#to the point where i can barely get more than one sentence out without being interrupted or having to interrupt myself to reassure her

[seethinglikeme]

going to therapy and venting to my therapist abt finding it difficult to gain motivation despite the adhd meds i'm & falling behind in my studies bc of that + the admin problems when school started & how my mom is contributing to all that and being met with support and understanding and then going home to my mom yelling and venting her frustration about how those things affect her onto me is so jarring even though it happens literally every fucking week

[neckromantics]

Can we please talk about how often vampires are seen having infatuations with the living, simply because they’re… well, living? How Astarion's vampiric nature would have him frequently mesmerized by just how alive you are??

Pt1.

(nsfw warning. oops. It's mostly fluff tho. there is kinda breathplay in this. i didn't mean to, but-)

Astarion who, smitten as he is, rests his head against your chest during one of your regular lazy morning cuddles. He’s not so covertly listening in on the pounding of your heart. Bare skin sensitive to every brush of his fingertips as he traces them up and down the softness of your side, tapping along to each solid thud as it beats away for him. You try not to squirm too much in fear of jostling him out of whatever dreamlike state he’s fallen into, but you’ve no need to worry. Your soft breathing—the subsequent rise and fall of your belly— is only lulling him further and further into that rare state of tranquility.

After a while, he’ll relocate a little further down. One pointed ear presses tight to the tender skin of your ribs as he seeks to be even closer to the sound, and this time, you can’t stop yourself from squirming. It’s his hair that does you in. The pale curls at the back of his neck are so silky soft against your flesh that it just about tickles, and the goosebumps that start to crawl their way up your arms only get worse each time he readjusts. He sounds so drowsy when he shushes your giggles, and when you insist you can’t help it, that it's his fault, he shushes you a second time. As if the sound of your laughter isn’t precious to him all on its own.

Astarion, who often finds himself with his lips to your pulse point without really knowing how he got there. You’ll be sat by the fire having idle chit-chat, and the next thing you know, he’s pulling your joined hands up toward his mouth as it’s your turn to speak. The first time it’d happened, you thought maybe he wanted a bit of a snack or something (not that he’s really ever done so without asking, first. Even though you’ve said about one thousand times that the offer is always on the table), but when you turned to glance at him, there wasn’t an ounce of hunger in those ruby eyes of his. He was listening to you as intently as always. Even nodded to encourage you when your sentence trailed off a bit in your confusion.

You’re not entirely sure he knows he’s doing it, or why he’s doing it for that matter, but you couldn’t be more wrong.

There’s a general warmth radiating from you that, despite Astarion’s best efforts in the past, he’s always been magnetized to. But here? Where his mouth stays poised? It’s a heat like nothing else. The steady pulse of blood—of life—calls out to him like a siren song, and while the hunger is there (will always be there), there is also something else. Something more, perhaps? A feeling he can’t quite put a name to. It’s a comfort, maybe. An assurance, he reasons to himself. That steady thump of life beneath his lips is proof enough that you’re still here with him.

Anyway.

Conversations continue without a hitch now-a-days, despite his voice being a little more than muffled with his lips jammed against whatever pulse point he can find. But, you don’t mind because while you can’t see him smiling, you sure can feel it.

Astarion, who gets struck with such a strange, desperate need to feel your breath that he has to lift his hand to your lips as he sinks deep into your warmth. Mouth half-open from your previous slack-jawed whining, not even a moment passes before you’re pressing sloppy, wet kisses to the cool skin he’s offered up to you, lids heavy with lust as you try and fail to keep your eyes focused on your lover. It still baffles him how you never miss a beat—not with him, anyway—not even when he’s got the entire bottom half of your face cupped beneath a firm hand.

His own mouth can't stop exploring every inch of flesh it can reach. He says your name but it sounds more like a thank you, fangs pricking against the inside of the arm you've got wrapped around his neck as your heels dig into the meat of his ass to nudge him forward still. Your fingers curl into his hair, getting a good handful that you'd never dare to pull. It's a gentle guiding that drives him mad—the way you herd him ever closer with such a tender touch—as if he isn't pinning you into the mattress with the majority of his weight already.

While his breaths are unneeded, they quickly match pace with the ones you’re puffing against his hand. Hitching into a gasp that he can’t think to contain when your moaning sends vibrations all the way up to his elbow. Your quick gulps of air stutter beneath him as the two of you get your bearings, and your next exhale is so sharp as his hips jerk against yours that it practically whistles out between the spaces of his fingers.

Astarion doesn't think he's ever heard anything more perfect in all his undeath.

(Me quietly to myself: what kind of kink is this.)

[rationaliity]

progression | aventurine blurb

loving aventurine was as easy as breathing to you, something incredibly hard for him to grasp. he didn't get it at all. when he first walked into your life, he had this arrogant mask up, another one of his well preserved fabrications to protect himself. he was snarky to you. not necessarily rude, but he wasn't afraid to bare his fangs and show you that he was capable of hurting you if he needed to. he wasn't afraid of hurting anyone. another gamble he was putting his faith in, that he wouldn't be put in a situation where he would have to hurt you.

you loved him during that stage. every sarcastic 'friend' he tacked on to every sentence like it was more of an insult than anything else, every boundary that he crossed of yours, every little lie he spun to keep you at arms length, trying to protect you from his teeth. words hurt less than his bite. and yet, you were there for him even when he was sure he would have pushed you away, and it unnerved him.

" aventurine ~ " you called out from behind him to get his attention, before lightly jogging up to him, standing by his side. not in front of him, but beside him. " i know you might be busy today with business as usual, but i was hoping that you were free this afternoon ? there's this new coffee shop that opened up, and i though- "

" coffee ? sorry to disappoint you, friend, but i am busy this afternoon, " he shook his head, as if dismissing the idea outright entirely.

" oh, that's okay ! i'm still able to say hi right now while we're walking, so that's enough, " you chirped, but he could hear the unmistakable sound of disappointment and sadness in your tone, making the guilt inside of him at being the one who caused your unhappiness eat him alive. but the look on his face didn't change, his walls too big to penetrate.

he did find you at that coffee shop, though. " oh, hello, friend- " he had called out, approaching your table, sitting next to you without even asking. he saw your eyes light up, and for a second he felt the warmth in his chest burst forward, his heart beating against his ribcage. " what good fortune that i was able to finish my tasks a little while ago. i didn't think you would actually come here alone. " there was a hint of confusion in his voice, but it was masked just as quickly as it came.

after this interaction, aventurine got a little awkward with you. what was he expected to say ? what did he do if he wasn't trying to push you away ? he was clumsy with his words, often just silently nodding along as you talked, and sometimes bringing up tiny points. he wasn't good at conversation when it wasn't to serve an agenda. being in survival mode his entire life, he had no idea how to be social, much less to someone as kind as you.

no matter how much he stumbled and fell over his own words, you treated him the same. he approached you cautiously, as if he was afraid that one day you would get sick of him and throw him out of your life permanently. was his personality too much for you to handle ? was he doing something wrong ? he wasn't sure, this was uncharted territory for him. all he could do was throw his dice and hope for the best outcome, something that was so comforting now unnerving. he could bet every single one of his chips, every possession he owned, including his own life, but you ? betting on you felt like one risk he wasn't willing to take.

" hey- i was at this shop a while ago, and i was hoping that you'd want to visit ? with me, of course, " aventurine asked, trying very hard not to look how pretty you looked right now, how your smile made his heart flutter every single time without fail. " i saw something i thought you might like. i wanted to get it for you but i don't know your size. "

" oh ? yeah, i'd love to go with you ! " you agreed immediately, as if everything that you were doing before this was suddenly unimportant. " but you really don't have to pay for me, honestly. i can take care of myself. "

this through him for a loop, and he hid it well, but aventurine had no idea what that meant. did you not want him to pay for you ? or were you just trying to be modest ? it wasn't like he was hungry for money, it was fine on his pockets, and he didn't mind spending if it meant spending on you, of course. besides, what did you want from accompanying him if it wasn't to buy things ? that's what friends were for, right ? it was a mutual beneficial agreement between two people to be friendly with each other to gain something from another, right ?

he was pretty sure that was how it was to be friends, but you challenged all of that. especially when you bought him a drink from a shop. he'd just mentioned it offhanded that he could go for some boba tea, and you had agreed, saying that it would be really good right now. and then you bought him his ? that's not how that was supposed to work, he was sure of it. why would you go out of your way to pay for something for him that you yourself wouldn't even get to enjoy ? he was willing to buy you things to keep you around him, but you didn't need to buy him anything to keep him around.

the possibility that you didn't want anything from him other than his time and himself was confusion, but refreshing.

eventually late night outs became late nights inside, and aventurine found himself in a precarious position, on your couch, your body on the other side, cuddling up against a pillow. the intimacy of the situation felt like it was choking him. and he finally got the courage to ask you the question that plagued him - why ? why did you care ? why did you try so hard ? what was in it for you ? putting your bets on him was a foolish decision that he couldn't rationalize. even he didn't bet on himself.

" because you're worth it, " you shrugged a little, the answer's simplicity wiping everything from him. all of his fears, his confusion, his doubts, just for this moment. right now, he understood. you never pushed him out of his comfort zone, and let your companionship evolve naturally. he didn't even realize he had let you inside of his shell before it was too late. " because you deserve it. "

he thought you were worth it, too. trusting you, putting his faith in you even though you had the ability to hurt him. it was worth it. you were worth it.

[heavenlyraindrops]

𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Fandom: Honkai Star Rail Blade x Reader Warnings: Profanity, Sexual Content, p in v, cockwarming (? Idk not really), Blade’s name is Ren, afab!reader Word count: 1.6k

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

You made potions for living. Well, more like- elixirs, soothing, calming ones, but most of your clientele had begun to call them “potions” to the point of you giving up on trying to correct them. Your clientele, being the Stellaron Hunters.

Kafka had sought you out, after hearing your reputation for creating some of the most effective elixirs there was, and after that she’d begun ordering from you almost weekly. You weren’t surprised- they were Stellaron Hunters, after all. You wondered how they wouldn’t burst without some form of relaxation. 

Blade would come up once a week to pick up some elixirs. You’d talk, maybe, and over the time you had grown close from those small conversations, which grew in length and depth over time too. 

“How’s Kafka?” 

“She’s fine,” came the short reply.

Closer.

“How was your mission?”

“Fine.” His eyes were more tired than hard today. You handed him the bottle. 

“Good luck on your next one.”

His eyes roamed your face. “…Thanks.”

Closer.

“So. Blade.”

