

"That's my good girl so good for me." Pressing his forehead against yours feeling you squeeze around him.

"Oh god Chris I'm gonna cum." Your legs were starting to tremble as your release was vastly approaching.

"Cum hard for me sweetheart." That was the final click in your brain covering him in your arousal.

"Oh fuck baby I'm right there." Groaning with a strained voice as he panted heavily above you his cock twitching violently inside you pumping you full of his warm seed.

Leaning his head back down on your heaving chest as both of you tried to catch your breath. Your legs shaking from your intense orgasm as Chris laid slump on top of your body. Leaving tender kisses on your chest as he helped you come down from your high.

"That's why I love taking the stairs." He joked making you both burst into a fit of laughter.

——————————————

Tag list for Chris Evans: @denisemarieangelina @kimberlydyan @patzammit @tinawritesstuff @princess-evans-addict @cevanstan29 @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @inmoix @evansgirl7 @nina-sj @chris-butt @a-moment-captured @suchababie @colinbridgertonisbebe @d3vil-is-my-sugg4rd4ddy @sesamepancakes @justjulie1105 @r2gers @sweetllamaparadise @coldmuffinpartycloud @foxchild-v @evansphnx12 @breezykpop @sunwardsss @nathalienightmare @franfineashell @snowy992 @chrisgirl4 @rainbowkisses31 @mrspeacem1nusone @mayisdelanoche @fantastickoya @seaweedthewhale @eliluv1626 @ccmarvelxx @chelricki96 @justile @maceymae2704 @ysmmsy @cheerup-loki @nostxlgia18 @nicolarobertson89 @evansxchalamet @freerose11 @ace-of-spaids2 @gitasor @december16-1991 @allthingschrisevans @melissad1974 @starry-night-20 @maryann8913 @gh0stgurl @vaseoftulips @danireal17 @seattlexgirl @noplacelikehome77 @evansgal @sherlockzss @deandreamernp @chrisevans-4ever @rookiemartin @lowkeysebby @compulsiveshit @janaev4ns @justreadingficsdontmindme @elrw24 @ccrobbs @fangirl125reader @iminluvwthme @alexxavicry @ttomholland1996 @loumaaria-blog @ilybbg @rogersbarber

Tag list for everything: @iam-laiya @rosie-posie08 @madzleigh01 @alwaysclassyeagle @mytbel0st @shanimallina87 @marvelstarker-mha98 @powellssugarbaby @lora21

[curlyangelsblog]

✿ Yandere!Tomura Shigaraki x F!Reader ✿

・┆✦ʚ��ɞ✦ ┆・・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

( Hello ! I wanna start a new Yandere series and here is a little sneak preview of it ;) please if you want tell me what you think so far and tell me what you wanna see in it and please leave request for more series and shorts I’d appreciate. I wanna be more Active on here and find mutuals. Hope you all have nice holidays. <3)

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

„Aww come on ten ten don’t be such a sore loser“ you giggled into his headphones.

„yeah whatever“ was all he mumbled back with a blush on his cheeks which you couldn’t see. You and Tomura, or Tenko as he introduced himself to you, have been gaming together for 2-3 months now. You guys met in some sort of chat room and have been hitting it off ever since. You not only game together but also talk on the phone for hours on end about Friends and Family , personal stuff and obviously gaming. Well you more then him. He love listening to you ramble. Your cute voice and addicting laugh.

„It’s getting kind of late ten ten (you’re the only person that gets to call him that) I have work early in the morning but it was nice talking to you“ you giggled. It really was you always felt like he was the only person that understood you. And he felt the same maybe even more but he wasn’t ready to admit that.

„Sleep well ten ten !“

„You too“

Was all he said and that was enough for you. You always knew what he was intending on saying and what he meant.

—————— next day—————————————————

From [y/n] : Hey Tenko you ready to play r/g (random Game) again ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა♡ ?

To [y/n] : sure

You were actually really good also a reason why he liked playing with you besides your cute voice. It was getting kind of frustrating that you were so good. Not to mention you were enjoying yourself quit a bit and making little remarks about how bad he was.

„Ok now your not THAT good“ he said

„I only won four times in a row didn’t I“ you said cheekily.

„Yeah yeah whatever“

„Well maybe you can learn a couple of things from me if you would watch me play“

What did you mean watch you play. Did you stream ? You guys have been talking about all lot of stuff but jobs and other hobbies have never really been topic. You did send him pictures before so he kinda knew what you looked like. You were the most beautiful girl he has ever seen. But all he said that he didn’t need to watch you.

„Here is the link to my channel if you ever change your mind“

Tomura could feel how his heart sped up and a blush was creeping on his skin. He had to suppress the urge to click on the link and watch you stream. He had recordings of your voice which he listens to every night and the pictures you send him which he looked at when he felt down or when he did other things… But it wasn’t his fault that he got hard looking at you. You were just so beautiful to him.

„Buuut let’s finish this round I’m getting kind of tired ten ten“

„This time I’m gonna beat ya“ he said chuckling. The excitement and the images of you streaming shot right to his member. He wondered if you were one of those who wore slutty clothes and took money from old men. He was gritting his teeth trying not to make a sound. It excited him being able to see you more often it wasn’t enough to just see your pictures anymore he needed more. He won the round and he let out an excited “yes!” Which made him blush a little bit he was still a little awkward about showing so much emotions. You like it tho it was cute the way he got excited. You grumbled in response to loosing against.

“Well I can’t lie that was pretty good ten ten”

You guys logged off for the night. And as soon as the call ended Tomura clicked on the link as fast as possible. The link led him to your stream account it was as he imagined all pastel and pinky it was so you . The brightness stung in his eyes but he was too eager to look away. You were at almost 350k follows how has he never seen you. Well looking through you content you did play games you two liked to play but the majority of you content was games he wasn’t too familiar with. He clicked on one of your videos. The latest one of your streams. You greeted you viewers with a little wave and that cute smile of yours. He couldn’t look away. He had to have you…

[danosrosegarden]

tipping point - timothy klitz x gn!reader headcanons (NSFW) ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

{kinktober: day three. prompt: overstim. 🎃}

{contains: male masturbation, overstimulation (male receiving), and a quick consent check-in.}

☽ There never was a point in the process where Klitz became numb to the pleasure. His legs were always quivering. His cheeks were always painted a harsh, broiling, rosy pink. High-pitched whimpers poured from the slits of his gritted teeth at a constant rate.

