#he is. so desperate for his approval. and so consumed by said desperation. that he will completely change his view of a situation

[randomwriteronline]

The sound of waves is soothing and irritating all at once. It almost drives him mad, and then it calms him down again. His heartlight pulses a little quicker than it should. A sense of anxiety gives his rocking motion a strange apprehension.

The sea bears life.

The sea bore us.

His sister's words make him feel sick in his chest.

"Pohatu..."

His head raises suddenly to the grey sky, smiling: "I'm here."

"Where are you siblings?" asks Teridax's voice with a windy whisper, slithering around him.

"Trapped underground."

"Very well," the Makuta's voice purrs; bashful pride swells in the Toa's chest. "Where is the Mask of Light?"

"With Akhmou, to be melted down in the forges."

"Very well," another rumble in the protodermis sea, another caress from the howling gale. "Where are the Turaga Metru?"

"If they haven't been caught already, on the way to me."

"Very, very well, my Toa." Pohatu grins, basking in the quiet praise - but his heartlight stills a moment later as the sky sighs: "And yet..."

Has he done something wrong?

Something bad?

He tried to do everything right, as right as he could.

Did he waste too much time?

Cold winds wrap around him; the ground beneath him seems to sink a little more under his weight, the air curls heavier around his limbs and head, and the entire universe seem to close in on him, to observe him more intently.

He's not scared by this.

He knows Teridax would never hurt him.

He's just trying to understand what he did wrong.

The sounds solidify in the shape of a well-known claw to trace the maskless face he cradles in his arms: "He is still here."

Pohatu looks down.

Takanuva remains unconscious.

"Pohatu..." Teridax asks sweetly, rumbling like a thunderstorm, "You do remember what I've told you... The Toa of Light..."

"But it wasn't his fault!" Pohatu interrupts him. His hold on his little brother tightens slightly. "You said it yourself, Takua has nothing to do with this. If it wasn't for the Turaga, for that mask - he's innocent."

"He is, of course," the Makuta growls, "But danger lurks within him."

The Toa curls around the much larger body in his lap: "But he hasn't done anything wrong," he continues to defend him. "And without the mask he can't do anything, he's just like a Matoran again, without any powers - so I thought... I thought..."

"You disobey me?"

"No! No, no, I'm not disobeying, I don't want to disobey!" he's quick to reassure his master. Nothing frightens him more than the quiet heartbreak in his tone - he's good, he's good, he wants to be good, he wants to be good and useful and someone to be proud of, he doesn't want to make him upset, he doesn't want to disappoint him, it's just... It's just... He looks down, to the closed golden eyes of Takanuva. His shoulders close around him tenderly, to shield him from the cruel world that saw it fit to throw him into such a terrible life. "But he's... He hasn't done anything... He thought - they made him believe he had to, that it was his destiny, it wasn't his fault... He's just Takua... He's just..."

"Your little brother," Teridax finishes for him.

Pohatu nods.

The waves recede until the seabed is almost visible; they crash once more against the cliff with a long, gentle sigh.

"You have much too big a heart, Pohatu," the Makuta tells him, willing the salt in the air to cradle his puppet's head as though it were his palm. "And though it is an admirable thing, it still sometimes blinds you from what must be done - especially when it is in your little brother's best interest."

The Toa looks up, into the sky, to the spectral light of the twin suns. He has no trouble imagining the deep crimson of Teridax's eyes in place of their thin silvery shine.

"He has been turned into my enemy against his will, that is true," the usurper continues, voice low and sweet: "And I cannot execute him for being guilty of a crime others forced him to commit without even knowing what he was truly doing. But he must die regardless, Pohatu - not because he must be brought to justice, like your siblings and their mentors, but because he deserves to be given mercy."

"Mercy?"

"Yes, my Toa, mercy... The very same thing the Turaga denied him. Reflect well: the Avohkii has mutated him, tearing his previous careless, happy existence from him, staining him with the irreversible mark of its blinding light. No matter how far he may run, Destiny will always hound him, chasing him into his demise."

Pohatu hugs his brother closer, as though Destiny was a beast standing right before them in this second, hissing and writhing as it eyes Takanuva with a hungry gaze.

Loving claws of frigid wind soothe his head, caressing it slowly: "Do you see, then?" the waters churn below him, "Death is not a punishment; it is a kindness. Free him from such a horrible fate. Put a gentle end to the life of strife and agony he has been sacrificed to."

This -

This is the only time Pohatu laments following the code.

He would. He would kill Takanuva, right here and now, in his own arms, while he's still unconscious - so he could die loved and safe, without even noticing, drifting into even softer, even deeper sleep.

He would do it for him, so he doesn't have to suffer, so he doesn't have to be torn apart by something else, something so much more terrible than a brother who honestly, honestly loves him, a brother who loves him enough to spare him from something as horrible as a life he should not be forced to live.

He would, he would, he wants to (Teridax is right - what a fool he was for doubting him, when Teridax is always right and always good, and he even talked back to him and argued with him - oh, a fool, a fool, an idiot, a cretin, a worthless mindless sack of rocks - he is so lucky Teridax is so patient with him even when he's this incredibly stupid, so lucky he still cares about him enough to call him dear), but he can't. He can't. He can't.

He rocks Takanuva slowly, for no good reason, and he thinks.

He thinks as hard as he can.

"There's a cave in Po-Metru," he mutters - half to himself, half to the universe, "By the docks - the Visorak horde opened it with a tunnel, but the rest of it caved in... It's under the sea, I remember, with an entrance that can only be found underwater... Getting there was a mess. But I remember the way, I could do it. And the adaptive armor would make it easier. With some luck, the high tide would catch up to him before he could wake up. He wouldn't feel a single thing."

The ground beneath him rumbles: "There," Teridax praises him, "How clever you are, when your mind is clear."

The fear and guilt and worry are washed away from him completely in the mere fraction of a second, like a bad dream chased off by a gentle embrace: Pohatu smiles, embarrassed and flattered.

"Although, just in case luck does not favor us - perhaps, a shackle or two... As he would not understand your act of mercy..."

Of course, of course: "I'll make sure he's secured, Great Spirit."

The grandiose title makes the cliff on which the Toa sits stand even taller as the Makuta preens himself. Great Spirit - yes, of course; that is his name, now, and this is his universe; and oh, it is with such reverence that Pohatu says it, such conviction, such blind all-consuming devotion...

His claws in the shape of the winds lift the Toa's chin up to the sky, his brilliant eyes so eager to make him proud: "Well done, Pohatu," Teridax croons; with another gust of gale he presses against the forehead of his mask to push it down again, in a show of obedience: "I knew you would not disappoint me."

Pohatu never disappoints him.

Pohatu craves to be loved too much to disappoint him.

"Now run along, my dear Toa of Stone. You have a brother to save, and six traitors to imprison."

Pohatu nods, brimming with purpose and quelled anxieties.

Then he disappears, an orange flash beneath grey skies.

The waves keep crashing against the small cliff.

Under it, Hewkii shakes, breathing too fast.

[heartless-tate]

Notice me! | Azriel X Freader

summary; Azriel courting an oblivious reader.

a/n; Heyy! Just a little fic of being courted by Azriel. And you not being very aware of it. Hope you enjoy!

content/trigger warnings; knife, food, meat?, cussing, kissing, no use y/n, hint towards lust feeling, Azriel pining, Armen being sassy, FEM reader (if you’d like me to make a another post with male reader, message me!) she/her pronouns for reader, thunderstorm mention and I think that’s it. If I missed something, feel free to message me on it! 💝

word count: 3.1k. |. Part two

A plate clattered against the table causing your attention to turn to the man in front of you.

You met his gaze as he waited for you to try his new dish, his eyes seeming to shine as the sun hit his eyes. You swear he always seemed to be effortlessly beautiful. It was angering in some ways, you had even seen him wake up looking like a god. No. Better than a god. It didn’t matter if you spent an hour in the mirror, swiping various products of different expenses on your face; the result would be the same. The same boring face you saw everyday.

A wonderful smell wafted from the plate, causing your empty stomach to growl loud enough to shake the mountains. The shadowsinger smirked, pushing the plate of food closer to you with a gentleness most men didn’t have. Your face flushed with embarrassment, your hands instinctively coming to paw at your stomach, hoping it would stop. Your eyes wandered down to the plate where a meal sat.

“I haven’t made this before. I wanted you to be the first to try it.” He spoke with every ounce of grace and elegance a god would have. His hands grasped the seat across from you, pulling it out and taking a seat. His wings shifted until finding a comfortable position in the chair. You nodded in response, picking the fork up before taking in the rather- gracious portion of food he had made for you.

A ribeye steak bigger than your hand sat on the plate. Seasoning of different kinds were smothered on it, and the smell of butter consumed your senses. Your mouth watered in response. Beside it were two sides. Your favorites.

Armen smirked from where she sat beside you, watching as you lifted the steak knife and fork. You were so oblivious. She had been watching for the last few years as Azriel desperately chased after you, and you never seemed to even notice. It was amusing. He has spent hours staring at you, and you never realized. And if she pointed it out, you just assumed you had something on your face. She knew he was growing restless. Not tired of you, but tired of your complete oblivion. These days he seemed ready to scream from the top of the roof that he loved you.

Azriel’s scarred hand clutched at your wrist. He gently took the knife and fork away from you, before grabbing your plate and proceeding to cut your steak into bite sized pieces. Armen snickered from where she sat, resulting in a glare from Azriel.

“Oh- Azriel I can do that-“ You started.

“I know you can.” He responded. He didn’t give back your plate until your steak was cut into bite sized pieces for you. He watched you place the first bite of steak into your mouth.

Your eyes rolled back and you let out a hum of approval, chewing the food. The flavor was delicious, and it was quite easily the best steak you had ever tasted in your life. It wasn’t too buttery. Or too seasoned. It was just right. The meat was tender.

Azriel’s wings rustled at your hum. His face shined with pure male pride. His eyes never left you once while you chewed and swallowed. He stood, taking the steak knife that was no longer needed into the kitchen.

Armen followed after him. He sat the knife in the sink, letting the house do its magic before turning his attention to Armen.

“You’re like a love sick puppy.”

“My love life isn’t your business.” Azriel responded, his face tight. His words were low, ensuring you couldn’t hear.

“Hm. All I’m saying is your ‘courting’ isn’t going to work.” Armen said, picking at her nail leisurely. She was like a cat. Her piercing eyes watched as Azriel’s eyes narrowed at her with a scowl. Before he could comment more, Armen spoke again.

“She’s oblivious. It doesn’t matter if you fix her food, or leave her favorite pastries everywhere so she finds them, she won’t get the hint. Literally. I’m getting seasonal allergies from the amount of flowers you’ve left for her everywhere in this house.Seriously, this place is covered in flowers. Either start professing love or drop this little crush.” She growled out, walking out of the kitchen.

Azriel stayed silent before whispering,“It’s not little.”

“Yeah, don’t let me forget to grab a few early starfall gifts.” Mor said. You groaned loudly, rubbing your temples. Even the idea of her gifts made you want to cry. Her starfall gift for you these past few years have been a collection of ridiculously fuzzy socks. Every.Year.

Of course you were grateful, but everyone knew Mor’s gifts weren’t particularly good. You now had a drawer filled with fuzzy and odd colored socks.

Velaris was bustling today. Fae of all kids roamed the streets, some tending to their shops. Kids ran through the streets playing games. Everyone was out enjoying the sunny day. You and Mor decided to go shopping to pick up a few items. Your eyes wandered back down to your list, a few more candles, a book or two, and some lotion.

“Starfall gifts? I don’t think you need to shop this early for them-“

“Nonsense! It’s never too early to do gift shopping!” Mor said, cutting you off. You sighed and shook your head knowing it was hopeless to argue with her.

After a few trips to some stores, you both ended up getting lunch at Rita’s. You ordered a milkshake- apparently a new creation of a cold drink? None less, whatever they were, everyone had been going crazy over them in Velaris. And of course you also got your favorite meal. Mor ordered practically half the menu, content to eat her heart out. You didn’t blame her- food was good.

As your plates were sat down by the waitress, Mor eyed your food with a questioning look. Your eyebrows raised in confusion. “What? You’re looking at my food weird.”

“Oh. Well I’m just surprised to see you ordering a meal here. You know Azriel is gonna harp if you don’t eat his food.” Mor responded, shoveling food into her mouth as if she’d starve.

“Huh?” You countered.

Mor finished her food before rolling her eyes. She sighed deeply as if you had troubled her. “You know..” she said, waving her hands as if that would solve your confusion. When you raised your eyebrows with a puzzled face, she put her fork down.

“You know- when you eat something someone else cooked or you’re not hungry, and he’s cooked you a meal. And you refuse it- he gets all huffy and puffy! Like a broody motherhen.” She continued.

“He doesn’t even fix me food that often-“ you argued.

“Oh please! Breakfast, lunch, and dinner! Full course meal on the table for you. If only someone loved me that much.” Mor said, picking her fork back up. “Those meals weren’t from the house hun. All I’m saying is maybe you should pay more attention.”

For the rest of the meal, you both sat in silence as you pondered over her words.

Cassian laughed  as you entered from the hallway. His eyes shined with amusement as you waddled to the counter with your shopping bags.

The sound was enough to draw a curious Azriel to the room. He immediately grabbed all your bags despite your complaints, setting them on the table. He nodded at you in response when you thanked him.

“I thought you were only shopping for a few things.” Cassian stated. He stood casually leaned against the table with a drink in his left hand. Azriel stood to your left, his wings expanded. His eyes were keen and watchful. You doubted he ever missed a single detail. His skin glistened with sweat, a musky bourbon scent coming from him. Cassian’s skin was sweaty too, evidence of them training together earlier in the day.

“Well, the candle store had a buy two get five for free deal. So I bought  four and got ten for free! Cauldron I love Velaris!” You squealed, and Azriel smirked knowingly. He had taken note of your recent obsession with buying candles. Cassian shook his head.

Cassian's face lit up with surprise as you handed him two candles. “So I got one for everyone else. This one smells like leather and the other vanilla. I figured you’d like it Cas.” You continued. He nodded in thanks. You turned to Azriel.

“I got you this candle because I know you love blueberries. And this one is supposed to smell like rainy days and lightning. And this one is books and bourbon!”

Azriel’s eyes never looked down to the candles you had shoved in his arms. His eyes stayed on your face as you happily ranted about the candles. When you finished and looked back up to his face, he had a soft look. It was one you don’t think you’ve seen him use before. His eyes were soft and looked like pools of honey, and his smile was gentle.

You watched as he sat down the candles on the table and turned back to you. “They’re perfect.” He responded. He was so memorizing. You just knew whoever he ended up with would be content. You struggled taking your eyes from him.Cassian growled playfully.

“Hey! Unfair! He got three candles! I only got-“

Cassian was cut off by Mor smacking him on the back of the head as she trotted to the kitchen. She had a lot of leftovers to put away. Azriel gave him a quick glare, silencing him.

You noticed he was wearing all his leathers, and siphons. His shadows whirled leisurely around his shoulders and wings. Azriel watched as your eyes creased in confusion. He sighed. He couldn’t help but feel a shimmer of hope at the fact you had gotten him more candles than Cassian.

“Rhysand sent me on a mission, I’ll be gone for a few days most likely. I’m going to spy on the human queens and make sure all is well there.” He admitted. He watched as your face fell. You quickly smiled again and nodded. His heart thumped like a hammer in his chest. Did you care? Would you miss him like he always missed you? He wondered if you couldn’t sleep like he couldn’t when he was away from you.

“Oh. I see. Be safe.” You responded, nodding slowly. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the feeling in your chest. You had never felt it before. You wondered why all of a sudden you felt this way about him leaving.

His eyes softened even more. “I leave in an hour or two.” He whispered, head tilting to catch your eyes once more. Cassian had disappeared from the room all of a sudden, him and Mor talking loudly about dumb things in the kitchen. Leaving you and Azriel alone. “Let me cook you dinner before I leave.”

His eyebrows furrowed this time as you shook your head no. His smile dropped. He looked like a kicked puppy almost-

“I ate lunch with Mor.” You explained. Your explanation didn’t seem to comfort him as he shook his head in response.

“That was lunch. It’s time for dinner.” Azriel said firmly.

Your mind went back to Mor’s words. Pay more attention…what did she mean? What was there to pay attention to? Azriel cooked for everyone- right..? Your mind raced over your memories, trying to think of a single time you had seen Azriel set a plate down for one of the others.

“Alright then, fix me dinner Azriel.” You responded. Azriel smiled, pleased. His right wing flared, draping over your back. “Follow me.” He said, leading the way into the kitchen. His wing was warm against your back, as it guided you beside him. It was much larger than  you were, towering over your head. As you entered the kitchen, Cassian and Mor immediately scampered out shouting something about extra training.