He looked up, confused by your definitive, obscure sentence. 

“Any other name? A real name.”

His eyes locked onto yours, burning, and you wondered if it was a good idea to ask him in the first place. “You can use Ren,” he said cautiously. “If you must.”

“Ren,” you murmured, testing it out on your tongue. You smiled at him. “I’ll see you around.”

He hummed, already turning to leave, face tilted away from you. 

Closer.

“How’s business?” He was the one initiating the conversation this time. It surprised you, pleasantly. 

“It’s good. Sold more than usual. Maybe I’ll be able to move out of this tiny ass apartment.”

His finger ghosted across the ring of the bottle you had just handed him. “That’s good.” His eyes flicked up to meet yours. “If you move, you’ll tell me? I mean-“ his voice abruptly stopped as he hastily corrected himself. “You’ll tell us?”

You smiled, faintly. “Yes, Blade, I’ll tell you.”

The colour that rose to his cheeks was barely visible as he turned away to leave.

Close enough. 

Frankly, you just wanted to get your back blown by him, but you weren’t exactly going to admit it, were you?

You definitely weren’t going to admit it now, as he stood in your doorway, both your hands outstretched- yours to give, his to receive. 

“You’re bleeding,” you uttered, hand freezing over the bottle. He stiffened, more than he was already, which was amazing in its own right. “Blade, come inside.”

You didn’t want to ask too many questions. 

You saw his jaw lock into place as he stepped back. “I don’t need-“

“Ren, come inside. Let me take care of you.” The words sounded awfully wrong on your tongue, and you bit your lip to shut yourself up. His eyes flew to the action. What the hell were you saying? It sounded weird. Stop it. Stop. 

A few seconds ticked by painfully.

He shifted, and stepped inside, into the doorway. You looked up in surprise. His eyes flicked up and down your body, and you stiffened under the intensity of his gaze, all the heat in your body pooling in one specific place.

“Well,” you said, slightly breathless. “Let me just… get some stuff.”

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“Ren, what is the meaning of this?”

His arm wasn’t bleeding. There was a small scar where the cut was meant to be, a scar to match the rest of the ones littering his exposed upper half, shirt and other articles of clothing lying on the sofa next to him. 

He looked up at you, adam’s apple moving as he gulped, and it struck you that he looked nervous. His eyes flicked away, face returning to its usual stoic look. 

“You’re not bleeding,” you pointed out flatly. 

“No, I’m not,” he muttered. Without thinking, you took his chin in your hand, tilting his head up to look at you. A strand of hair fell in front of his face, lit up by the pale moonlight seeping in through your blinds into the otherwise dim room. You quickly released him, clenching your fists. Can this evening seriously get any more embarrassing for me? Your heart pounded against your ribcage. 

“Could have- Could have told me before I dragged you in here,” you chuckled nervously, heat burning on your face. Your anxious smile faded a little. “Why didn’t you?” 

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Instead, his leg, pressed against yours as you stood over him, nudging you subtly, urging you to move closer. You did. “I can’t say.” His voice was dangerously low, his undertone lined with a meaning you just barely picked up on, and a wave of something you couldn’t describe overtook you, burning hot.  

“Then show me.”

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A moan escaped your lips as you forced yourself to not dig your nails into Blade’s shoulder with another slow, lazy thrust of his hips, all the pleasure shooting to your core and eliciting another whimper from you, one that made him smirk against your neck. The action burned sweet against your skin. 

“Ren,” you gasped breathlessly, and his fingers trailed up your arm again, and he pulled away from you. You were hyper aware of him buried inside you, every throb and twitch felt all across your body. “Shouldn’t we- the eli-“

He threw a dismissively glance at the bottle of elixir lying on the table behind you. “Forget it,” he muttered, crashing his lips onto yours again. And they tasted so good to you that you did forget it. “Focus on me.”

He gave another roll of his hips, his cock languidly stroking your walls and just barely hitting that sweet spot inside of you- not enough to satisfy you yet enough to drive you crazy. You rolled your hips, desperate for something more, and his teeth clamped down on your lips hard. You whimpered again, feeling tears of frustration gather at the corners of your eyes. 

“Move,” you pleaded breathlessly, hands tangling through his long, soft hair and giving a gentle tug as you whimpered.

“Desperate, hmm?” Blade hummed, trailing his fingers down the side of your neck, where he had left a couple of bruises and bites. You nodded wordlessly, hands curling into fists and bunching up the fabric of whatever clothing you’d let remain on him, and a small huff of amusement escaped his lips. 

“Maybe, if you beg for it…” he trailed off, his scarred hand slipping down your waist without warning, finger teasing your clit. Your entire body tensed up even more on the unexpected contact. Your walls twitched, gushing. 

“Ren, please,” you mumbled. He leaned in, breath ghosting over the shell of your ear. 

“Can’t hear you,” he hummed.

You sucked in a sudden, shuddering breath as his fingers teased your entrance, already wrapped snugly around his girth. “I’m begging you, please, fu-“

His lips captured yours again, hand pulling at your hair, tongue slipping behind your teeth. You bucked your hips again, almost riding him with the way you were moving, and he groaned into the kiss, tilting his head to deepen it. 

“Stop that,” he hissed against your lips, reffering to your desperate movements. You didn’t, instead dipping your head into the crook of his neck, leaving a feverish trail of kisses down his skin, from his jaw to his collarbone, hands exploring his toned torso. His hand wrapped around the back of your neck, taking in a fistful of hair and yanking you away. You whined at the action. “So needy.”

“Only for you,” you breathed, staring at him through half-lidded eyes, and you swore you could have felt him twitch inside you.

His hands fell to your hips, grabbing you and pushing you back into the sofa. You yelped, feeling the air rush out from behind you as your back collided with the cushions.

A small curse fell from his lips as he entered, and you whimpered, stretching out to take in his whole cock, back arching at the pleasure. His hand snaked its way up, wrapping itself around your neck, pushing you deeper into the couch as his hips moved, thrusting, with a steady pace. 

“Fuck,” you moaned, raking your nails down his back, a lock of his hair falling onto your arm and shoulder. You suppressed another whimper as his length hit a certain spot inside you, throwing your head back, seeing stars. You might have said his name, but you couldn’t focus on anything except the white-hot pleasure pulsing through you. 

His lips dropped to your neck again, the heat from his own body burning on your skin as they traced a path down your jaw to your neck, interrupted by a few breathless grunts. 

“Ren,” you whimpered again, as his hips snapped against yours, sending another shockwave throughout your body. “I think I’m gonna-“

“Go ahead,” he groaned, breath hot on the shell of your ear. 

You did.

Nothing would have prepared you for the orgasm’s intensity, tearing through your body. Your limbs went weak almost immediately as you whispered his name, almost like a mantra. He came too, finishing all over your stomach. You pulled him down towards you, pressing your lips against his, capturing each other’s breath. He sank into the kiss, both your bodies still trembling. 

“Tissues are on the-“ you began, as he buried his head in the crook of your shoulder, arms wrapping around you. He shook his head, silencing you. You fell quiet, silence filling the room. 

“Just stay like this for a while,” he mumbled, voice muffled by your skin. You sighed, squirming and shifting around to make yourself comfortable before supressing a smile. 

“Fine.” 

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A/N: i lowkey hate this but I feel like if I don’t post it it’s a waste cause I spent so long on it like bruh I was literally just horny wtf I hope this is acc good and I’m just deluded

[fancyfeathers]

little head canons to go with my Yandere Neuvilette and Yandere Wriothesley’s mini series (read it here)

Yandere Neuvilette

I highly doubt that after his and Wriothesley’s darling ran off he would never let her outside again, unless a number of years have passed and she doesn’t misbehave and then he’ll take her out, but only at his side and when I say by his side I mean his hand always intertwined with hers or his hand always on her waist

Anemo vision? Sorry love, afraid he can’t trust you with that anymore, but don’t worry it’s never far, Neuvillette always keeps it in his breast pocket, close to his heart like you. It’s almost like a small bit of you is with him

Over her months traveling she had lost quite a bit of weight only being able to afford the bare minimum for food with the little mora she had, so you can bet Neuvilette has noticed this. He is sitting at her side at every meal shoving more food onto her plate saying how unhealthy and thin she looked. Sometimes it gets to the point where it hurts and she gets sick and ten minutes later Neuvillette is holding her hair back as she throws up from over eating

He’ll coddle her like she’s a child and when she gets upset that she’s locked up he’ll remind her that this was all her doing, she’s the runaway and the convict and now she is just serving her time

Yandere Wriothesley

his darling will also spend most of her days locked up, legally as an inmate of the prison but never treated like one, hell she’ll likely never see an actual inmate there unless she sneaks out of Wriothesley’s room which definitely happens

Speaking of sneaking out, if she wants to let off some steam and face off in the Pankration Ring. Oh bless her heart when Wriothesley finds out. He may have no problem when she looses her temper at him and throws a few punches, but when she’s faces against other inmates she could get hurt. He knows how to fight her without getting hurt but the inmates don’t. Besides that she’s not supposed to leave their room or his office so he’ll be more than fuming.

He may have promised her mother not to take her guitar or vision, but if she dares to use it against him he’ll tuck it away for a week or two just so she knows what will happen if she uses it against him again.

The guitar though, he won’t touch, unless he’s trying to get her to play, but she never does. He’ll ask her to play once and awhile which will be followed by a few swears and curses from her before he drops the question. He’ll try to play her guitar every now and then because he learned how to play with her but every time he does it is promptly snatched from him and always a go die from her.

A few years down the line if she is well behaved and served her sentence she was given in trial a rigged one but that’s besides the point. He’ll arrange it to go visit her family above ground, but he’ll always be at her side and present to her younger siblings that he is her partner and that they took a trip together and that’s why she was gone for a few years. Her mother knows the truth but her siblings can be spared that fact and live in a fantasy.

[lyramundana]

No feelings involved...right?

Prologue and Part 1

Warnings❗: Implied baby trapping, dubious consent. It all happens at the end.

If their current predicament could be resumed in one sentence, it'll sound like a mother's voice saying "I told you so".

They didn't plan it. It all started with a small mishap, a consequence of their exhaustion and the amount of issues going on in their personal lives. Then the mishap repeated itself, and then they decided to turn it into a game for their own pleasure, no strings attached to her. Then the game grew beyond their control and became a mountain of lies, too big to seize them.