☽ Could anyone blame you for the way you circled a finger around his sensitive tip and watched his breath hitch? Could anyone be upset with the way you'd squeeze his shaft and pump him with a loose hand at an agonizing snail's pace? C'mooon, he was so much fun to toy with!

☽ It was challenging work, stifling your laughter as his hips bucked and his thin glasses slipped down the curve of his nose. Poor baby probably thought the delicious torture was over when you let him spill all over your hand. In fact, the games were just beginning.

☽ His body took a second to register that your hand was still jerking up and down, one tightening its grip and the other petting his trembling thigh. "Hmm, fuck, are you...are you gonna s-stop?"

☽ "But you're so pretty like this, Klitzy! C'mon, you can take it. Be good for me and take it."

☽ He's squirming around in your lap, his convulsing body struggling to both fight you and sink into the burning bliss washing over his gut. You leaned in close to his ear and whispered to him, your pumping hand slowing to a halt. "If you want to stop, we stop. Just tell me."

☽ He bites down on his chapped lip for a moment before shaking his head. "No, no...I want it...m-more, please." Your lips climb into a twisted smile as you continue. "There's my boy."

☽ And he really is such a good, good boy for you, hissing through the blazing shoots of pain-injected pleasure like a champ. You can see how wildly his legs are quaking and how quickly his chest rises and falls, yet you refuse to let up. His pounding heart is just gonna learn to take it.

☽ Though it was a blast to watch how flushed both his face and his dripping cock would get, it wasn't about making him suffer or being cruel...no, not really. It was all about that tipping point where overwhelming stimulation morphed into drunk euphoria, where the choked groans twisted into ecstasy-fueled whines. He truly was gorgeous when he was so vulnerable.

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

Let’s accept I have a problem shall we?

1-Bones Imagine Dragons

“Is this fucking entertaining?!” Izuku can’t help the shout as he stares at Bakugou on stage, the muzzle on his face. He won’t lie, a part of him is spitefully amused seeing his former bully looking like that. The rest of him is angry. Bitter. Disgusted.

“I think it’s pretty funny,” Tomura snort, grinning at the display on the screen.

“Isn’t this what we want to change?” Izuku demands. Tomura rolls his eyes, shrugging carelessly. Izuku grits his teeth, nails biting into his skin as he makes fists.

He’d made a horrible mistake, hadn’t he?

2-Senorita Shawn Mendes, Camila Cabello

She shouldn’t be doing this. She should be running away right now, should be grabbing her phone to call the police.

Instead she’s got her arms wrapped around the broad shoulders of a villain who is busy kissing her like there’s nothing else he could ever want to do.

Izumi gasps, pulling back as she pants, wincing at the taste of blood in her mouth. He’d nicked her tongue.

“Sorry,” Todoroki Shouto, the villain known as Frostbiter said. He grinned, his tongue flicking out to show it’s piercing. “Changed it out,” he went back to kissing her and Izumi lost herself. “Oh sweetheart,” Shouto whispered in her ear, hands grabbing her hips. “You’re so good for me.”

Izumi shouldn’t be doing this.

But she couldn’t stop.

3-Toxic Britney Spears

“-and another murder has been discovered today-”

“-this is the third prohero in the last two weeks to die-”

“Look, all I’m saying is we should be looking into people with analyst quirks-”

The news blasted from all directions as Izumi walked down the street, clutching her bag in her arms. She kept her eyes down, not wanting to look up at anyone. Her shoulders lifted as more news came from a random persons phone, saying the recent death was part of class B from UA, a pro-hero named Battlefist.

Izumi scurried away, heading to her apartment. Opening the door, she froze.

“Hello Izumi,” Tomura said, looking up from his video game. Izumi stared at him, before she dropped her bag on the ground, kicking her shoes off. She threw herself at Tomura, who snorted, but caught her, enjoying the firm kiss she pressed to his mouth.

“Was it bloody?” she begged.

“Only the bloodiest,” he said. “All according to your plans,” he lifted the notebook she’d given him that day, with her sparkling eyes, eager to know what he would do.

4- Hayloft II Mother Mother

BANG.

Tenya barely has a second to realize what’s going on before Stain dives away from a bullet. Standing at the end of the alley is the green haired figure of Green Knight, the TA for his class. Tenya stared at the other teen in surprise before he shoots another bullet. Stain dodges again, cursing.

“You, Green Knight- you FAKE-” the villain says but Green Knight doesn't stop. Stain’s fast enough to dodge bullets, and Tenya has to know how he learned that, but Green Knight gives no rest, moving forward slowly and surely. Stain lunges while dodging, aiming to cut the hero, but it seems that was his plan all along, as the Green Knight lifted his gun to press it right against the villain’s head.

BANG.

Tenya stared in horror at the body as Native coughed from where he was. Green Knight turned his head towards them, eyes calculating.

“Well Iida, it seems you may be getting special lessons soon.”

(I have to include this: imagine Stain running right at Izuki who steps aside at the last second. The camera slows as Izuku lifts the gun, Stain looking at Izuku in shock before he pulls the trigger. That was what was going through my mind)

5- Mine, Bazzi

“What?” Izuku asked, looking up from where he’d been writing in his notebook, babbling a mile a way as Rody watched.

“You’re beautiful,” Rody told him. Izuku flushed, glancing away before looking up with a smile.

“So are you,” Izuku told him. Rody shrugged, grabbing his coffee to sip it.

“Not as much as you.”

“Rody, stop distracting me!” Izuku laughed. “I need to get this ready for my students.”

“Ah you just reminded me of my teacher-”

“RODY!” Izuku shouted, but he was smiling, so Rody won.

6- Shivers Ed Sheeran

Izuku’s Quirk isn’t something he likes thinking about. Or well he does. It’s a useful Quirk! Izuku likes his Quirk!

He just also doesn’t like using it because of the connentations. A kissing Quirk is all good, but when the kiss has to be on the mouth?