You watched Azriel move around the kitchen in a graceful dance of grabbing pans and pots. He kept his wings tucked in, to keep them from banging against counters and tables. His hair was messy from training, or like he had ran his hands through it more then once. But it never failed to frame his face. You watched as a few shadows dart around, grabbing various spices and ingredients for whatever new dish he’d make tonight. He set a pan down on the stove before turning to you.

His scarred hands gently grasped your hips, lifting you up effortlessly. He sat you on an empty space on the counter. He huffed a laugh at your squeak of shock. He patted one of your thighs gently before leaving your side and returning to his pan.

Your face flushed with embarrassment. He had lifted you as if you weighed nothing, showcasing his obvious strength. Everytime he touched you with his beautiful hands, it felt like everything stopped. As if the world had slowed to let you enjoy the moment. Your hands wrapped around your stomach, wondering what this weird feeling that had overcome you meant.

He moved swiftly, chopping ingredients and throwing things in various pots and pans. You quickly realized by smell alone he was making your comfort food. You remembered the night a storm had rolled in. Usually thunder and lightning didn’t scare you- but this was different. The booms and flashes were intense, shaking the ground and keeping you from sleep. You had stumbled to the house library in an attempt to distract yourself. But you only found Azriel instead. He had scented your obvious distress and took action immediately. He helped you settle on the couch with cushions and blankets before asking what a comfort food was. A good 15 minutes later he returned with a plate.

You don’t remember much pass that, you just remember becoming tired and sleepily. You remember feeling warm all of a sudden and then you woke up in your bed that morning.

“It’s almost done.” Azriel spoke, bringing you back from your memories. His eyes were distant as if he too was remembering that same night.

You smiled and thanked him as he handed you your bowl and a spoon. He made himself a bowl too. He took your bowl from his hands and sat it down, before grabbing you and setting you back on the floor. His hands stayed on your hips until he was sure you were balanced. He guided you to the sitting room with a fire.

Azriel didn’t eat until you took your first bite, ensuring you liked it. And of course, you did. It was warm, and comforting, like a hug in your mouth. It soothed your soul in ways nothing else could, the flavors easing your body from any previous aches. Azriel had never made a bad meal before. You both ate in silence together, with the comforting crackle of the fire and warming food. But as the time passed, you knew it came time for him to leave.

Your bowls sat on the coffee table. Both finished. The house made them disappear, taking care of them on its own. You were always amazed by its magic.

Your head snapped to Azriel as he stood. He sighed, looking at the clock on the wall. His eyebrows were furrowed and he almost looked like he wanted to chain himself to the wall before even considering leaving. He turned to your sitting form. His shadows seemed to move more quickly and sharper around his shoulders.

“It’s time for me to leave.” He whispered. He watched as you nodded solemnly. You smiled, but he knew it didn’t reach your eyes.

“Thank you for the meal.”

You watched as Cassian hugged Azriel in goodbye, and Mor nod as her own way of saying goodbye. Azriel had taken his candles to his room earlier, before joining everyone in the hallway. When one left for more then a day, you all said proper goodbyes.

Azriel turned to you, walking swiftly. His arms wrapped around you tightly, his big biceps practically squeezing the life out of you. He practically had to hold himself back from purring when your arms wrapped around his neck in return. Everything darkened as his wings cocooned you. His wings blocked out the noises of the others, leaving just you and him. His head found solace in your neck. His scent overwhelmed your senses in a good way. Before you had time to question Azriel being touchy, Cassian yelled,

“Ok! Ok! We get it, Azriel. Let go of her before you suffocate her.”

Azriel lifted his head, and his wings dropped. His eyes stayed latched on yours. A few seconds passed before he tore his eyes away and scowled at Cassian. His teeth bared in silent warning. Cassian backed down and turned to have conversation with the others. Azriel released you from his grip.

“I’ll be back soon. Don’t starve. And I left some flowers on your nightstand. I hope you don’t mind.” He whispered to you, fiddling with his hands like a nervous school boy. Your eyes lit up and you smiled gently.

“Thank you Azriel. Goodbye.” You whispered back in response. His smile turned upside down.

“I told you, call me Az. Or whatever you want- just not my full name. We’re closer than that.” He said in a growl like tone. He watched as you nodded your head.

It was time for him to leave now. He sighed deeply. The others had gone silent watching the scene with interest. But he didn’t seem to care.

He leaned down to your height, his hands grasping at your chin. He turned your head before leaving a gentle but firm kiss on the side of your cheek. “Sleep well tonight.” He whispered before pulling away. You stood in shock at the door to the balcony, as he said his last goodbyes. He waved in an almost shy way at you before taking flight.

You stood still, flabbergasted at what had happened. Slowly your hand rose to your cheek.

Realization dawned on you- he hadn’t ever fixed food for anyone else other than you.

a/n; hope you enjoyed, let me know if you want part two! 🌙

[yellowbrokenblue]

The Club

Harry is the owner of a very exclusive nightclub, and when a girl he doesn’t recognise walks in, he knows he needs to have her.

cw: smut, exhibitionism, degradation

— ✶ — ✶ —

He spotted her from a mile away. Blonde bouncy curls cascading down her back, and her low cut top paired with a skirt that barely covered anything was almost too much for him to handle. He stood in the corner of the club, a drink in his hand as he watched her.

He didn’t recognise her at all, which was interesting to him as this was famously an exclusive establishment. You had to be on the list which the bouncer had at the entrance to get in. Harry approved of every one ever added to the list, but he didn’t recall adding her.

Harry didn’t do it to be a dick, or to act superior over everyone else. Making his club invite only had its reasons. For example, people came here for a good time- and it was not the ‘drink and dancing’ type of good time. He turned a blind eye to these activities, but the word spread over time about what went on inside. Not that it bothered Harry in any way. Sex was exciting. And if it made people talk, and made people more desperate to manage to get into his club, then so be it.

Curious people made him money.

He watched this girl longer, and the curiosity was clear on her face.

She was looking around, taking in the whole place, until she locked eyes with him. Harry’s eyes stared right into hers, sipping on his drink while her body froze in the middle of the dance floor.

Harry took the opportunity to place his glass on the nearest table, and walk through the crowd of people towards her.

“Are you alright?” Harry asked as he approached her.

He stood as close to her as he could, sliding a hand on her hip.

“Yes.” She replied, her eyes wide, staring into his. “I’m just looking for someone.”

Her voice was shaky as Harry used the hand on her hip to pull her closer.

“Hm?” Harry said, “And who may that be?”

Her attention shifted from Harry to the couple next to them on the dance floor. They weren’t even trying to be subtle about the fact the woman was getting fingered in the middle of a crowd of people, and the girl Harry had in front of him seemed shocked, yet pleasantly surprised at the same time.

Harry leaned down, his mouth brushing against her ear, and whispered, “I don’t remember adding you to the list of people who are allowed to come in my club, which is a shame, really, because I would’ve loved a pretty little thing like you to come in much sooner.”

Her eyes met his again.

“Now,” Harry repeated, “Are you going to tell me why you’re here?”

She swallowed.

“I’d heard people say things.” She said nervously, “I just wanted to experience it for myself.”

“Experience what?” Harry asked, a devilish smirk playing on his lips, “The drinks? The music? Or did you just wanna experience getting fucked in a crowd of people.”

Harry’s crotch pressed against her, his rock-hard cock pressing into her stomach.

She let out a gasp and pressed her hips against him, feeling her skirt ride up as she moved.

“What’s your name, gorgeous?”

“It’s uhm…” Harry tightened his grip on her waist, “It’s Maya.”

“Well, Maya,” Harry said, “Are you going to let me show you a good time?”

She nodded, and Harry was in no mood for time wasting, so immediately his lips were on hers. She tasted sweet, but the thought of fucking her was consuming him, so he began to grind his hips against her, a moan leaving Mayas lips. His mouth traveled down her neck, licking and sucking at her skin. He tasted her perfume as he kissed her, but even then it tasted sweet.

“You never told me your name.” She moaned as Harry kissed her collarbone, his erection still pressed hard against her.

“Harry.” He mumbled back. “Styles.”

His hands were exploring her body as his lips kissed her, and his fingers were slowly creeping up her short skirt.

“Listen to me, Maya. I’m going to make you cum in the middle of all of these people, right here, on my hand. And then I’m going to take you over to that corner and fuck you, because it’s all I’ve been able to think about since you walked through that door.”

She nodded in compliance, desperate to feel him.

He made quick work of finding her clit, moving in quick circles while she groaned against his skin. He slid one finger into her entrance, and then another, pumping his fingers into her while she moaned his name.

“Harry.” She cried, “Oh, yes! Just like that.”

“Can your tight little cunt take another finger?” Harry asked.

She nodded enthusiastically, and Harry inserted a third finger. She was loud, but the people around them didn’t care at all, everyone was engrossed in their own business, not caring what was going on around them.

“You’re so tight,” Harry said, “Can feel you clenching around my hand. I want you to cum now.”

“I’m close.” She moaned, her head falling backwards as Harry pumped his fingers faster.

She cried out as she orgasmed, her sticky cum coating Harry’s hand, and dripping down her leg. She moaned his name over and over, Harry keeping a hand on her waist to hold her steady.

“‘Atta girl.” Harry said, “You just came on my fingers in front of all of these people, bet it made you feel good, huh?”

She nodded.

Harry grinned, bringing his hand to his lips, and sucking on them. Licking her cum right off her fingers.

Her wide eyes watched him, audibly moaning at his actions.

“We’re not done here, yet.” Harry said, as he led her over to the back of the club, towards the bathrooms.

He took a key out of his pocket, and unlocked the bathroom specifically for staff, leading her inside and locking the door behind them again, leaving the key in the lock so no one else would be able to enter from the outside.

He could see her better now, away from the very dim lighting of the club.

Her hair was much lighter than he thought, a bleached blonde with her natural brunette hair creeping through at her roots. Her makeup was smudged from their previous activities, and her outfit was still as flimsy and revealing as it had been outside. The only thing keeping her top on her body was a small tie at the top at the back of her neck.

“You’re a pretty girl, Maya.” Harry said. “How lucky am I that a little whore like you walked into my club tonight?”

Her breathing was heavy, and her cheeks flushed.

“Pull your skirt up,” Harry said, “All the way to your hips.

She quickly done as he said, and Harry unbuttoned his pants, sliding them off.

He guided her to the other side of the bathroom, to where the sink and mirror were.

“I like to see people when I fuck them.” Harry said. “Can I fuck you, Maya?”

She nodded, enthusiastically.

Harry took her wrist and spun her around, so they were both facing the mirror.

“Say it.” He said.

“I want you to fuck me.” She said.

He grinned.

“Ask nicely, and I will.”

“Please fuck me, Harry.” She begged, “I need to feel you.”

Harry grinned, “Much better.“

He reached down to grab a condom from his jeans before throwing them back on the floor, and took off his underwear, letting his erection spring free.

He rolled the condom on, and grabbed hold of Mayas hips, quickly finding her entrance, and pushing the tip of his dick into her from behind.

Her cries of pleasure while he sunk himself deep into her probably could’ve been enough for Harry to cum right there and then, but the moans she let out of her mouth as he quickly thrusted were even better.

She gripped the sink as he fucked her. It was rough, messy. But neither of them cared.

He looked at her in the mirror, her makeup was ruined and her hair was a tangled mess from Harry’s hand gripping onto it.

“You’re taking my cock so well, Maya. So tight, my good little whore.”

She moaned at his words, and he sped up, desperate to make her cum.

The bathroom was filled with the sounds of their moans and their skin colliding, the smell of sex filling the room.

“Harry, I’m gonna cum.” She said.

He wished he had a video of this so he could remember her moans of pleasure for the rest of his life. He wanted to hear her cry out his name while he fucked he from behind forever.

“Cum with me, gorgeous.”

He’d been struggling to hold on since the moment his cock was inside of her, and as soon as she reached her own orgasm, Harry let himself release, pulling out from her and letting his cum fill the condom.

The softened nightclub music soon was the only thing either of them heard while the both caught there breath. Harry slipped his underwear and pants back on, and Maya sorted herself the best she could in the mirror, pulling her skirt back down and wiping away the smudged makeup.

“Where’s your phone?” Harry asked.

Maya turned to him.

“They took everyone’s phones off them at the door.”

“Shit,” Harry said, forgetting about the rule he had set where security thoroughly searched everyone at the entrance for mobile phones or any other recording equipment, and locking it up for the duration of your stay. It was to prevent any pervs videoing people or anyone leaking the ongoings of the exclusive club. “I forgot about that.”

“You got a pen?” Harry asked.

She shook her head, “I think I have an eyeliner pencil in my pocket?”

“Get it out, that’ll do.” Harry said.

She found the pencil, and handed it to him.

“Your arm?” Harry said, grabbing her hand and pulling her arm towards him.

She assumed this was going to be a one time thing, but when Harry began to write a phone number up her arm, she guessed that Harry hadn’t thought the same.

“I want you to come back tomorrow.” He said. “We’re not done here.”

read part two here !

[sadesluvr]

Doctor's Orders - S. Raglan x Reader x M. Schmidt

You and Mike are having intimacy issues, and Dr Raglan is the best couples therapist in town.

A/N: Pure filth and nothing more. This might be the dirtiest fic I've ever made...Minors DNI

Word count: 2.4K

Tags: Threesomes / Cuckolding / Dom + Sub dynamics / Age gaps – Steve is in his 50’s, Reader and Mike are in their mid 20s / Hints of manipulation / Abuse of power / Oral sex, fem and male receiving / Breeding / Humiliation / Overstimulation / Sex rivalry / Unprotected sex  / Dirty talk

Dr Raglan was a renowned couples therapist in your town, which was why you were so eager to see him with your boyfriend Mike. Even though you’d been together for a while, when it came to sex you’d found that he had trouble staying ‘up’, and even reaching orgasm. He insisted it wasn’t you, but the egotistical part of you worried that you weren’t enough.

Still, you would’ve never guessed that, upon hearing your issues, the doctor would’ve been gracious to extend the session by another hour, free of charge. It slightly worried you that your issues were apparently that bad, but you took it anyway.

“I like you two,” Steve said. “A lot, actually. I’m very happy to help you out,”

He wasn’t lying. He’d been lusting over you for the whole session, his cock growing hard at how desperate you were to get through to Mike, even willing to do the work on your part. You were such a sweet, attentive little girlfriend, and yet Mike seemed like a total loser. Utterly powerless.

The pair of you were still sitting down as he got up, walking around to stand behind you and place his large hands on your shoulders. He smirked as Mike looked at him, ready to argue, whilst you seemed uncomfortable.

“I’m going to use Y/N here as an example,” he said, instructing you to stand up. He didn’t even bother to ask for your permission - you were nothing but a toy. A toy and a tool to be fucked. It was going to help your issues, after all. 

You stood up, and he cupped a finger under your chin so that you looked into his eyes, his gaze intense and unwavering.

“Strip,” he said, and your eyes grew wide.

“Y/N, don’t  —“ Mike interjected, sticking out a hand defensively, but Steve stopped him.

“That’s your problem, Mike. Stop trying to be the hero,” he said forcefully. You hesitated before squeezing Michael’s hand and beginning to undress. You loved Mike more than anything, and wanted to move towards the next stage of your relationship. 

Mr Raglan knew best.

As you undressed, you noticed a visible bulge in Steve’s pants, and Mike, though quiet, seemed to be developing one too, but hid it with his hands. Their eyes were filled with lust, and Dr Raglan seemed to hum with approval as he took in your semi-nude body as you assumed your position on top of his desk.

You were undressed all for him; naive and exposed to what was about to come. 

He was ready to fucking consume you.

But he had to be professional.

“You see, your intimacy problem has nothing to do with her, and everything with you,” he said, pointing at Mike. “She’s such a cute little thing with a body just begging bred. Any man would be lucky to have her…And yet you can’t appreciate something good. Why is that?”

Steve smirked as he saw your legs twitch at the mention of breeding, and he looked between the pair of you knowingly. Mike seemed unresponsive, whilst you were like a deer in headlights.

“You’re building it up too much. You keep thinking things are going to be mind-blowing, and that you’re going to be the best she’s ever had, but in actuality it’ll probably be average. You need to learn to live with being disempowered,”

You glanced over worriedly at Mike. Perhaps the loss of his brother was the root of the deeper issue?

“Has he touched you here?” Steve said, his large hands reaching to massage your breasts. His hands were cold whilst your chest was warm, causing your nipples to harden against his touch. The older man chuckled, rolling the bud against his fingers before he tugged them, showing them off to your boyfriend. He’d barely done anything, and you were responding to him so well.

“Y-Yes…” 

“Do you usually get turned on so quickly?”

“I’m not—“ you protested, trying to ignore the growing heat between your thighs. “—It’s just because your hands are cold,”

“Sure. I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said mockingly. “How about you have your boyfriend come warm you up?”