Jisung first met her through a friend of his, and although he found her beautiful then, she didn't catch his attention beyond that. They met frecuently, since they both ran in the same circle of friends, and after one night being left alone by their drunk friends, they spent the time talking and turned out they had more in common that he thought. They clicked, in a way it's hard to explain, but just felt like he knew her since forever. They went from mere acquaintances to suddenly having her name appear at the top of his contact list along with Minho's.

Minho met her through his boyfriend, of course. He first saw her when Jisung brought her home to hang out, without even warning him about it. Their introduction was pretty formal, quick. They shook hands, made some small talk and Jisung inmediatly stole her attention again. Minho wasn't interested in befriending her and viceversa, but Jisung was their common point and she eventually became a regular presence in their apartment, so they really had no option but get along. Forced proximity and all.

Jisung has always known a lot of people, plenty of familiar faces that tend to flock towards him wherever he goes, but few of them can say they truly know him. Jisung cracks jokes, plays long with them, but rarely speaks about himself. He keeps a careful, calculated distance, because he knows that despite all those smiles and compliments, they only see the surface, what they want to see, and don't care about the rest. Which it's okay, it comes with the job, and this facade actually helps to keep undesirable people away without being rude. But she...she's different. From the moment she spoke to him and he listened, he found there was more to her than what she showed. Like him, she never allowed people to see beyond the surface, simply letting them believe the version they liked to spare herself the headaches. She understood him. And for the first time in years, Jisung felt a genuine connection to someone besides Minho.

The funny thing is that they don't talk that much, outside those events where the whole group meets and they stick together to not get bored. And when they get to talk, it's mostly about stuff only they know and deep, phylosophical converstations where they discuss the meanings of life. Maybe, if he's in a certain mood, he complains about a recent argument with Minho and asks for advice, but that's not the norm with them. When he brings her home is to get drunk over petty drama and gossip, without the others. They just fall back in the comfortability of a quiet friendship where no small talks were needed and they could simply let go of their masks.

Things between Minho and her weren't ideal at first. The few times they interacted was when she was at their flat, usually drunk and leaving a mess, and he got mad at it. He could look past it when it was Jisung, but having a stranger doing it was something else. He made sure of letting her know after the drunk haze, barely holding back the bite in his words. He expected her to get offended or feel embarrassed, but no. She never showed an ounce of shame, instead replying him with the same snarky tones, and sometimes that small lopsided grin of hers that made his blood boil. But what started as mostly petty arguments and cold greetings turned into a sense of complicity when they realized their humour was similar and they both acted like Jisung's babysitters more often than not.

Minho is used to be misunderstood. His resting bitch face, his brutal honesty, his reserved demeanour and that perpetual indifference in his face that rarely expressed emotions. People were quick to form opinions about him and not all were good. He was considered cold, arrogant, a snob that didn't like to mingle with those he saw "beneath him", you get it. Most wondered how someone so sweet and cheerful as Jisung could fall for him. It's okay for Minho, he doesn't see the point in caring for what strangers may think. The people he loves know him for who he is and that's enough. Then she came, all carefree and playful and open-minded. Jisung only spoke good things about her, but Minho knew his boy could be biased. Until they started talking and he found out she was truly different. She wasn't intimidated by him, even though he pulled the worst of him sometimes with her around, but she never reacted on it. She was quick to stand up against him, all prideful and confident. And her lack of respect felt like a wheeze of fresh air. After being constantly misjudged, it felt nice to have someone apart from Jisung that made an effort to see through his facade.

Before they noticed it, she became a constant in their lives. Even if they didn't meet often, even if the phone calls sometimes got short, she was present and they felt it. Whenever they needed a favour, she was the safest option. When something juicy happened, she was the first person they called. Even when their fights got brutal and they had no one to seek advice from, her door appeared in front of their eyes.

She never turned down, although her complaints were very much heard. She acted as a bridge between them both when they refused to take the initiative, pushing them to apologise and communicate their problems and feelings. Minho was stubborn, but Jisung could easily win him at times, and persuade them to move past it was a pain. Nevertheless, she did it every single time, to the point the walls of her house and the natural scent that filled it became so familiar to them.

They genuinely don't know when things started to change. They talked it before and both agreed she was beautiful, easy to the eyes, but nothing more. Sure, she was a vital part of their lives now but that's all they wanted her to be. At least that's what they told themselves until that night behind that club, when they tasted her for the first time and found the missing piece they had been bothering them for so long. That annoying empty space in their sex life that have appeared coincidentally shortly after meeting her..

Of course, things couldn't be the same after that mindblowing experience, not like they wanted it to either. They planned the whole affair while she slept in their arms, dead to the world. It was easy to convince her, with her body still vibrating by the last events and her mind still waking up. Granted that wasn't exactly correct from their parts, but they were slightly desperate and the idea of letting her go after that sounded awfully wrong.

And so that was the start of their downfall.

Looking back, they asked for it. At first it was all very natural. They were still friends but now they also fucked sometimes. She was open to every kink and preference of theirs, and she also introduced them to her own tastes. No commitment, no explanations expected or needed. But when their encounters became more often it got harder to stay away from her, they had her sign an NDA to continue. Which was..okay, not something they accounted for but it wasn't necessarily a problem.

No, the problems started when their feelings began to get in the way of the commitment-free arrangement they wanted.

Their doll was a gorgeous creature, a delightful sight for sore eyes, and they knew it. She was like this when they met her and they had no problem with it, Jisung even admired it and made jokes about it, about how ridiculous easy those idiots fell for her charms, scrambling on their feet to get an ounce of her attention. But at some point, seeing such scenes evoked less amusement and more disgust. And following disgust, there was something else. Something twisted and painful and deadly that climbed to their throats when another worthless scum tried his luck with her. Minho could heard this tempting voice in his head telling him to rip their guts out and Jisung imagined a number of creative scenarios where he taught that bastard a lesson.

Sometimes, those voices told them to grab their precious doll and drag her away from those dirty hands, keep her near where they couldn't lose her, which was weird because she meant nothing to them. Just a close acquaintance they casually fucked from time to time very often. And yet...

These sudden, strange emotions were translated in their bed.

The sex with her was always rough and fast, and the only aftercare that ocurred was sharing a smoke in bed over some small talk. But suddenly, it wasn't enough. Their usual routine felt short, uncomplete, unsatisfying. The mouths started to trace her face, her body, the marks they left on her. Their movements turned slower, more gentle, more precise. They wanted to see how it was when she burst in pleasure, when she gave herself up entirely in their arms. They kissed, caressed, worshipped the entirety of her skin, and they whispered words of praise in her ears for the duration of it. And when it was done, they needed wanted her close, lulling her into sleep as their arms trapped her against them.

"You're doing so, so well, doll. Can you give us one more, please? You look lovely like this."

"Look at you, already crying and shaking. Shh, it's okay, love, we got you. Leave it to us, okay'"

But when they couldn't stand that twisted feeling in their guts, after seeing some other clown trying to steal her away, both men turned animalistic on her. They were all confused at this change, and the two of them couldn't explain where did it came from. They just felt the urgent need to cover her in bites, scratches and hickeys, in every place where those undeserving eyes feasted upon. ¿How dare those assholes? ¿Didn't they know she was with them? ¿Had they no shame? ¿Did they really think they stood a chance?

"That's it, keep looking at us, slut. That's where your eyes should always be. ¿What the fuck were you thinking, uh?"

"¿You wanted him to fuck you too? Is that it? You greedy whore. Clearly we need to fuck you more. We'll make sure you can't even talk or walk without our help."

And it didn't end just there. They started to bring her to their dates, inviting her everywhere they went, giving her their clothes. They had love-hate feelings towards her revealing dresses, because as much as they enjoyed the view, they hated seeing others do the same. She became part of their routine, outside the sex part. She was always there. And as time passed, it felt like she had been there since the beginning. They hardly remembered how things were before she came.

But they kept lying to themselves, lying to everyone. This wasn't anything. They could stop whenever they wanted to. There no other feelings involved. Of course not.

And things finally went downhill when someone asked them:

"So, that girl that's always with you two, what's the deal with her? Is there something serious going on? Because you have to introduce her to us, then."

That question struck them. Brutally.

They never thought too much about it. Things with her just...happened naturally, and they barely noticed it. They simply followed their instincts at the time, not realizing the weight those actions could hold. ¿What was the deal with her, truly? Granted, she was more than just a quick fuck, but still. And what was up with them? Why the fuck did they want to meet her? She was perfectly fine where she was.

At the end of the day, the three of them moved in different worlds. There were things about themselves they couldn't tell her, things she would never understand. Maybe that was better, they thought. To keep her away from that circus of drama and lies and dirty secrets they were part of. She didn't belong there. And to keep her far away from idiots butting their noses where they shouldn't.

So they quickly defused the situation. She was just an acquaintance, they didn't really know her, yeah. They already had each other, it had always been just each other. She meant nothing.

If she did, where did that leave them?

¿Were they supposed to know someone was going to post their answer on social media? Were they supposed to know she would see it and demand explanations too?

Yes

They never saw her so angry, so emotional. She was bursting in anger and sadness and dissapointment, and they could both feel how their hearts stopped at the sight. It didn't feel right.

When she started to speak, they sort of panicked. They couldn't control the situation this time, they couldn't control her, and they didn't have proper answers for it. At least, not the kind of answers that would help them.

Most of all, they were confused. As she confronted them with facts, about how their strange behaviour with her and their motivations, they were forced to acknowledge the reality of everything.

That she meant more than they thought. Way more than they wanted her to. It was a liability. A problem. An unexpected turn of events they weren't prepared for.

And because they weren't prepared, they simply said the words that sounded logical at the moment. Cold statements of what they all knew, of what they agreed on the beginning. They didn't truly mean it, as they would realize later, but they felt cornered. And at the moment, the only strenght they could rely on was their pride.

They foolishly thought she would stay after that. That she would see their point of view and calm down.

As expected, she didn't. When it fell on them the terrible error they made, it was late. She left the place. Emptied it of whatever part of her and blocked them from her life.

And as expected, the aftermath was fucking disastrous.

Being deprived so suddenly from her presence after getting used to have her near everyday was hellish. No more calls, no more dates, no more lazy afternoons in the couch. She was gone, leaving a gaping hole in their lives that they couldn't fill, no matter how much they tried. And god knows they did.

No vice or person could replace the feelings she invoked in them.

They turned down invitations, calls of friends, choosing to stay at home and just hang out by themselves. Staying at home too long drove them insane, but going out wasn't much better. She was everywhere. In the streets, in the shops, in the people. It was a nightmare.

When a close friend of theirs invited them to the opening of club, they only accepted in hopes for a distraction, and to keep appareances a bit. But the cold, boring night inmediately acquired a brilliant colour when they saw her.

