#so nice to just stare at him after your lose streak

[panchulien]

nikolai nation may I offer you his fine ass and broad back today

[sugoroo]

#MAKE HIM BEG (FOR THAT P☆SSY!)

ʚɞ summary. how the jjk men look when they beg for it. are they reluctant as they force the words out or pathetic as they whine for it? . . . ft. gojo, geto, toji, choso + sukuna.

warnings. fem!reader, pussydrunk men of course, oral (f receiving), masturbation, penetration (p in v), riding, mating press, sukunas inspired by that one scene in wolf of wall street yupp, 18+ mdni.

SATORU GOJO — BREAKS IN NO TIME!

satoru may spend a short while attempting to defy your orders to beg for what he wants, crossing his arms over his chest and looking away with a petulant pout pushing at his lips.

but with you sitting there oh-so-temptingly next to him on the bed clad in nothing but a fuzzy pink nightgown and looking so painfully beautiful, god is it hard to keep up his childish stubbornness.

just look at it from his point of view for a moment... he's the strongest; he shouldn't have to plead with anyone for anything, right? hell, one could even argue that you should be the one begging him to lay his hands on you.

but if he's being completely honest with himself, he doesn't quite feel like the strongest whenever he's with you — no, it's the opposite, in fact... you make him weak.

weak enough that he's willing to throw caution to the wind and abandon his infamous prideful streak entirely to beg for you.

"please." satoru mumbles under his breath, like a child finally apologizing to their parent after being sent to the corner and thinking about what they've done for the appropriate amount of time.

"what was that, toru?" you hum teasingly, raising an eyebrow and stretching your leg out to poke his thigh with your recently pedicured foot. "i didn't quite hear you."

the white-haired man groans dramatically, peering over at you with his wide, uncovered cerulean eyes. he's needy; you can see it dancing clearly in his irises — but you're not about to let him off the hook that easily.

"can you say it again for me, hmm?" you prompt in a tone just dripping with exaggerated sweetness as you slowly drape your leg across his lap, relishing in the way his pale hands visibly twitch at his sides with the desire to touch it.

your boyfriend looks like he's mere moments away from lighting up a hollow purple as he fixes his stare upon your leg, refusing to look anywhere near your own eyes as he forces out another, more desperate, "please."

"good boy," you praise as a reward, watching with bemusement as satoru tries to cover up the way the two simple words affect him. but you know him too well, and the subtle squirm of his hips against your leg gives him away. "that wasn't so hard, was it?"

satoru grumbles a few retorts under his breath, but quickly loses his train of thought when you lift your leg from his lap, slowly spreading both limbs to expose the sheer panties you'd adorned especially for tonight.

"oh, baby," he groans from low in his throat, pupils dilating at an alarming speed as his tongue darts out to wet his suddenly chapped lips. "look at you..."

"just look?" you repeat cheekily, tilting your head to the side as you observe his completely transfixed reaction — it's almost laughable how easily you can break him down into a pathetic mess. "you don't wanna touch even after you begged so nicely for me?"

"n-no!" satoru shoots back without missing a beat, mop of messy white locks bobbing as he frantically shakes his head from side to side. "i wanna touch, pretty girl. i really wanna touch... can i?"

you barely have time to nod before your boyfriend is between your spread legs, effortlessly pushing them even further apart as he buries his head exactly where he wants it to be — right up against the slick crotch of your translucent underwear.

and he's utterly drunk on everything about your pussy in moments; the tempting scent of your gushing arousal that wafts through the material as he rubs his nose against it, the way the see-through fabric sticks to your skin and allows him a perfect view of your puffy folds.

"so gorgeous." satoru mutters reverently, lovesick eyes flicking up to meet yours as his freakishly long tongue lolls out to lick a slow, thorough stripe up the soiled front of your panties.

you're not sure who moans louder; him or you. all you do know is that it doesn't take long for his eager mouth to be directly over your cunt, ruined underwear tossed somewhere nearby without a second thought.

"y'should... make me work for it... more often, baby," he pants against you between obnoxious slurps and frequent groans of enjoyment at your saccharine flavour. "somehow, it makes this pretty pussy taste even sweeter."

SUGURU GETO — TURNS THE TABLES ON YOU!

suguru has no problem in indulging you if you want to switch things up in the bedroom every now and again. you want him to beg for you? sure, he can do that.

...because he knows that the roles will be reversed soon enough.

so when you pull him away from your gushy cunt by his hair after he's just spent the last few blissful hours down there coaxing orgasm after orgasm out of your writhing body, he's waiting patiently for whatever you want to say.

"if you want to be inside me next... you have to beg for it," you say breathlessly, trailing your fingers from the back of his silky, loose hair down to the nape of his neck and squeezing. "can you do that for me, sugu?"

suguru pretends to consider it for a moment, tilting his head to the side and peering up at you with thoughtful violet eyes. after a few moments, he responds. "hmm... i see no reason why i can't."

your surprise is evident on your face at just how quickly he agreed — when you first decided you wanted to try this, you assumed it would take atleast a little bit of convincing to get him to go along with it.

...but apparently not.

"wow. um... just like that?" you chuckle in a soft puff of startled air, eyebrows raised as you watch him stand up from his knees and rest his large hands over your bare thighs.

"what? did you expect me to put up a fight or something, baby?" suguru purrs gently, leaning down so his face is inches from yours, hot breaths mingling together. "nah. my girl's pretty pussy is worth begging for, don't you think?"

you swallow thickly, his sultry words making a gush of arousal ooze onto the sheets beneath you as your eyes briefly flick down to his lips which are still swollen and shiny with your juices. "i wouldn't have asked you to if i didn't think so."

he releases a low, velvety laugh at this before slowly spreading your legs wider to make room for himself and crawling onto the mattress to settle between them.

suguru reaches down past the waistband of his grey sweatpants to wrap a tanned hand around his neglected cock, giving it a few pumps while his gaze stays fixed upon your glistening wetness.

and he just keeps doing this for a few long moments, making your body instinctively squirm around in need as you observe his ministrations with an air of impatience. "i-isn't this the part where you're meant to do the begging?" you force out, hoping your voice isn't too audibly uneven.

he simply smiles at this — a lilting, amused little smile that makes you feel like he might know something you don't. "i will, sweetheart. just getting myself ready first."

a few minutes pass, yet he still makes no move whatsoever to start pleading with you; and naturally, you're starting to become more and more restless, itching for something, anything to happen.

then suddenly, without any warning whatsoever, suguru pushes both his sweats and boxers down in one fell swoop, instantly drawing your attention to his thick, veiny cock as it slaps against his toned abdomen, reddened tip angry and drooling from all the teasing he's been doing to it.

and you're so fixated on the sight before you that you hardly even notice when he slyly lines himself up with your entrance, rubbing his leaky cockhead around it in slow, infuriating circles.

"w-what are you doing, sugu?" you gasp, brows pinching in a mix of annoyance and pleasure at his deliberately un-coordinated movements; he's working you up on purpose... but why?

"nothing." suguru hums entirely innocently, blinking down at you with an air of nonchalance that doesn't fail to irk you.

for a while, silence falls between you as you both gaze intently at where your bodies are connected — so close to becoming one but not quite there yet.

and then, the somewhat tranquil moment is suddenly snapped into a thousand tiny pieces by the loud, wet slap! of your boyfriend's flushed tip slapping against your cunt.

and it makes you release a pitiful cry, needy hips instinctively bucking up against him in search of more friction. but he abruptly pulls away before your skin can touch again, still sporting that strange smile.

"you want something, pretty girl?" suguru croons in a deceptively sweet tone, reaching down to trail a slender finger down the supple skin of your tummy and relishing the way your hips buck again in response.

"y-yes," you whine pathetically, too desperate to be full of him to even process how this situation has somehow been turned completely on its head in mere minutes. "please, sugu... need you."

"thereee we go... who's the one begging now, hm?" he chuckles loudly, eery smile finally widening into the smug grin he's evidently been holding back this whole time. "see what i did there?"

"...i hate you."

"no you don't, baby."

and he's right; you don't. and when he distracts you by finally, finally beginning to ease himself inside your throbbing heat, you think maybe the tables being turned on you wasn't such a bad thing after all.

TOJI FUSHIGURO — YOU'LL HAVE TO WEAR HIM DOWN!

“—you want me to what?” toji grunts in response, a thick dark eyebrow raised in exasperation as he looks at you like you’d just grown a second head.

“you heard me perfectly fine, toji.” you huff with a small roll of your eyes. of course he isn't going to make this easy for you. he never does.

“you seriously want me to beg to fuck that needy little cunt of yours?” he scoffs loudly, jabbing a finger in the direction of your dripping core as if to prove his point. “i think you should be the one begging me to do that, dollface.”

“that’s what i do every night already,” you deadpan, crossing your arms over your chest and observing the way he simply shrugs in response. “we’re trying something different this time.”

“oh, are we now?” toji drawls mockingly, tilting his head to the side and eyeing you with a bemused half-smile tugging at his scarred lips. “and what makes you so sure i’ll even agree to go along with this, hm?”

“well… because if you don’t, then you get no pussy tonight.” you counter in a decisive hum, closing your legs and sealing yourself away from his view.

“really? that's the best y'got?” he snorts obnoxiously, waving a dismissive hand in your direction and turning his head back to the television screen at the end of the bed as if to showcase how unaffected he is by your threat.

toji may be stubborn as a mule, but so are you; which is a good thing because it means you work well together, but a bad thing (for him) because it means that two can play at this little game he’s started.

so while he pretends his attention is solely fixed on whatever is quietly playing on the tv, you not-so-subtly begin sliding a hand down the length of your body, eyeing him carefully for any signs of a reaction.

you know you’re making progress when he covers up the way a groan threatens to rumble from deep in his throat when he notices your hand finishing its descent and disappearing between your legs by clearing his throat into his fist.

he holds out for quite a while, honesty. it must be taking a herculean effort on his part not to snap when you begin releasing shameless moans and gasps of pleasure right beside him, coupled with the lewd squelching sounds emanating from your cunt.

but toji is just a man, after all — and one that is not used to being denied what he wants, at that. so it's not long at all before he breaks, practically ripping his clothes to shreds in his haste to be inside of you right now.

you stop him before he can line himself up with your entrance by placing a hand on his bare chest, a victorious smile pulling at your lips as you tilt your head to the side. "forgetting something, big man?"

"huh? oh, y'mean a condom? sorry, baby, 'm all out." he mutters while shooting an apologetic grin in your direction, quickly turning his focus back to pushing his gushing tip towards your fluttering hole.

"no, not that," you chuckle in bemusement, giving his chest a light shove to stop his advances yet again. "i'm fairly certain i said no pussy for you unless you beg for it, didn't i?"

toji's grin falls comically fast, replaced by a small scowl of annoyance as he leans back on his haunches. damn it, he'd been foolish to hope you would've forgotten about that already.

"jesus christ, fine... please?" he forces out with about as much enthusiasm as a young child about to go to their first day back at school after a long vacation, the words coated in bitterness as they fall from his tongue.

"alright, i see you don't really want it then, so i'll just see myself out—"

"fuck no, you're not going anywhere, dollface," toji grunts before you can even take a single step towards the door, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and effortlessly pulling you down onto his lap. "i'll even beg all proper for ya, okay? please can i have you, mama?"

"...i suppose." you respond with a small smile, trying to hold back the smugness threatening to bubble up into your tone as you realize that your little plan actually worked.

but as per usual, you end up being the one begging for more once toji starts bouncing your pliant body up and down on his fat, curved cock that just fills you up so good.

...no surprises there.

CHOSO KAMO — BEGS ALREADY (A LOT!)

choso has absolutely no problem being pathetic for you.

he feels that it's a blessing just being able to exist in your mere presence, so it's only fair that if he wants anything more than that then he should ask nicely, right?

he has no idea why anyone wouldn't get down on their knees and beg for the privilege of getting to touch someone as pretty as you, especially when you walk into the bedroom in nothing but one of his oversized shirts.

"baby..." choso mutters quietly, voice already slightly whiny as he watches you perch yourself on the edge of the bed he was lazily sprawled across before your entrance.

"hmm?" you hum, feigning obliviousness, as you peer at him over your shoulder — and oh, is he adorable like this. all pale, blushing cheeks and an involuntary pout pushing at his full lower lip.

"you look so pretty right now," he murmurs quietly but sincerely as his wide chestnut eyes trail over your form with barely concealed reverence dancing in his irises. "...w-well, i mean, you always look pretty. but especially right now." he adds for good measure.

"why thank you," you respond with a soft smile, reaching out to lightly trail your fingertips across the distance of his sharp jawline and relishing in the way his entire body visibly shivers as a result. "is there by any chance something you want, cho?"

choso audibly gulps at the gentle and knowing tone of your voice, letting his eyes flutter closed for a few beats before opening them again. "m-maybe."

"maybe?" you repeat in a light chuckle, raising an eyebrow and grasping his chin between your thumb and forefinger to make sure his gaze stays directly fixed upon you. "i know you can do better than that, baby. c'mon, use your words for me."

his pouting lower lip trembles ever so slightly at your coaxing words, the rapidly growing bulge in his sweatpants twitching violently in a way that borders on painful in response. "want y-you."

"hmm... better, i suppose. but still not good enough." you tut in disappointment, removing your touch from his chin entirely and observing the way he chases after your hand with silent amusement.

slowly crawling across the mattress, you perch yourself upon his lap before the poor boy can even process what's happening, placing your hands over his hipbones to stop his inevitable squirming.

"if you want something, you have to be specific," you drawl in a low, sultry caress of a tone, languidly rolling forward against the not-so-subtle hardness you can feel beneath your ass. "now... tell me, cho, what is that you want?"

choso appears to be mere moments away from bursting into a fit of tears at your teasing movement, his pale hands clenching into white-knuckled fists against the bedsheets as he peers up at you pleadingly through the messy strands of dark hair that have fallen across his forehead.

"i-i want you to... to fuck me," he murmurs timidly, each syllable audibly shaking with embarrassment as it leaves his mouth. no matter how many times the two of have been intimate in the past, he still remains as shy as ever. "please."

"thereee we go," you coo warmly, hands giving his hips a gentle squeeze in reward for his obedience. "didn't even have to ask you to beg, hmm? you did it all on your own like a good boy."

choso merely nods furiously, his desperate facial expression doing all the talking for him as you lift your body up for a moment to tug his sweatpants (which are already decorated with a small pre-cum stain) down.

it's not long before you're settled atop his needy, pulsing cock, unable to resist his repeated adorable whimpers and mewls to feel you around him — and oh, does it feel better when you've teased him just a little beforehand.

he's going feral within seconds, pulling your pliant body down to his face practically suffocate himself with your pillowy tits while he ruts up into like an animal in heat.

as you brace yourself for a bumpy ride, you can't but think that if there's one thing you never have to worry about with choso as your boyfriend, it's him refusing to beg for you.

...but what you do have to worry about is the very real possibility of him bruising your cervix with how deep his relentless thrusts are reaching.

RYOMEN SUKUNA — KINGS DO NOT BEG... RIGHT?

ryomen sukuna is the king of curses. and, coincidentally, last time he checked; kings do not beg.

so when you have the sheer audacity to ask him to plead with you for the mere privilege of getting to touch your mortal cunt, to say he is outraged would be a dire understatement.

“absolutely not.” sukuna grunts firmly, crimson eyes narrowing in annoyance as he waves a dismissive hand in your direction, the action not dissimilar to what he would've to one of his old concubines when he was finished with them.

but you're irritatingly persistent, refusing to let the matter go for the entire duration of the night as if you truly believe there's a chance you can break his ironclad resolve.

"you must be deluded beyond comprehension to think i would ever stoop so low as to—" he begins to grumble, but for some reason, finds the end of his sentence disappearing from his mind when he lays eyes upon what you're currently doing.

there you sit, at the foot of his throne, skirt pushed up to reveal the lack of... well, anything underneath as you shamelessly sprawl your legs apart to give him an unobstructed view of your sweet cunt.

"fuck, woman," sukuna practically growls, the sound guttural and raw as it escapes from deep in his throat. he shifts subtly in his seat, craning his neck downward to get a better look at you. "what on earth do you think you're doing?"