You looked over pleadingly at Michael and he obliged, getting up to place his hand on your other breast, but not without giving Dr Raglan a side eye, to which the older man brushed off. You stared up at them with glassy eyes as they fondled your breasts, with Mike’s touch more gentle compared to Steve’s pawing. You weren’t oblivious to Raglan’s now hardened bulge either, as he pressed his groin into the bare skin of your knee, teasing you with what was to come.

“Doesn’t look like you’re doing a good job there, Mike,” he said matter of factly. “Unsurprising, considering everything I know about you. Let me show you how to take care of business,” 

His bigger frame pushed Mike to the side, and you could see him clench his fists in frustration. Steve stared down at you hungrily, one of his hands sliding past your breast to grab the base of your neck; squeezing it ever so slightly as his other hand made its way to your panties. He spread your legs so that you were on display, his thick fingers rubbing against your slit through the material. 

“I bet I can make her cum just from my hands…” he said, staring down at Mike who remained in his seat. As much as he hated watching a perverted older man like Raglan touch you, part of him was actually enjoying it. He knew you were hot, and to see someone making you feel as sexy and liberated as you deserved made him feel good in turn. Perhaps the Doctor was right - he needed to be comfortable feeling powerless.

“You said you’ve tried oral sex, correct?” Steve said, clearing his throat. You looked up at him and nodded shyly, and he tutted.

“I want you to say it,” he insisted, briefly removing his hands from your panties. “Tell me what you do to him,”

“Um —“ you said, flustered from the sudden loss of pressure. “I touch him through his pants first. He’s usually hard then, so I take it out — I don’t suck him off immediately, I like to keep it going with my hands…” 

Steve began to unbuckle his belt before pulling down his zipper and taking out his cock through the hole, beginning to stroke it lazily as you droned on about trying to please your boyfriend. He was aching to see you in all the degrading positions you’d put yourself in for Mike’s benefit (to no success), even more so at the prospect of being in front of him. 

“Show me,” Steve groaned, positioning his cock towards your face. “Give me everything you’ve been craving,”

You abided by his words and stroked him, moaning as he resumed his motions on top of your panties. He was bigger than Mike, and you could feel him throb in your hands with every tug, desperate to penetrate your lips. You remained like this for a moment before the older man pushed your panties to the side, the cool hair sending shivers down your hot cunt. Steve greedily pushed two of his lithe fingers inside of you, grunting at the sensation as he felt the insides of your thigh on his arms, grazing his hairs ever so slightly.

“She’s fucking dripping,” he laughed, staring Mike in the eye. “She feels so good down here. I wonder how her mouth feels —“ he stated, and angled your head around his cock. You took it in your mouth instinctively, eyes widening in shock as he hit the back of your throat unexpectedly. Steve was almost completely feral; wasting no time in thrusting deeper into your mouth whilst his fingers explored your fold, making sure to rub your clit.

“—Like heaven,” he purred, and it was as if something deeper had arisen within him. “Don’t be shy Mike. You should get in on this,” he teased, giving the younger man all but two seconds before focusing back onto you. You were mewling and writhing under his power, and if he were a teenager he probably would’ve cum right there and then. Luckily for him, he was a man now.

Mike obeyed, and quietly made his way between your legs, watching in awe at the way your juices coated the man’s fingers. It looked heavenly; and it killed him to think he was missing out. All he ever wanted to do was please you.

He unzipped his trousers, freeing his cock so that he could touch himself. He inched towards your spread pussy, one hand on his cock and the other keeping your panties out of the way and practically dived in, eagerly lapping at your folds, causing Steve to hum in amusement.

The sensation was painfully overwhelming, with Steve’s fingers now rubbing at your hood, and Mike’s lips licking and sucking on your insides. It was beyond pornographic, and you wondered whether this was genuinely helpful or just a self-serving ruse. 

“Ugh,” you moaned, and pushed Mike’s head deeper into you, prompting yet another reaction from Steve.

“Seems like he can do something well, hm? I suppose this is the part where everything goes to shit?”

“For your information, I never said I couldn’t make her cum,” Mike snapped, staring daggers into Steve as he momentarily drew himself away from your cunt. 

“I’ll admit –” he began, stopping to groan as he began thrusting faster into your mouth, your cheeks hollowing around his cock and nose repeatedly making contact with his pants, “--That’s impressive, but it’s child’s play. You’re a child, Mike. She needs a real man…” 

Even though it was wrong, your pussy twitched around Mike as the pair bickered; using your body like a ragdoll. You weren’t a person to them, but a vessel, and it was sparking something within Mike that you hadn’t seen, licking along your folds and up towards your clit, flicking his tongue upon the nub as two fingers pumped into you. All he’d needed was a bit of ‘friendly’ competition.

“Mike —” you whimpered against Steve’s cock. “I’m gonna —”

“Get off her, Mike,” Steve commanded, and the younger man obeyed, his frustration growing deeper. The Dr drew himself from your face, leaving a trail of spit against your swollen lips.

“That’s not how this is going to go –” he stated, guiding your body so that you were spread flat on top of his desk, your legs dangling off of the sides. Steve towered above you, and even though Mike was in the room you felt like a shrew underneath his predatory gaze, waiting to be devoured. You stared up at him with wide eyes, and you almost came as he smiled down at you, a large, calloused hand rubbing along the sides of your body, spreading your cunt effortlessly with two fingers and admiring the mess you’d made.

“--I’m gonna fuck her, and you’re gonna watch. Got it?” he said forcefully, staring Mike down. “Don’t try to save her, Mike. She doesn’t need saving. Let it go,”

Mike nodded, and Steve barely gave you any time to react before he thrust into you, practically gasping at the hot, wet sensation against his aching cock. His grip on your legs were firm, slinging them around his waist so that he had full control over you, relishing in the sight of your breasts moving with every motion, and your mouth agape as he filled you up. Mike was stroking himself, his face flushed as he watched you intently, completely inebriated on oxytocin. There were no sympathetic smiles or gentle hugs when he couldn’t ‘perform’, but a different person entirely - the sex goddess you deserved to be. It was dirty, and so very wrong, but he was enjoying every moment.

Steve’s thrusts were getting faster now, to the point that you could feel his thighs slap against your own, much more his heavy balls against your aching pussy, causing the desk to creak. His eyes darkened as one hand made its way to your throat, squeezing ever so slightly as his cock seemed to hit at you from every angle.

“You like this, hmm?” he cooed, a large smirk wiped across his face. “Getting fucked by an older man whilst your mess of a boyfriend watches? He can’t make you moan like I do, huh?” 

You could barely answer, but managed to shake your head.

“Hm, you’re pretty fucked up, aren’t you? I think you and I should have a little private session n’ work some of those issues through…”

You moaned louder, and Steve let out a gleeful cackle before looking over at Mike, who was in a daze. 

“I consider myself a fair guy. Get over here,” he gestured to him, and once he was there you took Mike’s cock in your mouth, helping him finish what had been started. He threw his head back as you eagerly licked and sucked on his tip, using your hands to stroke his base and steady him in your mouth. 

You’d reached complete overstimulation; and you could feel a familiar heat pooling in your stomach, your body instinctively beginning to grind itself on Steve’s cock. Mike drew himself deeper into your mouth, briefly making you choke at his desperate motions, and Steve placed his hands onto your hips, holding you down and beginning to fuck you mercilessly.

“Touch her,” he ordered, and Mike began rubbing your pussy in circles, adding to the unfathomable feeling. “Feel how much she’s trembling because of me. She’s such a slut, you know that? You might own her heart, but I own her pussy – Fuck – She’s perfect...”

The sound of his throaty voice made you unravel, and you threw your head back as you came, desperately pulling Mike into a kiss as you did. It was euphoric, made all the more otherworldly when Steve said a certain few words:

“I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna fill this pretty pussy up real good, like a real man does. Didn’t you see the way she begged and moaned for me? Our pretty little fucktoy —”

He came with a loud groan and his glasses almost slid off of his face as he lurched forward whilst his fingers left marks on your skin as he held you down to pump his hot, heavy seed into your aching hole. You were both sweaty, and you felt your eyes flutter shut from the exhaustion. As Steve rode off his high he drew his hips back, watching his seed slowly drip out of you and onto his desk. 

Smirking, he caught his breath before walking over to assume Mike’s position at your mouth, looking down at him expectedly.

“It’s your turn. I hope you don’t mind the mess I’ve made,”

@dij-ology

[farfromstrange]

Fictober Day 17: Face-sitting

Fictober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Prompt: Face-sitting (✨)

Summary: Face-sitting. That's it.

Warnings: SMUT (18+), oral f!receiving, face-sitting, face-riding, dirty talk

Word Count: 846

A/n: I know I did a fic like this for another prompt, but I do kind of love this prompt.

Read Me On AO3! (Coming soon)

His fingers dig into your hips, nails leaving crescent moon indentations in your tender flesh as you move your cunt against his tongue. 

“Sit,” he’d said and spread your legs over his head. “Ride my face until you come. Please, use me.” 

He needed to lose control. He’d had such a rough week at work and needed to just let go. When he said use me, he meant it. He meant for you to take what you need until he can’t breathe, and then some more. He needed you. 

You have a tight grip on his hair, more than eager to comply with his request. Ride my face until you come. On his tongue is your favorite place to be, after all. 

You chase the heat in your belly with abandon, wanting moans tumbling from your parted lips like an orchestra of pure and unbridled pleasure. His tongue has nowhere to go but through your folds, right where you want him to be, around your clit and inside of you. 

Your walls engulf him as he tastes you from the inside out. Goosebumps erupt on your skin; he traces his fingers over them, gently, reverently, and he hums in approval at the way your walls clench around him.

He holds you, he explores you, and you are so fucking close you might lose your battle with self-control any moment now. Matt can barely breathe with how tightly you’re holding his face against your perfect pussy, but he would gladly suffocate in this position. There is no place he would rather die than drowning in your cum, where the only sound audible to his sensitive ears is the rushing of your blood through the veins in your thighs.

Your scent in his nose, your taste on his tongue—you’re all over him. He may be drinking from you like you are the elixir of life, but you are the one consuming him. You are the one who makes the noise of the world disappear. And when you finally become the death of him, lost in pleasure like this, his headstone will read that he died doing what he loved: eating out the woman he loved as though she were his last meal.

“Touch me,” you plead. 

Matt slides his hand from your hip to your breast. Your nipples are already hard and aching for him to touch, and he greedily starts to play with those sensitive bundles of nerves he likes to wrap his lips around. Your body is his playground, his to love, and his to command. You are completely at his mercy even when he is not in control because you crave him like a dangerous drug. 

You need to inject him into your bloodstream.

“That’s it,” your moan echoes across the room. “That’s it, don’t stop.”

Your hips start to move faster, more desperately against his tongue. He flattens it against your folds, circling your clit whenever he gets the chance. Air has started to become a luxury, his face slick with the wetness pooling out of you, but he would be damned if he tapped out now. 

Time has stopped; only God knows how long he has been waiting for this—craving this.

Before long, the tight coil in your belly snaps, filling you with a warmth that goes straight to your head, and then you’re coming. You lose control of your limbs, falling forward into the mattress as you cry out his name into the void. 

Your pussy keeps dragging along his tongue to chase those electric shocks of pleasure, the feeling that curls around your core like a noose. You are so addicted to that feeling that you drive yourself into overstimulation, his beard burning marks into your thighs. You know you will be sore for days, but oh, it was fucking worth it.

Below you, Matt is groaning and moaning, drinking up every last drop of you until you have nothing left to give. His balls tighten, his cock twitches; Matt buries his teeth in the soft flesh of the inside of your thigh, muffling himself as he spills into his black boxers. You exploded like a bomb in his mouth. He couldn’t hold it back anymore, he had to come. 

It’s pathetic, he thinks, coming untouched like a teenager who never had sex before, but he had to come for you.

He had to come with you.

Matt is incredibly sensitive to what you’re feeling as though he lives inside you, and so for just a little while, he turns into a horny teenager who comes in his underwear. 

You roll off, falling to the mattress beside him. “Holy fuck,” you choke out. 

The words refuse to form. He takes a deep breath. When he exhales again after a few seconds of floating in a boneless bubble, all the tension falls from his shoulders. For the first time in days, Matt is at peace.

“You okay?” your voice reaches through to him. 

He nods, lips curling into a smile. “Yeah,” he says. “I’m okay.”

And it is all because of you. 

@ebathory997 @the-b33skn33s @scoliobean @drmeghanjones @lanae111 @steve-chandler @lucienofthelakes @xnatyx @gpenguin666 @linamarr @mcugeekposts @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @amberritonicole @ravenclaw617 @pigeonmama @bohemianrhapsody86 @a-gir1-has-n0-name @callsign-ember @chittaphonstar @buckyyyismahhlife @trublu2u @zomtart @ethereal-blaze

[absurdthirst]

Kinktober 2024: October 8th

Day 8: Flogging // Swallowing // Cock Warming

Javier Peña x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Need, aggressive kissing, undressing, vaginal penetration, cock warming, comfort, angst, solace

|| Kinktober List || MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

It’s not often that Javi doesn’t want to fuck away his frustrations or worries. To lose himself in the pure physicality of hammering into your body and pulling a satisfying orgasm from you before he cums. 

Sweaty and breathless, riding a high of endorphins and coming down from it while lazily blowing smoke up to the ceiling while smoking that post coitus cigarette. Pretending that none of the troubles from work can get to him here. 

This is saved for those days when he feels like he’s losing his soul. When he feels like his heart is about to crack open and bleed out. When he craves the closeness but he needs to just surround himself with you. 

You can always tell when he needs you. Javi comes through the door with either passion or need in his body as he finds you. Most of the time it’s a combination of both. Desperation in his kiss and his hands are almost shaking as he starts to pull your t-shirt out of your jeans. 

It’s late. He had called and said he didn’t know when he would be home, so you hadn’t really been expecting him. Not until he hit the door and you could barely see the horrors in his eyes before he swallowed you in a needy kiss. 

Javi talks with his body, it can sometimes be subtle, but often he is very straightforward with his needs. Now, he is dragging his jacket off, almost shuddering as he unclips the badge on his hip and tosses it down on the coffee table. The gun comes next, thumped down a little more delicately but then his hands are back on you again. Stripping your shirt off and swooping in for another kiss. 

He’s in too much of a hurry to even drag you into the bedroom, the sofa is as far as he can make it. Cursing as he peels your jeans down and dragging your panties down with them. His impatience makes you giggle slightly but you bite your lip, feeling the tension in his arms as you move to unbutton his shirt. 

It doesn’t take you long to get both of you stripped down and Javi is dragging you onto his lap, his fingers stroking your clit and you can hear the groan of approval when he finds you soaking wet. 

He’s adjusting your hips, pressing against your entrance and pulling you down on his length. Using his leverage to break you open on the thick, hot steel of his cock. Every quarter of an inch pulling a soft groan from you, kisses pressed to his lips. 

You let him move you like he needs, your arms wrapping around his shoulder and running up the back of his neck. That light touch is enough to make him shudder and close his eyes, leaning in and resting his head against your throat. 

This is when you know that it’s been an unusually hard day for Javi. That there’s been something that he’s seen or dealt with that is hard for him to process. He’s not taking it out on your body, railing into you until your entire body is aching and craving more. 

Instead, he’s just holding you close, breathing you in while your cunt is wrapped around his cock. Just holding him and pulsing when he twitches slightly. 

You don’t talk, you know that the words won’t help. Javier feels things deeply, holds them and buries them until they threaten to overwhelm him. Often to his own detriment when his judgment is clouded. So you don’t offer platitudes that will be brushed aside. 

The comfort of your body is what he needs. The slow, soft breathing as the two of you sit together. He feels like he is relaxed when he is buried to the hilt inside your body, cock protected by the walls of your sex and contact of skin to skin touch is soothing. 

Running your fingers through his hair, you let him hold you just as close as he needs to. There are times his arms tighten, feeling like he’s going to crush you. As if he is afraid that you will slip away if he lets you go. 

Javi sighs, unable or unwilling to do more than just sit right now. Closing his eyes and blocking out everything but the way he can feel your heart beating, the slow and steady pulse of it around his cock. Your body squeezing him tight ever so often, and the way you hold your hips, trying not to move. 

This is his solace, his peace. Everything that he has had happen to him is slowly starting to edge out of his mind. It won’t be forgotten, but it’s not a beat that is screaming in his head. It’s muted, as if had happened to someone else. His hands can’t shake when they are gripping your skin. Using you as an anchor so he doesn’t lose his mind. 

Despite there being no movement, Javi doesn’t get soft. He’s still hard and throbbing inside you. The subtle clenches of your cunt nearly have him panting and you aren’t doing anything more than just holding him. 

He feels like he can finally catch his breath, every inhale of air filled with you. Your sweet scent surrounding him and making him forget about the blood, the death. You replace that. The warmth of your body, the heat of your core wrapped around him pushes away the clammy cold hand of death. 