It gets side eyes. Izuku remembers discovering it, kissing his aunt on the cheek but she was turning her head when their lips connected. Suddenly being able to tell what your Quirk was, what it did, and what you could use it for.

He loved it. At first.

It kind of stopped being something cool when he was told he just wanted to kiss people. When he got called pervert. Even actual proof of his Quirk did nothing to quiet the rumours. So when people forcefully kissed him to make him write it down, no one would believe him. Even his own mother didn’t- not really.

Izuku didn’t like thinking about his Quirk. It wasn’t a bad one.

If only he didn’t need lip contact.

“Wait, we have to kiss for it to work?” Shinsou Hitoshi flushed, touching his lips. Izuku felt his face flush. The handsome purple haired teen didn’t seem upset…

Maybe it wasn’t that bad of a thing then… sometimes.

(He still wished it didn’t though.)

7- Feeling Good Micheal Buble

No one understood it. Not really.

Oh sure, she was the doll of Tomura. A little pet he kept around. The Quirkless girl with the big boobs who was always with him. Izumi knew exactly what they thought of her. She didn’t mind it. But no one understood it.

Even Dabi barely gave her a glance, though that was the mommy issues he had mixed with the sexism his father tipped down his throat. He didn’t understand the power she had.

Toga didn’t, but then Toga was to in love with blood to care.

Twice just didn’t notice.

Mr. Compress was oblivious, Spinner had a one track mind…

No one understood it.

Izumi smiled, looking at her notebook as she wrote down a list of targets. Tomura had been ‘accidentally’ reading over her shoulder the first time he used her list. A list of people who hurt her. A therapy tactic to write it down and burn it she learned after the death of her mother.

It made her feel better knowing they were dead.

8- The Other Side, The Greatest Showman

“Don’t you want him dead?” the villain asked. Tenya took a step back, eyes locked on the other teen. Midoriya Izuku, or Mastermind, smiled with all his teeth.

“I don’t know what-” Tenya began, but Midoriya cut him off.

“Stain. Don’t you want him dead?” the question made Tenya pause. “I can make it happen if you want.”

“No,” Tenya shook his head. He… no, after being denied internships after the murder of classmates they made him go to therapy. He would not-

“I liked your brother,” Midoriya said. “He was a good hero. What Stain did, was horrific. I don’t hold with that way of thinking. Stain is scum, and he should be put down like the animal he is.” He offered his hand. “Don’t you agree?”

Tenya looked at the hand, and back up, his heart pounding in his ears.

9- Believer, Imagine Dragons.

Izuku smirked, looking at the crowd of people who had all gathered around to hear him. He ran a hand through his short hair.

“So, to finish my sad story, Bakugou here told me to kill myself.” Izuku gestured at the blonde tied to the chair, who’d been to busy staring in horror at the green haired teenager to speak. “And then, All Might, said I should be more realistic about my goal,” Izuku motioned to the other blonde tied to a chair, though a nicer one.

“Young Midoriya-” All Might, in his skinny form, tried.

“And my mom,” Izuku laughed darkly. “She’s been deadnaming me since I came out, only at home though. Has to give forth the image of a perfect mother right? So when she texts me that my husband has been chosen and he’s eager to meet his wife… what choices do I have?” Izuku laughed, harsh and loud.

“And wasn’t Bakugou right? I got a Quirk in the next life.”

10- Sway with Me, Saweetie, GALAXARA

Izumi had a concert to do, one that all of 1A went to. Partly because PR, having Iuzmi’s class support her, partly because they wanted to do it. None of them were ready though for it.

A ballet designed to tell the story of the final battle between Materhorn and Lady Nebula was not what they expected, but watching the story of a battle between here and villain was entrancing.

Shouto could barley look away, watching her dance. She played Lady Nebula, the villain bent on world domination. She was beautiful, dancing around the stage, her moves powerful.

He couldn’t look away.

[sydsaint]

Please I love this secret softie so much 😩

Summary: Adam pairs the reader off with Max to get rid of him for the night. The reader finds it to be a nuisance at first. But she quickly learns that there is more to Max than what everyone sees on tv.

It's a typical Wednesday night for the AEW roster. Dynamite is about halfway through its broadcast and the team of MJF and Adam Cole have just picked up another win in the blind tag team elim tournament. 

"Great work out there, Adam, good buddy." Max playfully hits Adam on the back of the shoulder with a hearty chuckle. 

"Yeah, thanks." Adam nods stiffly, still not used to Max being this friendly. 

The pair are returning to the locker rooms when Adam spots Roderick coming down the hall, and you're with him. He grits his teeth at the thought of dealing with another bout of Roderick and Max drama. 

"Hey, Adam, buddy. Isn't that Roderick down the hall?" Max speaks up after a moment. "Woah! And who's the hottie that's with him?" He adds when he spots you next to Roderick. 

"That's my sister," Adam replies dryly. "Y/N." 

Max's eyes widen in surprise as you grow closer with Roderick in tow. The two of you are casually catching up since you haven't seen Roderick in a while. "Your sister?" Max repeats Adam. "I didn't know you had a sister." 

"Well, I do." Adam nods. "Y/N, Roddy! What are you two doing here?" He asks when you finally get to his side. 

"I'm here catching up with Roddy." You shrug. "And Roddy's just here to film some stuff for next week's show." You add. "Who's your buddy?" 

Adam glances at Max who is essentially staring a hole into your head before he turns back to you and Roddy, a plan now implanted in his head. "This is Max, my tag partner for the tournament." He explains. "Hey, can I talk to you for a second, Y/N?" He asks you. 

"Sure." You shrug and step away from Roderick and Max with Adam. "What do you want?" You ask your brother plainly. "And don't act like you don't want something, Adam. I can tell by the look on your face that you do." 

"Guilty," Adam admits. "Listen can you do me a favor and please hang out with Max for the rest of the night?" He asks you. 

Your jaw twitches in response to Adam's request. "Really?" You narrow your eyes at him. "Why me?" 

"He thinks you're hot," Adam explains. "Please, Y/N? He's driving me insane." He pleads with you. 

"So you want to drop him on me so he can bother me instead?" You reply. 

"It's just for tonight, I promise." Adam doesn't let up. "Come on! Just take him out for drinks and make him buy." He suggests. 