"who, me?" you hum, feigning complete obliviousness as you slowly but surely lift a leg up and press the end of your high heel against the arm of his throne.

"yes, you," he scoffs incredulously, crossing his tattooed arms over his chest and attempting to continue remaining unaffected by your little display. "do you see anyone else in here flashing me their bare pussy?"

you make a show of glancing over both shoulders before turning back and shaking your head with a mock-innocent smile stretching at your lips. "huh. you're right, looks like i'm the only one."

sukuna only responds with an unamused grunt at your childish antics, the sound quickly melting into a rough groan when you lift up your other leg as well, body now entirely open and just ripe for the taking.

he finds himself instinctively reaching out a thick hand before he even realizes what he's doing, only for you to pin it down with the end of your heel without it managing to make contact with your skin.

"ah ah," you hum chidingly, tilting your head to the side and peering up at him through fluttering lashes. "you know what you have to do if you want to touch, ryo."

sukuna scowls fiercely, fully aware that he could effortlessly pull his hand from under your shoe and snap your pretty little ankle in half in one swift movement... but he won't do that, of course. (maybe)

he could also just take what he wants right here, right now, without having to humiliate himself by pleading — but he supposes if he's going to do something so utterly unbecoming of himself like begging for someone, it might as well be for you.

so as soon as the pathetic syllables of the word "please" leave his disgruntled mouth, he doesn't wait a single second to pounce on you, easily folding your legs up to your head so your heels frame either side of your face.

"but don't think this little stunt of yours will go unpunished," sukuna mutters gruffly in your ear as he impatiently tugs his robes open. "next time, i'll make you take both my cocks. then you'll be the one begging me; not for more... no, but for me to stop."

© 2024 SUGOROO. please don't copy or translate any of my works without my explicit permission. all rights are reserved to me.

LIKES AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!

[ddejavvu]

can you write something about how the gang handles a really emotional Curtis sister... Like she literally doesn't even know why shes crying most of the time she just is. She is literally me

send me requests for the outsiders!

--

At Dallas's groan, "Ah, here come the fuckin' waterworks again," all eyes are on you. You'd been hoping to fly under the radar, but now that seven pairs of eyes are staring at you, your tears escape hot and free down your cheeks.

"It's- I'm fine!" You insist, voice thick and choppy as you rush for the bathroom. You don't shut the door, because even if you did you know someone would have barged in. It's predictably Darry and Soda, but Two-Bit lingers in the hallway, peering in worriedly.

"You're okay, kid." Darry encourages you, a strong hand on your shoulder to help you get yourself under control, "Somethin' the matter?"

"What's with the tears, Baby Curtis?" Two asks, "Movie gettin' to 'ya?"

It's a horror movie- it's safe to say you're not sniffling over blood and guts.

"No, it's-" You sniffle, letting Sodapop tug you into his side where he's now perched on the lid of the toilet. He slings an arm around your waist and you lean gratefully into his side, thankful for the pressure of a body against yours.

"It's nothing. I don't know." You shrug helplessly, and Two smiles- kindly, not teasingly.

"You've got a condition or somethin'." He decides, traipsing back into the living room, "We oughta turn you in to a doctor, have them diagnose you with some crazy new brain condition. Maybe they could name it after you, kid."

"Yeah, Crybaby Curtis syndrome," Steve snickers, and Soda shouts a halfhearted, 'Be nice!' to his friend despite not being able to see him.

"Lay off, Steve," Johnny groans, and you hear Ponyboy chime in with a fervent, 'Yeah!' that he would have kept to himself had Johnny not led the charge. Despite having the upper hand, Ponyboy still struggles to pick fights with Steve. Usually it's a losing battle.

"Come on, kiddo." Darry urges, and Soda sticks close to your side as you shuffle back into the living room. Dallas doesn't move aside to give you your old seat back where he's stretched out over half of it, but he also doesn't protest when you throw your leg over his own to fit on the cushion.

"You've gotta man up, kid." Dally decides, snatching his cigarette out of his mouth and blowing the smoke into your face, "Can't be burstin' into tears all the time. People are gonna think you're weak."

"I am weak," You concede feebly, wiping at one last tear that streaks down your cheeks, "I don't know why it happens most'uh the time. Just does."

"Some people are just like that." Johnny smiles kindly at you, and you appreciate his sweetness, "We ain't gonna judge you."

"It'll be great for gettin' out of trouble," Sodapop grins mischieviously at you, "Just think, when you're a wild child in high school, and you're comin' home drunk at 2AM, Darry's gonna yell at you. Just flash him those teary eyes of yours and he'll get all soft for 'ya, he'll let you off real easy."

"Hey- Don't you go givin' her any ideas." Darry points a warning finger at Soda, and Ponyboy scoffs, surely jealous at the prospect of your secret weapon.

You share a secret smile with Soda, though, one that's hidden from both of your brothers. Two-Bit catches it and snorts, "Damn, Darry. I'm not itchin' to be you in a few years."

"Well then you'd better start hangin' out at your own house every once in a while," Darry glares at him, "You spend so much time here I'm gonna give you a chore on the chore chart."

"I don't even do chores at my own place," Two-Bit snickers, like the suggestion is the funniest one he's ever heard. He stretches his arm out behind your head, resting it on your far shoulder, "Just call me whenever you're goin' to those parties, Y/N, and I'll get drunker'n you, make you look like a saint in comparison."

"Dally's a saint in comparison to you, Two-Bit," Ponyboy gripes, "Just don't climb through my window expecting me to help you sneak past Darry."

"Now I mean it, boys," Darry snaps, "Don't go givin' her ideas! Conversation over."

Dallas waits all of three seconds before leaning down, tucking his face beside your ear so that he can drawl, "I'll teach you how to sneak past him if you can go without cryin' for a day."

"Deal." You hold out a pinky for him to link with his own, and if anyone else in Tulsa had offered it, they'd have gotten slugged. Instead, Dallas's finger curls around yours, and he shoots you a shit-eating grin, eyes glimmering dangerously, "24 hours, crybaby. Don't let me down."

[hoonieyun]

why... ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ ˚

your college years that were filled being known as "heeseung's girlfriend" are all brought back to you when you and your ex reunite at a popular youtube show

lee heeseung x reader

genre: angst, heartbreak, exes reunited, chaebol!heeseung, brothers bsf!heeseung

warnings: profanity, recalling trauma from a relationship, miscommunication, 18+

masterlist - wc: 4583

as you sit on the stiff couch inside of the dressing room, you think about how you were going to react after seeing your ex for the first time in 2 years. would you feel angry? maybe. what about sadness? probably, you were a crier after all. happy? highly unlikely. 

you didn’t even know you felt in this specific moment and it brought you back to one of the last conversations you and heeseung had before you had finally decided to fully go no contact with him. 

it was a few days after you had told him you wanted to break up, a 3 hour conversation that ended with you crying and leaving heeseung’s apartment while he fought with his inner demons on whether or not he should run after you. 

to which he didn’t but you soon found yourself back at his apartment the next day to get whatever you had left behind. 

the interaction was awkward, neither of you wanted to speak but yet you both had so much to say. it was like walking over eggshells in an empty room, every sound the two of you made echoed and amplified the tension between you two. 

“do you really want this?” heeseung whispered, hanging onto the last bit of hope he had that you didn’t want to break up even though he knew there was no use in trying. 

‘i– i don’t know what i want hee..” you murmured, choosing to keep your gaze on his front door because you were afraid that the tears building up at your waterline would fall if you looked into his eyes. those eyes that held so much hope and love for you, but all you could see inside them was the reflection of an unrecognizable girl. you were losing yourself and you didn’t know what to do aside from isolate yourself. so that’s what you did. 

“tell me how you feel? please.. anything– i’ll do anything to fix this–” 

“i don’t even know how i feel! ok, hee? i don’t know! i’m– 

i’m so lost and i just can’t keep doing this..” you finally decide to look at heeseung and to your surprise, he has tears of his own streaking down his pale skin. it was a lie. 

you knew how you felt but you couldn’t bring yourself to verbalize it to him. how could you possibly explain to your boyfriend that although he loved you dearly and would do anything for you, all you felt was the insecurity of being the one he called the love of his life. 

your brother was right when you said that being heeseung’s girlfriend was going to be hard, he didn’t mean anything by it aside from the fact that the life heeseung lived was under constant observation and that anyone he associated with would also be put under that spotlight. 

but you didn’t care, because you loved heeseung and heeseung loved you. 

that was until you felt like you were being torn apart by the judgemental stares and snide remarks by strangers who would look at the both of you whenever you’d be out walking hand in hand. or the comments people would leave online about “the unknown girl” that heeseung was with. 

they hadn’t even bothered to learn your name, they just called you “unknown” and after being referred to by so many people for so long; that’s how you began to see yourself. 

unknown. 

forgetting about who you really were and if it wasn’t the unknown girl then it was just “heeseung’s girlfriend”. sure that title was nice to have and you loved being his girlfriend, but it was starting to mess with your head. the insecurity building inside of you that the only thing you’d ever be known for was being heeseung’s girlfriend. nothing else. 

not the girl who graduated top of her class in university. 

not the girl who worked tirelessly doing research in stem cell regeneration since the age of 16. 

“yn– come with me, we’re about to start filming.” the kind PA poked her head into the waiting room and motioned for you to follow her. you weren’t even nervous, but your hands were a bit sweaty so you patted them dry on your jeans as you stood up from the couch and followed the girl. 

what would heeseung be like after two years? would he be just as kind and understanding? or would he harbor a form of resentment towards you? 

either way, you weren’t necessarily ecstatic to see him again. 

you ended your relationship without a sufficient explanation so you wouldn’t blame heeseung if he held a grudge against you. you just hoped that this interview would open the floor for a long awaited discussion and possibly some resolve. 

once you arrive to the set, the PA tells you to wait a moment and you could hear heeseung introducing himself from the other side of the wall, once heeseung was done she instructs you to walk onto the set and stop on the small X on the ground in front of the camera and to introduce yourself, then to take a seat in the empty stool. 

easy enough, you thought to yourself but as you’re doing just that, the sight of heeseung has you at a loss for words, accidentally halting just as you round the corner and he comes into view. he was as handsome as ever, maybe even more. 

his boyish looks from university had transformed into mature and charming features, but his smile was the same. a smile, that’s good right? he’s smiling at you when you arrive which means that he was being cordial at the slightest. 

“maam, please come forward.” the producer instructs from being the camera and you’re shaken out of your thoughts, rushing forward to the spot you were originally supposed to stop at, apologizing to him for the inconvenience. 

you quickly introduce yourself similar to how heeseung did just a few minutes ago and when you take the seat across from heeseung, he’s still smiling at you. “you look beautiful by the way.” he whispers, slightly leaning in as if he was too shy to say it outloud. you gave him a tight lipped smile in return just before the producer asked the first question. 

how long did you guys date?

you both looked up at the same time, eyes locking in the moment as the words slipped out of both of your lips simultaneously, “three years” and heeseung was chuckling at the sound of your voices blending in with each other. you roll your eyes at his laughter but deep down you loved to hear it. 

it all started when your brother introduced the two of you, they were a part of the same hockey team at your university and although he told you that heeseung lived a completely different life from your own, it didn’t stop you from falling in love with the sweet boy who sent you loving glances and careful advances whenever your brother wasn’t around. 

you soon learned heeseung came from a well off family, well off being a generous term as he was set for life with the amount of money his family made. you on the other hand, have had to work for everything you had in life and you didn’t care that you had to. you were raised on grit and determination and when you set your eye on something, you would try your hardest to get it. 

and so did heeseung. even though you had fallen for him very quickly, the stark difference in your lives was just too vast that you couldn’t bring yourself to say yes whenever heeseung would ask you. 

his endless advances however, weren’t in vain as you inevitably agreed to one date, which turned to a second date, and then a third, and eventually you were heeseung’s girlfriend. 

and that’s all you would be for the next three years. 

what was your first date?

the question catches you off guard, not because of its outlandish manner– but because you had totally forgotten about that date. it was one of the happiest days of your life because after rejecting heeseung for so long, you were so happy to have finally said yes because everything about the date was perfect. the only thing that made you forget about it was your determination to rid your mind of everything heeseung. 

something you simply couldn’t do. 

“she kept rejecting me… but it wasn’t going to stop me from trying even harder to get her to go on a date with me– not on some weirdo shit though. i promise i know how to take no as an answer” heeseung says, chuckling at the end as he clarifies that he wasn’t being overbearing with his attempts. 

“definitely not, he was always sweet; it was me that was saying no because i wanted to play hard to get.” you clarified– heeseung nodding eagerly with a smile as you backed up his words. 

“when she finally said yes, i took her to an arcade– which is a bit unusual for a first date, but she said that she had never been to one because most of her life was focused on studies so she never had the chance to play video games and stuff.

so i thought it would be nice to take her to an arcade to show her some of my favorite games i played– she wasn’t very good at the games but it was really nice to see her smile and laugh. then after that we sat on the field near han river and had ramyeon for dinner.” heeseung says, laughing at the end as he recalled one of the happiest moments in his life because he was able to make you smile so brightly. 

whenever you were happy, so was heeseung. 

who said i love you first?

“me.” heeseung chirps, slightly bouncing in his seat with a smile; like he was so excited to tell everyone about it. “i wanted it to be some romantic thing, where i say i love you for the first time– but it was more of an in-the-moment type thing.. 

i was going to plan a really nice and fancy date, an expensive dinner with a wine that we couldn’t pronounce and then i was going to take her to stargaze because that’s one of her favorite things to do– but one night, we were just in bed, doing our own thing. 

i remember it so vividly because again, yn had the biggest smile on her face when i said it. we were just scrolling on our phones and i was staring at her for the longest–  just admiring her and being so happy to have her in my life. 

when yn noticed that i was staring at her, she just looked up at me with a weird expression and i just couldn’t help myself and i just had to tell her i loved her then and there.” heeseung shared another happy moment that was filled with joy and love between the two of you; the joy doubled in amount as the two of you relished in the tender moment. 

you remember being caught off guard with heeseung’s comment.. like you couldn’t believe his words even though he’s never done anything to lead you on or make you believe his words weren’t genuine. 

if heeseung was one thing, it was genuine. 

with you. 

100% of the time.

what do you think was the cause of your breakup?

this question catches you off guard again, you weren’t expecting it after all of the heartfelt questions prior– it came as a shock to hear it because you were just thinking about happy moments just a few minutes ago. 

you glance at the floor as you think about answering, unsure if heeseung was going to speak up first like he has been doing for the last few questions, but all he does is clear his throat and sit in his seat– like he was waiting for you to answer. and so you did. 

“um– i think it was me.. there were a lot of things that contributed to it, i think– but in the end i ultimately made the decision to bring up the idea of breaking up and although neither of us wanted to… 

i think it was what was best for me..” you explained, not wanting to go into detail of that night. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ ˚

“i think we should breakup..” you blurted out as you and heeseung sat in silence. heeseung’s eyes set on yours as those words leave your lips. a dreaded sentence that heeseung never thought would leave either of your mouths. 

heeseung loved you so much, he did everything he could to show you his love, but after you uttered those words– it made him rethink everything. had he not been a good boyfriend? did he make you feel unloved? was he not enough? 

the only thing heeseung could respond with was a stutter. he couldn’t believe the words he had just heard come out of your lips. those lips that he loved so much. soft and pillowy, it always made him weak in the knees whenever he felt your lips on his. 

but right now the weakness in his legs were because he felt like he was about to faint– a ringing in his ears that was drowning everything out. he watched you as you explained how you felt, bearing your emotions to him but he couldn’t hear a thing. he was blinking endlessly and his vision was beginning to blur the longer he stared at you. 

“hee? are you ok?” you asked, snapping him out of his daze. 

“why? did i do something? i’m sorry– i’ll fix it, please. let me fix it, anything. i’ll do anything, yn don’t leave me.. please.” it all comes out as one run on sentence as heeseung shuffles to your side, arms latching onto your waist as he pleads for you to change your mind. 

it breaks your heart to see him like that, the boy who was always so happy to be around you now held so much heartache in his eyes. you knew that you were breaking his heart by doing this, but yours was already shattered having to do it. 