Minutes go by, but time is suspended right now. You don’t push him, kissing along his shoulder and your fingers move from his hair until you are caressing his back. You can feel the stress, the way his muscles are bunched up - slowly starting to unknot. 

Relaxing into your body and sighing again. His eyes are still closed, thankful that you aren’t demanding that he move. You never push him when he needs you like this. You let him bleed himself into you. You do more for him than you could ever imagine, simply by just sitting on his cock. 

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Can you do a touya/Dabi fic with shotos twin sister and just had one quirk which was fire so she was tossed aside so she resented her dad and somehow she met dabi/touya and he made her his little spy but she also desperately clings to him at times when she reports to him and stays close since she never got that affection (Btw for outfits she usually wears tank tops and bootcut jeans) please and thank you

Warnings: sorry this took forever for me to get out, been meaning to get to it cuz i miss writing for dabi x todoroki!reader, tons of trigger warnings, sibling incest, siblingxsibling relationships, betrayal, manipulation, resentment, overall dark themes, dysfunctional todoroki family ft, mind the tags, don't read if you don't like the subject matter 🖤

Inhaling deeply before letting out a slow, steady, breath, you pull open the large front door of Endeavor's agency. You could survive a few hours in the presence of your father. Or rather, lingering in the background like the little ghost you were.

No one would dare to say it out loud, but everyone and their mother knew you were the spare twin compared to your slightly older brother Shoto. He was the pride and joy of the Todoroki family, unlike you. At first you believed it to be unfair. You were in the womb at the same time as him. Why didn't you get a ice and fire quirk?

Was it really because he was the first born? That couldn't be it.

Your white flames, while hotter than even your father's, did little to impress him.

You didn't turn any heads when you enter your father's personal floor of his agency's building. This task was easy. Stealing information and sending it to your older brother and his crew became a normal thing for you.

"See, I told you we should have her around." Dabi argued in your defense while caressing the side of your face. "She's a good girl who listens to her big brother, aren't you?" Some would call his tone degrading. You felt the tenderness in his hand though as it delicately angled your face upward so he could look into your mismatched eyes. One the hue of a storm in the sky, the other the color of a raging sea. That’s what Dabi always said before you closed your eyes to go to bed.

Shigaraki and the rest of the League were less thrilled about you being anywhere near them. While you weren't popular like your father or Shoto, many still knew your face. Having you around could be more of a risk than the League were willing to pay.

You just wanted to make him happy, to keep his eyes solely on you. If it involved betraying the other members of your family (including your twin brother Shoto) then so be it. You would let Dabi’s words consume you entirely, making you his mindless slave.

The rest of the League members could chalk it up to Dabi simply using sweet words to manipulate you. He didn’t care about anything. Especially his family. What made you different?

Now that was a secret that Dabi would not utter. His praise filled words were genuine when it came to you and Dabi would be damned if he had to give you up again because of Tomura. He'd make sure you'd make yourself indispensable to the League. They'd have to let you stay.

You were just as determined as Dabi was to keep your place. You hated to even pretend to be under allegiance to your father or any superhero for that matter. They'd always looked down on you for not being like Shoto. Never being enough for them or their world. But you were enough for Dabi.

Slipping the flashdrive up your sleeve, you leave just as you had arrived: unseen. Just in case the cameras hidden throughout the building were focused on you, you'd nonchalantly picked up some of your father's paperwork in appearance of tidying up his workspace like the good daughter you were.

It made you sick to your stomach thinking that not too long ago, all you'd ever wanted was Endeavor's attention and approval. Shoto suppressed his fire ability for years, associating it with his abusive father so you thought you had a shot. You spent hours upon hours practicing with your flames to make them hotter and hotter and finally to where they could melt anything and everything. Leaving not even ash behind.

When you hand Shigaraki the flashdrive, he grudgingly accepts it with a stiff nod. He didn't want to admit that you were providing them incredibly valuable information that all other villain groups lacked.

He ignores Dabi's smug grin as he slung his arm around your shoulder, giving the top of your head a peck. "Knew you could do it." His brings his hand up for his fingers to brush against your cheek.

You felt it again.

The world stopping and all breath departing from your lungs. You wanted Dabi to brand you with his palm, to use his blue flames and scorch your skin so you would always have a piece of him.

Then Dabi leans down, lips caressing the shell of your ear and in his husky tone he calls you "Good girl."

Blushing and highly aware of how Dabi simply towered over you, you shyly duck your head. "Ha. . . it was nothing."

Everyone learned to simply avert their attention when Dabi's affections for you walked on the razor's edge of what was appropriate.

You'd proven to be their perfect spy. Shigaraki couldn't wait to see you in actual battle. That would really be the test of your usefulness.

[galedekarios]

gale's early access dialogue transcripts - part 2 a: the deer stew scene

in early access, gale had two additional major scenes: the deer stew scene and the loss scene, both of which would happen during a long rest at camp.

the scenes in early access usually happened in this order:

-1: first night long rest scene (still in the final game) -2: mirror image scene (still in the final game) -3: deer stew scene (cut content / partially reused in act i) -4: weave scene (still in the final game) -5: loss scene (cut content) -6: tiefling party scene (ea version cut / partially reused in act ii last night alive scene)

the deer stew scene was supposed to show that gale had come to trust the protag throughout their time together and the actions they've taken, like saving arabella and mirkon, or trying to solve the tension between zevlor and aradin.

he would tell them about his condition and reveal that he needs magical artefacts of great power (idol of silvanus, sword of justice, staff of crones, shadow of menzoberranzan, etc.) in order to consume the weave within them to sate said condition. parts of that conversation have been reused and repurposed for the full release version of the game, though now this scene happens while travelling if you progress gale's approval enough.

you can watch a video of the deer stew scene here. below you'll find the transcript of the scene and all its outcomes.

the deer stew scene

Gale: Ah, there you are. How did you enjoy my deer stew this evening? Old family recipe. Protag (Option 1): It was delicious. Gale: Good. I tend to season it with spices from Kara-Tur, but given what's available to us, good old rosemary had to see us through. Not that I mean to regale you with my culinary exploits. Gale: There's, er... Well, there's actually something quite different I'd like to discuss. Protag (Option 2): I didn't have any actually. Gale: Curious time to be dieting. Especially with a chef like myself around. -> Then same as Option 1 Protag (Option 3): Should have kept it in the family. Gale: Can't argue with taste. Or the lack thereof. -> Then same as Option 1

Protag (Option 1): By all means.  Gale: We've been... -> See Option 3 Protag (Option 2): Why so tense all of a sudden? Gale: Some things are easier to explain than others. But first let me say this: We've been... -> See Option 3 Protag (Option 3):  Whatever it is, make it brief. Gale: As you wish. Gale: We've been travelling together for a while now, and during those travels I've been observing you. I want you to know that I like what I see.  The way you handled Nettie when she poisoned you. The way you defused the tension between Zevlor and Aradin. The way you got Kagha to release the girl. The way you saved that boy out of a harpy's clutches. In short: I've grown to trust you.

Protag (Option 1): That's very gratifying to hear  Gale: Now I need you to place your trust in me. Protag (Option 2): Enough of flattery. Where is this going? Gale: An exchange. I expressed my trust in you, now I need you to place your trust in me.  Protag (Option 3): Can't say the feeling's mutual.  Gale: And yet I need you to place your trust in me in turn. Gale: Our journey together is bound to last a while still. As such I feel compelled to speak. I say this because there is something I desperately need, but while I'll tell you what that something is, I won't tell you why. I have to ask you to agree to this before carrying on with this conversation.

Protag (Option 1): Very well, I agree Gale: Thank you. I see I did well to trust you. Now to the matter at hand. You see, I have a... condition. A condition different from the tadpole, but just as deadly. The only way to appease Protag (Option 2): No. It's unfair to demand blind faith in you. Gale: I understand that I'm asking for a lot, but I can't tell you everything. Not yet anyway. Please, reconsider. Protag (Option 3): [Wisdom] You sense secrecy and danger. Use your tadpole to probe Gale's thoughts. [Failure] Gale: I'm afraid that's not going to work on me. Look, I appreciate your curiosity, but don't pursue this path.  Let's agree in actions first and explanations later, yes?

Protag (Option 1):  Fine, have it your  way. / Fine, I reconsider. Tell me what you need.  Gale: Thank you. I see I did well to trust you. Now to the matter at hand... Protag (Option 2): I'm still going to say no. / No, I won't. And that's final. Gale: That's... truly disappointing. I see now that I misjudged you, so we'll dwell on the matter no longer. And at least I know where I stand. This is a part of the journey I must walk alone. Good night. Protag (Option 3): [Wisdom] you sense secrecy and danger. Use your tadpole to probe Gale's thoughts. [Success] Narrator: You become one with Gale's mind and you can feel something sinister oppressing you. It's... inside of you, a mighty darkness radiating from your chest. You could try to push further, but your hold over Gale feels brittle. It won't be easy delving deeper without him noticing. Delve deeper: [Failure] Gale: What are you... You're using the tadpole against me? This is a breach of trust that... And to think I thought you trustworthy in the first place! I'm leaving. I cannot stand to be around such betrayal a moment longer. 

Tav: [Insight] You are in mortal danger twice over. To leave would be foolish, and you are no fool.  [Failure] Gale: I am a fool. A fool to have trusted you. [Gale leaves the party permanently] Delve deeper: [Success] Narrator: You see through Gale's eyes, staring down the corridor of a dread memory. A book, bound, then suddenly opened. Inside there are no pages, only a swirling mass of blackest Weave that pounces. It's teeth, it's claws, it's unstoppable as it digs through you and become part of you. And Gods, is it ever-hungry.

Gale: Keeping me in suspense, are you? Come on, tell me, do we have an agreement or not? It's s simple question, isn't  it? What gives you pause? Protag (Option 1): Yes, I agree. Gale: Thank you. I see I did well to trust you. Now to the matter at hand... Protag (Option 1 / Dependent on Tadpole Use): Risk telling Gale what the tadpole showed you. Gale: What? You used that thing against me? And you saw! After I told you.... This is a breach of trust that... And to think I thought you trustworthy in the first place! I'm leaving. I cannot stand to be around such betrayal a moment longer.  Protag (Option 1): [Persuasion] Be reasonable, Gale. I'm responsible for our party. I had to know.  Gale: [Success] The need remains debatable, but I recognise your responsibility. Perhaps I spoke in haste, it's just that... there are things... things I cannot speak of. Besides, what you saw... You read the opening line of a very big book, no more. The darkness you perceived, that is my primary condition. A condition different from the tadpole, but just as deadly.

Protag (Option 2): [Inisght] You are in mortal danger twice over. To leave would be foolish, and you aren't fool. Gale: [Success] I have to admit, you are right about that. Besides, what you saw... Gale: [Failure] I am a fool. A fool to have trusted you. This is where we part ways. Protag (Option 3): So be it. Gale: So be it. This is where we part ways.

Gale: The only way to “appease” said condition is for me to take powerful magical artefact and absorb the Weave inside. It's been days since I last consumed an artefact, before we were abducted. It is time. By that I mean it's Imperative that I find and consume powerful strands of Weave at the earliest possible juncture. Protag (Option 1): Tell me more about that condition of yours [Saw with the Tadpole] Gale: You've already seen more than I was willing to share, remember? Best leave the darkness in darkness for now. [Did not use the Tadpole] Gale: That's part of the 'why' you agreed not to discuss. Wouldn't want to make an oath breaker out of you. Protag (Option 2): Where are we supposed to find the kind of artefacts you need? Gale: We already done the finding. The Idol of Silvanus is such an artefact. Protag (Option 1):  Are you crazy? There's no way I'm stealing the druids' idol. Gale: I'm not saying we should – I'm just pointing out it happens to be exactly the sort of thing I'm looking for. Of course we're bound to come across more artefacts during our travels. -> Continue to As luck would have it... Protag (Option 2): That sounds like more trouble than it's worth. Gale: And it might well be. It's a holy relic after all, and taking it would enrage the druids to no end. Not that I'd say no, but we're bound to come across more artefacts during our travels. -> Continue to As luck would have it... Protag (Option 3): Then let's go get it.  Gale: I'm not so sure that's advisable. It's a holy relic after all, and taking it would enrage the druids to no end. Not that I'd say no, but we're bound to come across more artefacts during our travels. -> Continue to As luck would have it... Protag (Option 4):  What happens if you don't consume any artefact? Gale: Catastrophe. Protag (Option 5): This is all madness. Gale: Define it as you will, the semantics aren't important, the condition's conditions are: I am in need of artefacts. That's all there's to it. -> Continue to As luck would have it... Gale: As luck would have it, Faerûn is full of them, though I do feel obliged to point out that items of power tend to be in the hands of the powerful. There will be danger involved – or great cost.

Protag (Option 6): So Astarion wants to suck blood and you want to suck magic. What's next? Gale: We all have our eccentricities. Ours are just more eccentric than most.  Astarion: As a matter of fact, you should feel lucky to be travelling with men of taste. -> Continue to As luck would have it...

Protag (Option 1): Danger? I wouldn't have it any other way.  Gale: Good. A bit of boldness will serve us well. -> Continue to I know the allure... Protag (Option 2): So you're saying I need to risk my life for you.  Gale: I know the allure these artefacts hold. I understand their value and their power. All this to say: I understand the sacrifice I ask of you. But if I may so bold: it's for a good cause indeed. I hope I can count on you.  Protag (Option 3): When I acquire powerful magic items, I'm not so sure I'll choose you over them.  Gale: That's your decision to make. I expect you to make the right one. Much is at stake. More than my own meagre life alone. Protag (Option 4): I can tell you right now I don't care at all for this wild Gale chase.  Gale: That's your decision to make. I expect you to make the right one. Much is at stake. More than my own meagre life alone. Gale: I know the allure these artefacts hold. I understand their value and their power. All this to say: I understand the sacrifice I ask of you. But if I may so bold: it's for a good cause indeed. I hope I can count on you.  Gale: [if the tadpole was used and told] Oh, and as far as that tadpole trickery goes, I really do trust you'll not be so untoward again.

coming up next:

-part 1: the three tadpole dreams -> completed

-part 2: major cut scenes: the deer stew scene -> completed with this post & the loss scene -> will be posted next

-part 3: minor cut scenes: abandoned temple of jergal, failed to save arabella, talking to the paladins of tyr and agreeing to go after karlach, edowin and the tadpole reveal, mayrina giving ethel's wand to her or breaking it, handing astarion over to the gur or defending him, reaching the druid grove, killing lae'zel, reaching the goblin camp & looking for halsin, killing the druids, priestess gut & the brand & the cult of the absolute, dror ragzlin and talking to the dead mind flayer, ogre couple, necromancy of thay, ethel, zhentarim chest, myconid colony

-part 4: gale's condition & the way it was treated in early access

taglist: @chainsawmascara, @randomfanner, @tacogoats, @khajiit-necromancer, @gwinharper, @galesenchantedpanties, @swampfaerie, @ardently-queer, @nirraein, @gale-enjoyer, @xiv-wolfram, @kairoswouldnever, @a-psychopathic-dream

i thought i'd tag the people i'd seen taking an interest in my original post! if you want to be taken off the taglist, please let me know!

[sillyblues]

‘pecador.’

synopsis— you bring the sinner out of miguel o’hara

cw— religious themes, blood, mild nsfw, 18+

“En el nombre del Padre,”

Miguel O’Hara was a sinner. Violence has always resided in his soul, along with anger that bubbled in his veins. It was evidently clear to him and everyone, even back then when he was younger. He could barely remember his first memories of joy with his mother nor a play with his brother, but he could remember vividly when he threw a punch at somebody who told him that he and his mother and brother were dirty.

And ever since then, he has not learned of a moment filled with peace. His father berated him and punched him as well because how dare he hurt the son of his boss. Because of it, his father had been fired, and they had no money anymore. But Miguel didn’t care. How could he when that little shit insulted his mother in front of him? He let his father vent his anger and frustrations on him. 

“Y del Hijo,”

But a mother’s love was great, and his own mother couldn’t bear to see her son getting hurt, so she tried to stop him. She took her in his arms and protected him from his father. But she shouldn’t have done that. He wished his mother stayed put in place and come to him when his father was done with him. But she didn’t because her love for him was great.

His father grew furious at the sight of his wife hiding his son away from him and in wrath, he hurt Miguel’s mother as well. The slaps and the punches and the hair pulls were thrown at his mother and he knew it was painful. He tried to pull away from her as his eyes were wide and tears streamed down. He begged his father to stop and asked him to forgive him, he sobbed as he said to him to hurt him instead, just not his mom. But despite it all, his father turned a deaf ear to his pleads and his mother’s embrace was tight just so he would not get hurt.