You close your eyes and let out a small sigh. "Fine." You grit your teeth. "But you owe me, Adam!" You poke his chest. 

"I know." Adam nods. "Thank you." 

"Yeah yeah." You sigh again. "Hey, Max!" You turn and walk back over to Max and Roderick. "We're all planning on heading out for drinks tonight, but I'm leaving right now. You want to come with me?" You ask him. 

"Really?" Max replies. "Adam, you didn't mention that we were gonna get drinks after the show." He turns to Adam. 

Adam shrugs and quickly makes up a lie to cover his ass. "Uh, yeah." He nods. "I was going to tell you when we got back to the locker room." 

"Oh." Max nods. "Yeah, sure. I'm always doing for a little pre-gaming before the real fun begins. I'll see you in a bit then, buddy." He grins at Adam. 

"Right." Adam flashes you a pleading look. 

You get the hint and begrudgingly tap Max on the shoulder. "Come on, let's get out of here. Adam, We'll see you in a bit. Say hey to Britt for me." You dismiss yourself and Max. 

The journey from the arena out to one of the bars nearby is mostly silent. It isn't until you and Max are settled at the end of the bar does he really speaks up. 

"Get whatever you want. The first round is on me." Max offers with a smile. 

"Thanks." You match his smile and order a drink from the bartender. 

You and Max both get your drinks and fall into a casual conversation. "So, Adam didn't tell me that he had a sister," Max explains. "What do you do for a living? You in the business like Adam?" He asks you. 

"I wrestle for ROH." You nod and take a sip from your drink. "Have been for about 10 years now." You add. 

"Really?" Max replies with intrigue. "You must wrestle under a different name?" 

You take another sip from your drink and scan the bar. As you look around a reasonably attractive guy catches your eye for a second. You smile at him before you turn back to Max. "Yeah, I didn't want to deal with the drama and piggyback of using the Cole name when Adam was already getting so popular." 

"Right. You wanted to make your own name." Max nods. 

"Exactly." You are a bit surprised by Max's understanding of your situation. "Anywho, what about you? How is tagging with Adam going? Weren't you two at one another's throats a few months ago?" You ask him. 

Max nods and brings his drink to his lips. "Yeah, I guess we did kind of hate each other for a while there." He chuckles. "But I don't know. Adam kind of seems like he's willing to let the past be in the past you know? At least I hope he does. I've been having fun these past few weeks with him. He's a good friend." 

"None of your other friends are jealous of Adam getting all your attention?" You joke with a small laugh. 

"No, not really," Max replies quietly and you notice him fidgeting with his glass. "Truth be told, I don't really have many friends." He chuckles to himself. "Everyone is just kind of gone now. Not that I'm not the one that burned all those bridges." He explains. 

Your eyes widen a little bit at Max's surprising heartfelt confession. "Oh." You reply quietly and finish off your drink. "Yeah, I kind of know what you mean." You let out a small sigh. "Sure, when you've been in the business long enough, you're bound to burn some bridges and make some enemies. But I'd like to think that I've burned just a few more than I should have." 

"You too huh?" Max matches your self-deprecating laugh. 

You and Max talk a little bit more about work and your habit of making enemies out of friends. And soon enough, you start to feel bad that you assumed that Friedman was a bad guy. 

"Hey, can I tell you something, Max?" You ask after you've got a few drinks in you. 

"Sure." Max nods. "What's up." 

You play with your empty glass for a moment and try to get over your embarrassment. "Adam kind of asked me to take you out for drinks so he could get away for the night." You explain sheepishly. "He's not coming." 

"...Oh," Max replies quietly and your heart breaks. 

"I'm so sorry." You shake your head. "I've heard so many stories about how much of an egotistical dickhead you are. And I just assumed that all the stories were true. But we've been sitting here for like 3 hours now. And you're not! You really seem like a great guy! And I'm the one that's a total bitch here." 

You finish your confession and study Max's face while you wait for a response. And you fully expect Max to either chew you out or simply just get up and ditch you right then and there. But he doesn't. Instead, you watch him compose himself and beckon the bartender over for another drink. 

"It's alright." Max turns to you while the bartender is getting you and Max both another drink. "Trust me, I know how unbearable I can get at times." He chuckles. "Adam probably just wanted some time alone with Britt. I get it. And I get you thinking that way about me. Everyone believes it. Trust me." He adds. 

"Do you want me to go?" You move to get out of your chair and leave. 

Max shakes his head and hands you a fresh drink. "You can if you want." He assures you. "But I'd like to keep this night going if you do too. Personally, I think that it's time that both of us stop burning those bridges when things get tough." 

"Yeah? Me too. Thanks, Max." You nod and sit back down in your seat. 

[leilaxwhite]

Only his || Rafe Cameron

𝙨𝙮𝙣𝙤𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙨: Rafe can’t handle all the attention you get at the party so he takes matters into his own hands.

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 18+ MDNI unprotected sex oral fingering degration (maybe if you squint) mentions of tying reader up face fucking daddy kink spit kink jealous!rafe swearing hair pulling I think that’s all

𝙖/𝙣: this is the first smut I’ve ever wrote so please please bare with me 😭 I’m still trying to learn this is kind of out of my comfort zone but I felt like it was time to finally step out of it! This is also a little long because I got carried away once I got the hang of writing this lmao but I hope you enjoy this filth i just wrote 😭

The party was at full booming, people everywhere filling every corner. Every where you look you see people drinking and partying, having the time of their life. Rafe Cameron the host of this whole party sitting on a sofa keeping a close eye on his girl Y/n. With the image he is seeing he doesn’t seem pleased to the public eye but deep down he knows your doing this to rile him up for the later night when everyone leaves.

You were currently surrounded by random tourons you don’t even remember the names of, nor do you care that much to remember. Hammered out of your mind you knew what you were doing, every once and a while you would look over to see your jealous boyfriend, man spreading on the living room couch. You were playing a little game with him, looking over at him you saw the lust in his eyes and the boner he was carrying in his pants.