“hee– please..” you began, slightly pulling away but heeseung wasn’t letting up, arms still firmly wrapping around you. 

“heeseung.. i don’t.. this isn’t going to work out.” you whispered and heeseung looked at you with his big doe eyes, the lights of his apartment reflecting in them but all you could see was the lack of joy. 

heeseung asks– begs– you to elaborate. hoping that within your explanation he could find a solution. 

your brother was right, heeseung did live an extremely different life from your own, and you thought you could handle it but it all came down on you a lot harder than you expected. at first, it was just the glances from strangers, something you could easily brush off but then it progressed into something that followed you everywhere. like it was haunting you. 

people had begun to refer to you solely as “heeseung’s girlfriend” and although heeseung did his best to introduce you as your own person or have you introduce yourself, it just didn’t have the same ring as “heeseung’s girlfriend”. 

heeseung’s parents were also never fond of you. they wanted him to marry a woman in his tax bracket, a girl who’s family was as powerful as his and not a girl who had to rely on scholarships and intelligence to get far in life.��

like it was looked down upon that you’ve had to work hard your whole life and not something to admire about a person. 

because of who heeseung was as a person, however not to his own accord but simply because of the circumstances he was born in, it became hard to be someone that stood by him. not because you couldn’t stand beside heeseung, no, you’d stand by him and everything he did and believed in if it was the last thing you could do.. 

but standing beside him physically made you feel small. 

like you’d never live up to any of the expectations the world had for you even if all that should’ve mattered was heeseung’s and he did everything he could to reassure you that he didn’t care what his parents thought, or what the rich socialites at the gala’s he’d take you would think, or what the tabloids would say about his “unknown girlfriend”. 

he loved you no matter what and you wished so damn hard that his words were enough to silence all of the voices inside of your head. 

but they weren’t. 

“my love, you know that those people’s words don’t mean anything. i love you for who you are, i don’t care about any of those materialistic things, you’re the only person who’s ever made me feel like i wasn’t just a person attached to my last name.. 

and i love you regardless of anything anyone says about you, all i care about is you.” heeseung utters, hands gently cupping your face as he begs for you to throw all your doubts away and to just listen to him and feel the love he has for you– hoping that it was enough. 

but it wasn’t. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ ˚

what is something you want to say to them that you didn’t get the chance to?

the two of you had previously needed to take a break, a wave of emotions washing over the two of you because of the previous question– both of you seemingly recalling the night of your breakup, a quiet sob leaving your lips as you try your best to collect yourself while heeseung fights off the same tears from cascading down his face. 

you’d think with two people that felt so strongly and lovingly about the other would stay together, especially with the way you both were reacting to it right now, but there were just too many insecurities in your way to let heeseung hold you close and tell you that it was going to be okay–

no matter how hard he tried. 

“i think with everything that was going on the night that we broke up, i was just crying so much i don’t think i was fully able to share how i felt and it wasn’t fair to you that i simply left it at ‘we need to break up’ without going further on why.. 

our friends, my brother specifically, would tell me how much of a wreck you were after we broke up and it broke my heart even more knowing that i left you with so much to think about and neither of us ever got closure from it. so i’m really sorry that i wasn’t able to communicate better but it was just so hard because i didn’t want you to feel like it was your fault– which it never was, it’s never been your fault– but i think i ended up making you feel that way regardless. 

so i just want to say i’m sorry heeseung. i’m sorry i left you with that burden and made it seem like you weren’t doing enough to console me and to dispel my concerns because you truly were, you were so patient with me and showed me all the love you had inside of you but i just couldn’t shake this feeling like.. 

like i wasn’t enough for you or that i didn’t deserve to be loved by you. it’s not your fault and i just let all of those comments and judgemental glares get the better of me and it flooded my mind with insecurities that i just.. i just ended up drowning in it.” 

thinking about it now, you weren’t sure why it was so hard to tell him this a few years ago but it was all coming out so naturally now; maybe it was because some time has passed and you’ve been able to  heal from some of it. definitely not all of it, but some. 

heeseung looked at you with tears in his eyes, a sense of sympathy welling in chest as he thought about what you must’ve had to go through. heeseung knew you felt a certain way about how people perceived you because of the status he and his family had and he tried his best to show you that you were the only thing that mattered but sometimes insecurities and the harsh words of our own minds were our biggest enemies. 

you had your own battles to deal with and so did heeseung. 

“i wish i could’ve done more to help you– you did, heeseung. you did so much but it was.. it was me, not you..” you interrupt him when he begins to blame himself again, something that you wished he wouldn’t do. 

“i know it sounds cliche to say it but it wasn’t you, it was me.” you whispered. 

“well.. thank you for telling me how you feel and i’m still sorry that you had to go through that at my expense. i know you want to say that it was you and not me but i can’t help but feel responsible for that. it was rooted in something that was connected to me and at the end of the day, it’s something that i have to bear and i wish we could’ve gone through it together.. 

maybe if i tried even more, showed people how much i loved you even louder, fought and pushed back against those who made comments about you instead of consoling you in private. i should’ve done more to show the world that you are what mattered to me most instead of whispering it into your ears as we laid silently in my bed.

i’m sorry that i couldn’t do more for us..” 

heeseung’s words came out more as a revelation than a confession. like he was, in that moment, realizing what wrongs he should’ve corrected. he wished he could’ve loved you and rubbed it in everyone's face. like he was the proudest man on earth to have you by his side as his girl instead of leaving it to silent whispers in private. 

do you regret breaking up?

the question hung heavily in the room. neither of you didn’t know how to answer it because as much as the both of you would like to say you do regret it, time has passed since then and the both of you have changed and don’t know how your lives would be if you chose to stay together. 

would you have continued to harbor these insecurities and have it build up inside of you? inevitably spilling and bursting out of you, resulting in a messier break up that could’ve been more heartbreaking than the one you had? 

or would you have learned to overcome those insecurities with the help of heeseung who only loved you more and more as the days went by. 

neither of you were sure. 

“i do.. i regret it because i should’ve fought harder for her.. it might sound dramatic but it’s my biggest regret to this day.” heeseung said, a sense of certainty in his words that you’ve only seen whenever heeseung would tell you how much he loved you. 

“i don’t know.. i wish i could say i had a definite answer– but i don’t. clearly i still have a lot of insecurities to get through and break out of, but i do know that i don’t regret loving heeseung. that’s for sure.” 

if you could, would you get back together?

“yes” heeseung blurts out, like he was in a competition and had to answer as fast as he could. he didn’t care if he came off as desperate or pitiful, he wanted to show everyone, including you, that he still loved you and would take you back in a heartbeat. 

“100%, yes.” heeseung adds, looking at you with a longing gaze– waiting for your answer, in hopes that you’d have the same answer. 

“i wouldn’t be opposed to it.” you responded, a smile creeping up on heeseung’s lips as you answered. 

it made him so happy and he’ll take any chance he gets to get you back. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ ˚

“can we try again?” heeseung asks. 

heeseung had asked you if you wanted to grab dinner after filming, it was pretty late when the two of you finished recording your episode because you had to constantly take breaks in between the questions because one of you would cry too much. 

that was something you admired about heeseung, he was so in touch with his emotions and wasn’t afraid to cry. 

heeseung had your hands in his, thumbs rubbing your knuckles softly as he waited for your answer, hoping that it would be “yes.” 

“yeah.” you smile and nod– and that single word was able to invoke a type of happiness inside of heeseung that he hasn’t felt in a long time. a type of happiness that he only felt with you. 

heeseung is instantly wrapping you in his arms, swaying the both of you side to side, paying no mind to the glares that the two of you were getting from all of the people in the restaurant you were having dinner in. 

and for the next two months, you and heeseung become one again. your heart mending itself as you two would spend time together, healing from the heartbreak of two years ago. heeseung would tell you he loved you everyday and kept his promise about loving you outwardly and unapologetically. 

everything was going well, until it wasn't. 

getting back together didn’t last long as you soon both realized that although you were back together, it didn’t have the same type of spark you two had in the past. like how even though your hearts were no longer shattered and were whole again, it didn’t shine in the light like it used to. 

like it was tainted and neither of you could figure out how to get back to the way you both felt as college students. 

maybe it was just a type of love that you grow out of. 

you and heeseung still loved each other but this time around, things were just too different that you couldn’t help but delve in the past, your history eventually catching up to the both of you even though you were both trying so hard to keep it together. 

“so.. this is it, huh?” heeseung asks, biting down on his lip as he awkwardly stands in front of you, your hands in his once again. 

“i think so..” you sniffled, trying your best to smile when there wasn’t anything to smile about. 

“i’ll always love you, even if we didn’t work out.” you said, pulling him into a hug, your face softly pressed against his chest as heeseung wraps his arms around you. rubbing your back gently and wishing that he never had to let go. your bodies molded together so perfectly, he couldn’t believe that you weren’t perfect together. 

“i’ll never stop loving you, yn. you will always have a place in my heart.” he mutters, placing a gentle kiss onto your forehead. a last kiss that your skin would soon forget as time passed but your heart would forever fond over. 

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[rikupid]

racer!mark as your boyfriend

warnings: mark x afab!reader, use of pet names (baby, babe), headcanons go gradually from sfw to nsfw (MDNI), possessiveness, car sex, riding, unprotected sex, breeding, praise kink, dirty talk, more car sex

a/n: this is actually a repost LOL i deleted this and forgot about it but anyways my racer!mark brainrot was so bad that i had to make this… i was thinking about making this a series with other members but i’m not too sure! lmk ur thoughts :)

racer!mark who considers you his good luck charm. before every race, he'll come find you and ask for his 'good luck kiss.’ the idea's silly, at least to you, but mark takes it very seriously. he constantly tells you, "babe, without my kiss, i think i might lose. like.. for real."

racer!mark who makes it his personal mission to always do his best for you. every win is for you and you only. a part of him thinks that maybe that's why he made to top of the industry as fast as he did. who could beat him when he has the best motivator?

racer!mark who, although very rarely, sulks every time he loses. you know he's always hard on himself, cursing himself in his head for even the smallest mistakes, and you hate to see the frown on his face when he comes to find you after the race. he always tries to apologize, thinking he disappointed you. you hate that he doesn't realize that no matter what he does, he could never disappoint you.

racer!mark who loves to take you for spontaneous midnight drives when he's not racing. you always complain, telling him, "maaaark, it's late." he'll silence you with a kiss and drag you to the door, assuring it'll be fun. he has a spot, one only for you and him, and he knows you could never say no to him. he's proven right every single time when it's you and him beneath the stars, laughing without a care in the world. at times like these, nothing else matters besides the way mark kisses you, slow and sweet and with so much love that it hurts.

racer!mark who broke his own personal record— which, obviously, was the world record-the day you first told him that you loved him. you came up to him in disbelief after the race, asking, "what.. what was that?" mark could only give you a shy smile, shrugging his shoulders. "i just really love you too," came his silly and ridiculous-yet-very-mark response.

racer!mark who is an absolute nerd about cars. you expected it, but nothing could prepare you for how cute mark is when he rambles. sometimes, you're too distracted to realize what he's actually saying, staring at him with a soft smile while he continues to talk. there's almost nothing better than the way he flushes bright red when he realizes, pausing whatever thought he had and telling you to stop staring.

racer!mark who lost it the first time you wore his jacket. you were curious, wanting to see how he would react, and mark couldn't believe just how good it looked on you. "it's—holy shit. you look—you look great, babe. you're—wow," mark fumbled out when you asked him how it looked, unable to tear his eyes away from you. something inside of him was hot, burning with desire from seeing you in his jacket. he pulled you to the bed, begging for you to keep the jacket on while he fucked you.

racer!mark who does everything he can to make sure the whole word knows you're his. he has a possessive streak that never seems to end, constantly leaving marks all over your body. you always return the favor, almost just as possessive as him, wanting people to know that mark lee, the world’s biggest star, is yours. they'll never be able to have him the way you do.

racer!mark who loves to fuck you in his car. at first, he was unsure until you brought up the idea. all it took was a simple, "wouldn't it be nice to fuck me here?" before he cracked, the both of you climbing into the back seat.

racer!mark who lets you ride him (in his car, of course) until he's begging to cum inside you, overwhelmed with how good your tight cunt feels around his cock and how hot it is to have you on top of him, defiling his most prized possession.

racer!mark who flushes bright red every time you promise him 'something fun' before a race, whispering in his ear about everything you'll let him do to you if he wins. he'll be damned if he lets someone else beat him, especially when he's being promised having you in his bed tonight.

racer!mark who loves to praise you, telling you how good you are every chance he gets. he'll tell you how good you feel around him or how perfect you are for him, taking his cock like you were made for it. he's never been able to be quiet in bed, mumbling to himself about how fucking good your pussy feels and how he can never get enough of you.

racer!mark who easily gets jealous when you teasingly bring up his competitors, especially his rival haechan. you do it to work him up, wanting to push him to the edge. mark's always sweet with you in bed, giving you whatever you want, but sometimes, you want him to be mean. nothing gets him there quicker than an offhand comment that goes something along the lines of wanting to take a ride with haechan instead. mark hates this. you're his and no one else's. it causes him to finally snap, pinning you down into the sheets and fucking you like there's no tomorrow. "you're mine, baby. all fucking mine," he'll growl out, punctuating each word with a thrust.

a/n: i mainly reposted this bc i got an ask about it and figured it would make more sense if u guys got the racer!mark details… ☀️🐰 anon if u see this…. this was for u.. ANYWAYS i love doing headcanons so if u guys have any headcanon requests thennnnnnnn u know where to find me!

[sourwulf]

i beg of you to do a plus size reader (who's got a lot of shame around her body and stuff) fic with stiles where he takes her virginity after they start dating but he's not super experienced, but it's still really good for her

༄  word count  —  3.6k

፨  characters  —  stiles stilinski

☓  tw  —  none

⊹  cw  —  smut & oral, losing of virginity, mentions of body insecurity

☼  a/n — i'm plus size and the first person i ever dated wasn't so i love this idea. also this is a bit longer than most of my other stories, so enjoy :)

✎  masterlist

─

if you could've seen the way stiles looked at you when you had your back turned, you would melt. such adoration, such attraction, it was hard to find. at least, for you it was.

you'd always been bigger, since the second you were born. you were a chunky baby, and despite hoping it was just baby fat you'd grow out of, it stayed. you spent your entire life doing your darndest to hide it, wearing baggy clothes and adjusting them every chance you got.

so when stiles, a lanky skinny guy on the lacrosse team, asked you out, all you could think of was the weight difference.

but stiles didn't really notice. in fact, the only thing he saw when he looked at you was beauty. he thought you had a body that would've been immortalized in a statue back in ancient greece, give or take a few pounds.

you didn't see it but the first time he laid eyes on you, he couldn't take them off for a good thirty seconds. just watching you at lunch, wondering what you were looking at on your phone that made you smile.

there was one day you were at your locker, absentmindedly messing with your books and binders. you weren't far from where stiles was standing with his friend scott, who was also getting what he needed out of his locker.

the immersion was only broken when scott pulled his attention away.

"dude, if you think she's pretty go ask her out," scott insisted, finding you in his eyesight after a few seconds. "you've been pining over her for weeks."

stiles shook his head. "no, man, she's out of my league."

"yeah, so is every girl here." stiles rolled his eyes at the quip. "just go talk to her. she seems nice."

it was just then that you closed your locker and walked toward them, and stiles turned away from you and tried to act casual, like he wasn't just staring intensely at you. you passed them, not even noticing that they were there. once you were out of earshot, stiles leaned against the lockers.

"she's gone now, so..."

scott sighed. "if you wanna date you're gonna have to get over your fear of talking to girls."

"i'm not afraid of talking to girls. i'm awkward. you and i both know that."

"some girls like that."

"what if she doesn't?"

"you'll never know if you don't try."

the bell rang, and stiles stepped away from the lockers. "i'll see you at practice?"