More beautiful than ever, with her pretty dress and carefully done make-up. Her damned smile brightened the whole club and, for a moment, they felt in peace. Like nothing changed.

Until they saw she wasn't alone. Her warm arms, who used to be held by them, were now occupied by other men. Some they didn't know. A pair of strangers taking their rightful places, and she just laughed and danced with them like it was normal.

They spent the whole night like that, watching her and brooding, with that familiar green boiling in their stomach. She looked gorgeous, out of this world, and it wasn't fucking fair. That should be them. She should have been with them, filling their ears with her cute laugh and letting them wrap their arms over her.

Deep down, they knew they fucked up. It was solely their fault. They had their chance to make her stay, to trap her, and they messed up. ¿Why did things have to be this way? Why did they have to realize the size of their mistake in a moment of jealousy? It was stupid.

When they saw her walking outside alone, they exchanged a glance and they knew it.

They made several mistakes, but they learnt from them. Having her hating them was better than not having her at all, so they followed.

It was so easy to fall back into routine. She was already weakened by their presence, and it was the same for them too. Some yelling here and there, insults being thrown back and forth, a bit of fighting, but they ended up right where they wanted: Locked bathroom, against a wall, and the music covering their moans.

They didn't stop until she was bursting with their cum, pushing it right back inside where a drop ran down her legs. Until there wasn't a single trace of skin unmarked. Until she couldn't fucking walk without their help.

And when few weeks later, she showed up in their apartment with three positive tests, they pretended to be shocked and made her move in with them.

They could already see the picture she would make. It was going to be perfect.

(i had this shit collecting dust in my drafts for a millenia and today i had a strange burst of inspiration to finish it. sorry for the waiting to those who asked for this part)

Taglist: @hanjisunglover @queenmea604 @linlinaert @bluducky @jinnie-ret @aalexyuuuhm @noellllslut @skzms @thightswideforhanin @aliensfoundthisblogl @k-krissten @stayconnecteed @hanjibug @roseykat

[illiterateaffairs]

i like you

pairing: jamie tartt x f!reader (ted lasso)

rating: T (really just language/dialogue nothing crazy)

word count: 1,116

summary: you and jamie have recently upgraded your fwb status to a full fledged relationship. you can’t help but gush over your favorite person and it’s exactly what jamie needs to hear. 

A/N: this is a (supposed to be) small drabble that takes place in a larger series i have been working on. so there’s more jamie x reader and backstory to come. all you need to know for now is that jamie and reader are in a new relationship that’s secret and this take place at some point in season 3 :)

It's a cloudy morning in Richmond, but the lack of sun isn’t darkening your mood. You and Jamie are taking a quiet stroll, your hands intertwined and swinging gently between you. You’ve been officially dating for a couple weeks now, after admitting your no-strings-attached situationship had garnered a lot of strings. Despite how apprehensive you were about entering a serious relationship, you are the happiest you have been in a long time. 

However, you have still been a bit reluctant to share your upgraded status with your friends. 

Sam knew. But Sam was your closest friend since you’ve started working for the club. You needed to confide in someone. 

Roy knew. But Roy’s been reserving all of Jamie’s time that wasn’t spent playing football or being with you. It was bound to come up.

Rebecca also knew. But Rebecca knew everything, 

But even now that you’ve confessed your feelings for each other to each other, you still wanted to hold off on telling the rest of the team. 

You told Jamie it was because you liked the little bubble you had created all these months; that it felt good not having other people but into your relationship. And while Jamie agreed that he liked having you all to himself, the voices in his head, the ones that told him he’d never be good enough- voices that more often than not resembled the sound of his father- tried to convince him it was because you were ashamed to be with him. It was all fun and games when you were just messing around, but did you really want to be known as Jamie Tartt’s girlfriend? He didn’t exactly have the best track record when it came to relationships. So maybe you just wanted to wait it out; see if you really wanted to be with him, or just keep it on the down low so it was easier to cut him loose when you inevitably realized that you were better off without him. 

Jamie tries to not let these intrusive thoughts win over, especially in moments like these where you’re out and about together. Publicly. With your hand in his. He tries not to dwell on the fact that its because you’re in an area of town no one from the club frequents, and because it's early enough in the day for him not to be recognized by rabid fans. But he takes what he can get. 

The two of you are walking through a small park as Jamie tells you what he thinks is a mindless story about training yesterday. However, you can’t help but listen like he’s telling the most important story you’ve ever heard. You smile fondly, watching his eyes light up as he recalls humorous interactions between him and his teammates, and how excited he seems to be that they’re making a lot of progress. You also don’t miss the inflection in his voice when he shares that Ted told him he was proud of the team player he’s been lately. 

In the middle of telling you about something funny Isaac said, a lone football rolls to a stop in front of Jamie’s feet. Pausing mid-sentence, Jamie clocks a group of primary school kids nearby and kicks it back to them. 

“Strong form, keep it up!” he calls over before continuing his anecdote. 

You let Jamie finish his thought, but you’re barely registering his words, too overcome with affection for him, even from the littlest things. Before he can start on another topic, you speak up.

“Hey,” you tug on Jamie’s hand, making you both stop, “I like you, you know that?”

Jamie turns to face you with a humorous look. “Uh, yeah, I’d say what we did last night made that pretty obvious.”

You scoff, shoving him playfully. “No, I mean I like you, Jamie.” His eyebrows furrow and you know he’s not getting it. “Yeah, sure, I’m attracted to you and you’re good in bed-”

Jamie snickers.

“Shut up.”

“Sorry.”

“But I also like you as a person, you know? I like that you’re thoughtful, and that you were one of the first people to suggest fixing up Sam’s restaurant after it was vandalized. It was also sweet that you were there for Roy while he was struggling with his breakup even though it was with your ex. That was big of you. So was giving up your position on the team so that others could score because you knew it was the better strategy. And that was so smart! I also appreciated how you spent your day off with me once, even though I was sick and just wanted to sit on the couch and watch Grey’s Anatomy. I like that you make me laugh and know what to say when I’m upset and genuinely care about my interests and what I have to say. I just really, really like you. In addition to like-liking you.” 

As you spoke, Jamie’s teasing expression morphed into one of surprise, eventually settling into one filled with emotion. He was touched. You believed he was thoughtful, generous, intelligent and kind? Those weren’t qualities people normally attributed to him. Jamie was used to being praised for his looks, his talent, and his fame but never his personality. He knew he wasn’t as much of a prick as he used to be, but he didn’t believe he was a good person. Certainly not good enough for someone like you. But maybe he was wrong. Maybe he was someone you could be proud of. 

As your words hung in silence and you finally took note of the tears in Jamie’s eyes, you suddenly felt self conscious. “Jamie, are you okay? Was that…was that too much?”

You give his hand a slight squeeze, snapping him out of his stupor. “Wha- no! I just…I’m just not used to hearing things like that.” 

You give him a supportive smile, cupping your other hand around his face. “Well, I’m happy to pay you compliments more often. Not too much, though. Can’t inflate your ego more than it already is.” 

He huffs out a laugh, “Too late, it's already gone right to my head.” 

You roll your eyes good naturedly, “Of course it has.” You rub his cheek gently with your thumb before leaning in for a chaste kiss.

You don’t need to worry about this making him any more cocky. Jamie Tartt’s confidence comes from knowing he’s a good looking guy and an even better footballer. But you’re not with him because he’s Jamie Fucking Tartt. You’re the first person to like just Jamie. In fact, you really, really like him. That doesn’t feed his ego. That just aids his heart. 

A/N: hopefully not too cheesy? lol i just needed jamie to feel appreciated! i hope you liked a sneak peek into this world. like i said, i plan to write the full story leading up to how jamie and reader get to this point. feel free to send me any feedback/thoughts/questions. its my first time writing in a WHILE and my first time writing jamie/the ted lasso world so trying to get a feel for the character’s voice and tone. if you’ve made it this far, thank you for reading! xo

[aprilthearcher]

lost the game of chance

[remus lupin x fem!reader] [platonic james potter x fem!reader] based on ‘How Did It End?’ and ‘So Long, London’ by Taylor Swift. warnings: angst, angst, not sure if it’s a happy ending, but perhaps an ambiguous one. curse words, smoking, mentions of the war. my poor knowledge of tarot. English is not my first language, and I tried to do sth fun with my writing style on this one. No instance of (Y/N).

The hushed whispers, gasps, and fingers that would follow me everywhere were not, in fact, any more subtle than screaming the question directly at my face. For all the harm it meant, I guess I still couldn’t blame them. They knew no better than to entertain themselves with meaningless gossip about people they barely knew. It was either amusement from the messy breakup of the month or finally facing the fact that a war was brewing. Sally and Annie’s fallout had been the most discussed topic just a fortnight ago. 

The twins' straightforwardness, although somewhat appreciated, had come as a surprise. I had heard the question being asked behind my back many times this week, in whispers and brimmed to the top with fake empathy. 

“We wanted to say we’re very sorry about what happened between you and…” I didn’t know if she hadn’t finished the sentence out of apprehension or some sort of ‘respect’ thing. 

“Remus” I said. Both of the twins visibly relaxed after I spoke his name out loud without bursting in tears. “You can say his name, I won’t crumble.” Liar.

“Yes, terribly sorry we are. We wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“I am, thank you.”

I was leaving when I heard it. 

“How did it end?”

And there it was. Turning around, the sight that greeted me would’ve made me laugh under different circumstances. Marion, presumably the one who couldn’t contain herself and asked the question, had both of her hands covering her mouth and her eyes had never looked bigger. Her sister, Nora, had her eyes shut closed, face scrunched up in embarrassment while the tip of her ears turned red. 

Why don’t you ask him? Perhaps then I’ll know, too. Why don’t you go and find out for me? Why don’t you? Would you two be a dear and ask him why he called it all off? Because I can’t pretend like I understand how I got here, pretending to be composed as if I hadn’t been crying all weekend. 

“We won’t tell anyone.” (Except all of our friends, who will tell their friends, and they tell theirs…).

“I guess… I guess we didn’t work out anymore.”

Short and sweet. I could tell the twins were disappointed. Sally had definitely been more indulgent. 

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

“She said that? She said we didn’t work out?”

“Why are you so surprised, mate? You were the one to tell her that.” James’ tone was colder than the snow covering the courtyard. The boys were killing time in the Gryffindor Common Room, huddled in the burgundy sofas and armchairs, protected from the bitter November weather. Both of his best friends were hurt and the one moaning and complaining was the one to blame. 