Rafe decided that he’s had enough, you’ve had your fun now it was his turn. Yelling at everyone to leave soon as they were gone he was dragging you up to his room, you couldn’t help but giggle as he was man handling you to the room, only leaving you deeper into punishment. “You think it’s fucking funny do you? Think it’s so clever to flirt with random men in front of your own boyfriend?” Rafe said through gritted teeth as he threw you on the bed “Well baby, then your in for a fun and long night.” He was fuming with jealousy and you loved it.

You knew you were in trouble once he slammed the door and immediately started stripping, “Rafe I don’t know what your talking about, I was just making new friends.” You were trying not to mewl as you see his large cock spring out of his boxers once they were removed. “I don’t want to hear your little innocent pleads knees. Now.” God he’s so hot when he’s demanding you though as you simply complied and got on your knees facing him. “Now I want you to suck daddies cock like it’s the only cock you can take, because we both know baby I’ve ruined you for everyone else.” Slowly stocking up to you leaving you desperate to feel him in your mouth.

“Now your going to be a good girl and suck daddies cock aren’t you?” He’s showing no mercy anymore, your plan worked. “Yes daddy.” Pleaded in your eyes how much you really want him. Without another word he’s stuffing your face with his cock, not letting you adjust or anything. He immediately starts fucking your face with a brutal pace. “Good fucking girl, I’m the only man that can make you feel this good aren’t I?” Rafe doesn’t want you to answer the gagging on his cock is enough of a response for him.

He soon gets tired of your mouth yanking his dick out of your mouth with a pop, removing the rest of his clothing he demands your to strip still being fully clothed. You quickly rid of the dress Rafe wanted you to wear before the party. Once the dress is removed is when Rafe relised you were playing a game once he saw your bare core. “Naughty naughty girl, thinking you can get away with not wearing any panties? Huh?” All you could do is whimper as you feel his fingers trail up your thighs to your leaking core.

Once he finally meets with your heat he teasingly rubs slow circles on your clit providing the right amount of pressure to make you whine. “You’re mine, when is it gonna get through your tiny little brain that I’m the only person that can make you whimper and whine like this? Huh?” You feel you haven’t responded in so long your afraid your voice will come out weak and small, but you try to comply anyways “yes daddy only you can make me feel this way!” You are a whimpering mess at this point and he hasn’t even stuck his fingers in you.

You know your going to get edged for the longest time so you brace yourself for a long night ahead. That response was all he needed to plunge his fingers knuckle deep into your dripping pussy. “That feel good huh?” He’s basically growling at this point. Once you were close to coming, clenching his quickly pulled his fingers out and chuckled. “That’ll teach you not to flirt with other men thinking you’ll get away with it love, now I’m gonna keep doing that until I think you are good enough to cum.” You’re whining at his statement knowing organism denial is something he doesn’t do often with that being said he means every single word he said.

And with that he lived up to his word, edging you more than 4 times with his fingers and mouth before you can’t handle it anymore begging him to cum, you can feel the band in your core slowly snap begging him to cum before it actually does and you get punished more. “You can cum” he simply says throwing you over the edge a screaming mess. As you’re catching your breath you feel him pushing his tip against your core. “No! Too sensitive!” You plead and beg but he doesn’t listen, “sit still and stop moving before I get the ropes and tie your dirty ass up.” His words always having something on you, you simply sit still and keep quiet until told otherwise.

About minutes of teasing your clit with his tip he’s finally pushing into you at an annoyingly slow pace, making you feel every inch of him slide into you. Once he’s finally balls deep in your tight core he gives you seconds of adjustment before slamming his cock into you. “Gonna fuck you so hard you don’t even remember you name let alone those dirty tourons you were flirting with.” With many more hard and fast thrusts your close to cumming for a second time that night, holding it you start begging him to come. “Daddies close wait just a little so I can fuck my babies into you.” You don’t know how much longer you can hold on before your cumming, slightly after your cumming so is Rafe.

He soon became soft again gently pulling out of you lathering your body in loving kisses, like he wasn’t just fucking your brains out. “Are you okay baby?” All you could do was nod feeling like you screaming has made your voice small and cracky. Rafe soon leaves to the connected bathroom in his room to grab a damp washcloth to wipe you off and get you cleaned. When he came back you were out cold, cuddling up with his pillows core still on display making it easy to clean you up.

“I love you y/n, you’re always mine no one else can have you.” He’s loving expressing to you, yet his words still have a hold on you. After he cleans you up he soon returns from the bathroom in a pair of boxers, putting a shirt on you because you always complain of being cold. Cuddling up next to you with a protective arm around you he falls asleep knowing he’s got you and your only his.

Woah- that was my first smut… Anyways hope you enjoyed because I definitely did writing it!

Tags: @sugarcoatedstarkey

[captainpains]

I Love You (Jesse x reader)

I am trying to get out of a writers block. This is for @toomanybandstocare for the song lyric gift excahnge set up by @cloneficgiftexchange. I hope you enjoy it ❤️

Song Lyrics: “I never dreamed that I’d meet somebody like you // I never dreamed that I’d lose somebody like you // No, I don’t want to fall in love // No, I don't want to fall in love // With you” (Wicked Game, Chris Isaak)