"yep, see you then."

a couple of hours went by before your study hall period. you were in the library, skimming the books in the social studies section, attempting to find one about women's fashion in the 1700s for a book report.

as soon as you pulled a book off the shelf, just like a scene out of a movie, you revealed stiles' face on the other side. he came into the library because he'd seen you enter a few moments before. he didn't know you were right there only feet away from him, but the movement made him look up from the book in his hands. his eyes went wide at your lack of noticing him, reading the description of the book instead.

he studied your face, this being the closest he'd been to you thus far. he noticed the streaks of unnatural colors in your hair, the slight smile on your lips as you realized this was exactly the book you needed. you didn't look back up, instead walking away to check out the book.

he could see you at the register from where he was standing, and when you felt eyes on you, you looked over. his lips were slightly parted, his posture slumped a bit. he had kind eyes, which locked onto you for a moment.

you gave him a small wave, which he didn't return out of panicked awkwardness. when he realized how creepy it might look for him to be staring intently at you, he instead looked away and walked to the end of the aisle, hiding himself from your vision.

you were slightly confused, wondering what that was about.

after about fifteen minutes and you sitting down at a table tucked away in a corner away from other people, the same boy caught your attention. he was looking around to find somewhere to also sit, every other table full of people.

but when he found your table, he stopped in front of it. he didn't speak for a second, just looking at you.

"can i help you?" you asked, not really knowing what else to say.

"oh, uh... sorry. i didn't mean to stare. i didn't mean to stare earlier, either, i just saw you checking out books and didn't realize i was staring until you waved." he realized he was rambling. "do you mind if i sit here?" he motioned toward the chair across from you.

"sure."

once he was seated, his backpack in the chair next to him, he looked at you again.

"stiles." he held his hand out to shake. you took it and shook a couple of times.

"y/n."

"nice to meet you." you gave a small, awkward but friendly smile. "whatcha reading?"

you hesitated, not used to engaging in conversation with strangers. "i'm doing a book report on fashion evolution in the last few centuries. this one is specifically about women's fashion."

"oh, cool."

you looked down at the books he'd laid down in front of him, noticing that they were all different subjects.

"what about you? very different topics there."

"uh..." he thought for a moment. "can i be honest?" you raised your eyebrows in a 'go ahead' manner. "i kind of came in here as an excuse to talk to you."

now your eyebrows dipped down in confusion.

"what?"

"i... i noticed you a little while back. in the cafeteria. i was too chicken to say anything then, but i've been looking for an opportunity to say hi."

"oh."

he nodded. "i hope that's not too weird. i just... thought you were pretty."

you almost chuckled. "pretty?"

"yeah."

"you think i'm pretty?"

he was the one confused now.

"yeah...? why? what's wrong?"

"nothing's wrong, i just... i've never had anyone tell me that before."

"seriously?" you nodded. "you really caught my eye the first time i saw you."

"what exactly was it about me that caught your eye?"

"you were smiling at something on your phone, a text or something. you just had a really warm smile. you looked really pretty."

you could feel butterflies flapping quickly in your stomach, not used to this.

the two of you talked for what felt like hours. you learned that he was on the lacrosse team, and he geeked out talking about his jeep. it was easy to connect with him, conversation coming naturally to you, as if you'd known each other for your whole lives.

eventually, he asked you out on a date, to which you agreed. one date turned into two, then three, then six. movies, dinner, stargazing, double dates. on the sixth date, he invited you over to his house for the first time.

his car was the only one parked in the driveway, his dad at work that night. it was a nice house, nicer than you expected them to be able to afford.

he cooked for you, a simple plate of spaghetti being infinitely better than the food you'd gone out to eat with him. you sat side by side at the round dining room table, the lack of space between you two palpable.

"you're a really good cook, stiles."

with a mouthful of noodles he said, "thank you."

"i don't cook a lot, i need to learn how to. i really like baking, though."

"oh yeah, i remember you talking about that. next time it's your turn to supply the food, then."

you chuckled. "will do."

he watched you eat, distracted from his own food. there was something almost seductive about the way you ate pasta, intentional or not. the way you slurped the noodles past your lips, the sauce that stained them, he wasn't sure. it was like he was watching you in slow motion, like some cheesy eighties movie that zoomed in on your lips.

something came over him. he waited until you swallowed that bite, and he gently grabbed your face and pulled you in for a kiss. it was so gentle it was like he was afraid to do it. it caught you off guard but you melted into his lips, your entire body tensing up.

when he pulled away, you looked at each other, your eyes wide.

"oh," you whispered, not knowing what else to say.

"i-i'm sorry. i shouldn't have-"

"it's okay. that was... that was good."

"yeah?"

"yeah."

"probably not the best kiss you've ever had."

"stiles, that was the only kiss i've ever had."

you'd already told him your lack of past relationships, and he couldn't help but think how blessed he was that he got to be your first experience dating. he was truly lucky.

"oh, right."

"i don't really have anything to compare it to, but it was good."

"yeah?"

"mhm. just... next time don't be so afraid to kiss me."

as if that was his cue, he immediately pulled you back in for another one. you dropped your fork and gripped the edge of the table, kissing him back as if you knew how.

the next thing you knew, you were standing at the side of his bed, his hands gripping your ribs and him continuing to kiss you. with his lips still against yours, he unzipped your jacket and gently pushed it off your shoulders. it dropped to the floor around your feet, and he broke the kiss to look down at your body.

you had on a simple knit sweater, one that was a bit more fitted than most of your clothes.

as his hands slowly slipped under the material, you stopped them.

"what's wrong?" he whispered.

"uh... it's just... i don't want you to be disappointed by what you see."

"what do you mean?"

"i mean... i don't look like the other girls at school."

"in what way?"

you furrowed your brows. "c'mon, stiles, i know you know what i'm talking about."

"elaborate."

"i'm not... thin. i don't have that great of a body."

"seriously? that's what you think?"

"well, yeah. i have a mirror, stiles. i know what i look like."

"not from my perspective."

"i mean, i guess so. but you have to admit, i'm different from them." as you spoke, he unbuttoned your jeans while maintaining eye contact. "i'm serious."

"i know. i get that you feel that way but i don't think that when i look at you."

"what do you think?"

"i think you're out of my league." this made you chuckle. "i'm serious. i told scott the exact same thing the day we met."

"did you now?"

"you can ask him yourself." your pants were now undone, but he stopped before he went any further. "let me show you how beautiful i think you are."

"mm, how are you gonna do that exactly?"

"i may have to just make you wait and see."

you thought for a second before reaching down and pulling your sweater over your head. you felt like your heart was going to pound out of your chest, or stop entirely. you'd never taken your shirt off in front of a boy before, and you were a bit scared about what his reaction would be.

but the look in his eyes as he looked at you made you feel like the prettiest girl in the entire world. your anxiety melted away when you saw the look in his eyes. it was a look of true love, one no one had ever given you.

"wow," he whispered, studying your body.

"okay?"

instead of answering, he planted another kiss on your lips. he wrapped one arm around your back to pull you against him, his other hand cupping your face to hold you close.

he reached around you and gripped the hooks of your bra.

"can i take this off?" he asked into your mouth, to which he received a nod.

this level of vulnerability and openness wasn't something you were used to giving. not one soul had seen your boobs since you went shopping for training bras with your mom and she had to teach you how to use them. that was around the time you'd become truly aware of your weight and body, and decided that you weren't going to show it to anyone for a long, long time.

he continued kissing you as he struggled to unhook it, eventually getting it. to be fair, it was a bit of a difficult one to unhook.

he didn't look down at first, wanting to continue kissing you. his palm laid flat against your back where your bra band previously was, and you let the straps fall off your shoulders and it fell to the floor.

when he did finally take the opportunity to look at your bare chest, he took in a deep breath.

"wow," he said for a second time.

the urge to cover yourself was overwhelming, almost burning. so when your arms gave in and wrapped around your stomach, he pulled them away.

"why're you doin' that?" he whispered.

"just... not used to anyone seeing me."

"well, get used to it. you're so beautiful."

"you really think so?"

"i don't see how you don't."

"you know, just constant years of bullying." you were slightly joking but also not, that being the main reason for your insecurity. a slightly sad expression formed on his face. you looked down and shook your head. "sorry, i didn't mean to kill the mood."

he hooked his finger under your chin and made you look back up at him.

"don't apologize. it's okay." you nodded. "but i promise i'm gonna make you feel like the prettiest girl in the world. because you are."

you smiled and kissed him, pulling his hand up to cup your breast. he took in a sharp breath at this, his thumb gliding over your nipple.

"your turn to take something off."

he obeyed, pulling his shirt up and over his head. he had a patch of chest hair and a couple of moles here and there, but you noticed the scars on his stomach and ribs too. you ran your thumb over one of them and he looked down at it.

"what are these from?"

he sighed. "long stories. they're old, though."

you decided not to pry, realizing he didn't want to talk about old injuries before having sex with you for the first time.

a moment later, you were on your back in his bed, your head on his pillow. he slowly pulled your already undone pants down your legs and kissed the skin as they came off. he decided to go ahead and strip himself of his, leaving both of you in only your underwear. there were only two layers of thin clothing separating you, and as he leaned back down to kiss you, you could feel the tent in his pants growing.

he pressed a kiss to your neck, then your collarbone, then your chest, before engulfing your right nipple in his mouth. he circled it with his tongue for a moment before continuing down your body, leaving a trail of wet kisses on your stomach.

to have someone love your body instead of shame it made you tremble, not used to the pure affection bursting from his body, leaking from his pores.

he hooked his fingers under your panties, looking at you for permission, which you granted with a hesitant nod. you kept your thighs together for a moment before he kissed your knees, resting his chin on them after a few seconds.

"you don't have to hide anything from me, y/n." he ran his hands up and down your outer thighs and gave a soft smile. "you look so beautiful right now."

this boy was love drunk, his eyes soft and watery. you didn't think it was possible so see an expression so full of love, so desperate to show amore.

you spread your legs, bracing yourself to show all of you to him, to expose your most private areas. but he looked at you like he was an addict, like he needed you just to function.

he'd fallen for you fast, and he'd fallen hard.

after a few seconds he was on his belly, licking and lapping at you like you were a pot of honey. you couldn't hold back the sounds that escaped your throat, unable to describe how good he was making you feel.

you'd masturbated plenty, unsure when it would be someone else pleasuring you. all you'd had was your hand and fingers, and this was way different. it was much warmer, much wetter.

his much stronger than expected hands holding you exactly where he needed you meant all you could do was arch your back. him forcing your hips to still almost made it better, more intense.

because this was the first time you'd been eaten out, you felt your orgasm coming quickly, and when you finally reached your climax, the only sound that came out was a loud and long gasp. you couldn't keep your hips from leaving the mattress as much as he tried to control your movements.

he'd told you before that he wasn't super experienced, only having had sex with one person before you. but you couldn't help but wonder how many times he did this in the past to get him this good at it.

once he was back at your lips to kiss you, he was rock hard, and him grinding against you gave you an idea of what you were in store for.

once his underwear were off and he was sliding a condom on, you got a good look. he was bigger than you expected him to be, but it looked like something you could handle. he was thick too, and you knew you'd be getting stretched out.

"are you still okay with this?" he whispered, kissing your jaw.

"yes, stiles. please." you didn't know why you were begging, it's not like he wasn't going to fuck you if you didn't. but you were antsy, desperate, horny.

he looked into your eyes. "i... shit, i might not last long. it's been a minute."

"that's okay."

"i still want it to be good for you."

"i know it will be. it's okay if you don't. it's my first time, i don't want it to be a marathon."

he nodded. "okay. ready?"

"so ready."

he kissed you as he slid into you, the feeling different than you expected. better than you expected.

once he was fully seated in you, you both let out a soft moan.

"okay?" he asked.

"mhm. i just need to get used to it."

he was gentle, tender with you. he was going slowly as to not hurt you, but it was too slow. you needed more motion and he picked up on that.

"stiles, please, go faster."

he adjusted his position, bending his knees a bit more and pushing your thighs closer to your stomach. he picked up his speed and your moans were already becoming more desperate, more whiny.

"shit, you feel so good," he grunted, trying not to go too fast.

"you do too."

his lips latched onto your neck and his hands balled the sheets under you. the sounds of your wanton moans bounced off the walls and were like music to his ears. he was starting to have to control himself, making sure not to cum too early.

but you could tell he was getting there closer than he expected to. his grunts were becoming more frantic, chasing his orgasm.

after a couple of minutes, it was becoming more and more difficult to hold it off.

"stiles, stop holding back." your commands were gentle and sweet, you wanted him to feel as good as possible too. "i know you're close."

"it hasn't been that long."

"it's okay." that last one was cut off by an uncontrollable moan. "cum for me, stiles." you weren't used to using language like this, so you couldn't help but cringe internally, but those words drove him over the edge. he was thrusting much rougher than he meant to, holding back his orgasm making it even more intense for him.

he busted into the condom, filling it quickly. he slowed his movements, stopping a few thrusts later. he gently kissed you, your hands landing on his ribcage.

it took a few minutes for either of you to catch your breath, and he pulled out of you, tossing the condom in his trash can, and laying beside you. he covered both of you with his comforter, noticing how cold it was in his room.

neither of you spoke for a moment before he reached down and pulled your hand to his lips, kissing the back of your palm.

you laughed silently, looking over at him.

"was that okay? for your first time?"

you nodded. "it was."

"good. i promise next time it'll be better."

"i'm gonna hold you to that, stilinski."

"challenge accepted."

it wasn't long before you drifted to sleep, stiles watching you snore softly with nothing but love in his heart.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Crash and Burn 3

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Tony Stark

Summary: a powerful man comes crashing into your life. Literally.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Another thankless day of serving cold cuts and cheese to the general public as you ready to tear your hair out. You don’t see how anyone could make such a fuss about a trip to the deli but the locals have a way of exacerbating any simplicity. You’re just happy to be free. 

The bus is late. You stand at the curb and bounce on your heels. You just want to lay down. The lack of sleep is starting to split your skull. 

You yawn and watch a truck blow by. It’s a sleepy old town, nestled between farmland and stretches of dirty roads. The sort of backwoods you don’t drive through after dark. It’s so dull you could fall asleep on your feet. 

A sudden gust of air rips through the sky and the unusual whirlwind circles you. You look up through slitted eyes as dirty speckles across your face. You furrow your brow as lights and flames glow as a red figure lands in front of you.

The electric blue haze goes out and your faced with the suit of crimson and gold. You grip your purse strap and gulp. You haven’t checked your phone yet. You couldn’t have predicted this. 

“Shit.” You mutter. 

His helmet snaps back and he smirks. The silver streaks in his dark hair puff out and he smooths them down. He puts his hand on his hip and scoffs, “name’s Tony Stark, thanks.” 

You cringe and cross your arms. “We met.” 

“Yeah, I remember you. Nearly forgot before everything blew up. You know, this thing...” he pauses to take his phone out. “Hasn’t shut up all fucking day. I got lawyers down my throat--” 

“Your phone is blowing up? My house blew up.” You sneer. 

“Okay, relax. It was a trailer. I said I’d replace it--” 

“Then do it.” 

“Ooh, spicy. I didn’t guess you to be the type but after seeing your little online storytelling, I shoulda guessed.” 

“It’s the truth. That’s it.” You turn to watch for the bus. You’re aware of the few people slowing to stare at the man in his techno-suit. 

“I mean, a little gratitude here, honey. I’m more than happy to slap a new box in the lot but you don’t gotta be this way about it.” He derides. You look at him from the corner of your eyes and scowl. “At least a smile. Bet you’re gorgeous when you smile.” 

He winks and you flinch. Really? 

“Fine. Once we have a new trailer, I’ll delete the post. Sounds pretty fair to me.” 

“Now. Take it down now and then we can go shopping for a new train car,” he chirps. 

You frown and face him. “It’s just a post.” 

“I got a reputation, sweetheart. I’m important that way. I know you might not be able to fathom that but one busted up hellhole is nothing compared to what I do for this planet. Didn’t you see me on the TV, handing out lollipops to hurricane survivors? What are you doing besides whine on the internet?” He stares you down, his expression turning sinister as his grin fades. 

“If it’s not a big deal, then it shouldn’t take much, should it?” You challenge. 

“Wow, you sure are mouthy, aren’t you?” 