“Y del Espíritu Santo,”

His father’s anger was a large fire that evaporated away his family’s water of tears but Miguel’s resentment was a burning fiery hell only reserved for his father. His rage was molten and flowed through like lava and it pulsed within his heart and consumed his rationality. His fury blinded him and he didn’t know what he had done until he regained his vision momentarily back to see his mother crying.

“Miguel, escúchame,” his mother whispered to him with a tremble as she took the bloodied knife that he didn’t know he was holding from his arms. He looked at his hands soaked in red and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“My baby boy, thank you for protecting Mama,” she hugged him and rocked him back and forth as she sobbed. Like instinct, he hugged her back weakly. “I love you so much, I want you to know that.”

“Be strong for me and for your little brother, okay? He has no one but you. Take care of him and yourself, alright?” her soft voice was full of sadness and he desperately wanted to look up to her and comfort her. He wanted to tell her that he also loved her very much and he will but like a lullaby, her voice sent a wave of sleepiness and his vision darkened.

But he couldn’t help it and then, he fainted. When he woke up in a hospital room with his little brother, Gabriel, snuggled beside him, nurses and the police greeted him. There, he knew his mother killed herself.

“Amen.”

He took his mother’s words to his heart and swore that he would protect his brother. He did not let anyone take him or his brother or relied on adults because he trusted nobody. He appealed to the court at 16 years old that he could take care of himself and his brother. Fortunately, he was approved and he took multiple jobs to sustain their needs. He didn’t go to school, no, he didn’t have any time but he made sure that Gabriel did. He worked tirelessly sleeping barely 5 hours a day just to bring food to the table and have a roof over their heads. But despite his busy schedule, he made sure to be there on Gabriel's important days.

Years went by and they had formed a mundane lifestyle. And he tried so hard to keep it that way. But violence resided in his soul and the sinner in him was rekindled once more when his brother was found dead one early morning. He received a call when he was about to go to work and rushed to the crime scene when he heard the news. When he saw Gabriel’s lifeless body and the blood that pooled around him, the remaining hope in his heart was crushed and rage once more visited him and burned fiercely. The police ruled it as suicide as he was found in an alleyway in between buildings. But Miguel knew that it wasn't because of his brother who was so happy and talked his ear off about graduating and becoming a billionaire so he could support him and would never give up on life like that.

“Padre nuestro,”

Miguel decided to join the underworld where mafias and gangs ran about. He took jobs there not only for quick cash but to form connections and information. He investigated more about his brother's death and found out that he was bullied for a long time by a group of kids his age. Apparently, they picked on him because he was sorry for being dirty and a son of a filthy murderer. There was evidence on the autopsy that was not reported that he was burned, with cuts and bruises littered all over his body. A camera evidence that was also not submitted and was deleted (but luckily saved by the corrupt authorities who tried to keep it as a blackmail opportunity) showed that they pushed Gabriel to his death and they all laughed about it. Not only that but he wasn't their only victim.

Miguel felt so angry at himself and guilty that he didn't know that behind his brother's insistence on being covered up from head to toe, lies numerous wounds. Knowing him, he probably didn't tell him so he wouldn't worry about him. He wished he did. He wished Gabriel was a little more selfish and made him worry about him instead because he would protect him better.

With this, he took his time to learn more about the arrogant pricks that murdered his brother. He moved to a different city, to Nueva York, so that he had an alibi. He stalked the conceited brats who did the same to numerous people and their rich parents who didn’t give a shit whether their children murdered someone. He learned their routine. Their schedule. And when the time was right, he put a bullet through their heads one by one when they least expected it. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, come on man, I’m sorry,” they begged with tears and snot dripping, crawling backwards under his shadow. “Don’t kill me, please, I’ll give you anything.”

“Money? Do you want money? I’ll give you hundreds and thousands,” they always said the same thing, thinking that money was enough for him to forgive the suffering they had caused to his remaining family that they took away, the bruises and cuts on his brother’s body, the damage they had done on him mentally. “No? Half a billion? No, no! One billion!”

His jaw clenched. Pathetic pigs. He cocked and aimed it at them.

“No, no, no! NO—!” they stuttered and screamed but were cut off by the sound of a bullet fired by a gun with a muffler.

He wondered if they at least felt some remorse or at the very least thought about how Gabriel or the other kids they tortured and killed felt as they begged them to not hurt them. But he knew people like them, he had seen them countless times including his very own father. People like them didn’t care about anything or anyone other than themselves. These kids were just the same as them.

He made sure to clean up his tracks, deleted potential shreds of evidence, and made some story that would make their case solved and closed easily. He left the city swiftly and came back to his new home. With this, he tried to leave his old past behind and began his life anew.

“Que estás en el cielo.”

Miguel hated himself. He hated the fact that he killed his father which resulted in the death of his mother so that nobody will know that he killed him. He hated the fact that he was so ignorant of his brother's suffering that he had to be pushed to his death for him to realize that his brother was in pain. He hated the monster he turned out to be, always out for blood and killing people like it was nothing.

The sea of guilt and remorse suffocated him and he drowned himself in alcohol and women. The money he saved up which was supposed to be for Gabriel’s graduation gift was used on his vices. 

Day and night, his sins weighed heavy on his mind and not once, was he given at least a moment of peace.

“Santificado sea tu nombre.”

A knock snapped Miguel out of a trance as he smoked out of the window of his apartment. The wispy grey stench wafted in the air as he raised an eyebrow, wondering without much interest who could be knocking on his door. It couldn’t be the landlord as he just paid his month’s due. His past flings? Probably.

Knock. Knock.

He took another drag and inhaled as much as he could before he exhaled and extinguished it on the ashtray full of ashes and butts of leftover cigarettes.

“Alright, alright. I’m coming.”

He opened the door and found nobody, but a baby in a basket with a letter sticking out of the blankets wrapped around it. The sight of the baby filled him with anxiety and dread. He looked sideways, hoping to at least find who put the baby on his door but only the sight of closed doors greeted him. He had an inch of what was happening and he did not like it one bit. 

With a shaky sigh, he took the baby and cradled it in his arms. God, he didn’t even know its gender. But the sight of him made the baby giggle and coo at him and he bit his lip. Fuck. He opened the letter with his other hand and the words written on it confirmed his suspicions.

“It’s your baby, Miguel. You were the last one I hooked up with before I found out I was pregnant and even then, it was too late. She was too grown and I cannot abort her anymore. I don’t have any papers of her because I have no money and I can’t raise her.”

Miguel could feel a migraine forming and he rubbed his forehead. The baby must have found his distress amusing because it giggled once more and tried to grab his fingers. 

No. She. Not it. 

Fuck.

Miguel wasn’t ready to be a dad, he doesn’t even think he was suited to be one because he was a piece of shit but he took another look at her that was so snug and comfortable in his arms as she looked at him with wonder, he thought it wouldn’t be so bad to try to take care after her.

“Venga tu reino.”

A few years passed by and Miguel accepted his role as a father. He named the baby Gabriella after his late brother. He got into therapy and went back to work so he could raise her with no financial problems and so that he wouldn’t be a bad father to her. Gabriella was a handful child. He slept countless sleepless nights, often waking up early in the morning because she was crying. Sometimes it was because she was hungry, sometimes she just needed help to digest the milk, and sometimes there wasn’t any particular reason for her cries. But still, he cradled her in his embrace and sang lullabies to her softly.

It felt like it was just yesterday Miguel opened the door and found her on his doorstep. Gabriella has grown into a bright young child. She took after his looks as she inherited almost all of her genes from him. 

Oh, she was so lovely. She was the best of him, better than him and Miguel liked that because she deserved better. She made him believe that he wasn’t the worst piece of trash and that he wasn’t useless. She made him feel loved and he made sure she felt loved as well.

She was very much into soccer and he was so proud of her. He attended all of her games without a miss, winner or not. He was there with her by her side, teaching her how to be kind enough to not hurt anybody and allow herself to be hurt. He taught her to be emotional yet to also remain logical. He taught her to tell him anything yet also let her remain her own privacy.

Miguel loved her very much and she loved him very much as well. 

“Hágase tu voluntad en la tierra como en el cielo.”

But he was a sinner and there will be time that his sins would catch up to him. He understood this one day when he got home one afternoon as he got home after work and was greeted by his child, his precious baby, his Gabriella’s lifeless body in her blood.

The tears came fast and thick. He immediately cradled her into his arms and rocked her back and forth. He begged her to wake up, to open her eyes for Papa. To surprise him that this was just a prank. Or a dream. Anything.

Please, wake up. You can’t die yet. I haven’t lived the rest of my life with you yet. I haven’t seen you on your quinceañera yet or your graduation or the first time you get a job. I haven’t seen you get married or surprise me with grandchildren. 

I haven’t seen you live your life yet.

Please. Don’t do this to me.

“Danos hoy nuestro pan de cada día.”

Violence has always resided in his soul and with his daughter’s death, he committed his one last vengeance. He visited his old life once more. He got back with his connections and his trusted friends gave him whatever he needed in exchange for nothing and as their condolences.

The killers of his daughter were related to his previous crimes. They were related to the families of the people he killed and they decided to kill his daughter as their revenge.

And in return, hunted them all down. He hunted all families down and despite all the scars, all the sharp cuts, all the black and blue bruises, and all the bullets that pierced him, he never gave up and killed them all. Multiple mafia familias were down and he made sure that they couldn’t even think of getting revenge and that all they could do was bow before him.

“Hahaha, you son a bitch,” one cackled as he spat on him, “you deserve it all.”

“You heartless bitch, you’re the reason why all your family’s dead. Fucking cunt, you think you can revive them? Dream on.” he babbled his useless mouth on and wheezed.

“I know.” How could Miguel not know? For not one second that had gone by, he could never ever forget how he killed his family.

“Your death will not bring my family alive but it will make sure that any other families won’t be killed.” And with that, he pulled the trigger and let the loud sound of the gun resonate through the room. His head spat out red and some solids of his brain decorated the wall behind him. His blood dripped down and it joined the pool of the blood of the other corpses that lay dead in the room. The rays of the rising sun shone through the window and it gleamed on the pool of red. Silence filled the room and only the sound of his breaths remained.

Miguel’s eyes gave up suddenly and he fell to the ground on his knees with a harsh thud. With a tear, his shoulders loosened.

Finally. It’s over. Everything’s over.

Miguel should be glad that all of his enemies were gone and nobody would even dare to hurt him anymore but what does it all matter when everyone he held dear was gone?

“Perdona nuestras ofensas,”

Due to the rules of the underworld, the top dogs with Miguel O’Hara leading, their identities would be hidden and they would not be allowed to surrender themselves to the government as it could overthrow the black society altogether. Partly because of this, he turned to God and moved to a quaint town. He became a priest with the sole purpose of repentance and earning forgiveness for his sins. He didn't know if he was asking God to forgive him or his family who died because of him to forgive his carelessness in protecting them.

It was ironic really because he never really believed in God despite the nightly mass he, his brother, and his mother used to have. The words he uttered were redundant, merely sounds he couldn't understand nor tried to. When his mother died, he and Gabriel did the nightly mass in honour of their late mother. And when he died, he could only attend Sunday mass in the church with Gabriella because of the ache of missing his mother and brother yet still continue the tradition of being faithful to God. He wanted her to grow up good and kind so he taught her the values and morals of being a Catholic despite not fully believing in God.

A hypocrite, that's what he was and usually thought about as he led the mass during his schedule.

And he still was when a quiet mysterious woman moved into town. 

You.

“Como también nosotros perdonamos a los que nos ofenden.”

You appeared so suddenly out of nowhere in this town. He lived in the Church but in such a small town, words tend to spread easily. In just two days of your arrival, he already heard of a young woman who had just moved in. 

Miguel was a bit wary as this town barely had any people. Most residents were grandparents or older parents who were already retired and their children who left to move to the cities for bigger opportunities and education. He didn't know what you were thinking about coming here. Were you sent here by the underworld? No, it can't be. He was protected by his friends who ruled the underworld now. Did you have a past like him? Were you running away from something? He sighed as he shook his head. Then again, it was none of his business and it was most definitely not his right to pry.

The next Sunday was the first time he saw you. You sat there at the back, ushered by your neighbours, he presumed. In rows of people, you stood out so brightly. Your back was straight, there was elegance so blatant despite the plain clothes you wore. He met your gaze one too many times and noticed the way you hung onto every word he uttered.

And when the mass had ended he stayed around longer this time and talked with the locals a bit more. And without a doubt, your new friend introduced him to you.

“Oh good morning, Father O’Hara! Wonderful mass, by the way, I loved the homily, well, as usual, it really reflected my situation now with my son in college. Do you still remember?” Mrs. Lorraine greeted him with a handshake.

“Oh for God’s sake, Lorraine, yes Father still remembers that and I’m sure he appreciated that you love it. Don’t forget you’re here to introduce [Name] to him.” Mrs. Eleanor said, cutting Miguel off before he could even reply.

“Oh! Dear me, why yes,” with widened eyes, she laughed, “Yes, forgive me.”

“Father, this is [Name]. They just moved in here and I invited them to join the church.” she moved her body to show your figure and Miguel finally had a close look upon you. Your eyes stared at him and for a second, he felt like there were just the two of you. You looked at him with wonder and curiosity and Dios mío, you looked so innocent and he was reminded of the darkness that exists from within him. He felt like one touch and he could corrupt you easily. He clenched his jaw and furrowed his brow, desperately hiding any tremor in his composure.

“[Name], this is Father Miguel O’Hara. He moved into this town a little while ago and clearly, one of our only priests.”

“Oh, good morning, Father Miguel.” Christ, your voice was soft as a wind that tickled his heart. You held out your hand to him. “It's nice to meet you.”

“Good morning.” He nodded stiffly. He took your hand and shook it.

Even your palm was smooth and he forced the thought down to hold your hand longer.

“No nos dejes caer en tentación y líbranos del mal.”

You were kind. Endlessly so. You sponsored this town’s community event alongside donations to the church anonymously but everybody knew it was you. Everyone just decided to keep their silence to respect your decision in keeping your identity. 

You preferred to listen to others and learn more about them rather than talk about yourself. You always asked how everyone was doing and gave them gifts under the excuse of it being old despite it polished brand new. Whenever children or the grandchildren of the locals visited, you always stopped by their house and gave them little gifts as well.

Miguel had seen you interact with children multiple times whenever he was doing groceries and pass by at yours, he saw you giggling along with the children. He saw you reading books to them under the shade of a tree and rays of sunlight would gently decorate your faces and the winds would play with your hair. He saw you happy and the children happy with you as well.

And his heart throbbed at the sight of you each time but he swallowed the feelings forcibly down as his grip on the steering wheel tightened.

“Amén.”

He hated you.

He hated the way you invoke feelings in him. He hated the way you tempt him unknowingly and he cannot blame you to take any responsibility for the way you make him feel. He hated the way you make him want to sin again, to unleash the beast inside him he had caged for so long but for another different reasons entirely which was you.

He was a priest, someone who he tried so hard not to sin but you make him falter in his beliefs so effortlessly.

So he hid himself who had become a sinner once more just at the thoughts of you.

“En el nombre del Padre,”

But he was so weak for you.

After a mass one sunday morning, you asked him if you could have a talk with him just the two of you and somewhere private. Miguel knew he should have said no. He should have turned you away and pretend he has not been watching you from afar and from the corner of his eye. But he was weak for you and before he knew it, he let you in on his office room.

“Father Miguel, why are you ignoring me?” you asked so suddenly and he knew it was coming. He has turned away from you, pretending he doesn’t see you coming and would walk the other way. But he was still caught off guard. You leaned closer to him he could smell your delicious scent. He leaned away because his patience with you was just so little he might lose his hard-earned control.

“Pardon me, but you’re getting too close.” He said with gritted teeth and tight fists. You looked hurt at that. With widened eyes that were soon filled with dejection, you slowly rubbed your arm. Guilt flooded his being and as much as he wanted to apologize, he couldn’t. Any second with you drove him insane and he could only take so much of this. He didn’t want to lose his reason, his morals, his values as a Priest. He couldn’t bear to. But any more second with you, he just might lose it all for you. You bit your lip.

“Why do you hate me so much?” you whispered with small tears welling up your eyes and Miguel hated himself more. There was nothing more he wanted to do at the moment than to hold you and wipe your tears away himself. But he can’t. It’s wrong. Priests don’t get close like that to their fellow believers. 

“I don’t hate you—” he sighed as he looked away but you cut him off.

“Then why do you look away from me? Am I so undeserving for you to not look me in the eye? Am I so disgusting for you to get close to me? Am I so inadequate and worthless for you to treat me like you treat others?” you said harshly at him while tears slipped your eyes. You took a step at him with every word you said and he took a step back in every step you took until his back was pushed to the wall behind him. “So do not tell me that you don’t hate me when all you did made me feel like you despised my entire being.”

For fuck’s sake.

He grabbed your arm and turned your body, switching positions with his. He made sure to cover the back of your head so it wouldn’t hit the wall too hard and he growled under his breath.