Warnings: gn reader, little angsty, breakups and makeups, swearing, alcohol consumption, can you tell I’ve never dated

~~~

Jesse stared into his drink sadly. He felt off, and he knew why.

Kix had told him not to break it off. That if he was happy in the relationship, he should keep it going. Regulations be damned.

Hardcase told him he was a fool to even consider ending something so good and so important to him. 

Even Fives called him stupid at the mention of this idea. 

But Jesse couldn’t do it. He saw how much stress he was causing you. It’s not like he could switch careers, and he didn’t want to cause you pain with how risky each battle was. So he chose to let you go. To break up with you before you would have to mourn his death.

You were rightfully upset when Jesse came over to your apartment and dumped you when it was supposed to be a regular date night. You argued with him when he gave his reasoning.

“Jesse! That is crazy.” You gave him a heartbroken look on your face.

“Well, I don’t want to hurt you.” Jesse replied. “I don’t want you to have to mourn me when I die in battle. You deserve to be happy...”

“That is a massive assumption to make. You don’t know that you’ll die.”

“You don’t know I'll survive.”

“I’m happy with you! Who are you to decide this for me?”

“Someone who doesn’t want to hurt you…”

“Yeah, and you're doing an amazing job of that!” You yelled, tears in your eyes.

Jesse walked out the door after that, leaving his entrance card on the table next to the door. He didn’t look back when he left. He couldn’t.

Because he knew this was a mistake.

Jesse took a drink from his glass. The alcohol burned his throat. He let out a sigh.

“Alright. That is the third time you sighed like that.” Rex interjected into his self loathing, sliding into the booth next to him. “What’s wrong?”

He was hesitant to answer. Rex was pretty strict on the rules, and he didn’t know how he would react. But Jesse was a horrible liar.

“I broke up with my partner.” He admitted to his captain.

Rex paused. He hadn’t expected that. He didn’t know much about Jesse’s relationship, only the little he’d learned from overhearing him talk about it with the other guys. But from what he’d heard, Jesse was very happy in his relationship. 

“Now I might not seem like I have a lot of experience with this. But you’d be surprised. What happened?” Rex asked.

“I don’t want to hurt ‘em. In this war, I don’t want to die but it may happen. And if it does, I don’t want to leave my partner alone to mourn me. I think that’s more than I deserve.”

“Did you talk about this with anyone?”

“Yes. I talked ta Fives, Hardcase, and Kix. They all told me I was crazy to end something so good, something that made me so happy.”

“Maybe you should have talked about it with your partner.” Rex suggested, taking a sip of his drink.

“I don’t know. I guess I thought ‘ey wouldn’t’ve understood where I was coming from.” Jesse snorted. “Fear of hurting someone is a hell of a feeling.”

“Were you both happy?” Rex pushed.

“Of course.”

“So why in hell did you end it? It seems to me that if everything was going great, there was no reason to break up.” His captain argued.

“It was the right thing to do! I didn’t want to hurt my partner’s feelings when I die!” Jesse took a swig of his drink. He then let out a grumble.

“So you hurt their feelings now…”

“It was for the best.”

“But is that what you wanted?” 

“It was for the best!” Jesse said through gritted teeth. 

“Yeah, it really sounds like it…” Rex said sarcastically. 

“Well, what would you have done, captain.”

“I would have been reasonable and talked to my damn partner about this. It’s obvious you both want to be together. So be an adult and talk to them!”

And that is how Jesse ended up standing at your door. He had always known it was a mistake to break your heart. He just needed someone to yell at him about it.

He knocked, yet there was no answer. He had expected this – he wouldn’t exactly open the door for a groveling boyfriend either. He knocked again and pressed his forehead against the door. He heard you on the other side and saw your shadow move from underneath the door.

“I’m so sorry. My brothers tried to talk me out of it. And I’m sorry that I’m stupid enough that I didn’t listen,” he started, fighting back tears. “I… I never dreamed that I’d meet somebody like you… and I never dreamed that I’d lose somebody like you. You are the light of my life, and I was stupid to try and end it. I was afraid of hurting you… But I ended up doing it anyway.”

Jesse wiped some tears with the back of his hand. Your shadow could still be seen under the door. That’s a good sign.

“When I met you, I couldn’t help but fall in love with you. No, I didn’t want to fall in love with you. My life is… short, shorter than yours and I was so afraid.  No, I don’t want to fall in love with you, because I couldn’t be more in love with you than I already am. But then it turned out to be amazing and the best thing that ever happened to me. And I am so sorry for hurting you.”

Jesse couldn’t hold back his tears. He actually sobbed and took in a shaky breath. That was one thing you always encouraged in him, the ability to cry and be vulnerable when the moment allowed for it.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to take me back. But I just want you to know that I love you.”

And with that he turned to walk away, feeling better that he’d managed to articulate his feelings. Even if you never wanted to see him again, at least he managed to say it out loud. 

Jesse heard a door open behind him. Then your arms were wrapped around him, gently squeezing his middle.

“I love you, too…” 

[nkn0va]

THE 100 FOLLOWER SPECIAL

The homie @devfps found a thing for me. As a Seth main myself, I am now morally obligated to write the first ever genderbend Under Night x reader piece. And also I figured it was about time Under Night took a spotlight for once since it's mostly Blazblue. What better way to do that than write a very special oneshot for my main in this game as a little love letter of sorts to the most underrated fighting game on the market.

Also I know some of you might've been expecting an event of some kind but my inbox is way too full for that right now lmao

Also don't be surprised if shadow edits are made to make it better at any point in the future (In trying to find the source of the art, the artists' account has unfortunately been deleted/banned. It was found in a FB group reposting it. https://www.facebook.com/share/p/SLBCyMmzbFvTqtaZ/?mibextid=qi2Omg)

(After all my 5 minutes of research, turns out the name Sethe exists, and is a girl name, so that makes my job a hell of a lot easier)

A soft, quiet sigh escaped her pale lips as the sound of the bell rang throughout the school. It was just one of those days, the ones that felt never-ending. Exams drawing near, projects piling up, all with winter fast approaching. As if the cold season put the world itself into stasis, freezing time down to a shivering cold crawl. Well, there was nothing she could do about it. No point in complaining to the world itself, not when it had a history of never paying attention to her silent pleas for help, it's uncaring apathy as cold as the air that blew this time of year.

Steel grey eyes peered out the window next to her desk as she stood up. It was already the first snow of the season. It definitely came far earlier than last year. At least she was prepared for such a possibility.

Sethe had come with a plain black sweater vest in place of her school uniform, just in case. She blended in enough with the crowd to avoid the teachers and not get chewed out for it. If the snow hadn't come, it was easy enough to go into the bathroom and change out of it. As she left the classroom and made her way out into the hall she reached into her bag and pulled out a long, blue scarf. A bit too long for her comparatively small, thin body, yes, but it got the job done, so no reason to complain about it.