“I’m tired.” You peer down the street again. “I worked a full shift and my feet hurt. You wouldn’t know about that, would you? With your penthouse and your dad’s money.” 

“I earned my company.” He snarls. “You watch where you’re stepping, sweetheart. I’m being nice. I flew all the way back to this ditch, so let’s not play dirty.” 

Your heart races. You don’t know why you’ve said so much. Maybe because you’ve worn a customer service smile all day and you’re all out of fucks to give?

And what do you have left to lose? A family that treats you like a gnat flying around their heads and a musty old futon. Your life wasn’t great before but damn if he didn’t make it a whole lot worse. 

“You do whatever. You’re Tony Stark. Iron Man.” Your tone is deflated and monotone. “I can’t do anything about it, can I? Just whine on the internet?” 

You step further down the sidewalk and stare at the approaching headlights. The bus is finally there. Even if he really means to replace the dusty old shithole, you don’t need his self-aggrandized kindness. Not if this is how it’s delivered. 

You pull out your bus fare as you sway beneath the sign. A sharp noise tweaks your ear and you’re seized in a metal vice. Your arms are trapped against your sides as Tony zooms up into the sky, the air whipping around your face as you holler in horror. 

“What-- are—you—doing?” You shriek as you wriggle, kicking into the empty void around you. 

“Sweetheart,” his voice rises from behind his helmet. “You’re gonna wanna be still. If I drop you, you’re gonna hit the ground like a bug on a windshield.” 

“What the fuck?” You exclaim and squeeze your eyes shut. 

“Just givin’ you a lift home. Like a nice guy would do.” He chuckles. “Now don’t breathe too heavy up here. At this altitude... well...” 

You put your head down, shielding it against the shoulder plate of his suit, and you bend your arms to cling to him. You have no other choice but to hold on for dear life.

You get his point. Tony Stark is more than money. He can do whatever the hell he wants. 

[shawtylex09]

⋆˙⟡ Realizing. Shota Aizawa x Fem!Art Teacher!Reader. Pt. 2 ⟡⋆˙

⋆.˚✮ Valentine’s Day story 4/14 ✮˚.⋆

This is part 2, of Looking, which you can read here.

Masterlist

Enjoy darlings ✧˖°.

🌸

⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚

It had been roughly a week since the conversation with Mic, and god you were trying everything.

You’d tried to be obvious, but not pushy with how you were trying to get closer to Aizawa, but not a lot seemed to get a reaction out of him. You didnt believe he was outright ignoring you, but maybe brushing you off so he didn’t hurt your feelings if you confessed to him.

Was this whole idea stupid?…

Probably.

Did it make you feel like a high school girl hopelessly pining over a boy in her class?

Yeah.

Were you still determined because you’d already started this little boss battle and now you were in too deep to go back on the progress you’d managed to make?

Oh definitely.

You sighed softly, frowning a bit as you stared at the canvas before you, your eyes lingering on the shades and colors staring back at you. You’d hit a wall with your piece, a gorgeous forest with lovely painted trees and green grass, even a deer standing in a patch of sunlight streaming through the leaves.

It was unfinished.

You sighed more heavily this time, rubbing your cheek with your wrist. You, not only, we’re dealing with the turmoil of your feelings for Shota, but also your painting hobby had seemed more like a chore recently. Maybe it was just your fatigue, or maybe it was just a rough patch. Either way, you needed to figure it out.

You glared at your painting, silently willing it to paint itself and solve your relationship problems also.

“You’re gonna lose that staring contest, you know.”

You almost jumped out of your skin as the low, velvety voice of the man you’d been chasing, Shota Aizawa, spoke tiredly to you. You whipped around and felt heat rise to your ears as he stood there, leaning against the doorframe with his arms and legs crossed. A typical Aizawa pose.

You glanced back to the painting to hide your flushed cheeks and sighed, rubbing the back of your neck “ha ha” you mumbled dryly, running your eyes over the different plants and lightings you’d painted.

Aizawa hummed as he pushed himself off of the wall, walking over to stand next to the stool you were sitting on “looks nice.” He commented, his voice breaking the silence of your room after school hours.

You felt your skin break out in goosebumps as he spoke to you about something you’d poured so much time and effort into.

It honestly made your heart flutter a bit.

“Ah..thanks..it’s not done” you rubbed the tip of your nose with your index finger shyly, a bashful habit you had.

He raised a brow and glanced to you “not finished? How so?” He asked, his tired, dark grey eyes resting on you, running over the paint splotches on your skin and clothes, the way your hair looked in the bun with a paintbrush holding it up. Aizawa couldn’t lie, he did find the messy aesthetic you had..endearing.

You sighed, the perfectionist in you seeing so many errors, that others who hadn’t made them, or didn’t have a clue about art, couldn’t pick up on. “Some of the values and shades are uneven, the paint is still splotchy- the streaks are super visible and-“ you could feel yourself starting to stress out, your heart rate picking up a bit.

Your growing state of distress completely silenced as you felt a warm and large hand be placed on your shoulder “take it easy, Y/n. Just breathe for a sec.”

You snapped your head to the side to see Aizawa with his ever present, stoic look still on his features, his eyes deep and reassuring.

You nodded and let out a soft, shaky sigh, the hand on your shoulder bringing heat to your cheeks, which didn’t go unnoticed by Aizawa.

He nodded as you slowly calmed down, his thumb gently rubbing your shoulder. The motion was both soothing and pleasant, yet exciting and flustering.

You blushed and tucked your hair behind your ear “s-sorry..I’m a bit..passionate when it comes to painting” you laughed a little and smiled over at Aizawa.

If his comforting touch wasn’t surprising enough, seeing the corner of his mouth twitching upwards, was even more exciting.

“It’s alright, nothing to get bent outta shape about.” He murmured softly, his hand slowly falling from your shoulder, brushing the rest of your arm on its way down and making you shiver.

“Yeah, you’re right” you let out a shaky exhale to cool your nerves. He was closer than usual, being more..how would you even describe it..? Open? Talkative?

You glanced at him and blushed softly, feeling a small smile pull at your lips. You didn’t know if you were about to start poking the boundary line, but here went nothing.

“You’re talkative today” you commented hesitantly, glancing over at him with a small smile, to which Aizawa let out a huff. He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, leaning his hip against the table to his right “remind me to be more quiet.”

You stiffened and quickly shook your head “n-not that it’s a bad thing! I actually enjoy you talking! Really! I like talking to you- please don’t stop” you hadn’t meant to let all of that spill.

Aizawa raised a bow, smiling a bit, and making your stomach flutter with aggressive butterflies. He’d been slowly realizing your feelings for him, but he’d always been a slow burn type, who was he to deny himself a bit of fun?

At least that’s what he told himself.

He likes to put himself in the position where he was sure he wouldn’t be hurt. Back when he was in high school, he’d had his heart broken by loss and his peers, and if Shota was being honest, he really didn’t wanna go through that again.

Aizawa knew you though- at least a bit.

You’d been trying to get closer with him and spend even a bit more time with him, but he was just..anxious.

He looked over at you and hummed, feeling a small heat crawl onto his cheeks. If there was any way to make the stoic and strong EraserHead swoon, it would definitely be to say you wanted him around.

He looked away and rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a bit smaller in the conversation than he just had been. “You..want me around?” He repeated, a faint hint of disbelief on his tone. He cringed a little, hating how unsure of himself he sounded.

You looked at him, feeling just as unsure of yourself. Was his reaction good or bad? You had no idea, and no other option than to be honest, considering you’ve walked yourself right into this.

A soft sigh left you as you put down your paintbrush. “Yeah..of course I do..you’re..honestly one of my new favorite people..Aizawa..and I know that must sound silly, since we’re not super close or anything, but I just..you’re strong..you care about your students and you’re an amazing hero..you’re humble and honestly just wicked intelligent..”

Yup, you were digging a very deep grave for yourself later. You couldn’t believe the words that were slowly making realization dawn on Shota’s face.

He felt his pale cheeks heat up- and god why did you have to look so goddamn cute? Why did you have to slowly steal his heart from him, and he was only now realizing it?

Aizawa looked down “it’s not weird, I’m..honestly glad you feel that way.” He let out a sigh and glanced away “I feel the exact same about you, Y/n.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and your eyes widened. Was he saying that about what you’d actually said? Or about what you’d been implying with your words?

“A-Aizawa..?”

You slowly got off of your stool and took a tentative step forward.

Aizawa tensed at your coming closer, but slowly relaxed and looked at you.

It was cheesy, all of it was, and normally the stoic and closed off Aizawa wouldn’t pay much mind to something so emotionally open and honest, but something about the way you were looking at him, the paint on your cheek and shimmer in your eyes just..stole his breath from him.

He found his own feet moving, and a hand coming up to your cheek. Finally he just couldn’t take the conflicting feelings of wanting to remain safe and alone, and risking his feelings to be close with you.

You gasped and froze as you suddenly felt lips on yours.

You felt Shota’s lips on yours.

His stubble lightly scratched your skin, and his eyes were shut, a hand still easily engulfing your cheek in its calloused warmth.

You found that your classroom disappeared, your world slowly narrowing to just be the two of you alone.

Slowly, your eyes fluttered shut, and you shakily brought your hands up to his shoulders.

He didn’t rush your kiss, and neither did you.

It was soft and gentle, the feeling of his lips on yours, and you couldn’t get enough.

✮˚.⋆

As the two of you parted, he placed his forehead on yours, both of your eyes still shut, your noses brushing together.

It felt reckless, scary- but so correct- his hands around your waist, your hands on his shoulders and his breath lightly fanning your face.

The two of you were slowly realizing what your fears had been holding you back from..

..Each other.

⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚

Okay but fr tho..I think this is a pretty wholesome ending. As much as I love Izuku, I used to foam at the MOUTH for Shota Aizawa. Still do tbh.



[idciminlove]

FIGHTER.

Part Two - O

Kang Dae Ho x f!reader

Cinnamonacid on AO3

Warnings- death, blood, gore, shooting, (red light green light game) murder, slight PTSD reactions, mentions of past OD, etc.

You play the first game.

There’s something off about this place. You didn’t trust it. Didn’t trust how easy it was to win that money from the salesman, over nothing but a simple kid’s game, didn’t trust the fact that you were basically drugged when you were brought here, and you didn’t trust the masked men that gave you the instructions. It was far too secretive, far too easy. But it wasn’t like any scheme you’ve seen before, and you needed the money.

The salesman had given you the money for winning ddakji, making good on his promise, while you only had to pay for your losses in slaps. (They hurt, but you were used to being hit much harder.) He gave you a business card with shapes and numbers on it, which inevitably led you to here, where you were promised even more money.

45.6 Billion. With that kind of money, you could pay off your debts and pay for your mother’s treatments. You could take care of her and maybe even buy a nice place for her to stay after her treatments.

So you did as told, signed the contract and followed the other players as they went to play the first game. Classical music echoed from the speakers, bouncing off the all brightly painted walls and staircases. You stared at the player in front of you, a woman wearing a matching green tracksuit to yours. You were all matching, except for the varying numbers that set each of you apart. There were so many people here, the total amount probably somewhere in the hundreds. It made everything so crowded.

“Ah, my good luck charm. I’ll be winning these games for sure.” A voice called from behind you. You looked over your shoulder, spotting an older man, which you recognized. He bet on your fights, and went to almost all of them. He was one of your favorites to see amongst the crowd.

“What are you doing here, old man?” You remarked, happy to see at least one familiar face in the sea of strangers, making you feel much less alone.

“I’m here to win and make some money, just like everyone else, and now that you’re here, I definitely will.” He was a gambling addict. You knew that with how often he was betting at your club, but there was something about him being there that made you feel good. Even when you were on a losing streak he would bet on you, time and time again, never losing faith.

You had a drink with him once, after a win. Let him tell you about his wife and kids and his old job, before he got fired and imprisoned for fraud. You never thought of him differently. He had been struggling, just like you.

That’s why he’s here, after all.

–

It’s strange, being two places at once. Both outside and inside, with the walls around you painted the matching background of a farm, but the ceiling was gone, and you could see the sun and the sky, and feel the breeze against your skin. A large doll shaped like a young girl stood on the wall opposite to you, facing straight ahead, with two guards standing next to both sides.

You listened to the instructions, which were quickly interrupted by one of the players, number 456. He walked ahead of all of you, shouting something about how you all had your lives at risk, with guns in the walls, and moving sensors in the doll’s eyes. You couldn’t fully comprehend what he was saying, the skeptical remarks from the other players overpowering his words. The others talked about how he was crazy, how he was trying to scare them into losing, how he was probably drunk off his ass. You didn’t know what to believe.

The doll turned towards the tree and moved her hands over her eyes. The timer started to count down. 456 didn’t stop shouting. Everyone was skeptical. You took a deep breath, centering yourself. You felt calm and confident. It’s easy, just a kid’s game. You could win this.

You heard the gunshot before you saw it happen. 196. The bullet flying through her forehead, blood and brain matter scattering, some of the blood splattering right onto 230’s face.

You’ve seen dead bodies before. You saw your father's. You found him when he overdosed. But that was different. You never saw anyone die in real time, never saw the light fade from their eyes, or the bullet go through their head. It almost didn’t feel real.

Panic broke out, people were screaming and trying to run away. There were more and more gunshots. 456 shouted over the screams, and you tried to breathe, tried to focus and listen to his voice. Breathe, just breathe.

The timer was running out, you were going to have to move. On the next green light, you ran ahead, doing as 456 said, to get behind someone. You stood behind a taller man, studying the number on his back, trying to focus and stay calm, despite the adrenaline and fear running through your veins.

388. He looked tall and strong, but he was shaking like a leaf, his hands trembling as he tried his hardest to stand still. He was terrified, just like you.

You gazed at a woman beside you, noticing her hands shaking as well, but much more visibly, no one standing in front of her to protect her. She got shot.

It was still a red light, but you found yourself moving, reaching over and grabbing 388’s hand and holding it, hiding it behind his back. He almost jumped, startled from the contact, but he stopped himself.

You don’t know why you did it. Maybe it was the fact that you didn’t want to see another person shot right in front of you. Maybe it was the adrenaline making you move before you could think. Or maybe it was something else. You didn’t know. All you knew was that you didn’t want him to die.

“Don’t let your hands shake. They’ll catch you.” You whispered, squeezing his hand softly. He didn’t respond, just squeezed your hand back, his bigger hand trembling around yours.

Green light!

You moved in front of him, not letting go of his hand, leading him ahead. It felt nice, to have something to hold on to. To have someone there with you, knowing that you’re not going through this alone, even if they were a complete stranger. It gave you a brief feeling of safety in this death trap of a game.

Red light!

A group of people beside you got shoved, all toppling over like dominoes. You recognized one of the players that were pushed, as the old man you knew from before. Your heart dropped. The group shouted in surprise or anger, but it was already too late, with all of them getting shot in the head or chest killing them instantly, including that man. You couldn’t help but let out a small gasp.

It was 230. He had done it with a smile on his face. Smiling. The fucker was smiling. Smiling like this was a joke. He had just killed a man, one who was kind, one with a family, one who had believed in you, and he thought it was funny?

Rage and sadness brewed inside you, the emotions desperate to break free. Your hands began to shake. You wanted to make him pay.

388 squeezed your hand, grounding you, making you remember where you were and what you were doing. You calmed down slightly. 230 was a problem for later. Right now, you have to survive. Not only for yourself, but for your mother as well.

So you kept going. Once you got close enough to the finish line, you ran. You ran for your life, ran so fast you felt your lungs burning and your legs shaking. 388 followed close behind, holding on tight to your hand, the both of you interlocked, refusing to let go of one another.

Just before the last red light, you dragged him across the line, doubling over and panting softly. You made it. You survived..for now, at least.

[faerievampling]

Decisions, Darling

Chapter 2 of An Unexpected Visitor~ The larger work is called Killing Time.

Link to Chapter 1

Last Chapter | Next Chapter

Link to AO3

Summary: Lae'zel makes her proposition, and Astarion has a choice to make.

Pairing: Ascended!Astarion x Female Tav

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: 18+, Explicit. Blood Drinking, Blood Kink. PiV. Oral Sex. Light Dom/sub. Vaginal Fingering. Violence. Possessive behavior, angst.