“Well, yes, but…”

“But? You know, Remus, we wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t screwed it all up.”

Peter, concentrating on shuffling a deck of cards wandless, whistled softly. He might have seemed uninterested, but you could bet he had been listening to the entire interaction. “Unfortunately for you, James has a point.” 

“Sirius, you’re awfully quiet.” Remus mumbled while biting the skin around his nails. 

Sirius Black was, perhaps for the first time in his life, lost at words. He had been strolling round the room wondering when Remus had gone completely mental. Sirius knew his friend had always been somewhat loony – if you catch his drift – but this was on another level.

“I’m restraining myself from speaking because if not I’ll probably punch you in the face.” Honest as you could get from the eldest Black son.

“What has speaking got to do with you punching me in the face?” 

“You want to find out, Remmy?” Asked Sirius, staring at Remus from the window, where he had decided to finally sit down and unroll a cigarette. 

Peter’s squeaky laugh was cut short by a golden cushion landing on his nose.

“That shit will kill you,” Remus protested, chin lifted up to point at the cigarette on Sirius’ lips.

“Oh, cry me a fucking river, Remus.”

Remus felt like crying a river but not over Sirius’ disgusting habit.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Every corner of the castle was haunted, either by the memories created together or by her phantom-like figure wandering the halls aimlessly; an arrow being constantly thrown around by the wind, changing directions when she saw even a glimpse of him. 

The library was a bittersweet haven. Continually looking over her shoulder, methodically wiping away a tear from time to time; still, as much as it reminded her of Remus, it had been one of her favourite places before even meeting him. The fear of seeing him there couldn’t – wouldn’t – keep her frozen in her dorm forever. 

The smell of books, the sound of quills scribbling against pieces of parchments, and even the occasional screeches of the librarian were unparalleled comforting for her. 

Distracted by the illustrations on the spine of a large tome, she didn’t notice the person standing behind her.

“I read the book you lent me last month.”

A near heart attack later and with a hand on her chest, she turned around. The bulky teenager smiled sheepishly, fixing his glasses with one hand while the other held out the book. He was wearing the red and gold gloves she had knitted for him as a gift. A mini embroidered lion had been enchanted to run across the horizontal colourful lines. She smiled at the sight of it. James Potter was the greatest friend she had ever had. 

“Did you like it?”

“Loved it.”

Silently, he circled his arms around her, the book still in his hands was now a delicate weight on her back. She returned the hug immediately, her arms enclosing tightly around his frame. The lingering smell of chocolate brought tears to her eyes. 

“Don’t tell anyone but I think Snape is our own version of Mr Hyde.” James spoke softly on the shell of her ear. The chuckle she let out made James’ heart soared. She was the greatest friend he would always cheer up. 

“Thank you.”

“For making fun of Snape? You’d have to thank me daily, sweetheart.”

“I would say hourly.” A cheeky grin crept up on her face. 

“Now you’re catching on.” His hands abandoned their place at her back to gently grab her face. “Want to go to Hogsmeade and grab a butterbeer? It’s still early.”

She could never say no to him because James’ gentle smile reassured her, time and time again, that it would be alright.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

The war had left her short of friends and allies; short of hopes and dreams. 

With a heavy heart, she conjured a small bouquet of white flowers to lay on James and Lily’s grave. The soft autumn breeze did nothing to dry her tears. She would come to see them as often as she could, and as often as her grief would allow her. The worst part of it all was that she had lost Harry, as well.

She fought Dumbledore tooth and nail to at least be allowed to be part of his life. If raising him was too much, then she could surely visit him once or twice a month. He refused – though he kept quiet at the sight of the albatross he saw circling the house in Privet Drive the night  Lily and James died –. He knew she’d find some loophole in his restrictions. Nobody had said anything about a bird common to be seen on the ocean flying across Little Whinging. 

October 31st was a hazy memory, getting blurrier by the years. She had been shuffling her tarot cards – a branch of magic she’d wanted to take up since she was a little girl – when the entire deck burst from her hands. Suspended in the air, the only visible cards were the Tower, the Ten of Swords, and the Three of Swords. She didn’t need anyone to tell her what had happened.

A white-feathered bird was out of the window a few minutes later and in its journey, the albatross found a giant man flying a motorcycle with a bundle in his arms. 

The sound of the soft leaves being stepped on took her out of her memories. She turned around with a tight grip on her wand.

“Hey.”

Remus Lupin had changed over the years. More scars littered his face, the bags below his hazel eyes were more prominent, and he had done something to his hair. He was holding a bouquet of lilies in his right hand, the other one was hidden inside the pocket of his trousers. A tiny, apprehensive, yet handsome smile had formed in his lips.

She would always be under whatever spell that smile incited in her.

“Hi.”

For Remus, she was still stunning. His heart still leaps at the sight of her eyes.

[bvnniz]

More siren reader x vox pls I loved ur other siren fic!

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ : siren!reader x vox

𝜗𝜚 : SMUT, 18+, porn, fingering, cuckold technically, valentino mention, valentino manipulation, literal filth ngl, reader is dating vox, reader is vox’s assistant, porn without plot to an extent, reader refers to vox as daddy out of sex mostly teasing, reader is kind of a brat, vox has a sir kink . . . that’s all i need to say, orgasm denial

You Can Fuck Harder

you weren’t sure how you kept getting yourself into these predicaments. but here you were. dressed in blue and red matching lingerie ( although it pretty much being torn apart at this point ) handcuffed to a bed.

although usually when things like this happened it was just you and vox, sometimes you being handcuffed while he fucked you against his desk or you being handcuffed to his bed.

only difference here is that you had multiple cameras aimed at you and vox wasn’t the one fucking you currently. you honestly forgot who even was, being too lost in your thoughts and giving out a couple fake moans here and there for the camera.

valentino had asked you and vox to shoot a porn scene for him which you agreed to but vox declined. although valentino being the little snake he is, told you that vox agreed to let you do the scene with someone else.

you soon found that to be false as you saw vox sitting next to valentino, eye twitching and screen buffering. vox wasn’t one to share and he especially wasn’t planning on sharing you with another man.

although you had fun being a bitch to vox which is when you had the brilliant idea as the sinner behind you’s thrusts began to falter. “fuck! cum in my mouth please!” you fake whined, sticking your tongue out at him.

the sinner immediately pulled out pushing you onto your knees before shoving his tip into your mouth so the camera could see him finish. once he did, you turned towards a camera making direct eye contact at the one you knew vox was currently watching before sticking your tongue out to show the camera the sinner’s cum in your mouth before swallowing.

“cut! bonita, that was amazing!” valentino praised while having someone uncuff you. “i know.” you rolled your eyes before walking over to vox and sitting on his lap. “hi daddy.” you smirked but he just rolled his eyes at you

“i’m not in the mood for you trying to be all innocent.” he said looking away from you. all you did was pout at him. before looking towards the temporary dressing room valentino had given you. “talk in private?”

he sighed before nodding, you both getting up and walking into the dressing room. you immediately took a seat on the bed, vox stayed standing.

“to my defense i was told you agreed to have me do a scene with someone else.” he just sighed “why in my right mind would i agree to that?” all you did was smirk “‘cause we both know those stupid sinners can’t fuck me like my daddy can, i mean come on he couldn’t even make me cum.” during your sentence you had started to spread your legs, your torn up panties hiding very little from vox.

“so you have me watch you get fucked by someone else and now you want me to fuck you? fuck no!” his eye practically twitched at the idea. you just shrugged before reaching a hand down and starting to circle your clit “fine! i’m gonna cum with or without your help. just thought you’d wanna cum inside me. but, i guess it’s fine since you know you can’t fuck me as well as that guy did.” you fake yawned causing vox to be way more than annoyed

vox immediately had his hand around your throat, squeezing tight but not enough where you weren’t safe “you think i don’t know what makes you tick? believe me i know you weren’t really moaning and whining over that dude barely even going all the way inside of you.” you just smiled up at him and that’s when vox realized. all you wanted was for him to pound into you.

he sighed before taking his hand off your neck and taking his pants off as quick as possible, you immediately moved onto your knees, putting your hands on top of the headboard of your bed. once having his pants off vox kneeled behind you on the bed.

vox inserted one of his fingers into you, you immediately letting out a whine. “you know for such a brat it doesn’t take much for you to become my little slut again.” you just rolled your eyes “fuck me already please!” you practically whined out causing vox to chuckle before pulling his finger out and inserting his dick inside of you

you always needed adjustment when fucking vox, no matter how many times you fucked your body never got used to his length, although vox wasn’t complaining as you were always ‘tight as fuck’ as he usually told you.

although this time vox didn’t give you your usual time to adjust, he just immediately started pounding into you, which surprised you causing your upper body to fall down into the mattress, a couple of loud moans immediately falling out of your mouth

“sir! fuckfuckfuck!!!!” although you and vox did some . . . kinky shit together he never was rough with you. sure choking you here and there but never enough to where it hurt but in a good way. even when you guys fucked he never went as fast as he was now. especially in your current position. which was the position where vox would usually pick your upper body up and have you lay against his chest as he softly fucked into you, a more intimate position than anything.

but not right now, vox was seething, how dare you try and tell him someone fucked you better than him? the whole reason you became his assistant was because you wanted to fuck him, which was something you drunk confessed to him one night after the two of you fucked. one of the few things he remembers from that night minus the two of you going to that bar.

“fuck vox! sir! i’m close! please please!” vox thought about it for a second “just wait, cum with me.” you nodded, vox’s pace increasing which surprised you. after a couple more thrusts he came inside you, immediately pulling out before you could cum too

“maybe should’ve thought about that before being a brat.” he smirked at you, you flipped your body over before smirking back at him “oh c’mon sir, we both know you want a taste.” you put your legs on his shoulders “we know you can fuck harder but can you eat me out better too?”

[highladyjane]

The assault at Sangravah happened in early ACOMAF (before Elain's existence even came into picture for Azriel - 3 days before he even got to meet Feyre)... So I don't get how G and Az are supposed to be mates when he's had all that time to feel something?

There's the parallel of Rhys' father feeling his mating bond snap into place the moment he met his mother being assaulted.

"One look at her, and he knew what she was..." (ACOMAF, ch. 16)

Or Rhys himself feeling the bond when Feyre was being tortured by Amarantha...