At least that's what she thought.

The snow had already started to gather on and cover the ground, albeit not much. It had apparently been snowing quite a bit since lunch, it was already a good couple inches deep. Sethe made her way outside and immediately made for her way home, she had nothing else to do in this annoyance of an obligation, nor did she feel the need to find something. Her absent train of thought was soon interrupted by a sudden, chilling gust of wind that chilled her to the bone. Her arms instinctively wrapped around herself as she grit her teeth.

She stopped in place momentarily to recollect herself, but just as quickly resumed her walk. The trains were likely going to be packed to hell and back in this weather, it would be more efficient to just walk there, as much of a pain as it was. She didn't get much farther though before a familiar voice called out from behind her.

"Guess even weather like this isn't enough to slow you down, huh?"

Sethe immediately stopped once more, her posture straightening in surprise as her head whipped around, only to see s/o. "Learn to relax a bit, yeah? At least enough for me to catch up."

Her body had now turned a tad more in their direction, the lower part of her face obscured by the scarf. "You're saying that like you almost want me to stay at school for something." Her voice took on it's usual quiet, restrained tone, though without the usual apathy or even defensiveness it had during the occasional instances she talked to her peers. S/o just seemed to have that effect on her, she couldn't bring herself to chase them away if she tried.

"Hey now, I wasn't saying that. Is it really a crime to wanna walk home with my girlfriend, spend some much needed alone time with her?" As the words came out of S/o's mouth, Sethe felt her cheeks heat up slightly, though it was made a tad more noticeable by how pale she was. The thought of being in a relationship...it was never a thought that had occurred to her before, being so focused on the duty that's sworn herself to, to free the Night Blade's princess from her curse. That was at least until she met s/o.

"Well... I never meant to imply that, but..."

She was cut off by an amused chuckle from s/o before she could think of a response. "Come on, you know I'm just messing with you. Let me at least walk you home." They took a few steps to catch up and be at her side as Sethe silently nodded and the two resumed your walk.

It was a relatively long way to where she lived. For a while it was all but completely silent, only broken by the snow crunching with their footsteps. Yet for the both of them, it was a comfortable one. At least it was until another gust of wind sent them both shivering. This was not going to work. It was then Sethe got an idea.

"...Here. Come closer."

"O...k...?" S/o confusedly side stepped towards her, and before they could register what was happening they felt a cloth make it's way around their shoulders and circle back around towards Sethe. The reserved young woman herself though seemed almost more surprised by her own actions than you did. Her face turning noticeably more red.

"There...now we shouldn't at least be as cold like this. Just try not to fall behind." Sethe resumed her walking, s/o guided along by the scarf to follow suit. It wasn't a complete, foolproof way of staying warm amidst the cold, but it was better than nothing. And she'd be lying to herself if she tried saying s/o's body warmth wasn't at least somewhat of a comfort.

As soon as the thought crossed her mind, she immediately felt the heat start creeping up on her face, this time much more prominent than normal as it finally occurred to her. She had initiated intimacy with s/o. Granted it wasn't exactly much, but this was pretty much the first time she had done so. She looked toward the corner of her eye over to s/o to gauge their reaction. She didn't quite know what she expected, however she still found herself pleasantly surprised.

S/o's shivering had mostly stopped, now walking along with Sethe, seemingly perfectly peaceful and content. Yes, the two were dating, but it hadn't been for all that long yet. She almost couldn't believe it. Her presence seemed to be welcome for s/o, just like their was for her, despite her stoic attitude, how cold she could seem sometimes, just like the unpleasant weather they were being forced to trudge through. Yet her coldness was one that s/o seemed to not care about, not feel any less about her for.

"Sethe? Are you alright?" S/o's voce once again snapped her out of her thoughts, the blushing only intensifying.

"You're getting red. Nothing's wrong, right?"

She shook her head and looked forward once more, attempting to bury her face in the scarf a bit more as much as she could. "No, it's just the cold."

"You're not getting sick, are you? That's kinda the last thing you need right now with how hectic school's starting to get and all."

"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine." Sethe's reply didn't really convince s/o. Not the part about not being sick, but rather about the redness on her face. They were well aware intimacy was never her strong suit. However they knew openly teasing her about it was not wise, lest they wanted to ruin the moment. The one she had started for a change, no less. No reason to look a gift horse in the mouth, so they decided to quit while they were ahead.

Their body heat combined in the close proximity of the shared scarf as they both adjusted their paces to match the other. Despite the occasional winds that would bite at them, they were able to keep going, now having each other's warmth and support to stay strong. Their shoulders brushed against each other, as their body temperatures mingled and found solace from the biting cold in each other. At some point, s/o's gaze seemed to gravitate over to Sethe as well from the edge of their peripheral vision. They could spot the snowflakes starting to pepper her mostly black hair, protecting her delicate face from the precipitation. The setting sun was shining down on her, contrasting with her dark eyes in a way that seemed to set them ablaze in a subtle, yet genuine show of her natural beauty. S/o seriously couldn't figure out why she seemed to be so ignored by their shared peers, not when she practically stole their breath away in times like this. She seemed content with that however, so it probably wasn't their place to speak on it anyway. Not like they were complaining, to them it meant no one would be trying to hit on her.

The walk felt like it was lasting forever, though to both of them, that would've been far from the worst outcome, even if they didn't say that out loud. They probably didn't even need to in the first place. Unfortunately, it was proven to them once more that good things aren't always meant to last, Sethe's house soon coming into their view. The Night Blade assassin stopped as they came in front of it, making s/o stop to so as not to accidentally push her over.

"Well, here we are." She took back her scarf, gently pulling it off around s/o's shoulders. "The snow's not going away anytime soon. Are you sure you're gonna be fine making it back home?"

S/o gave a disarming wave of their hand. Despite Sethe trying to play it off casually, s/o knew better. There was concern for them deep down. "I can put up with the trains just fine. It'll be a pain right now, but at least I'm not gonna freeze."

Sethe nodded at their response. "Yeah, that might be the best course of action. I just don't want you getting yourself hurt."