You stare blankly at Lae’zel as she explains, in a rather long and drawn out way, that she needed your aid. Her tale is rather boring, you think, and you nearly begin to trance again, but Astarion keeps you alert. 

Try to pay attention, little love.

You swirl your glass of wine, trying to keep yourself focused on Lae’zel’s words, but you're rather hungry. You try to drown out the two beating hearts in the room, but the sound is hard to ignore: they are both so nervous.

Soon, my darling. Astarion takes your other hand, fingers idly playing with your rings. He noticed you had worn the priceless pearl ring, the one he had gotten you from Amn about a century ago. He thought it looked lovely on your finger, and he mindlessly plants a kiss to it. You had paired it with an amythest stud in one ear and a long, droopy sun on the other.

Astarion had called the droopy earring derivative. 

Lae’zel describes her need for allies to further Orpheus’s cause and the diminishing power of Vlaakith. She speaks about Vlaakith for a while, too long for Astarion to reasonably expect you to pay attention. 

But you try to at least pretend like you are, even though you are now wondering what Githyanki blood tastes like.

I will do my best to find some for us. You’d love it, my sweet. Astarion looks at you playfully, and you shoot him a little smile.

Your eyes lock on him and take in his decadence; his deep red and gold ensemble pair nicely with his perfect silver curls. His pretty, full lips are tilted in a half smile as his attention is split between you and Lae’zel. 

You’ve always thought the color of his eyes were beautiful, and they were now a perfect reflection of your own. Not every vampire had the same shade; Astarion was surprised but incredibly pleased at the outcome. He thought it rather cute. 

Just as you are bordering on a trance once again, Lae’zel finally gets to the point: she wanted the both of you to fight alongside her, just as you had at the Battle of Baldur’s Gate. 

Just the thought of a battle, the bloodshed, sends a shiver of excitement through you.

As she is explaining the logistics of how she can safely get you to the Astral Sea, you lose focus once more, your mind drifting to the Elderbrain. You still remember how horrifying it was to look upon so closely. 

The Netherbrain, my darling. Remember that pesky crown? You nod at Astarion as you see it in his mind’s eye. But you quickly move on from this, considering Lae’zel’s words. You cross your legs, causing your dress to hike up, showing off your bare feet. Your toes are painted a dark, blood red, and are pretty as ever.

The anklet you sport is polished silver, so as to not burn your delicate, undead skin. It is embedded with black diamonds from Calimsham and has a single obsidian charm in the shape of a bat. Even the rings on your toes are embedded with other priceless jewels garnered from across Toril. 

Astarion’s eyes dart to your feet before giving you an amused look. Such a rebellious little thing. He was rather enjoying your wild streak. The ladies of the court have already begun to wear their hair long. 

Today, you had fought Bethild off by hissing, once again. She really didn’t like it, and you made a note to yourself to save this tactic for later. But Astarion had gotten onto you this time: Hiss at the spawn if you must, my treasure, but not at Bethild. After so many years, Astarion appreciates a good servant. Especially one that was willing to put up with his darling.

You already decided you were still going to do it, though.

But Astarion had doubled down. I’m serious, love. You needn't have a poor reputation among the servants. Bethild’s been good to you and has served you for nearly all her life. 

You had scowled at him, crossing your arms in annoyance at his sensible reasoning. Tell her to stop fussing over my hair and shoes.

Consider it done. 

Lae’zel is staring at the both of you with a bewildered look on her face. You realize she’s uncomfortable. You think that maybe you have been sitting in silence for too long, by mortal standards. Or maybe she isn’t used to seeing you like this, so comfortable. So pampered.

You spent so much time sleeping in the dirt. Countless days trudging through the swamp, those cursed lands, the disgusting sewers of Baldur's Gate. 

And yet, you can’t help but associate it with which you had the time of your life. You had loved the adventure, the fight, and you even fell in love. When you look over to Astarion, his look has softened, his eyes rounding when you meet his gaze. 

You see him put the mask back on as he turns back to Lae’zel, his chiseled features narrowing. “I hardly like the idea of my sweet consort on the battlefield,” Astarion says, crossing his legs. You notice his foot is tapping.

Lae’zel leers at him. “She was once something more than just your bride, Astarion.”

The smile plastered on Astarion’s lovely face does nothing to hide the targeted darkness in his eyes. “I know exactly who my darling is, Lae’zel. She is the True Hero of Baldur’s Gate. She saved that wretched city and thousands of mortal lives. And yet, she asked for nor received anything in return. And now, she is my wife and I will not so willingly risk her precious life for another battle that is not hers to fight.”

But, what if?

Astarion looks at you, his harsh stare softening with inquiry. “If what?” 

What if we go with her?

You can feel the growing pit in Astarion’s stomach. In his chest.

Lae’zel curses as she looks to you. “Whatever mind tricks you are playing must end. Speak.” 

Astarion really doesn’t like Lae’zel commanding you, but he’s too focused on you to fantasize about inflicting some sort of violence on the gith. 

“This is a discussion my consort and I need to have in private.” He speaks to Lae’zel, but his eyes have not left you.

”I would like to hear what she has to say first,” Lae’zel’s unwavering tone is low, threatening. Now, both Lae’zel and Astarion’s eyes bore into you.“Unless you are so beholden, like a slave, that you cannot speak without your Master’s consent.” 

You feel the anger rise within you, because you know she doesn’t understand. She doesn’t understand your relationship, she doesn’t understand that you know you’re different now. But…you remember those sweet moments of adventure.

”I…” You have to find your footing. You set your now empty goblet down. “I have lived in a palace for two thousand years, Lae’zel. I haven’t fought in a long time.”

Lae’zel looks you over. “That is apparent. Lucky for you, I am an elite teacher. And you used to be strong with a sword.” Lae’zel takes a deep breath before she moves closer to you, taking your hand in hers.

Her hand is warm, so unlike your own. That was one of the few gifts that Astarion couldn’t extend to you. You can hear the quickening of Lae’zel’s heartbeat at your touch, and her breath catches. You can even smell the growing desire between her legs, her musk. Eager. Like so many mortals were in your presence.

Maybe they too, will serve. You know not if this small voice comes from Astarion or yourself. 

You feel Astarion tense up beside you. For a moment, you greatly fear he will lash out and harm Lae’zel, and then put you in time out.

You feel Astarion crawling through the folds of your mind, undoubtedly searching your memories of lovemaking with Lae’zel.

You didn’t understand why he tortured himself so. 

Now, you find yourself thinking of them: all the times she dominated you. The times she fucked you so hard your entire body was sore. Astarion had noticed back then, too, but hadn’t really cared at the time.

Times change. 

And thou art mine.

“Do not make a githyanki say please. But I will, if I must.” Lae’zel says, eyes darting over to Astarion. 

“And what do you have to offer us in turn?” Astarion asks, his eyes meeting hers. The tension in the room could be felt by anyone who could blink. Including vampires who merely chose to, so as to not seem too creepy to mortals. 

“I can only offer you my allyship in times to come, if we are successful.”

—

Before Lae’zel is even out the door, Astarion’s protests begin. He burrows in your mind, swathing you in the folds of his own; his thoughts were paranoid, muddled, scared. And you too, felt terrified.

He remembered all the times you died in battle. The agony he felt even when knowing he could revive you. It would only be exasperated now, by an unfathomable amount, because you were his bride, his treasure, and his eternity. He thought himself in circles until he nearly decided to try to lock you away again. 

The Astral Sea is extremely fucking dangerous, Tav. I can’t let you go. I won’t say yes to this. 

Rarely has Astarion ever denied you. Giving you everything was the way he loved you, and his denial felt like a slap to the face. For a moment, you and Astarion both fear that Lae’zel may have been right in some regard: your shackles of love binded you to your Master, just as it binded your Master to you. You two were so intimately connected, body and mind; thus, Astarion couldn’t deny the dimming of your light. He was not so blind. He wanted you to have everything you wanted, and he wanted to be the one to give it to you. 

But he was still so afraid.

You’ll protect me. 

You feel his solid arms wrap around you as he presses you to his chest, planting kisses anywhere he could: your cheeks, your forehead, your jaw. His lips devoured you, pleading you to be contended.

I’ll take you anywhere else. We could take a long vacation again, explore a part of Toril we haven’t seen in a while - 

Weveseenthemall. “I used to be a fighter,” You say aloud, breaking his train of thought with the sweet sound of your voice. There was a time where I once protected you. The thought is but a whisper in the well of your shared connection.

He narrows his eyes at you, bringing up a hand to rest on your collarbone, just below your neck. 

“And now you are a wife,” Astarion’s voice is barely above a whisper as it rasps between his lips. His other hand grasps your waist, his fingers digging into your sides.

I would be more powerful than ever, Astarion. With my abilities as a vampire, I would be a most excellent hunter.

“I know this,” Astarion hisses. He knows you’ve thought about this before, adventuring again, but he’s simply just ignored it until it went away, like a buzzing gnat. 

“But I just couldn’t bear it if something happened to you, spawn.” You scowl at his choice words, thinking them strange at this moment. You try to push him away from you, baring your fangs at him, but Astarion doesn’t release you from his firm grip. 

He’s come to a decision, and you then understand. 

Astarion’s fear had not subsided, not completely: but alongside it, understanding was bred. He knew why you wanted to go; why you wanted to fight again, strategize again, and relive the days of your young love. 

Nonetheless, his hand moves from your neck to your jaw, where’s he firmly grasps you, forcing you to meet his gaze, where he locks into you. He is going to use his Ascendant compulsion on you, since he couldn't compel you by normal means. He had never thought this before, not to your knowledge, and you feel betrayed as he starts to draw you into him. 

The pull is far too strong to defy, even though you try. 

As your thoughts are subsiding, the world around you has come to a close: there is only Astarion. You see him amidst darkness, his eyes becoming wet and round as he studies you. You watch as his eyebrows knit to a scowl and the corners of his mouth pull down.

You sense many identifiable emotions at once, like his mind is clearer now that yours has gone so quiet. One that sticks out to you is a lustful shame. A sick part of Astarion wanted this: he wanted total control over you.

He thought you’d be a very pretty, mindless, little spawn. He would keep you in the boudoir, where he would drain you nearly dry, fuck you whenever he wanted, and hold you for as long as he’d like. 

Or maybe he’d keep you at his side, putting you on his lap, or perhaps under his desk, so that he could indulge whenever he desired.

He needn’t even worry to dress his toy. Or maybe he would, just to put you in something sinful. He wouldn’t have to worry about your wants, or needs, or hopes and dreams; you would be fully his. 

Lucky for you, the larger part of Astarion is disgusted by this. Ashamed, even scared, of those desires.

As the world comes back to you, your thoughts once again occupy your mind. Astarion is backing away from you, a tear in his eye threatening to fall.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Astarion says, his mind racing in agony as you float further away from him, eyes vacant but your heart fuming. 

His broad shoulders are hunched over, his arms stretch out to you, as if he feared he had hurt you. And suddenly, you can’t take it, and the tears begin to fall, and you’re  angry he’s crossed an unspoken boundary between you two; angry he isn’t giving you what you want.

Forgive me, please. His voice is but a whisper in the well of your mind, a droplet of water amongst an ocean. You’re everything. Everything. Can’t lose you. Won’t. 

You turn your back to him, but you don’t leave. You don’t want to feel this way, sharing the burden of both his and your emotions. You want to drift away, but he isn’t letting you, and neither is your own heart; because, at the very least, that light refuses to go out. 

You are my light. He’s running his hands through his hair, curls misplaced, and his heartbeat is through the roof. 

You turn to him. Then let me live. Let us live. No more of this. You wildly gesture around the palace, to your dress, which has become rather suffocating. With a motion so fast no mortal could comprehend, your decedent gown is in tatters on the marble floor. 

You think that Astarion’s paranoia is getting to you. His fear, his own possessive love for you; but maybe, you both think, this has been boiling over for a while. You also think your bloodlust is starting to rise, and Astarion smells delicious. 

You’re down to your slip and your jewelry. The necklaces that drape your pretty neck are broken and strewn across the floor with a tug. You’re still crying, but you’re having a difficult time processing this. You can’t stop thinking about blood, and it is all too much, and you need to run.

You don't remember if you’ve ever thought about running before. The look on Astarion’s face confirms you haven’t, because surely you would remember the look of such anguish.

Before you can move, he has his arms around you once more. You feel his hard cock pressing against you. You can’t help but want him too; but being so close to him, the beast takes over, and you cannot help but begin to ravage him. 

Your fangs cut into his clothing, but Astarion doesn’t loosen his grip on you. Before you know it, you feel the coolness of wood on your back, and your slip is pushed up above your breasts, your nipples hardening from the coolness of the palace air.

Spoiled. I’ve spoiled you. He rings out to you as you realize he’s teleported you both from the foyer to his office. 

Astarion quickly puts his hand between your folds, searching for the evidence of your arousal that you both know he will find. Probing at your entrance, you feel a gentle pressure as he slides his finger between your slick walls with little resistance.

Astarion’s other hand is tangled in your hair, nestling you to his neck as you feed. After pumping you a few times, Astarion stretches you with a second finger before he decides he’s done.

No more. You’re mine. You will do as I say. His voice is loud in your head, commanding.

You release your fangs from his neck when you feel the pressure of his thick member pushing between your tight walls, causing you to gasp from the stretch. He inserts his full length in you, and you to squirm from the adjustment.

You half-heartedly try to push him away, to tell him no, but your sex is so swollen from your fill of your lover's blood, and you’re so wet, Astarion cruelly laughs at your attempt as he restrains both your wrists with one hand. 

His strokes are intensely deep as he uses his free hand to bring one of your thighs to a deeper spread. He’s desperate to feel the depths of your cunt, to make you come and remember how much you want to stay with him.

He’s thinking he loves the way you look, tearstained and covered in his blood. 

But that light inside of you is still fighting, and you know she won't ever stop. I’ve lived so long in our heads. 

But Astarion knows; he’s been racking around your head for centuries. And when his troubled gaze meets yours, he buckles. His strokes become slower, and his stare is so intense you almost look away, but you know you shouldn’t. 

His gaze is softening as he lets go of your wrists and you wrap your arms around him to draw him closer. He moans as he continues to slide his cock between your tight walls. Not even death could separate us, Tav.

This seems like progress. 

I would tear across the planes of existence to find you. I have the means, the resources. I would get you back. No matter the cost. And you will bind yourself to me and promise that you would do the same. If something should happen to me, you must swear to come find me. 

Astarion’s disheveled curls tumble down his handsome face; his lips are parted in pleasure, sweat dripping down his perfect nose. He moves to capture a nipple in his mouth, gently sucking you and making you squirm.

You won’t leave my side. And you certainly won’t be any fighter. You and I will be in the shadows, where we belong, together-

Astarion has more provisions and rules to this agreement, but his balls are clenching so hard that he cannot focus any longer, and his lips find purchase on your own as his orgasm looms over him.

Tell me. Please. 

“I love you, Astarion.”

Again. 

“I love you, Astarion.” The words come out as a whimper as Astarion hits that sweet spongy spot deep inside of you. 

Please. Again. 

“I love you, I love you, I love you,“ Your eyes wet as you say the words, which carry Astarion through his orgasm as he comes thick spurts of seed inside you. 

His body trembles above you, breath ragged in your ear. You loved hearing his moans of pleasure. 

After he recovers, he puts himself back together and looks to you: there was simply no putting you back together, because you were a mess. You needed a bath and a nap. 

The two of you retreat to your bedchamber, where you do just that. The two of you are silent as you ease into the water. 

Once you’re more relaxed, and the maids have finally left the two of you alone, you begin to mindlessly trance again, to wander in the vast space that was your mind. 

Astarion eases into your thoughts, cradling you as gently as he would a newborn babe. He was feeling more centered now as his powerful Ascendant mind worked its way through the plan and its details.

You often thank whatever gods were listening that Astarion had become sharper and smarter over the years: he learnt to focus on the details, and as his competency increased, your apathy grew alongside it.  

Astarion is pleased to find you’d been lost in the memory of one of your more recent vacations: Astarion had taken you to an ancient castle in Tethyr, where the two of you lived for nearly a decade. 