“I do not hate you.” he said with gritted teeth. “I want you.”

Your eyes widened at that.

“What?” you confusingly and breathlessly asked.

“Every time I see you, there is nothing more than I want than to be with you. I look at your pretty face and I want to kiss you so bad. I look at your nice figure and I want to hold and caress you. I want you.” he panted silently, the words he never dared to even utter to himself outloud was finally out of his chest. And now that they were free, he looked at your eyes to see how would you react. Would you push him away and slap his face? Would you be disgusted with him you’d never want to see him anymore?

He would understand but he didn’t know if he could bear with your hatred.

“Then take me.” your hand encircled his neck and the other gently stroked his cheek.

No.

“I’m right here.”

I can’t.

“Show me you don’t truly hate me.”

It’s wrong.

“Show me how much you want me.”

In an instant, he captured his lips with yours as his hand slid to the back of your neck. At the touch of your lips, the hidden lust for you blossomed. He pressed his face to yours and yours closer to his deeper, his kiss burning so passionately and fiercely. You opened your mouth with a moan and he invited his tongue in, and he nearly groaned at your fragrance hynotizing him and your sweet taste that ignited a new kind of hunger for him. His tongue swriled with yours and together, they danced a dance that left him breathless.

He pulled away slightly and a web of both of your saliva disappeared. He stared at you as you panted. You looked at him pleadingly and your stare sent a rush of blood down in his pants. He wanted more and he knew you wanted the same.

And with that, he plunged to the roaring sea and its waging waves of lust.

“Y del Hijo,”

For you, he threw his title as a Priest and became just Miguel.

All for you, he returned to his origins and became a sinner once more.

“Y del Espíritu Santo,”

Each day and night, you invited him into your temple and he worshipped you. What once was just thoughts that tortured him became reality that gave him a glimpse of heaven. Your aroma engulfed him and filled his never-ending greed of you and your flavor satiated his endless glutton for you.

“Amen.”

As he finished his prayer, he stood up from kneeling and bowed to the Cross of the Lord. He fixed his clothes and the sounds of his footsteps against the tiles of the Church rang as he left with thoughts of you.

He wanted to hear your melody that was akin to the trumpets of the angels again. He wanted your soft and supple skin to be against his dark and rough ones. He wanted to be pressed under you with your legs on the either side of his head and your juices spill in his mouth. He wanted your warm cavern envoloped around him and to feel you come undone by him.

With a silent chuckle, he thought about how he tried so hard to not corrupt you by with his wicked thoughts only to be corrupted by you instead.

For Miguel O’Hara was a sinner and no matter how much he tried to change that, he will always be one. Violence has resided in his soul, along with anger that bubbled in his veins but time changed him and has now become lust that occupied his being along with the infinite greed and glutton that only wanted you.

[suuuupernovaaa]

säwäsul

säwäsul [sæ.ˈwæ.sul] n. a competition

Request from @pwallettes : I would like to see something with Neteyam and Lo'ak with a na'vi reader where they are childhood best friends. She has always had a crush on Neteyam and now he seems to reciprocate as well and this relationship is blessed by Neytiri and Jake. But then Lo'ak confesses his feelings too and she is confused about how she feels. I don't see them as enemies, but just not knowing how they're going to handle the situation.

(Adult) Neteyam and (Adult) Lo'ak both have their eyes on the same girl - and try to work through it without killing each other.

2,160 words

For a very long, very tense moment, the two brothers stared at each other. Though they had experienced conflict with each other their entire lives, that was just brotherly competition and natural fighting.

This was something else entirely. This was something that could ruin their family, their relationship with each other, and that wasn't something either of them was willing to do.

"How long have you felt this way?" Neteyam asked finally, rubbing his temples with his fingers. Of all the idiotic things Lo'ak could have confessed to him, he certainly hadn't been expecting this.

"A long time... but I knew how she felt about you, so I tried to get over it. But, when mom and dad gave their blessing, I just, I didn't want to go forever without saying something." Lo'ak spread his arms out, as if to symbolize his innocence, and Neteyam didn't know whether to strangle him or give him a hug.

"What the hell are we supposed to do?" Neteyam asked.

Lo'ak was silent. Clearly, he hadn't given this much thought beyond confessing to his brother. He had told himself that if Neteyam was really angry and upset, he would let it go forever - but he really wasn't sure he could do that.

"You should tell her," Neteyam said. "She should know, she deserves to know."

Lo'ak's eyes widened in surprise, and he reached out to grip his brother's shoulder. "Neteyam, be serious. She will not choose me. She has already told you how she feels."

Neteyam sighed. "She has told me she feels deeply for me, and would consider being my mate, but that is all. I think I... I think I kept her waiting too long. I have always known how she felt."

"Why?" the younger Sully asked. In fact, the whole family wanted to know what had made Neteyam change his mind and begin to pursue Y/N after all this years. After all, it was no secret how she'd always felt about him.

Neteyam couldn't answer.

"She should know how you feel. Before she decides what she wants," Neteyam said again, patting his brother on the back. "We have to respect her decision - we can't make her feel guilty for it."

Lo'ak nodded, but knowing Y/N, that would be an impossible task.

--

"You are a fine woman, Y/N, and I would be honored to call you mine," Neteyam had told me a few days ago, but something in his voice, in his stance... I had dreamed of Neteyam saying this to me for years, but in my dreams, it had been more passionate, a deep confession of love.

The way he said it, it felt more like an obligation, like an agreement he was entering into.

I knew Neteyam cared deeply about me, as I cared for him, but I couldn't tell if he loved me, and I had been too scared to ask.

Then again - did a match with the future Olo'eyktan need to be a love match? Could it not be enough to simply care about each other, and live a happy life?

These were the thoughts consuming my mind as I return from a long ride with my ikran. I had hoped it would clear my mind, but it didn't seem like that was going to happen.

I needed to talk to someone. It should have been Neteyam, but I was almost nervous to ask how he really felt. Was I simply a good match, approved by his parents, or was I the woman he desperately wanted to be with?

"Y/N!" a voice called from the forest, and I turned, searching for its owner. Moments later, Lo'ak emerged, running over with a smile on his face.

"Lo'ak! What are you doing?"

"Looking for you," he replied breathlessly when he reached me. "What are you doing?" He reached up, tucking my hair behind my ear; it was always a little wild and windblown after a ride, even if it was in braids.

"Riding. What do you need?"

I noticed then how nervous Lo'ak looked. His smile wasn't reaching his eyes, and he was fidgeting in a way that I'd never really seen him do before. Of all the Sully children - and only one of them remains a child - Lo'ak was certainly the most confident and boisterous of the bunch. He was acting out of character.

"Are you okay?" I asked, reaching out to grab his arm just above his elbow. With his other hand, he reached over and covered mine.

"I have to tell you something and, and you should know, I already told Neteyam."

I frowned. "Okay..."

"I'm just going to say it, okay?" Lo'ak said, his chest heaving up and down with sporadic breaths.

"Please, do," I replied, growing very anxious with his behavior. His hand was gripping mine so tightly.

"I am in love with you, Y/N. I see you. I have loved you for, well, a long time. A really long time but I, just, I always knew how you felt about Neteyam, so I didn't say anything but now, now that it might, now that I could lose my chance I just wanted to tell you how I felt. Before, well, just so you could know."

My mouth fell open and my eyes were as wide as they had ever been. My mind was racing, but somehow blank at the same time.

I could not form a coherent thought, or a single word. Lo'ak filled the space with more talking.

"I told Neteyam, and he said you deserved to know, too, because it's your future and you should get to decide. And my brother, I love my brother, Y/N. He would be a fine mate for you, if you choose him. But I would be too, Yawne." Beloved.

No one had ever called me that.

My brain tried to conjure up the image of Neteyam calling me that, and it couldn't. I didn't think he ever would.

"I don't want you to feel guilty if you choose him, and he doesn't want you to feel guilty if you don't. Or, you don't have to choose either of us. But, we won't be mad at you, Y/N. I don't think I could ever be mad at you."

Lo'ak stepped forward, and I stood still as he wrapped his arms around me.

Images of our childhood together played in my mind. Had I been so focused on the eldest brother, that I had missed something right in front of my eyes? Lo'ak had always been there for me, always cheered me on, always made me laugh when I was down, and it seemed obvious now.

He had been showing me how he felt for so long, while I pined for someone who only wanted me for an approved match out of obligation to his people.

Neteyam was a good man, and he would make a good Olo'eyktan, and I did not regret telling him how I felt... but something felt different about it now.

It wasn't that Lo'ak's confession made me fall out of love, but it made me realize I wasn't really in love in the first place; I was just infatuated with who I thought Neteyam could be for me.

Tears filled my eyes and I leaned into Lo'ak's embrace, feeling confused and hurt and a little relieved. I needed time to think about everything, to decide if I could really choose between two brothers without hating myself forever, to make sure Lo'ak's affections were true.

"I need time to think," I whispered, and Lo'ak squeezed me tightly.

"I know. I'll be waiting."

--

What I needed, was to talk to Neteyam. I took the evening to try to sleep on it, but that was almost impossible. I knew I couldn't talk to my mother or siblings about it - they would tell me I would be a fool not to choose the eldest son of Taruk Makto, but I didn't think that was entirely true.

Very early the next morning, I found Neteyam setting off for a hunt, and pulled him aside.

"We must talk," I said.

"Yeah, probably," he replied with a half smile that I couldn't return.

"I spoke to your brother yesterday."

"I know," he said, and there wasn't much concern in his voice, or his face.

I squinted at him, turning my head to the side. "Does the idea of Lo'ak expressing his affections to me make you jealous at all?"

Neteyam looked taken aback by my question. He opened his mouth, and then closed it again.

"I have loved you for many years, Neteyam. There were times when I thought I would not be able to live, if you chose another woman. The day your parents approved our pairing, I thought it would be the greatest of my life." Once again, tears began to fill my eyes as I spoke, though I tried to stop them.

"It wasn't, though?" he asked.

I shook my head. "I don't think you love me, Neteyam. Not like that. I think you like me, and I do think we would be very happy together... but do you not want to, to feel that you would die without your mate? To be with someone who is on your mind day and night, who drives you mad and makes you angry and, and happier than you could imagine?"

Neteyam stared at me for a moment, while I took in deep breaths, trying very hard not to embarrass myself with more tears.

"Do we not both deserve that?" he finally said. "You are my best friend, Y/N. I would never hold you back from a love like that."

I bit my lip and look down. "Do you think he...?"

"Yes," Neteyam answered without hesitation. "He does."

--

Lo'ak was gone on the hunt before I could find him, and so I had to wait all day to speak with him. It was the longest, most agonizing day of my entire life.

When he returned, I was by the fires at the center of our home, helping prepare the evening meal with many of the other men and women of our tribe.

"Y/N!" he greeted me excitedly, a smile on his face, and I jumped up from my seat and grabbed him by the hand.

"Come," I said, pulling him away, just out of the reach of our clan's eyes and ears, to the darkness of the forest.

Here, alone, before we spoke, I took a moment to truly admire Lo'ak. I still held his hands in mine, and lifted it before my eyes, examining the five fingers there. Above his eyes, the small patches of hair that set him apart, got my attention next, and I ran my finger over them and tired not to smile too wide.

He looked just like his father, as he got older, and he acted like him, too.

That meant he was fierce, and loyal, and protective, and very impulsive at times.

How had I missed this man? How could I have allowed myself to be blinded to him?

"I must apologize, Lo'ak," I said finally, my voice very quiet. "I wasted so much time, thinking I was in love with Neteyam, and that he could be in love with me... but that match is not right, for either of us."

He grasped both my hands with his. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

"But I do. I made you to suffer. That's not something I would ever want. I do love you, Lo'ak. I can't, I can't believe I didn't realize it until yesterday. I love you in a way that I could never love anyone else, in a way I have never loved anyone else. I want you to know that. Tell me you believe me."

He licked his lips, and smiled widely at me. "I believe you." His fingers underneath my chin tilted my face up, so that I would look him boldly in the eyes. "I knew you would find your way to me. I knew you would be mine."

The confidence was so attractive, and I was amazed that I would have spent my life being only half-loved when Lo'ak was ready to love me so deeply, and to be loved in return.

His lips brushed against mine, tentatively at first, and then fiercely and passionately, in a way that lit me on fire for him. When we pulled apart, I was crying, and Lo'ak's blissful look turned to concern instantly.

"What is it, Yawne?"

I shook my head as he held me, and wiped away the tears.

"I feel... fortunate," I replied truthfully. "I feel grateful for you."

He kissed beneath each of my eyes, and then my nose, and then held me to his chest.

"I am the fortunate one."

We would argue about who was more fortunate later - and for the rest of our lives.

[justporo]

A Night of Song and Laughter (Part 16)

In which Astarion and Tav do enjoy each other's company very closely indeed but Tav has the upper hand for once and lives out the moment to its full potential.

The middle of the day is a fine time to just drop a dirty little chapter full of smut, don't you think? (At least here it's the middle of the day, good timezones to you)

This felt actually a lot more naughty and intimate than the first real smut chapter in this - at least while writing. But I'll let you be the judge of that...

Two songs for this: Kiss Me You Animal - Burn the Ballroom and Shirt - SZA

Rating: Explicit Pairing: Astarion/Fem!Tav (You) Warnings: Explicit content

You were riding Astarion languidly in your ginormous bed, chasing the third high of the night. You had taken him up on his words to make you think about other things and other things just happened to be straddling him and slowly driving him into madness. Another sudden change in mood that was by now probably fueled by more than just a tinge of hysteria from the seemingly unending night.

When you had expressed to him that you were inclined to go for yet another round after you had laid down on your bed with your towels still covering you up, his lips had curled into the most lewd and seductive smile: “I see, you might be taking on yet another one of my qualities accordingly: an insatiable need to devour you over and over. Your wish be my command, my love!” You had been immediately charmed by his words and his admission about his carnal and desperate needs for you, but you still had grabbed his hands which had immediately started to eagerly wander again. A thought had crossed your mind that you needed to voice: “I… Astarion… When you say stuff like that last part… I – just want to make sure that you know that I would never want you to do this were it not what you wanted as well. I mean, even if you wanted to turn your back on sex altogether because you’re done with it, that would be fine for me too, because being with you and loving you is the most important part and…” Astarion put a finger on your lips to softly silence you: “Love, you are rambling again.” He dragged you onto his body, so he was on his back and you were laying on your stomach on top of him – your towel holding on for dear life.

“Since you are worried about me, which, really, I cannot express how much I appreciate, my heart - ”, Astarion continued and let his hand drag through your hair, almost making you purr in approval “- I will have you know, that I am never getting on my back again if I do not deliberately choose to do so. And,” – he grabbed your fingers that had begun to tap an idle tune on his chest and kissed them “as far as I am concerned my hunger for you might be greater than you might yet realize.” The looks he threw you went from playful lust to sincere love in a heartbeat. “I’ve never had something like this, it might be almost as new to me as it might be to you. But” – his gaze turned hungry again – “if I were to unleash the full vastness of my needs and feelings for you, I fear I might actually break you or scare you off for good.” The sparkle in his eyes saying that let delicious shivers run down your spine – others might’ve been scared by a confession like this but considering the range of thoughts and emotions about this man that kept consuming your every waking thought… you’d probably just made the perfect pair.

You smirked at him and simply hummed contentedly now reassured that you were on the same page. “Now”, Astarion said raising his voice and giving you a light slap on your butt “be a good girl and sit on my lap!” You happily obeyed and basked in the admiring looks he threw you, when you sat up and slowly unraveled your towel to reveal your naked form beneath it.

Then you went to take his towel off from around his hips and immediately discovered that he must’ve enjoyed the view so far and was more than prepared for you to fulfill your needs.

So, there you were: sitting on his lap, grinding against him, his dick hitting deep inside you every time you lifted up your hips, simply to let them slam down again, while he kept desperately moaning and cheering you on with praise. He had his legs propped up to help you aid to get the most traction out of every single roll of your hips that he was holding onto, his thumbs lazily rubbing circles on your pelvic bones. The silk sheets were messily bunched up all around you and a sheen of sweat made your skin glisten in the light of the oil lamps on your nightstands.

You were ecstatic. His words of admiration and naughty praise in a deep and husky voice, while he was interrupted by his own moans and his voice kept breaking while worshipping you, turned you positively feral and made you feel powerful. Just knowing what power you held over this ethereal man that must’ve seen almost everything already but still seemed to lose his mind at you gleefully crying out his name. It took you to newly known heights; you’d never felt this good in your life.

You slowly picked up the pace and started moaning louder while you lifted your arms over your head and dragged your hair up while throwing your head back and arching your spine – very well aware that it would draw Astarion’s attention to your chest. “Gods, your breasts look amazing when you’re moving like that, love”, Astarion wasted no time to say and silently gasp in admiration.