"And I knew as I picked up that knife to kill her... I knew right then what you were. I knew right then that you were my mate." (ACOMAF, ch. 54)

Or Cassian simply meeting Nesta. "Say what I've guessed from the moment we met" he breathed. What I knew from the first time I kissed you. What became unbreakable between us on Solstice night." (ACOSF, ch. 62)

Bonus from Nesta: “‘From the moment I met you, I wanted you more than reason. From the moment I saw you in my house, you were all I could think about. And it terrified me. No one had ever held such power over me."

Or even Lucien after Elain was Made and maybe even while being thrown into the Cauldron... I don't even need a quote for them, but even Lucien knew and has tried seeking Elain out after the incident.

It's stated in the books and shown again and again that it's the males who are deeply affected by the mating bond. That they can know from the moment they meet. They all in one way or another sought after the females. Even Nesta and Feyre felt something before they knew or opened themselves up to it. And since they all met - They. Couldn't. Stay. Away.

But there's like... no hint of it from Az after stumbling upon G? Like he just literally stumbles upon her - never actually even actively seeking her out through all those years? He hasn't even actively tried to stay away? He's just... *crickets*

It's been Gwyn making noises and attracting his attention through all their scenes together. It was Gwyn asking for dagger lessons. It was 'Gwyn' making Az the new ribbon (whatever that means). And it's Az's shadows reacting to Gwyn, not Az himself. But there's no real hint that Gwyn feels anything romantic for him. There's barely any interactions between them without linking it to her assault in Sangravah and her growth from it.

Besides Az's shadows reacting to G, and that ribbon moment that everyone deems so pivotal when Az realises what it means for the Valkyries (that he's had a hand in training) and maybe even reflects upon Gwyn's character development and therefore what the ribbon means for Gwyn - which made me feel proud too, and that's how I interpreted it - but I can't see an undeniable sign of it being a mating bond anywhere.

I thought at first that mayhaps he was giving her space because of the assault, but then the BC came and he went "It was too late to bank without appearing like he was running," and then "He wouldn't go so far as to call Gwyn a friend,". (ACOSF, Azriel's Bonus Chapter)

Let's not even mention the part where Gwyn was actually in danger (no matter how capable she was at that point), while Cassian was going ballistic at Nesta being in danger, but Az is all like "Let's go save Eris". Eris who both he and Cassian hates. Eris who Az himself nearly killed during the HLs' pre-war meeting (before he exhibited actual mate behaviour and sought and risked his life to save Elain who's not even his mate). But no, he gave just as much or even less action and reaction about Gwyn as Tamlin gave when Feyre was UTM.

And I was like...

How are they mates? Where's the mate behaviour every male - mated or not - in Prythian has exhibited throughout the books? Why did I keep seeing things about them being mates and endgame?

The only hint between them that I could even begin to consider it from is the second to last sentence in Az's BC.

"But Azriel tucked away the thought, consciously erasing the slight smile it brought to his face. Buried the image down deep, where it glowed quietly."

But I basically have the same interpretation about that as this post from @merymoonbeam. (Although I'm still neutral about the lightsinger theory, it's the most interesting take.)

Because again.

Why hasn't Azriel felt/shown anything or actively sought her out or even actively stayed away if he's known Gwyn since Sangravah?

If they're mates, shouldn't he have felt and shown something - like that glow - and Gwyn be the one to snap him out of his 'love' for Mor before he even had the chance to meet Elain? If he's just lonely and jealous of his brothers having mates then... Why has he barely noticed or sought out Gwyn who's supposed to be his mate?

What, he had to wait until his shadows reacted to her to even think about her?

I'm not an expert at analysing things - I wouldn't even say I'm good at interpreting things especially when I've got my rose-tinted glasses on, so/but I'm always open to being wrong and changing my mind accordingly.

But/so convince me with actual canon and not just your biased opinions, delusions, self-insertions, or ships.

[poursomesunaonme]

no buts

pairing: suna rintarou x gn!reader

summary: rin drops two bombshells on you when you least expect it.

wc: 2k

cw: childhood friends to lovers, angst/comfort, love confession <3

you never thought that you could’ve fallen so hard for suna rintarou.  more importantly, you never thought that you could’ve had your heart broken by him.

it was straight out of the movies, your relationship.  you had grown up on the same street, gone to the same daycare, same grade school, same high school.  every single year of your life, every single season, had a memory of that golden-eyed boy.

suna knew you better than anyone - everything about you.  your favorite food, favorite song for every mood, your nervous habits, your celebration dances.  and despite the disinterested façade he always put up for everyone else, despite how much he didn’t want to admit it, you knew him too.

the two of you always danced around each other, it seemed.  you used the connection that you’ve had since childhood, attributed it to being platonic soulmates.  with every passing year, with the growing love you felt for each other, you always just thought that it was one of those friendly soulmate things.

and finally, over two decades later, there came a point where you couldn’t prolong it any longer, where you thought you yourself might burst, but it came with the most inopportune moment that suna brought with him through your doorway.

you sat across from each other at your dining room table.  your fingers laced perfectly in front of you, your thumb rubbing against the other’s knuckles.  (one of the telltale signs suna knew meant that you were distraught.)

“why didn’t you tell me sooner?”  your voice was barely a whisper.

“i…”  he was uncharacterstically unsure of himself.  “i don’t know.”

“rin, it’s great news.”  you finally found the courage to turn your face up from the table to look at him.  the look on his face didn’t ease your turmoil.  “why aren’t you excited?”

he was silent for a long time.  “it’s really far.”  his brows furrowed.  he looked to the water spot on the table that was a dead giveaway that he wanted to say something else.  and finally, he did.  “i… i don’t wanna leave you.”

“it doesn’t matter that i won’t be there, rin.  this could very well be your big break!  don’t worry about me.” you couldn’t quite convince yourself of the last sentence, even with the forced smile.

“you know i can’t do that.  and i won’t admit that again.”

a smirk toyed with the corner of your lips before the feelings that you had for him bubbled inside of you once more, effectively squashing it back down into a frown.  you had to ignore them, though. suna had to leave, and you had to get over yourself.

“this is a once and a lifetime opportunity.  we’ll stay in touch.  we’ve figured it out before.”

your words fell useless on his heart.  “it was hard last time - and that was only for a few weeks.  this is for at least three years.  i can’t go that long without you, i-”

he cut himself off, planting his hands flat on the table

“rintarou, do not do this.”  you couldn’t help the sternness in your voice.  it was a plea for him not to say the words.

“i don’t think i can hold it back any longer.”  he rubbed his temples, letting out a long sigh. 

you knew what he was going to say before his brain could even formulate the words.

your name fell off his lips with a practiced ease, one that he had known all his life.  his hands crept over the table to settle on yours.  they trembled.  you wanted to pull away - needed to pull away, but you couldn’t.  you hated seeing him like this - all the cockiness gone, no snarky comments, no smirk pasted on his lips.  he looked scared.

“i can’t leave you because i…”

don’t say it.

don’t you dare say it.

you felt it too.  you knew it all too well.  and unfortunately, you’ve known for long enough that it was stupid that you weren’t together already (even though you basically were).  staying over for days at each other’s apartments, sharing drunken kisses and claiming the next day (to both of your chagrin) that it was just the alcohol, waking up tangled in each other’s limbs and enjoying the security of it all - you weren’t just platonic soulmates.  but this was suna’s big career break, and you couldn’t let yourself be the reason why he didn’t take it.  you couldn’t have that weighing on your heart.

“i love you.  i’ve always loved you.”

your heart exploded when he finally forced the words out - the ones with the true intentions that had been trapped in his lungs for years.  it was everything you had ever wanted.  it had grown up with you, seeped into the marrow, melded with your skeleton when your bones fused together.  it had always whispered in the back of your mind every time you shared a chuppet, every time he held you after a break up, every time you cheered him on at a game (you didn’t miss a single one), every time you both repeatedly yelled at the miyas that you didn’t definitely did not have crushes on each other.

but he seriously wasn’t considering turning this down—not when he had worked so hard to become the player he was.  you knew it all too well.  you’d gotten ice packs for him while he sprawled his long legs out on your couch to ice his aching abdominals, his forearms, his fingers.  you’d fed him ibuprofen when he refused to take any.  you’d wrapped his fingers yourself when he said he didn’t need to (he definitely needed to, especially against some of the cannons participating in the tournaments).  he’d worked himself to the bone because he loved the sport.

he admitted that he loved volleyball first, after all.  you didn’t want to compete with that.  you couldn’t let yourself even be in the running.

“rin, you can’t do this.”

“why?”  his eyes widen, running the rough pad of a thumb over your knuckle.  the callous further reminds you of why you have to say what you need to.

“you can’t choose me over this.  it’s what you’ve always dreamed of ever since we were kids.  this could make you.  i can’t stand in the way of that.”

“i’ve dreamed of us ever since we were kids!”  he was nearly yelling.  tears sprang to your eyes at the revelation, at him taking a sledgehammer and shattering the ice that gave way into the rushing torrent of your true affection for each other.  don’t do this don’t do this please don’t do this.  “this is my choice!  why can’t you let me make it?”

you couldn’t quite answer.  of course it wasn’t fair.  it wasn’t fair to either of you.  this was the moment that suna had been bending over backwards for his whole life.  your feelings for each other reaching a fever pitch at the exact time just couldn’t be helped.  it wasn’t fucking fair.

you pulled your hands away from him, letting them settle in your lap, deciding to make them fair.  you were the problem—and you didn’t mean that in a self-deprecating way.  it was the simple truth.  if you were out of the equation, then rin would take the opportunity to pursue what he’s loved his entire life.  you made the decision because you loved him, because you wanted him to be happy, because you didn’t want him to pass up the opportunity just because he finally realized that he loved you.

you didn’t want to make light of his feelings, as that would mean you’re making light of you own; that’s not what you wanted.  you would wait forever if that was the case.  this is just a little hiccup.  however, if he was going to refuse the opportunity of a lifetime because of his feelings for you, you would just have to take drastic measures to make sure that you wouldn’t be around to affect his decision.

“suna rintarou, if you won’t sign with them because you love me, then i won’t hesitate to make you hate me.”

your heart fell with the pitch of your voice.  you weren’t sure if you could bring yourself to break his heart enough to propel him directly into the arms of what could be his future award-winning teammates, but it was what you wanted for him.  as selfish as it was, you didn’t want to be the reason why he passed up his lifelong dream that would allow him to go down in history as one of the greatest volleyball players in japan.

you stood up and whirled around, dead set on locking yourself in your room and crying in fetal position until the most diabolical plan would make itself known to you and allow you to shatter both of your hearts in the process, when suna’s hand clasped around your wrist.

you stopped in your tracks and whirled around, only coming face to face with his chest.  you looked up, finding his golden eyes welling with tears.  it was a sight you hadn’t seen in a long, long time.