Astarion had made love to you in the lush fields under the stars often, then. You had asked, of course. He hadn’t wanted to take you in the dirt, initially, believing it far too lowly of you both. He certainly thought his wife deserved better.

Please, Astarion. The grass is soft and plush, and the moon is full. You had said to him, before you told him how beautiful you thought him to be, inside and out. 

“Those were lovely times. I, too, think about them often, my love.You looked so beautiful under the light of the full moon.”

You give him a little smile, but Astarion catches your upset. You hope he will give you even more, more of what you want. 

I’m sorry, Tav. I swear to you I will never try to compel you again. But you will swear by what I asked: that we will never be separated, even in death.

“I swear it,” You speak with confidence because you know it to be true. You weren’t even really sure why he was bothering to ask: as a bride, you’d likely be compelled to do so, anyways. He knows this, but he needs to hear it. 

Once you’re finished with your bath, you don’t bother with clothes once you get back into bed. You could smell the scent of his arousal, his leaking precum, through his trousers and from across the bedchamber. 

I think I’ll use a sending stone to attend to business while at the crèche. Hopefully it works in the Astral Sea, too. Astarion is thinking, idly playing with your hair as you lie on his chest. 

I hardly remember the crèche Lae’zel had us go to. But you did remember Karlach painting a face on the portrait of Vlaakith after having to fight about forty Githyanki. 

Karlach. You say, and Astarion already knows the deal: he does his best to imagine her, what her face looked like when she smiled, but even his memory is shrouded by her death on the docks of the city.

Astarion quickly moves on from the memory. I worry about how we will feed you.

“I can eat human food,” You hesitate, because for some reason or another, you just prefer to drink blood. Food tasted the same as it always had, you were fairly sure, but you couldn’t deny your nature.

You may have to. Of course, you can nibble on me as much as you’d like. The pads of his fingers trace your bare skin, grazing the curve of your hips and the side of your breast. I’ll try to come up with a better solution, my darling. I want you to be as comfortable as possible.

He plants a kiss on the top of your head, nuzzling you closer as he goes to free his cock. I need you again. 

***

In the night, you dream of riding atop a great Githyanki red dragon. You have the reins as Astarion sits behind you, arms around your waist. The two of you feel so dominant, so powerful, and the dream is a happy one. But as dreams often do, the moment turns to something strange.

You are alone with the dragon now, and as you feel his cool scales beneath your suddenly spread thighs, his body begins to morph and change until he is one of the Githyanki red dragons no more, but a simple red Dragonborn.

His eyes are red, and they bore into you as he fills you up completely, as you’re still riding him. The pressure of his cock makes you gasp in shock; his arms wrap around you, pulling you to him, and you shiver as he whispers in your ear: You will be mine. 

You wake with a jolt. Before you can blink twice, Astarion heaves you across his shoulder, causing you to knock against him with a hard blow, leaving you breathless.

You try to call his name, but you can’t seem to find your voice. You didn’t need to breathe anymore, but your chest felt tight, your stomach drawn with apprehension. A reluctant arousal lingered at your core, which only added to your disarray.

Astarion is in full defensive mode. He’s running through the halls of the palace, sword in hand, and the smell of blood is overwhelming to you; you try to squirm out of his grasp, but with his hand firmly on your ass, you quickly realize you aren’t going anywhere.

You’re trying to calm yourself, but you can’t make sense of it all. The dream, the running, the blood.

Moth attacked the palace - one of the servants had become his thrall. 

He doesn’t stop until he is in the foyer,  where the other spawn are awaiting. Astarion effortlessly puts you on your feet and intensely sweeps his eyes over you, looking for any injuries. His hand is gripping yours, the strength of it suggesting he has no intention of letting go. 

“Ten of the servants have been killed, Master, but we have swept the palace thrice. All of Lord Moth’s forces are dead.” 

“Sweep it again. And you won't stop until the sun rises.” Astarion sneers at the spawn, who immediately follow the command. 

Well, I guess Lae’zel has something to offer us after all. 

“I will see the end of Lord Moth,” Astarion begins his evil monologue about destroying Moth, which you certainly agree with, but you really can’t focus with all the blood. Once Astarion realizes this, he is quick to sequester you as far away from it as possible, quick to offer you his neck as he carries you to sanctuary.

He’s letting you nibble on him, and as the blood of the Ascendant fills you up, you remember why you didn’t care to eat food anymore. Literally, nothing could ever be as delectable as Astarion.

My protector in the dark. You think once you finally feel satiated. 

Astarion, despite his anger, can’t help but be endeared. The evening ends with hushed kisses and more gentle lovemaking. Astarion couldn't seem to keep his tongue out of your cunt or his fangs out of your thigh: Moth’s invasion of your body compelled Astarion, as your Master, to dominate you.

You and the palace wizard had assured Astarion it wasn’t a vision or anything connected to your foresight, but magic. Moth had used a powerful spell to project himself into your dream, and thus, controlling it. A simple protection ward was all that was likely needed to prevent a further attack.

Later, as Astarion is rutting into you, you feel the wetness of his tears as he rests his forehead to the curve of your neck. They mix with the flow of your blood when he bites you; strangely, his mind is guarded, nearly silent, because he doesn’t want you to know whatever he is thinking. 

Astarion plants soothing kisses to your lips when you begin to feel your anxiety rise in your chest. 

Don’t worry, Tav. I’ll protect you. “Nobody will ever take you from me,” His voice is rough and low in your ear. After two centuries, you know that Astarion is good for his word.

Chapter 1

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Masterlist

[barkbre]

brat tamer chris who’s playing video games w his gf while smoking and you two have been passing the joint the whole time

ur on a win-streak and rubbing it in his face and he’s starting to get fed up and decides to get back at you by getting u cross-faded n waiting until it hits u like a truck

This.. this is LONG... LMAOO LIKE HIS DI- swapping this to crush instead of gf bcus.. listenn... the tension of high chris being ballsy with his crush has me in a chokehold!

Super smash bro's is a game chris prided himself in.....

and you're fucking DESTROYING chris right now- giggling and criss crossed next to him on the floor- his frustrated groans and continued hits of his joint fueling your laughter and ego.

and also. the room is so hot from smoking and sharing a beer.. and you're practically rubbing up on him like an animal would for affections and chris is very close to losing his shit.

after this round he sets the controller down and glares at you with a bitter laugh.

"You're a brat, y'know that?"

"Mmhm.. i do.. but being a brat is fun!"

"For you maybe!"

"Aw what? you dont like sassy?"

"Oh trust me i do- j-..just- you're a little bully."

"Ohh.. ohh pooorr chhrrriiisss... roll another joint for us because you love me soo much?"

"Groan. Whatever your highness wants i guess"

"Mm i like that nickname keep it up"

"Sure thing, Brat."

The flirting banter between you growinv much more.. intense while high... you feel warm in spots you maybe shouldnt about your best friends best friend.. josh would be hurrling over the balcony and whining on why you havent fucked yet.

you look over at the wrong time and Chris makes eye contact while licking the paper to stick- god.. that.. whoa.

His eyes glassy and red- lowered and heavy.. sexy so so sexy to look at.. are you staring?

"You're staring.. its not polite to stare you know?"

"Mm.. well why are you giving me hungry eyes like that huh?"

"No clue what you mean.. i'm just high.. my eyes just do that"

"Uh-huh... sure thing.. pass me that"

Its been about 20-30 mins and you've literally chunked through 2/4th of this joint and it suddenly hits you. HARD

and you.. notice how much closer Chris is.. and hes staring with a big grin.. is.. is this happening? maybe youre too high..

"Hey, Hon.. you alright over there?"

"Mm...mmmm...mhm..."

"Yeah? Pretty thing all doped up?"

"Shhhutup... stop.. you... are being.. mean.."

"Mmhm.. soo mean, baby."

and suddenly.. you've found yourself placed splayed out on your nice comfy bed.. and theres cold hands cooling your torso and your head is spinning when you look up and see Chris's large frame hovering over you

"Sweetness.. is this okay? the cold feel good?"

"Mm!- mhm... y..yeah..."

"Want more?"

"Please-please.."

"Oh so polite now..."

You find yourself almost fully naked now, Chris still fully dressed you whine, feeling the unfair power difference

"MmChrisss... clothes.."

"Hm? Nono, sweetie.. im keeping mine on.. you're too warm im just helping you cool down.."

"N-no y-you're being.. mean.. t'me.."

"Mm am i?"

"Yes.."

"You seem to like it.. a little squirmy there arent you?"

and now his hands are groping your chest and hips and throat and you're heaving and breathlessly moaning and gasping- the touch so elevated and intense now that youre high makes you sensitive.

And Chris has a stupid grin on his face. he can't stop smiling at how broken you look, his plan worked and he needs more of your pathetic persona...

You're shaking. Clawing his broad shoulders. Legs drapped over his shoulders while he presses your thighs into your chest, eyes rolling back with every thrust.

So dumbed out by Chris and the pot that yours shivering and your moans are airy and stupid sounding.

"F-fuckyes.. yeah... taking it so good."

"M-mm!-mmph!"

"Cant even.. ahh..hah... cant.. even function?"

"Mmah! ahh! ahfuck!.. d..deep!"

"Mm i know.. i know, baby.."

Soon his hands are around your throat holding you down into the bed while he fucks you deeper into such a submissive and relaxed state your body just gives into whatever Chris does. and he notices you cant keep your legs open from being soo fucked out and stoned he easily manhandles you into laying down on your tummy.. sliding his fat cock into your softened, wet, sticky core.

Chris's big hand in your hair yanking your head back while it's limp- finding ease in holding and pulling you where he wants you.

"goodah!- mm!- you're so fucking! pretty like this.."

"Mmm!-"

"You okay?"

He slowly stops to lean down and kiss your sweaty, soft face, waiting for any type of reply

"M-yeah- ple-please.. need.. you.."

"Yeah? you know you can tell me to stop whenever, right?"

"Yeah!- t-trust you, Chris.."

"Good.. good...want me to continue?"

"Mmhm.."

Safe to say.. you guys fucked the high out of eachother and fell asleep with the sounds of Super Smash Bros loading screen.

[sarcasticgaypotato]

The Best Solution

On cold, clear nights that bathed the world in pale blue light, Chell turned her chin up and looked at the sky.

She was not afflicted with the condition known as ‘sentimentality,’ no matter how many scorch-marked, heart-adorned metal cubes got thrown her way and left behind in fields of wheat a hundred miles away. But the ravaged surface world offered her little (save for her own freedom) and the nights were as quiet and lonely as the days, just without an excuse to fill her time by finding something to busy herself with under the light of the sun.

So, she looked upward and let her mind wander.

Every streak of a shooting star she hoped was a certain circular heap of scrap metal finally burning up in the atmosphere.

“Let go! I’m still connected. I can pull myself in.”

Of course he could. If she had given him half a chance, he would’ve pulled himself back in just fine—and let her fly off into space without a second thought if it would save his own steel.

The cold vacuum of space. When she closed her eyes, Chell could still feel it in the wind that tickled the stray hairs on the back of her neck, in the cold that stole the breath from her lungs as she gasped it. That rush of weightlessness, her eyes watering and freezing her eyelashes together, and that pit in her stomach that said, after everything she had survived, this might be it.

She stared up at the moon; a pale white beauty, once near enough for Chell to reach out and touch, now as distant as ever. A sliver in the night sky, it grinned down at her with a smile that knew the taste of her fear. An untouchable queen who would have her head, if she had her way. Chell would have called it as familiar as it was deadly, if not for one thing that nagged at her mind as she stared, lost among stars and memories alike.

This was always the point in her late-night stargazing that Chell started scratching absentmindedly at her wrist, where the phantom burn of cold metal claws still seared into her skin.

Chell never fell for any of GLaDOS’s tricks; she knew her too well. That hate was familiar, expected. Working together in Old Aperture was a surprise only for a moment; it was logical if they wanted to survive. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, or “Everybody likes revenge,” as a certain someone had put it. 

She trusted GLaDOS’s intelligence enough to know that she would play nice for as long as they had a shared goal, and for as long as Chell held all the power. Don’t bite the hand that holds your consciousness trapped in a potato battery, or something like that.

Chell had even been fairly confident that after they beat Wheatley (she never had any doubt that they would), as long as she kept her guard up and an eye on her, GLaDOS wouldn’t risk betraying her. The world’s most intelligent lifeform had finally learned that Chell wasn’t worth crossing—it only took two losing battles for the lesson to sink in.

GLaDOS would keep her end of the bargain as long as it was convenient to do so. That was why Chell couldn’t make sense of what happened. No matter how many times she replayed those seconds in her head, watching her own memories in slow motion as GLaDOS knocked Wheatley free of the chassis and sent him spinning into space, robbing Chell of her only anchor to Earth. 

Freefall. 

Could you call it falling without gravity? Spinning, flailing, her body wrenched outward, seconds away from dying in space, embarrassingly outlived by the very same moron who was responsible for this whole mess. In the second that she had to process her impending death, Chell took a small hint of satisfaction in knowing that at least she took him down with her. Sure, the lack of air wouldn’t kill him as quickly as it would her, but he was far from a self-proclaimed king of Aperture out here. He was nothing but a hunk of junk destined to get knocked around by asteroids like a pinball. At least GLaDOS had a death worth bragging about under her non-existent belt; Chell had blown her to bits in what she would humbly call ‘a spectacular fashion.’

GLaDOS. Was her last thought before unconsciousness took her going to be about GLaDOS? How apt. GLaDOS would’ve loved to hear that, not that Chell would’ve ever told her, even if she had the chance.

She wouldn’t have the chance. She wasn’t supposed to.

When Chell felt that familiar metal claw clamp around her wrist, the first thought her fading consciousness could conjure was that GLaDOS wanted to be personally responsible for flinging her out into space, maybe so she could get a good spin on the throw. The realization that GLaDOS was pulling her in, back towards Earth, to safety, was one that proved entirely too much for her oxygen-deprived brain to process. So, she passed out.

GLaDOS could have done nothing at all, and Chell would have died. If she wanted the satisfaction of doing it herself, she could have crushed her under a metal plate or thrown her in the incinerator while she was unconscious. Instead, GLaDOS saved her life, watched over her recovery until she awoke, and then … let her go with only a bit of theatrics and nothing else. 

She pinned the blame on Caroline and made a big show of deleting her, neither of which Chell believed for a second. That golden eye took her in, unflinching, with the same inscrutable expression before and after the automated voice cheerfully announced Caroline’s removal. A long dead secretary Chell had never crossed paths with had nothing to do with this; there was no difference between the GLaDOS that pulled her from space and the GLaDOS who watched the elevator ascend to the surface now.  

This was all her, and she was supposed to give them both a satisfying conclusion to them parting ways with weapons lowered, standing (even if one of them didn’t have legs) on equal ground. GLaDOS was supposed to make this easy by sending her off with an insult or a half-hearted threat of one last murder attempt for old times’ sake.

“Killing you is hard.”

Liar. 

Killing me would have been easy if you wanted to.

Why didn’t you want to?

[hannie-dul-set]

plz matthew for the reverse harem hell

[a losing game]. seok matthew may not be the most perceptive person in the room, but even he could notice the underlying competition going on within the publication office. well, it can’t even be considered underlying because even if there’s no explicit declaration of war from any party—

“s—seonbae, this is for you!”

“nice hair clip. it suits you.”

“are you free tonight? do you wanna grab dinner together?”

the gifts, the flowers, the compliments, the attention can all be considered as firearms and attacks in this funny, seven-way tug-of-war.

“oh, actually—” 

and seok matthew simply can’t miss out on all the fun.

“sorry, hyung!” target locked. calculating move. matthew quickly maneuvers past the flower bouquet wielding kim gyuvin and the observant kim jiwoong to cut in between you and hanbin. he arms with himself with an easy smile, bright and wide as he throws an arm of your shoulder, pulling you into his chest in a half-hug. “she’s already eating out with me.”

matthew decides that he has won this skirmish when hanbin’s face freezes. “oh,” his editor in chief says, followed by a pause, finished by a laugh and the resumption of his smile. “oh! well, i hope you two have a nice dinner!”