You smiled mischievously at him, still toying with your hair and moved harder to give him more of the desired movement. “Gods”, he moaned and arched his head back with a hiss from the sensation of you coming down hard around him and enjoying the view of your jigging boobs that felt deliciously heavy with lust.

While the attention was on them you let your hair fall down again and moved your hands to squeeze your breasts, making yourself moan with the sensation and sending electric jolts down between your legs when you started to twist one of your hardened peaks.

Astarion lifted one of his hands and gave you a slap on your behind which made you gasp and clench your core which then made him gasp in return and arch his back. He looked almost completely out of it by now, his tone almost pleading, when he said: “You’re a goddess.” "Then keep worshipping me!"

You kept squeezing your breasts with one hand while you let your other hand wander down your body, over your stomach, then deeper, over your clit, but only remaining there shortly before letting it wander onto Astarion’s body. You noticed the markings on your arm glowing and pulsating slightly but kept focusing on the vampire’s prone body beneath you.

You hungrily drank in the shapes, lines and angles of his body. The muscles of his abdomen tensed under your gentle caress. You took him and his body in while you lazily kept rolling your hips to ride him: his well-toned upper body, his arms just as muscular, holding you firmly, those sinful long and elegant fingers on your hips and most of all: his beautiful face with its sharp red eyes that watched you eagerly and hungrily.

Astarion bucked his hips, making you gasp as much from the sudden movement as from the delicious friction it created. Seemingly you had gotten too lost in his features and slowed down too much for his liking, so he had opted to show you who was actually in charge. “Come, love, giddyup.” Excuse him? You clenched your core and earned a desperate moan from Astarion in response – just as you thought.

“Touch yourself for me, darling”, he demanded sinfully with a deep tone. You clenched around him again, ripping yet another groan from his lips. But you still obeyed and picked up the pace again, letting your hand wander from his body to yours again and this time remaining on your clit, starting to add to your own pleasure while you kept working your boobs with the other hand.

Things started to really move quickly from there on out. You could feel your orgasm coming up on the horizon being fully aware that after two very successful rounds already this one would really bring down the house around you. Astarion felt it too, his body almost painfully tensed and his hands on your hips motivating you to go more aggressively.

“Harder, my love, come on, destroy me”, he requested pleadingly but with just the right amount of authority in his voice that you couldn’t resist.

You rode him harder while his fingers pressed pleasantly painfully into your hips. There was no more space for chit-chat, only for heavy breathing and moaning and the sound of your two bodies coming together again and again. You held his gaze while you kept touching yourself and could see that he was trying desperately to hold on and not get lost before you did.

But you wouldn’t give him this pleasure this time. You moved yet harder and faster, arching your back and clenching around his hardness inside you while you could feel yourself starting to get lost.

But Astarion went over the edge first, his eyes rolling back into his skull while he moaned helplessly with opened lips that bared his fangs. Your own orgasm had you closing your eyes and throwing your head back while searing hot white light exploded inside you and made you cry out Astarion’s name again - loudly.

You rode out the waves and kept moving your hips lazily until you heard the vampire wince slightly. “Love… Please, stop?”, he said and coughed suspiciously. But you weren’t over enjoying having the upper hand for once. You rolled your hips again and giggled. Astarion winced again and made to lift you off of him, but you quickly did it yourself and moved out of his reach.

“Come back here, you disobedient woman”, Astarion shouted after you teasingly angry with furrowed brows, but you were already out the door.

You quickly walked downstairs – butt naked of course – and grabbed another bottle of wine from the kitchen and two goblets to drink it from.

When you returned to the bedroom, Astarion was still laying there in the middle of the bed where you had left him. He had one arm over his face, his breath still a tad faster than normal. You stood in the doorframe for a moment just taking in the gloriousness of this moment and this man. Then you tiptoed back in while casually offering: “You wanted me to destroy you.”

Astarion lifted his arm and only opened one eye to look at you: “Oh, consider me thoroughly destroyed, my love, a job well done.” You smirked at him, then put down the bottle and goblets on the nightstand next to your side of the bed. Astarion sat up again and leaned back on his hands watching you.

“What I did not want was you being such an insolent little thing in this precious moment of my weakness”, he spoke slowly and the grabbed you quickly from where you were just relaxedly standing next to the bed. He hauled you over it and made you kneel on the bed while on all fours and positioned himself over and behind you. He leaned on his one hand placing it next to yours and let his other wander slowly from your breasts, down your stomach in which lust already started to coil again, to the sensitive spot between your legs and finally down your thigh, causing you to shiver.

Astarion leaned over to one of your pointy ears and silently whispered: “And I’ll make you answer for your crimes, my pet.”

Tags: @daedriclys @angelofthorr @starved-kitten

[bluerose5]

I am just having so many thoughts about this because idk, I've seen people say before that Gale and Anders wouldn't get along, and while I agree that Anders wouldn't be all for Gale's ambition and leniency towards forbidden magic, I think it's a little telling because I've been playing Anders as in-character as I can (from my perspective) and his approval with Gale without really exploring anything besides the Grove yet? High. The only companion at that point as of yet, even with Wyll in the party too. I know people sometimes joke that it's easy to gain approval with Gale, but here's the thing. It's easy when you're making a lot of the good-aligned choices at the beginning, and Anders?

Anders, at his core, is a good character.

Take a step back from his "defining" moment at the Chantry explosion because it truly doesn't define him as a whole. One major act of desperation (one that was only done in the name of revolution anyways) doesn't erase years of service in terms of his character.

Of course, all of this has been said and done before, but Anders was a healer for years without expectation of any payment. In Lirene's words, he helped deliver people's children, tended their wounds. His influence was so widely felt in Kirkwall that he had Ferelden refugees ready to throw hands for him, all because Hawke started sniffing around for him. He worked in the Mage Underground. He tried peacefully appealing to those in positions of authority for years about mages' rights, putting so much effort into a manifesto that other characters were always quick to dismiss, before taking a violent approach. He became a vessel for Justice, in short, because he was his friend and thought that they could make real change together.

So then, why wouldn't he help those in need in Faerûn? Why wouldn't he save a kid from some harpies? Why wouldn't he help a traumatized bard heal a little through her music? Even though we know he is atrocious at playing the lute. Why wouldn't he step between an arrow and a defenseless prisoner, warning how vengeance could consume a person? A fact that he knows all too well. Why wouldn't he save a girl, even one who stole, from a viper's fangs? Because that is not just punishment. Why wouldn't he help Gale, who chose to confide in him (no matter how vaguely at the moment) about his condition?

Not to say that Anders doesn't have his biases, some prejudices and flaws that would surely carry over, but at his core? He is as good as he knows how to be.

And while I do think he and Gale would have that typical rivalry that Gale has with almost every spellcaster class, if given the chance, every time Gale would stop and tell stories of his past...

I didn't take the smartass options, tempting as that may be, since Anders can also be a humorous character. No, instead, I chose the options where Anders would genuinely listen.

Because Gale lives in a realm where Anders' impossible is possible, a place where mage oppression doesn't exist. Because Gale lived a life, had a childhood, that Anders could have only dreamed of having.

And why do I ship it, personally? In a way different from Hawke/Anders, mind you.

Well, Anders said it best himself.

"Ten years. A hundred years from now. Someone like me will love someone like you, and there will be no templars to tear them apart."

Only, with Gale, that time is now, and that hope —that dream— is a reality.

[zoeysandin]

“this heart beats for only you” ( @politestrange )

he knows how to make her shake & yield to him. more than any other person ever has & ever will ( if he has anything to say about it ). & unfortunately it’s completely against her will. it torments her how malleable he renders her, despite how evil he is. how she trembles, beside herself, under him with the way his hand snakes upwards to slot itself around her elongated throat as he holds her in place, thumb digging into her vocal chords.

how he forces her against her best efforts to melt under him & cling to him desperately as he breathes against her ear & tugs on her earlobe with his SHARP TEETH. condensation from his breath sticking to her cheek as his palm slides from her neck over the breast he’s claimed as his long ago — & back up to capture her throat once more.

wantonly, she just hangs onto him, his cock filling her, owning her, in the most intoxicating way. splits her soft pleading cunt for him incessantly, completely soaked for him as she always is ( even the first time when he took stole her virginity ) / her legs draped over his shoulders & her head is thrown back as her inner thighs shake with how deep he’s going. the curve of her back inclining down, BEGGING to take him in further — to the hilt & more ( if she could ).

she wants to consume him. ERASE him. stop him.

but he won’t let her.

the way he’s soft & gentle ( he presses his abrasive lips to her thrumming pulse point ), but rough & demanding with the way he rolls them over now — her on top ; secures her firmly to his body with one lean but toned arm around the small of her back while the other grips her features in place.

she’s gasping at how he makes her body ache for him, bottom lip trembling as her hips buck down & her back arches. his own hips expertly move to drive his cock in deeper within her desperate hole, looking down the best she can to watch him disappear within her repeatedly. but he slaps her across the mouth — HARD — then clasps her throat again as she whimpers, finding his eyes once more. pay attention, she can hear it without him saying a word. she’s not supposed to look at anything other than his eyes. she repents for her sin silently.

the way he looks at her right now tears her soul in two. how the sternness in his eyes makes her want to ride him right, just the way he likes it. swerving her hips to serve him in the way he’s trained her to — but with a violence & vengeance that only ANGERS him more ; makes him whack her ass & tighten his grip on her throat to tug her down to lock their gaze closer.

her brows furrow apologetically as his intent gaze holds her own & the heat rushes with that red hot hue to her cheeks ( she wishes she could stop whimpering ) — her hips moving less mean since he’s reprimanded her for it nonverbally. doe-like now / she can’t handle it when his beautiful endless eyes shift lightly now as if in approval ( good girl ) & penetrate her soul like that. those wicked, possessive, yet always shockingly reverent eyes that grip her soul & tether her to him & him to her. his thumb traces her parted bottom lip & her lashes flutter to a close as she leans into his hold.

he’s quiet as she noses against his palm. she supposes her tenderness engenders him to speak.

“this heart beats only for you.”

her eyes flash back open with the shock of the sincerity & it stings because she can feel how TRUE it is. he says it so SOLEMNLY, in a barely there whisper that for a moment she struggles to believe its true. he’s glaring at her as she does, as if to challenge him or mock him for saying it. she’s on thin ice & she knows it. its a moment of severe vulnerability he’s never given her before.

“christian—” comes her soft hymn of disbelief. his blonde locks frame his angel set features.

he’s never said something so.. earnest. he just stares at her insistently, his hand starting to tense around her face, ready to punish her, almost out of habit but then—

“i love you—” escapes her lips before she can stop herself & he sits up immediately, clasping the back of her neck as he slows the rocking & upwards thrusts of her hips ( making her gasp ). deliberate in the way he guides her to take his cock inside her more agonizingly tempered. straddling him now in his lap, the tangle of the silk sheets around them as she mews weakly at the change of angle.

“say it again,” he’ll breathe the demand quietly ( maybe even innocently / brokenly? as if he doesn’t believe her? ) & she’ll relent — over & over again into his mouth. & he’ll pull her flush to him, chest to chest as the tides roll over.

because she does / heavens knows she does / & she’ll never even try to escape. as her arm hooks & wraps around his neck, her other hand gripping hard onto his platinum luscious hair. he buries his face in the solace of her neck. you’re mine, you’re mine, you’re mine.

through the bedroom window, blue baptisias line the front lawn.

i’m yours. i’m yours. i’m yours.

( @politestrange / @daevilhorns )

[ownedbybonten]

♥ Chapter 3 || Testing the Toy Part 1

♥ Series Warnings: Dark Content; Non-Con; Dub-Con; Kidnapping; Slave Training; Sexual Content

♥ Chapter Warnings: smut; humiliation, blow job, forced orgasm, abuse

♥ wc: 3.9k

♥ a.n: I had intended for this chapter to cover the entire bonten trio but Sanzu and Rindou decided to kick Ran out to the next one. Sorry for the delay in posting!

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2

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♥ Consent Form: By interacting with this post and this blog, you are consenting to 18+ dark content. You are responsible for the content that you consume.

It was the other who caught her chin, violet eyes peering down into her icy-blue ones with such command. "You sucked a cock before?" He wasn't about to let her accidentally bite his dick cause she'd never used her mouth before. His thumb rubbed across her lips, beckoning her to answer.

"Yes." More times than she'd had intercourse, but still not a lot. Mio jerked when Sanzu's fingers swiped through her folds, circling her clit. They were moving so quickly it made her head spin.

"Stick your tongue out." Rindou rubbed his cock, waiting for her to do as he said. She was hesitant, but her mouth slowly widened, pink tongue hanging out like bitch in heat.

Being manhandled around was disorienting, having been drawn into Rindou's intense gaze, Mio's vision blurred when the second in command ripped her out of Ran's lap. She'd have fallen to the floor if Sanzu didn't have a hold of her waist. His lips were down turned, but not directed at her.

"I got it, no need to get so pissy about it," Ran said, hands up in surrender. He had no intention of fighting with Sanzu over who fucked her next. When his superior got this possessive, there was risk of gunfire and Ran wanted to be fully intact for tonight's event.

Sanzu huffed, sneering at the older Haitani but he caught her peeking up at him and his features melted into a charming smile. "Ahh, you're such a cutie that you make even those irritating Haitani brothers a forgone thought. I'm tingling all over."

"Unless you grew a second dick, I'm fucking her throat."

Her stomach churned as the discussion around her returned to the dirty way they wanted to use her. A quick glance around the room and she was convinced that she wouldn't survive so many men. How could they all want to violate her?

Sanzu was growing irritated again, but he supposed it didn't matter if it was her mouth. He desperately needed to feel the cunt of the prize he'd found and approved by Mikey. He guided the wobbly girl over to the side of the couch, pushing between her shoulder blades to make her bend. "Bend over the couch, cutie."

Not that he was giving her much of a choice. The arm of the couch cushioning her hips, lifting up her ass. Mio had to steady herself with the palm of her hand on the cushion between Ran's knees. "Ah!" She yelped when Sanzu's hand smacked against her ass.

Rindou's fingers entangled in her dark locks, forcing her head up. "If I have to tell you again, your first night at my place will be hell, slut." He was almost disappointed when she once again opened her mouth, tongue out like he'd instructed earlier. "Hmph. That's a basic command, bitch. Don't forget it again."

Her mouth ached just taking the tip of him. Mio gagged as he bullied into her throat. There was absolutely no way his whole length was going to fit.

"Useless, really." Rindou rolled his eyes, not impressed with how she performed. She was trying to breathe in between thrusts, alternating between her mouth and nose, never figuring out which worked better. Rindou pinched her nose closed. "You don't need to breathe. Suck my fucking cock or I'll let you suffocate."

It really wasn't her fault, Ran mused. A girl like her was used to slow intimate sex with a lover, all the gooey vanilla shit that wouldn't even really satisfy a horny teenage boy. He caught her wrist, stopping Mio from any attempt to push his little brother away. That would be difficult to reign in, even with Mikey's order. "Easy, lamb. There's no need to panic."

How could she not? Gagging around the thick cock in her mouth, unable to take any real breaths was terrifying. He was giving rough, short thrusts, hitting the back of her throat each time. Mio thought she was going to pass out, and the last thing that she would hear was the filthy gags from his torture.

But suddenly her mouth was empty, nose no longer being held closed, and Mio took in a ragged breath, coughing to clear her airway. With how dizzy her head was, she'd nearly forgotten about the other executive impatiently waiting, until he bullied his cock into her pussy in one hard push. Her body lurched forward, but Sanzu's fingers dug into the meat of her hips, drawing her back onto his dick.

"Mhm - yeah, one time would not have been enough," Sanzu mused, savoring the warm, wet cunt pulsing around him. He understood; understood why Mikey had approved of this one. Her body, her innocence - this perfectly tight pussy.

Mio was spinning out from his abrupt, rough thrusts. Comparing sizes was impossible, but Sanzu certainly had more length. She was weak, the fullness in her pussy almost unbearable. Probably because she was already so sensitive. Whatever the reason, it felt so good.

But she knew this was wrong, that what they were doing to you was nothing less than deplorable. The paradox enough to break her mind. Disgusting. What kind of woman enjoyed being sexually abused?

"Can it really be that good? She's shit with her mouth," Rindou said, staring down at the girl now stained with his cum from her face to her tits. It was a miracle he'd even gotten off, and it left him less than impressed with their new toy.

Sanzu wanted to stay right where he was forever, in the pussy that pleased Mikey. But, that wasn't fair to her. No, no, he had to give her a reward for being so good to Mikey. "Ahh~ cutie, I'm more than happy to fuck you so good. You don't have to squeeze me so hard." God fucking damn, if he were any less in control of himself, he'd have already cum.

The first few thrusts had been a facade. Mio was trying to stop her voice from escaping, the squelching of her pussy embarrassing enough. It wasn't right that he could make her feel this way. Sanzu was hitting a sensitive spot that she didn't even know existed, and it was incredibly humiliating. 