“nothing in this world could ever make me hate you,” he whispered.  he reached down to clasp your hands, bringing them up to his lips to kiss your knuckles.  “i know you want what’s best for me.  i know that because i know you.”

his hands dropped yours, and went instead to cup your face.  his palms were coarse against your jawline.

“you think that because i’ve wanted this my whole life and that it’s right in front of me now, that i should go for it, no matter what.  and you’re right.  in a perfect world, i would have already signed on with them and packed my bags.”

tears brim on your waterline.  suna’s thumb stroked your cheek.  the gentle shifting of your skin sent a tear falling down your cheek that he quickly swiped away.  he smiled softly.  it made your knees jello.

“but…” he sighed, sucking his teeth as he fumbled for words.  “sure, this team may take pretty high priority, but… you’re also here.  i’ve wanted you my whole life.  you’re right in front of me now.  i’m finally fucking man enough to admit that i’ve loved you for as long as i’ve known you.”

your throat stung as you fought back the tears.  he couldn’t do this.  there was something that you could figure out.  you always did—even when you were just best friends.  platonic soulmates.  surely, there was something.

“what i mean to say is that there will be other teams with great opportunities.  i know that i’m young and not even at my prime yet, so there will be other chances to succeed—other teams close by.  but there will never be another you.  i will never love any person as much as i love you.  and that’s why i can refuse this deal with all the peace in the world.  that’s why i can’t pass up this opportunity to be with you.  i love y-”

you didn’t let him finish his sentence before your lips crashed onto him, before the last twenty-something years of your lives collided into one big picture of “finally, you dumbasses.”  one of his hands left your face to wrap around your waist, to pull and steady you on your tiptoes.  a smirk tugged on the corners of his lips and you knew he was teasing you in his head about how short you were compared to him.  the kiss doesn’t last long before you pull back begrudgingly.

“now that we have that established…” your hands shook against his chest.  “i still want you to go.  we can figure it out.”

“but-”

you pressed a finger to his lips.  “no buts.  you’re going.  cut the bullshit of ‘another team, another opportunity, yadda yadda.’  you’re going.  we’ll figure it out.”

he paused, then smiled as he pressed his lips forward into your finger.  “you do make a compelling argument.”

“i know.”  you grinned and leaned further into him.  “i’m serious, though, rin.  we’ll work something out.  we’ve managed to survive the last two decades of whatever the hell this is.”

this drew a laugh from him.  “i guess you’re right.”

you both take a minute of silence, silently agreeing that you would still be together even if he was hours away pursuing his dreams.  you had made it that long pining after each other… this would be just fine.   he smiled and tilted his head to the side, leaning down to kiss you again, this time putting all the yearning from his time loving you into it.  you returned it tenfold, and together, you stumbled into the bedroom where you would show each other just how much you’ve wanted this.

© all work belongs to poursomesunaonme. do not copy and repost.

[raineandsky]

The Villain's Housekeeper

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7) (part 8) (part 9) (part 10) (part 11)

tw: guns

Flashing lights soak the corridor in crimson. Another escape attempt, no doubt—there’s never any shortage of those. The hero stopped a few themself, back in the good old days.

Hurried footsteps echo on the stairs. Ah, here’s the cavalry now. A spray of golden light flickers along the wall, accompanied by a screech. The red lights flick again and the villain appears at the base of the stairs. The hero can barely register they’re there before their hands are rattling the bars of their cell frantically.

“[Hero],” they say like a demand. “[Hero], the keys. Where are they?”

Ah. Of course. The villain sees an out, and they don’t care who gets left in their wake. How villainous of them.

Another flash of the lights. It’s giving the hero a headache. “In the security office,” they say, already resigned. “The back door’s the blue one, second from the left—”

The villain doesn’t seem to have heard the rest of that, already sprinting back up the stairs. The hero is left to listen to the grating wail of the alarms and to look at everything in bloody flashes of light.

At least the villain can be free. They deserve at least that for the kindness they’ve shown the hero. The hero might get off lighter too, with them gone. The superhero will still have some points to make, sure, but at least he’ll have less reason to now that the villain’s gone. Or he’ll be angry they escaped, and he’ll have the perfect punching bag to take it out on.

Footsteps on the stairs again. The hero isn’t sure why anyone’s coming down here, considering the villain is likely long gone by now.

The villain appears in the corridor again, looking a little more haggard than before, and before the hero can question the sight they’re shoving a key heartlessly into their cell door.

“[Villain],” they say a little urgently as the villain throws the door open without a care. “Why’re you still here? What’re you—”

The hero doesn’t get to finish their sentence as the villain hauls them out of the cell and into the corridor. A gun gets shoved into their hands.

“The agency teach you to use these?” the villain asks quickly.

Cold metal, unforgiving bullets. The superhero’s favourite weapon, below the heroes he keeps on expertly short leashes.

“I– Yeah.”

The villain nods. “Good. Use it.” And then, like an afterthought, “Don’t die.”

The villain doesn’t wait for an answer before moving for the stairs again. They glance back when their footsteps are the only ones echoing in the stairwell. “[Hero], come on.”

They’re still in the corridor. What the hell is happening? Why did they come back when escape was in their grasp?

These thoughts can only manifest into a slightly choked “sorry.”

The two of them meet heroes at the top of the stairs. The villain shoots them without a thought. People the hero knows. Allies, the villain had said. Friends. They feel on the verge of throwing up at the thought.

The hero guides the way—a bend in the corridor. More stairs. A bullet to someone’s face that the hero refuses to look at long enough to recognise.

Double doors—the back entrance. A key jangles between the villain’s fingers. The right key. How they got their hands on that whilst being chased by the entire agency, wasting time by coming back, the hero will never guess.

The doors batter the brick wall in the villain’s haste to get them outside. It’s less protected around the back, the hero knows that. They have less chance of being shot from here. They remember the way they took out last time, back when they were alone and afraid and three hours from hiding out in the villain’s pantry. 

The villain goes first, toeing the threshold like it’ll eat them if they’re too rash. “None of this is alarmed,” the hero offers after a moment. “They got tired of the catering staff setting it off on their smoke breaks so they disabled it.”

The villain glances at them like they hold the answers to the universe. “I wish you could’ve given me a tour of this shithole in more casual circumstances,” they say, and with that they’re out the doors and into the dusk.

The hero follows. Of course they do; where else will they go? A desperate mistake led them to the villain in the first place, and now there’s nowhere on earth they could be more safe.

The outer fence is almost upon them. High and metal and lined with cruel barbs, but the villain doesn’t even hesitate at the sight of them. The hero avoided this last time—they risked it climbing an overhanging tree branch.

The villain skids to a halt at the fence, turning back to the hero with their hands interlocked, their gun dropped to the ground. They lean down slightly as the hero slows next to them, confused.

“What’re you doing?”

The villain glances up at them with comfortably familiar annoyance. “I’m giving you a leg-up, you moron.”

The fence is high. Only one of them is getting over it. “[Villain], no, that means—”

“Go over the fucking fence, [Hero], before I throw you over it myself.”

The hero can only stare at them for a moment. There’s no way. They can’t do that. They can’t leave the villain here, after everything, no—

The villain’s gaze flits to a point over the hero’s shoulder. “They’re coming,” they say shortly. “Hurry up or we’ll both die.”

The hero steps into the villain’s hands and lets them haul them over the fence. The wire cuts into their hands but they ignore the pain, throwing themself onto the other side and rolling out their fall on the other side. They glance back at the villain.

The villain’s staring back at them, the slightest frown in their brow. The lights out here are orange against the cold evening, haloing them with a warm glow. The hero wants to burn the look on their face into their mind—forced bravery, insincere nonchalance, the fear of dying and choosing to anyway, for someone else. For them.

“Stay safe, [Hero],” they say softly, their voice almost lost to the din of shouting behind them.

The hero’s useless standing here. They give the villain a look they hope conveys their reluctance to leave, turn on their heel, and bolt.

Run, that little voice demands. Don’t stop. Let them die in your stead. The voice is quiet, quieter than it’s ever been, and it almost has no control over them anymore.

The hero slows once they’re safely out of sight, turning back to watch the aftermath of their escape. The villain holds their hands up in defeat, kicking the gun away for good measure. They don’t even back away when a couple of heroes approach. One of them raises a fist to them, and within a second the force of her punch sends the villain tumbling to the floor. A speck of red flicks to the concrete when the villain spits.

The heroes exchange a short word and they grapple for the villain to drag them back into the agency. The villain doesn’t even struggle, accepting defeat with nothing more than a puff of a sigh into the cold night air.

No fight. Not even an attempt to avoid their own recapture. The hero's heart hammers in their chest. The villain never intended to escape, did they?

The doors slam closed. The ones outside go back to their patrols, others already heading out to look for the hero. They know they can’t be here long. They’ll be found in no time staying here.

But they can’t let the villain save them twice. That’s unfair. What kind of hero are they if they can’t save someone? What kind of hero are they if they couldn’t even save themself?

And they’re not saved without the person who saved them first. They turn to continue their escape into the darkness, a plan already forming in their mind.

If they’re going to die a hero, they might as well do it for someone who matters.

(next part)

Taglist:

@runarelle @thiefofthecrowns @morning-star-whump @epiclamer @tekanparadiae @yourslimeologist @greengrassandflowers

[noahmaxim]

Fushiguro toji! naughty little boy

I saw a video on tiktok that at the time I thought of writing something for toji. I'm sorry but I'm a bitch for him.

If you want to reblog my writing, that would be very welcome, but please do not translate or repost on any platform without my permission!

English is not my first language, so I apologize if it's not very good.

Warnings: mention of sex, explicit sex, anal, teasing, toji being a hottie, pet nickname, cuteness at the end.

Fushiguro toji x male reader!

I recommend not reading if you don't like it.

You and toji were lying down, your right leg was on top of his left leg, your hand was resting on his firm chest and your head was resting on the older's broad shoulder. You knew that was the time when you should just sleep after the hard day on you, but having toji by your side made a flame inside you ignite.

Your hand slowly trails down his chest getting close to his beautiful and stuffed bundle but before you can reach it Toji puts his scrutinizing hand back on his chest. But toji should know you can be stubborn and pushy, you drop his hand once more feeling your boyfriend grab you.

"Don't be a brat and keep your hands still while I'm still being nice." He opens his eyes, giving you a look that said, "don't defy me," but defying him was exactly what you intended to do. As soon as he lets go of your hand and closes his eyes again, you already have your hand where you wanted and longed for it. Even though he wasn't hard yet, you could feel just by touching how big he was. You've had sex more than once but every time his size scared you like it was the first time.