“hahaha, yes, thank you, hanbin,” you force out, a streak of discomfort in your expression even though you’re smiling as politely as you can, and it’s just too out in the open for matthew not to notice. 

“if you’re gonna be out late, my line is always open if you need a ride home.”

with that, hanbin shuffles back to his desk, and matthew is declared victorious. at least until you wiggle yourself out of his grapple and look at him with the same strained, same forced politeness that you were giving hanbin earlier. “haha, anyway,” you cough out, and matthew bites down his tongue because it would be inappropriate to laugh at you right now. “i still have some articles to copyread. if you’ll excuse me—”

“oh, i already did them, seonbae! the papers are on your desk!”  

now, matthew isn’t even sure he likes you. and quite frankly, he doesn’t care to know. he’s just in this fray because he’s irredeemably competitive and doesn’t like it when he’s left out of things.

“gunwook! why would you— i never asked you to—”

“hold on.”

oh. he has one more reason.

“there’s something in your hair.” reaching out to the side of your temple, matthew gently bristles away some hair out of your face and very boldly unclips the hair clip that jiwoong allegedly got you. it’s a frontal attack. the silence in the office is tense. “you’re prettier without it.”

you look at him. then your eyes dart down to his hand, holding the accessory. then look back up to meet his eyes again— confused, flushed, and flustered.

“uhm— oh, uh— thanks…?”

the last reason that your reactions are always cute and funny whenever he strikes an attack.

the tension is palpable. matthew hums and goes on with his day until daybreak comes, and it’s finally evening. meaning, it’s time to have dinner with you and he can finally escape from the drilling stares jiwoong has been sending him all day. you finally come back to the office— gyuvin in tow, and while you were out, matthew was doing some thinking.

if he thinks you’re cute, wouldn’t that mean he likes you? but he doesn’t think he’s as passionate as ricky or as earnest as hao when it comes to you. he’s just having a bit of fun. a bit of excitement to spice out the usual boring day-to-days in the publication office. 

well, he can just confirm his feelings over dinner. and so he does. you’re both sitting by the window at this nice thai restaurant he recently discovered. the vibe is nice. warm lights. good food. a live band in the corner. and seok matthew is currently very intently staring at your face— brows furrowed and all— because he’s trying to figure out if thinking that you’re still pretty even after a full day of work means that he does indeed like you.

“what?” you prod, setting down your water on the table because his staring interrupted your hydrating. “is there something on my face again?”

“yes.” now, you’re just giving him an opening to make an attack. matthew simply cannot help himself. “prettiness.”

this time, matthew doesn’t get the same reaction as he usually gets in response to his attacks.

huh.

you set down your fork. you wipe your lips with a napkin before setting them down, too. you’re looking serious. you don’t look flustered or uncomfortable at all and it’s starting to scare him a little. his heart rate picks up. his palms get sweaty. and for some reason, you’re looking like you’re just about to break his heart in the worst way possible.

“matthew.”

wait—

“there’s something i want to tell you.” 

—if he’s scared of getting his heart broken—

“i’m dating someone.”

—wouldn’t that mean he likes you?

“h—huh?” matthew stammers. “come—come again?”

you pressed your lips together, a sharp inhale before repeating, “i’m dating someone already.” wow. he shouldn’t have asked you to repeat that. “i only agreed to see you tonight to tell you this...so that you’d stop...you know, trying anymore.”

matthew is quite for a moment. “is...is it hanbin hyung?” he asks after the pause, and you don’t respond. “jiwoong hyung?” but your phone answers his question for you in the form of an incoming call from someone that he didn’t even think was in the competition.

“taerae?”

right when he had just realized his feelings, seok matthew just realized that he had lost.

“sorry, i need to take this.”

maybe he’d lost more than just this dumb competition. maybe this had been a losing game in the first place.

send me a kpop boy (txt/enha/zb1/bnd/dream) to toss into reverse harem hell! [taerae]

[irkimatsu]

Out at the casino and my pervert brain is wondering if Husk would fuck my brains out if I win any money? First time going to the casino and it’s exciting! Husk would probably keep me on slots just to be safe. Such a caring old gentleman! (I love Husk so much I’m sorry Irk! 💘)

Ohhh, this gave me a wonderful idea~

Husk brings you out to gamble - responsibly, he promises Charlie. He just wants to show you how he used to have fun! He won't let any of the scumbags here take advantage of you; he'll teach you to play cards back at the Hotel, away from the skeevy dealers staring at you like fresh meat. It's safer over at the slots, where there's no employee trying to fleece you for everything you're worth and then some. As you play, he gives you advice, both practical advice on how to bet and little superstitions that have served him well over the years. And as you pull the lever, he moves his mouth next to your ear and purrs quietly...

"There's a hotel attached to the casino, you know. Got real nice rooms... real comfy beds... all for 500 a night. It's a little pricey, but if you can win that much, we should spend it on something nice, yeah? A couple extra hundred could get us some dinner and liquor, too."

It's so hard to focus on the slots as his hands run down your sides, settling with his claws curled around your waist.

"If you can win that much, I can think of a few rewards I can give you while we're up there... you know, for playing so well, even though it's your first time..."

How the hell are you supposed to focus on the slots now? Fuck, are you even going to be able to wait to get to the hotel room to take your reward?

And as a little bonus scenario - after you go on a losing streak, Husk can't help but be a little frustrated. He shoos you off the stool and takes your place, and after a few pulls, he manages to win back what you lost.

"Ha! The slots like me!" he says proudly. "We'll make 'em like you, too. C'mere."

He pulls you over so he can sit you on his lap while you take your turn at the lever, and as he pulls you against his waist, you can tell he's thinking about winning that hotel room...

"D-don't get distracted, doll," he says, slightly strained, as you squirm in his lap.

"What? I'm just excited that I'm winning again!"

"You're excited all right..."

(never apologize for loving this old man, I sure as hell never will, and if I ever have then I take it back)

[somemydayy]

this is what losing someone feels like

warning: implied death of loved one, significant other loss, angst may occur.

A loud creaking sound of the door alerted the bartender. They were preparing for a bombardment of drunkards on their last stop. Youths who came for a drink after clubbing, or the occasional regular surge of office workers after a long day on the job. He expected the same from few to far between regulars who always came for a quick drink or two, sometimes more as they drowned down their worries with liquid courage.

But what they least expected was to see, you, and the sight of you was quite horrifying, to be completely honest. Mangled, knotted and twisted hair in what could be described as a rat's nest sat atop your head. Your hair looked messy, and that was putting it nicely. Disheveled, battered jeans that seemed to have way too many rips for comfort, that plain white t-shirt you oddly like to wear on the weekends, and those distinctive recognizable dreadful squeaky shoes he could hear from a mile away. Chapped lips, bloody, and bruised finger nails from that horrific habit of biting your nails whenever your stressed out, or feeling overwhelmed with your thoughts and emotions. He feared you were going to rip out your hair with the way you were gripping onto the roots of your scalp. Your eyes were bloodshot and held a distinctive glassy look to them that he recognized instantly; it was apparent to anyone that looked at you that you had been crying. From the way your mascara was smudged at the corner of your eyes, or the way your nose seemed to remind him of a cherry tomato.

He found himself focusing on your face. He noticed the way your makeup seemed slightly off, and more dewy then usual, or maybe it was the tear streaks dripped all the way down the apple of your cheeks. Oddly enough he thought you looked hypnotizing, similar to that of the heavy rain that was currently thrashing against the windowsill in a recurring stream. Was it the rain, or was it your tears, he didn’t really have the heart to ask.

“Bad day?”

“Yeah, something like that.” He didn’t ask you much about why you were doing out so late, it was a apparent to anyone you looked like you needed a break from whatever you found yourself enstrangled in recently.

“I can tell.” He didn’t mean to let it slip past his lips, but his mouth had a mind of its own. And he felt himself shuttering at the thought of being so thoughtless, especially towards you in your current state.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean, didn’t mean to intrude on your personal life. I was just worried about you is all.” He stammered out a apology, he was expecting a harsh response, maybe a demand for compensation, a scoff even, but he was taken aback by your reaction or lack therefore of one.

“It’s okay.” her lips were pressed together in a gentle smile as the teardrops fell down her flushed cheeks.

“Burbon?”

There was something about the taste of burbon that reminded me of the way he used to kiss me —gently, but with a bite to it.

“Your favorite, right?” he asks gently, in contrast to her rough swing of the glass against her hand. He stared as she gulped down the drink in one fell swoop.

She drank down her grief like it was the finest wine. Like it was the purest blood. After a while, she can never tell the difference between pleasure and pain.

“Umm, no. It wasn’t my favorite, but I grew to like the taste.”

Actually burbon was never really her favorite, she only drank it because it was his.

You reply it over, and over like a broken record stuck on repeat. The memory overflows, and spills out into a harsh wave of regret, heartache and despair. The memories are so vivid, it’s so beautiful and painstakingly solemn at the same time.

“Bourbon is a type of whiskey, much the way that Champagne is a type of wine. So all bourbon is whiskey, but not all whiskey is bourbon.”

“I don’t get it.”

“All Bourbon is whiskey but not all whiskey is a bourbon.”

“Still don’t get it.”

“I hear they just opened up a new bar on main street, I’ll take you to there, next time. Maybe try some burbon while we’re at it.”

“I don’t think trying burbon is gonna help me understand the complexity of how it’s brewed or if it’s whiskey or not.”

“We’ll see, but I can’t wait for you to try it. I promise you’re gonna love it!”

The memories of him, you try to keep them ingrained within your mind, forever. From the way he used to grin after telling you a joke, the way his laughter almost always seemed contagious to a fault, the way his smile lines became more prominent whenever he grinned at you, the way his demeanor carried a sense of security, and love, the feeling of pure joy would fill his voice whenever he talked about his dreams, and aspirations for the future. The future that was painstakingly cut too short. The memories are still so vivid, and painful to recall, but they’re the only ones your left with now.

The air was warmer, and the sun shined brighter, and his voice sounded more prominent back, then. Now your faced with the painstaking truth of forgetting the way he used to call out your name, and it scares you. It feels like a nightmare, the terrifying feeling of being faced with never seeing the person you love the most in the world ever, again.

“You only drink hard liquor? Or are you going hard on me, huh?”

“Depends, I don’t think bartenders are supposed to drink with the customers.”

“We can make exceptions, I am the owner after all.” he says with a grin.

And he had no other words to describe what he felt, but heartbreak.

You’re never going to forget him. You’re always going to love the color of his eyes, and you’re going to search for someone with the same contagious laugh. You’re never going to fully let go of him. You’re going to have those nights when all the regret and pain comes rushing back. You’re going to miss him with all your heart, but you’re going to be okay.

Because that’s what living on means for you, and for him. He’ll always be in your heart, living on through you.

And now they’re only a memory. A fragment of his soul remains with yours. But how could you possibly live with this pain. This heartbreaking truth, of never getting the opportunity of telling them you love them ever again, never being able to feel the warmth of their embrace, the touch of their caress, hearing the ring of they’re voice greet you with such enthusiasm, nor will you ever be able to give them the love they gave you. But you must live on.

Maybe it’s okay to miss them when you’re trying to move on. Maybe it’s okay to cry on days like this and feel lost until dawn. Maybe it’s okay to constantly ask yourself why? Why did it have to end like this when all those times I thought it would end like in the movies, I’ve seen before.

Happy ending? But where’s mine, you continually ask yourself tearful, woefully.

Maybe it’s okay to hurt, somedays. Maybe it’s okay to heal, somedays. Maybe it’s okay to remember, and miss the person that gave you’re life a color. After all, they are the red stitch that was once woven into the fabric of your very soul.

But today, you’ll take one step at a time. Recalling memories, if that helps. Just today, you tell yourself solemnly.

You remember you were just a little less broken back then, and sometimes you wish that you could just glue the shattered pieces back together again, but how do you do that when someone took a piece of your heart with them when then left.

They say that grief is just love with nowhere to go.

And maybe you never knew what that truly meant, until you lost him; but that was then. Now you didn’t need to look back only forward. For something that was lost, because if it was meant to be, it would have been. But that’s just what people say to make themselves feel better.

But today, you’ll just take it easy.

He is many things, but one thing he couldn’t be was yours. For your heart belonged, yearned, and loved another.

“His voice. Please don’t let me forget his voice.” you often told yourself in moments of desperation, like a prayer you mumbled this to yourself on days such as this.

Lips up to a glass of liquid courage, and your heart set ablaze. Even as you downed cup after cup, and the alcohol began to burn at your throat you wondered out loud.

“I never understood why someone would drown their sorrows in alcohol, until now.” she said solemnly.

The only source of light came from the shallow lights bouncing off the corners of the room. The atmosphere was rigid. He stilled his sights upon you, who was seated infront of him. The words that were so heavily engraved in his mind overflow with curiosity and suspense slipped off of his lips, out onto the world.

“It’s okay for you to cry, the sky does it too.” he says almost apologetically, as he points to the nearby window being thrashing against by the falling rain.

Some people cry with tears, others with thoughts.

“I know.” you reply softly, with a hint of sorrow stuck within your throat as the tears begin to pour down your cheeks.

“I know.”

© Somemydayy 2024 | Please do not copy or alter this writing on Tumblr or any other platform.

[sheena-isa-punkrocker]

GamerBoyfriend!Niragi HCs

because i feel like his game engineer background is so skipped over in this fandom 😭 these take place in pre-borderland btw minors i will kill you 🔫

he wears those blue light protector glasses (prescription of course, bby is far sighted) when he's working

he likes to show you his work! it may not seem like it, but he values your comments heavily. it gives him insight on what someone outside the industry thinks

LOVES to play video games with you! he finds it interesting to see what kind of games you like

can tell alot about your personality by the games and characters you choose. it makes him feel closer to you <3

obvs he loves fps (we're not surprised here 🙄)

if you don't know how to play fps's then he'll teach you but like... he's not the best teacher 😅

he expects you to get the hang of it easily and gets impatient when you don't

HOWEVER if you do a move flawlessly he'll compliment you

"Nice move there player 2..."

he's so smug, so proud of you

if you DO know how to play fps's ohohoho 👀👀👀

he thinks it's so hot when you annihilate the other team

definitely shouts insults at the other team through his headset on how much better you are then them

will also kill any player that shouts insults at you through the headset

"EAT SHIT, BASTARD!" *shoots enemy player*

as much as he loves being an undefeatable team with you, he also has a competitive streak

is a cheater lol it's niragi 🙄 he'll tickle you or tap your shoulder to distract you, laughs when you lose and denies cheating

pouts when you actually win, it's cute

you always kick his ass at mario kart

mans has never completed rainbow road don't tell arisu

now for some soft niragi??? 👀👀

one of his favorite things to do is sit you in his lap and just watch you play a game like breath of the wild or animal crossing or pokemon

it gives him a chance to turn off his brain for a while and just calm down <3

is surprisingly quiet during these times, just focused on you playing the game

refuses to play the game with you because it's "not the same when he does it"

sometimes when he finds a bug or glitch while playing a game he HAS to make a comment on it

"Who the fuck coded this game?! They're getting a complaint on Steam..."

it's cute to see him go on rants about the gaming industry. his coding and industry knowledge just flows out and it's nice to see him so passionate about his work

since he's in the industry, he has all the hook ups for early releases and discounts for any game you like again don't tell arisu

now for the nsfw 😈😈😈

niragi has a gift for making any situation sexual so it's no surprise we're here

sexual bets during competive games

if a person loses a round they have to take off one item of clothing 😏

seeing if you can win a round while he goes down on you 👀 if you lose you just have to try again~

(he claims it counts towards your training pfft)

amazingly he always wins when you give him oral when he plays. you stare at him in disbelief after he blows his load in your mouth and he's just like

"Oh, didn't believe me? We can always try again sweetheart..."

remember when i said he thinks it's hot when you kill enemy players?

yeah there's been numerous times where you've just mowed down like 20 of them and he has to pause the game to tackle you on the couch and just have you right there <3

the ps4 home screen music might as well be the soundtrack to your sex life

the first time you played mario kart was a bet and it turned into him losing and being butt ass naked on the couch. he made you promise to not tell a single soul