As soon as the words left her mouth, she quickly realized what she said. Her face started turning red once more as she averted her gaze staying silent. Despite her instinct to quickly take back what she said, she knew that would only make her sound bad. She froze up, the words dying in her throat as s/o couldn't hold back the smile creeping onto their own face. Both in contentment and reassurance.

"I'll be fine, you can relax. I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?" Despite herself, Sethe could only find herself smiling back. A small one, almost unnoticeable to most people, but a smile nonetheless. A reward for s/o after learning to spot these rare occasions she did.

"Well, tomorrow's a school day. A rather redundant question, no?"

S/o let out a light laugh, genuinely at peace in her presence. "Yeah fair enough. The reassurance still helps though, especially coming from you. I know I can always count on you."

The sudden profession caught Sethe off guard, her eyes widening slightly as they snapped back to s/o. "You...you can?"

S/o nodded, their facial expression making it seem as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Of course. It's probably the biggest reason I wanted to be with you. Even when we met, you never went back on your word. That kind of honesty isn't something you find every day. That determination is what I always admired about you the most."

Sethe was clearly not used to receiving compliments, no less such genuine ones from someone she cared about. There was no hiding her blush now, despite her trying to bury her face in the scarf and turning her head away. "I...I see..."

She wanted to return the favor. All the reasons she felt the same about s/o threatened to spill out all at once, but were almost painfully stopped by her own inhibition and nervousness. Her instinct telling her that sharing her feelings about them would only make them laugh or become uncomfortable, yet her rational mind telling her that was a stupid fear.

Much to her relief, s/o didn't seem off put by her silence, seeming to read her once again, just like the way they always did. That almost unreasonable amount of patience that could only come from truly caring about another person, the kind that Sethe was a stranger to up until only recently, but eventually one that could only bring the small yet genuine smile back to her face. They understood what she was feeling, and felt no reason to judge her or question her further.

S/o turned off to the side to leave. "You should head inside and warm up. I should be getting to doing the same. See you tomorrow." They raised their hand up in a wave and began to walk back they way they came, heading toward the train station.

Sethe stood where she was a bit longer, watching them as they slowly but surely disappeared into the distance. While they weren't looking, she gave her own small, subtle wave, feeling that strange but familiar warmth in her chest, the one she would only feel when around S/o.

That feeling welling up in her body, the one she only felt for S/o; that was what made her sure she was truly in love.

[sinfulsalutations]

congrats on the follower milestone, nour!! <3 may i pls request my boy Wolffe with prompt #15? 🫢 excited to see what you create hehe

➼ ɴᴏᴜʀ'ꜱ 500 ꜰᴏʟʟᴏᴡᴇʀ ᴄᴇʟᴇʙʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

⋆ ★ ᴀʜʜʜ, ɪ ᴡᴀꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴛᴏᴅᴀʏ ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴀᴜᴅɪᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱʜᴀʀᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏʀᴅ ꜱᴇʀᴠᴇʀ ɢᴏᴛ ᴍᴇ ɪɴ ᴀ ʙɪɢ ᴏʟ’ ᴡᴏʟꜰꜰᴇ ᴍᴏᴏᴅ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴡʀᴏᴛᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ. ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ 😉

➼ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛ ☆ “ʙᴇᴛ ɪ ᴄᴀɴ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ”

➼ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ ☆ ᴡᴏʟꜰꜰᴇ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

➼ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ☆ ʜᴏɴᴇꜱᴛʟʏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴀ ꜱᴛʀɪᴘᴛᴇᴀꜱᴇ, ꜱᴍᴜᴛᴛʏ ʙᴜᴛ ɴᴏ ᴀᴄᴛᴜᴀʟ ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴀᴄᴛꜱ, ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪꜱ ʙʀᴀᴛᴛʏ ʙᴜᴛ ᴀʟꜱᴏ ꜱᴏ ᴡʜɪᴘᴘᴇᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴡᴏʟꜰꜰᴇ (ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ)

➼ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ ☆ 517

➼ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰɪᴄ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ 18+ ᴅɴɪ

It’s a bold claim he makes in a heat of passion. After making him grit his teeth and hold back a condescending eye-roll, giggling to yourself with a thumb placed over your lip. Wolffe pulls away, clicks his tongue, and graces you with that look you’ve learned from experience is trouble.

“So you’re going to play this game, hm?” He asks you, coy and playful, but there’s nothing light about how he holds his body; out of reach and out of orbit of your own body, you still feel yourself heating up. Wolffe knows this, and he’s rather smug about the fact. So he claims without hesitation,

“Bet I can make you come without even touching you.”

With a raised eyebrow, you bring your hand up and lightly trail it over your thinly covered body, all to entice him and have him come back to his rightful spot on top of you.

“How, baby?” You say, all too sweet and soft and fucking bratty that it makes him grunt roughly under his breath. It takes a moment for him to respond, however. He takes his damn time scanning your body up and down, lidded eyes taking in his favorite spots, allowing himself to look but not touch.

“Pretty simple,” Wolffe answers bluntly, kneeling at the end of the bed. He dips his chin down, gaze kept on yours. “You can listen to me as I instruct you how to get off.”

The way he says it so casually like he’s ordering a drink at the bar or debriefing about a boring mission somehow makes it sexier. You shiver, a breathy exhale escaping you, though it could be a moan, you’re unsure. Wolffe laughs gruffly, leaning down a little more, though still not close enough for you to reach him. He waves himself like a treat you won’t receive because you’re not a good girl. You weren’t a good girl for him, so you won’t get what he so desperately wants to give you.

“Come on, love,” He encourages you, smirking in a taunting manner. “How about you prove me right?” His voice drops further, slow as he curls his voice around his words, purposefully getting you to cling to him like a wet cloth. It works like a simple charm, though he didn’t need to try very hard; you’re always wrapped around his finger.

“Alright,” You mutter, falling back onto the bed. You curl into yourself, rubbing your thighs together and placing a hand between the two, not venturing further, just to create a sweet little image for him. “Alright. Order me around then. Make me come without even touching me.”

He chuckles softly, raising an eyebrow to challenge you. But you don’t move at all, compliant and still as long as he doesn’t command you to do anything. Poised and pretty, you're the good girl he wanted just a few minutes ago.

Wolffe lets out another breathless chuckle before positioning himself above you and narrowing his gaze. With the look on his face, you know it’ll be a while before you even come close to finishing.

tags: @dystopicjumpsuit @denzita @starstofillmydream @pb-jellybeans @corrieguards @ladytano420 @jediknightjana @sleepycreativewriter @shinyshayminflower @secondaryrealm @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @dukeoftheblackstar @meshlaxbunny @kimiheartblade @followthepurrgil @wolffegirlsunite @starrylothcat @blueink-bluesoul @aconstructofamind @dreamie411 @padawancat97