Mio squeezed her eyes shut, making a poor attempt to shut down her brain that was being rattled each time Sanzu plunged his cock into her, his hips hitting her ass with how deep he hit. She wanted to disappear, at least into her own mind. Separate herself from the debaucherous act.

“It’s Mio, isn’t it?” Ran asked, waiting for her to peek up at him, her quivering lip tucked between her teeth to keep her mouth closed. How fucking innocent. She’d probably never had a good fuck in her life, and now it was being forced upon on her as a prelude to sexual slavery. It’s what made her so attractive to all of them, despite the men having quite different taste in women. “I’m sure you’re smart enough to understand that gaining our leader’s approval is rare.”

She had no idea where he was going with this. He spoke with a tone so casual that it certainly didn’t match that she was bent over the arm of the couch being pounded for the second time, completely naked and stained with cum. Mio had been so close to detaching herself from her body… 

He’d called her name. 

What Ran was talking about didn’t matter. It was simply him acknowledging her as a person, using her name. He’d masterfully removed the paper-thin barrier that she was trying to create. Her name solidified that she was in this room, in this moment. 

“Ah, I suppose you don’t know our names, do you?” Ran pet her head, fingers so gently brushing through her raven hair like he was her lover. She’d no choice but to listen to his every word. “The one too impatient to have you is our second in command, Haruchiyo Sanzu. By those cute little sounds you’re trying to hide, I can tell you really like the way he’s fucking you. An innocent thing like you probably hasn’t been properly fucked. Feels good, doesn’t it? It’s alright to admit it.”

Ran was skilled at mind games. It was boring to have a toy that gave in immediately and tried to be a slave to solely survive. Mio was different. Scared, unsure, overwhelmed, inexperienced, and a strong desire to live. It was the perfect mixture. Ran was painfully hard. 

It was rare to get one that hadn’t been sexually corrupted. They got to expose her to all of their sexual fantasies, and it would be new to her. Breaking her mind in half as she found the sexual things that she liked and disliked, and having no control over it. 

The starkly different personalities were a big factor, keeping the girl from being able to predict what might come next. Her innocence left her imagination of what could possibly be done to her running wild. Ran was quite sure that she was incapable of conjuring up the filthy, dehumanizing scenes that would be in her future. Her definition of rough likely ending with bondage and gangbangs. 

“Who cares if she’s enjoying it? She’s just a bunch of holes to fuck.” Rindou scoffed, having settled on the other end of the couch to watch. She couldn’t even hold herself up, face down in his brother’s lap while Sanzu stuffed her full. He wanted to take her to his place, spend some quality time teaching her how to properly suck him off. A few licks from his cane would be more than enough to spur her to learn quickly. 

“That is my little brother, Rindou. You’ll have to be extra good for him if you don’t like pain, but I imagine you’ll look even better with whip marks all over.” Ran’s tongue slid over his lips. Her cries alone would be enough to make him cum. He did so enjoy to watch Rindou’s punishments.

And little Mio was hanging onto his every word. The sweet and sour conversation flow having its intended effect. He made her acknowledge that sex felt good and then assured her that it was perfectly okay for her to enjoy it. Giving her permission to let this dirty act be pleasurable. And then dropping in what was to come, whips, pain, the complete loss of control as a human being.

Up and down. 

Over and over.

Making Mio spin while her body ultimately betrayed her mind.

Sanzu hadn’t slowed, relishing each time her cunt stretched around his cock. This girl was insane. He’d fucked plenty of bitches. All of them doing their job of getting him off. He enjoyed those cuts, he had… but… “You’re taking it so well. Your pussy was made to belong to us.” 

Mio couldn’t control herself, shivering as the coil in her belly wound tighter and tighter. Her voice betraying her next, lips parted with gasping breaths between broken mewls. She felt like a virgin experiencing pleasure for the first time. 

“As if this bitch could be good at anything,” Rindou said, completely ignoring his superior. This girl irritated him. He was itching to teach Mio her place. “Look at her right now. The slut thinks she can do whatever she wants.” It pissed him off so much that he lost a bit of control, getting up from his seat and jerking her head up by a fistful of her hair. 

“Aah-” Mio cried out, scalp aching as he nearly ripped out her hair. Tears filled her eyes to the brim. She couldn’t speak even if she wanted to with Rindou digging his fingers into her cheeks, forcing her to keep her mouth open. 

“Who fucking gave you permission to drop your head, huh? If we weren’t under orders, I’d give you a taste of my belt right now. Show your slutty face to everyone while you get fucked, understand?” 

Her eyes trembling, shaking a few tears loose to roll down her face. 

“I bet daddy never spanked you. His perfect little princes. Spoiled fucking brat.” Rindou spit into her mouth, smirking at her disgusted reaction. “Now look at you. Not even a paid whore. You need a good whipping. If you beg enough, I’ll go easy on you the first time, only 50 lashes. Enough to turn your ass bright red.” 

Mio wasn’t able to hide her face, forced to etch Rindou’s dark gaze into her mind. How could anyone want to do that to a girl like her? She’d never done a single bad thing in her life, and now these men wanted to use her for their own sick amusement. 

It was too much, far too much. Despite it all, Mio couldn’t convince herself that she wanted to die. 

Which only made her hate herself more.

A waft of smoke made her nose scrunch, free of Rindou’s grip, Mio found the source as the younger Haitani plopped back down on the couch to observe again. She shouldn’t be surprised that his eyes were on her, but Mio shuddered under his muted gaze, as if he was bored with her. 

“That would be Takeomi Akashi,” Ran startled the girl with a pat to her head. It was no secret that the older man was into more mature, fuller women. “He doesn’t seem to be interested in you, Mio. You’ll have to seduce him like you did the rest of us.” 

Takeomi took another drag from his cigarette. Inexperienced girls were tiresome, having to train them to do what he liked. Especially when they ended up dead so quickly. “Daddy’s little girl is about to cum. Doesn’t look so innocent to me, letting some stranger make her cum so easily.” 

“Good, good-” Sanzu breathed out, releasing his iron grip on one of her hips to find that lovely bundle of nerves that he loved to abuse. This was his favorite high, making them cum on his cock when they didn’t want to. Absolute control. “Go ahead, cutie. Fucking cum for me. I’m in such a good mood that I won’t even make you bed.” 

Should she even attempt to fight it?

Could she? 

Mio was burning hot, sensitive to his every thrust… feeling each one up into her stomach. Mio thought she might be split in two. His fingers were rubbing her clit with practice movements, driving the poor girl mad. 

Sanzu jerked her head back by her hair, forcing her neck to an uncomfortable angle. He grinned, cheeks flushed and sweat dripped down from his pink locks. “Lemme see. I want to be the first one to see your face when you cum. Be sure to - aah ah fuck!” He was struggling to remain composed, cock bullying into her hole, ready to paint her walls with his cum. “Fuck yes! Say thank you, cutie.” 

The stimulation was unbearable. Impossible to not release with Sanzu strumming on her clit and slamming into her cervix. A sultry, depraved moan filled the space - so lewd that it surely couldn’t have come from her throat. Mio had never made a sound like that, nor had a body shaking orgasm like that. Her vision flashed white, eyes rolling back. 

This was far from the gentle orgasms that she’d had before. Sanzu didn’t let up. He didn’t soothe her while she had her high, instead shoving his dick into her again and again, despite how tightly she clamped down. The pain was blissful, unlike anything that she’d ever experienced. 

The other men in the room were chuckling and taunting the girl. What a fucking orgasm. Guess she’s learned something new huh? What a slut, enjoying her first gangbang so damn much. Look at that little ass shaking. 

Sanzu blocked out their chatter, well past ready to blow his load. “Say it. Say thank you for making me cum, sir. Say it so sweet and I’ll fuck you full of my cum.” He wished he’d had a mirror to show her what her pretty little face looked like when she came. So shamefully slutty. 

Mio desperately wanted him to pull out. He’d been abusing her pussy much longer than Mikey had, and she wanted nothing more than to be finished. She swallowed down what little saliva she had and forced her voice to produce words between raspy whines. “Th-thank you for-f-for making me cum- sir-” The words were disgusting, demeaning. 

“Good girl-” Sanzu let out a deep grunt and rutted deep in her cunt while emptying his balls. It had been far too long since their last toy, and this one was going to be his favorite. He was going to keep her around for a long time. Sanzu lingered inside her warm walls, lost in the fantasy of all the fun he’d have with her later. 

But he finally released her, stuffing his limp cock back into his pants. “Ah, I need a beer,” he stated, slapping her ass again before disappearing into the kitchen. 

Mio could feel the cum dripping down her legs, nearly breathless and drained of all her energy. The arm of the couch was the only thing holding the girl up, legs like jello. She was still buzzing all over from the orgasm. 

“You want to jump in, Takeomi?” Ran asked, continuing to stroke her head like she was a child in need of consolation. 

“You youngins have fun. I’ll finish my smoke first.” He took a big puff of the half-burnt cigarette. He could admit that he was fucking hard after seeing her cum that hard. Maybe she’d be entertaining after all. 

Ran hadn’t asked to be polite, already knowing that he was next to play with Mio. She had to be exhausted, going through three men already. He’d set the stage so perfectly for his turn. “Come here, Mio. You’re far from finished pleasing your owners.” 

She could barely move on her own but Ran brought the girl to him. Mio straddled his lap, still trying to catch her breath and regain herself. 

“You’re absolutely gushing, little one. My pants are already soaked.” Ran chuckled at her dazed expression. That wouldn’t do. He bucked his hips, jolting her back to reality. Her attention was to be on him now, not on the orgasm that Sanzu had given her. “There, there, little Mio. I know you’re absolutely devastated to have lost your father, but you don’t need to worry. I’ll be your new daddy, yeah? Be a good girl and ride daddy’s cock now.” 

[freonblue]

okay, anxiety around writing in particular

so I had a bit of a creatively stunting upbringing

all fiction was strictly forbidden until I was fifteen. I occasionally snuck some in under the radar, but was always wracked with guilt afterwards

my dad said the reason was that fiction sets up unrealistic expectations, that life doesn't work like it does in stories

the problem is

I've been compulsively telling stories since I was a toddler

literally started trying to write a novel when I was seven

all this interdict really ended up doing was consuming me in guilt and really severely stunting my creative guilt

I didn't start learning how stories *work,* like, the instinctive way from absorbing countless fairy tales and epics and novels, until later. I wrote my first novel at fourteen, when I was still forbidden from reading Winnie the Pooh or the Chronicles of Narnia.

I... still haven't made peace with that emptiness. With the aching need for fantasy and fancy that gnawed at me for the first half of my life.

The pain of it still takes my breath away.

Honestly, I think it was the cruellest thing my father ever did. And he didnt even know what he was doing.

(honestly, he was just following his own anxiety about being a good person, his own inner demons that told him he was following the will of god)

I quit writing for years as a young adult. Because somewhere in my brain the thought had burrowed in that stories = bad and fiction = evil and I wanted my parents to approve of me. So I abandoned the thing that came so naturally to me and got a whole degree in something that was like pulling teeth, something that I struggled constantly with, until finally when I graduated I finally had to admit that the thought of actually looking for a job in that field made me actively suicidal and I had to do something else.

I've written on and off as an adult. Slowly creeping my way back to it. Limbering up the stiff muscles. Trying to learn how stories work. Reading and reading and reading, insatiably, sometimes as much as a book a day.

But all the adult anxieties lie thick over my efforts, often thick enough to push me back.

Because now there's years of fandom purity culture and cinemasins and plot hole discourse rotting through my head, swirling together with that old old notion that fiction is bad insofar as it is unrealistic.

I've gotten to the point that I can enjoy reading tropey, cheesy power fantasies and other flights of fancy.

But I still freeze up, locking up absolutely rigid when I try to write them. My perfectionism (...my anxiety) screams "that's ridiculous, that would never work, that's absurd, how do they pay the rent? Shouldn't they be more stressed about work? No one's that good at what they do!"

I've tried writing "realistic" stories which of course gets excruciatingly depressing and tedious.

I still want to write. Desperately. Constantly.

Part of me screams "if you really cared about it that much you'd be doing it, instead of wasting so much time avoiding it and wishing you knew how to start"

Another, gentler part of me points out that if I didn't care about writing, it wouldn't bother me not to be doing it. I'm not regularly consumed by longing and wistful guilt over my lack of ...idk, boxing matches or racecar driving or painting.

Just writing.

I still have this dream, this dream I've had since I was a kid, that someday I'll make a career out of being a novelist.

(as unrealistic as that is, too)

Anyway. I'm reexamining all this through the lens of anxiety. And I wanted to talk about a core defining trauma that I carry with me. Thanks for listening.

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Day 17 | Prompt: Flitting like a fawn

Pairing: Makar x Fem. Reader (Sprite in elven form | Third person POV)

Themes: Smut (graphic 🍋)

Warnings: Predator/Prey kink | Sex in a public/unusual place | Use of slurs | Size kink | Explicit language / Dirty talk | Penetrative sex | Cream pie

Word count: 800+ words

Summary: Makar catches up with y/n after a chase through the forest, and then claims her after coaching her.

Also available on AO3 

Rating 🔥🔥🔥 | Minors DNI | 🔞 | You are responsible for the media you consume. 

Makar could only smile when he discovered her running from tree to tree, flitting like a fawn, all in the hope of evading his grasp. What his companion did not know was that she was racing to his hiding place. The smile soon transformed into a triumphant grin. Makar crouched in the brush and waited. Y/n was close. Close enough to capture. All he had to do was be patient and—

"There you are!" Makar cried and lunged at her, throwing his arms around her and drawing her deeper into the brush. Y/n squirmed. Then she sighed in pleasure when he brushed his nose over her throat. 

"Yes, I am here," y/n agreed. Her body hummed, pulsing with cravings only Makar could truly satisfy. When he laid her on the forest floor and set himself to the task of freeing themselves of their robes she let out a sound of gratitude. "Now that you have me, what do you intend on taking as your reward, my lord?"

"A great many things," Makar groaned, his voice already thick with desire. "Now hush, little one. You are not to utter a word; only cry out if I please you. And I will please you. Wait and see."

His hands trailed over trembling flesh, desperate and eager and greedy. Makar moaned, the sound low in his throat, when he found her already hot and wet and ready for him. 

"Eager for me already?" He slid a finger up inside the wet heat of her cunt, then two, and drove into her repeatedly, preparing her for what was to come after. "Such a needy little slut to be this eager for my cock."

Y/n knew better than to answer. Makar would simply deny her if she did. She moaned instead. It was rich and deep, as intoxicating as a fine wine. Makar could not get enough of it. He drank deep, wishing he could kiss her long and hard. He could not. He dwarfed his lady, being as tall as a warrior ought to be. And they could not tarry long enough for kisses. Someone may come upon them, and, as Makar was honest with himself, he could not bear to wait. He drew back and turned y/n onto her belly, before raising her hips. 

She cried out in a way she had never before when he sheathed himself in the welcomed heat of her body. He was so big, it was almost painful. And yet, she enjoyed it, and the sensations that rippled through her over and over again because of it. Makar plundered without shame, grabbing onto her hair and tugging on it every time he pushed himself inside her. Y/n shivered. Something took root in her belly. Wildness was what it was, and it was wildness she was supposed to feel.

"Just like that," he crooned. "Take me all the way inside you like the good little slut I know you are."

Y/n witnessed stars sparking to life before her eyes. She cried out again, this time when her first orgasm ripped through her without warning. Makar growled in approval, then set a more torturous pace when she propped herself onto her hands. 

"No," he commanded, and he freed a hand just long enough to push down on her shoulders. "Keep your head down. There. Just like that."

Y/n obeyed, resting her head over her folded arms. There was a fresh coiling in her belly. She was close again; she was certain of it. And it was not just her. Makar was near the precipice as well. When she made it known her release was upon her, "Together, then," was all he said.

Y/n did not have to be told more. When Makar tugged once again on her hair, drawing her to him and plunging as deep as he could go, she shattered, his name parting her lips in a sob. Caught in the throes of passion, she barely felt the bite against her throat when he emptied himself inside of her.

The forest was silent when y/n found herself being turned onto her back. A hand brushed over her hair. Someone kept calling her name, urging her to open her eyes. When a kiss was pressed against her brow, she finally opened them. 

Makar was above her, his hair falling over his shoulders in a waterfall of the deepest red, and limned in the silver of bright starlight. He smiled, and was pleased to be rewarded by one that nearly matched his own. Y/n sighed again, this time when a sense of ease washed all over her.

"I know we are too out in the open, but can we stay here just a little longer?"

Makar nodded and lay down on the soft grass, making room for her to rest in the crook of his arm when he did so. "Very well. Rest a little. I will wake you when it is time to leave."

Tags: @asianbutnotjapanese @cilil