"You're really being a naughty little boy, I think I've been too kind to you lately." This time he gets on top of you, pinning your wrists with one hand while he uses the other to support his own weight.

"I just miss you." He hadn't even done anything yet and his voice already sounded so pathetic and needy.

"Look at you, I haven't even touched you and you're already acting like a whore." toji's husky, low laugh brings butterflies to his stomach. He trails kisses from her jaw to her throat, not letting even a tiny piece of her skin escape. Her low moans already filled toji's ears so sweetly that he felt his cock squirm inside his boxers.

"Please toji, don't tease me like that!" Her pathetic and wobbly sweet voice was music to toji's ears, knowing that he made you so desperate without having to do practically anything made him smug and full of himself.

"Be patient, it was you who wanted this. Now I'm taking my time with you little boy." He left a kiss on her cheek soon turning his attention to her beautiful neck at his disposal. You feel him sweat the skin that connects your throat to jaw making a loud moan freely leave your lips, he knew all his pressure points, he knew exactly where to squeeze to make you go crazy.

The hand that was holding his wrists slides down his heaving chest until it reaches the hem of his shirt, toji's big hand penetrates his shirt causing shivers throughout his body, his skillful hand reaches one of his nipples trapping it between his fingers and turning it. A silent squeak leaves his lips at the sudden sensation of pain and pleasure.

"Don't get lost yet little boy." With one hand he frees himself from his shirt. Toji feels exhilarated at the sight of her bare chest exposed to him, her beautiful reddened nipples hard begging him to pay attention to them. Toji moves down to the height of her nipples, leaving a lick on one of them while his hand plays with the other, his lips wrap around your erect nipple while his fingers work deftly on your other nipple.

"T-toji I need you! I need t-you… aah" You stop mid-sentence when he suddenly pinches your nipple making you involuntarily let out a moan louder than everyone else.

"What do you need me to do little boy?" He mocks with a playful smile on his lips and staring at your lost face. His voice was low and seductive, the perfect combination to throw you off your feet. Toji brings his face close to yours gently kissing your lips, he brushes his tongue across your lips to ask for passage which you gladly give in to. His tongue dives into yours greedily exploring every corner of your mouth leaving no room for you to fight him. "Tell me and maybe I can fulfill your request." He runs his thumb over the corner of his mouth, collecting the saliva that was already trickling towards his jaw.

"I-I need you to… f-fuck me toji." You were like a cute puppy begging for its owner's attention, and that was something toji loved about you

"I think you're learning manners, but I still want to take my time with you." Toji lets out an involuntary wheel when he sees her disappointed face. "Don't worry, I still intend to fuck you until you forget those fucking bad manners you learned." The promise he whispered in his ear made his throbbing cock ache.

Toji's hand goes down to your cock squeezing it over the mesh shorts you wore and before you could control it a desperate moan escaped your lips, and your hips rose in search of more friction and attention. Toji trails kisses down your chest and stomach until he reaches the waistband of your shorts, and slowly he pulls them down along with your underwear when he finally frees you from the fabric that restricts you a shiver runs through your entire body with the cold air that from suddenly touched its length.

"Were you ever this hard? You really are such a dirty fucking whore." His hand wrapped around your cock moving it lightly up and down at a torturous pace, you move your hips in search of more friction but toji holds you against the bed preventing you from moving them.

"P-please toj-ji, I can't wait any longer!" Tears already wanted to leave her eyes and run freely down her cheeks because of her lover's teasing.

"Are you finally remembering your manners?" He laughs, speeding up the movements of his hand leaving his vision blurring and his breathing choppy and faltering. "I'll give you what you want since you're being so polite." Toji's lips wrap around the mushroom head of his cock, his moans become louder and his body shakes. You lift your head which was previously thrown back and you have the best view anyone could have, toji between your legs looking at you with puffy cheeks from having your whole cock in her mouth. His eyes were watering from how deep he was tucking you into his throat, the feel of toji's warm throat was the best thing you've ever felt in your entire life.

"Oh my god toji, I'm coming!" His hands grip toji's hair forcing him to keep his cock nestled deep in his throat as his vision darkens, his body shakes and the knot in his stomach tightens. Your breath catches as you descend from your peak and you let toji and go. You hear him cough and you bring your worried gaze to him, even though you know he doesn't need to.

"Don't look at me like that, you should be more concerned about yourself." He runs his tongue over the scar that runs along his upper lip as he looks at you like a predator ready to devour his prey. toji's fingers find your puckered hole rubbing it gently before inserting a finger making you gasp at the sensation. At first he moves his finger slowly before increasing speed and adding another finger, Toji increases the speed. The thrust of his fingers left your mind blank with the pleasure he was giving you with just his fingers.

"I need your father inside me!" His request had toji's cock tightening in anticipation, he was grinding his hips against the mattress in search of some relief from the throbbing pain in his cock.

"I need to prepare you to welcome me little boy." He licks his tight hole as he continues to fuck him with his long, slender fingers.

"I'm fine, I'm ready." Tears were now running down his face and drool was running down the corner of his lips.

"So impatient." Toji stands up, fitting his lips to his, he pulls away from you just so he could get rid of the sweatpants and underwear that trapped him and as soon as he freed himself I turn my attention to his lips. You feel toji's head touch his hole and be inserted slowly. Toji had a large circumference and even with preparation it hurt, but you could handle it since you knew that when it passed you would reach paradise." Hold on a little longer, little boy, I'm already halfway through." .toji's voice was soft as he kissed his face and stroked his hair. The deeper he went the more painful it was. "That's it, it's over. You're so good to me." He hums leaving kisses all over his face. He waits a few minutes for you to adjust until you kndiga everything is fine.

"You j-already can move!" He kisses her forehead moving again. His vision blurs and his mind goes blank as the pleasure of having Toji moving inside you invades his entire body. He had made you as stupid as he said he would, you couldn't do anything but cry and beg him to fuck you harder.

Toji was going so fast that the headboard of the bed was banging against the wall and you felt like at any moment it could break, but at the moment all you cared about was how well Toji was fucking you and nothing else in the world mattered.

"Where's all that bratty attitude of yours now?" You tried to answer, but your mind couldn't formulate words that made sense to reply. "Now you are so pathetic." Your moans turned into desperate screams with the pleasure you felt. Toji hit the right spot over and over again, it was like you could feel it in your stomach." Looks at his belly!" He odders and you force yourself to look, there's a bulge in your belly every time he hits you." That's how deep I am in you." He whispered in your ear as he placed his hand over your stomach and pressed. You already felt your peak coming again, your body was already shaking.

"T-toji I'm l-coming!" You scream feeling your body get heavy and your legs shake.

"Come to me little boy!" That wasn't a request but an order that you were happy to obey. A sharp sound rose to your ears and your body became lighter as if you were floating. You felt toji's hot cum strings paint your walls white as he let out a soft moan in your ear. His body fell on top of you as you both caught your breath.

"Oh my god that was amazing!" You rin wiping the bead of sweat that ran down your forehead.

"Yes, it was. Now we're going to clean you up." Toji gets up removing his member from inside you and you squeeze around nothing with the feeling of emptiness that remains. He picks you up and walks you to the bathroom.

"Toji." You call and he mumbles a little: "hmm". "I love you!" You kiss him, but this time in a calm, passionate kiss.

"I know." He responds by shrugging as you pull apart. You pat his chest as he laughs. "I love you too." He whispers in your ear leaving you satisfied.

[brabblesblog]

Ch 10: What is thy beloved more than another beloved, that thou dost so charge us?

Astarion has ascended, and she has stayed with him. Life in the Crimson Palace isn’t as idyllic as it seems. Is there a chance for their relationship to go back to how it was? Or is it too late for the Ascendant and his consort?

This series is about Ban, my Tav, and the Vampire Ascendant. Will be angst and smut, with sprinkles of fluff.

This fic is a softer take on Ascendant!Astarion and of the changes he undergoes after the rite. Can Ban handle the change, and if a chance came, would she choose to run? And can the Ascendant win her back in time? Inspired by the concept of vampire wives and that IGN interview with Larian that discussed the ascension.

Professionally edited by @editing-by-night

Astarion wakes up to find Ban gone. A much-needed conversation takes place.

Read on AO3.

Masterlist.

The first thing he felt was panic - white-hot and all encompassing, wrapping around his mind like a dense fog.

“Ban? BAN!”

His hands threw the sheets back, and he almost rushed out of the room before he remembered he was naked. He quickly snatched up a fresh pair of trousers and underwear, haphazardly tugging them both on at the same time. Throwing on a shirt he didn’t bother buttoning, he burst through the bedroom doors.

One of the servants was dusting a display cabinet nearby and started to curtsy, but Astarion held up a hand to stop her.

“Where is she!”

The servant pointed towards the huge double doors leading to the courtyard, and he felt his stomach drop. Without another word, he ran.

Ban had one foot on the carriage step when she saw Astarion thundering towards her. His face was contorted, his hair disheveled. Despite her rising apprehension, she couldn’t help but admire the way the sun hit his bare torso as his shirt flapped behind him.

“Ban,” he gasped, stopping just before her. He raised his hand, reaching for her. “What- where are you-”

“Don’t touch me!” she said quickly, as much a warning as a threat, and he stopped instantly, his hand hovering over her arm. She looked at his face, and was surprised to see no anger there - only anxiety and the fear of being left again. He was breathing hard even though he had no need for oxygen, his eyes wide and pupils blown with stress.

He felt a small pang of hurt as he dropped his hand. She hadn’t trusted him, and had immediately put up her wards the moment she’d seen him. He took a few steadying breaths, meeting her gaze.

“Pet- I mean, Ban,” he corrected himself automatically. “Are you leaving?” The nonchalant and charming thing would be to append ‘without saying goodbye’ to that sentence, but he was beyond caring right now.

“I was going to drop Gale’s letter off and go to the market - maybe to look around, get you a little something,” Ban ventured, carefully gauging the Ascendant’s expression. She had woken up at the crack of dawn, and he had been resting so peacefully that the idea of waking him had felt a little cruel. She’d fully planned on coming back afterwards, but was now realizing how the whole situation must look to him.

“Will you let me accompany you?” A part of him wanted to rage at her, to tell her that he was terrified. But her words had calmed him down somewhat. She seemed sincere, and seemed to have planned on returning. He ran a hand through his mussed curls, then looked down at himself and his half-dressed state. He weighed his choices for a moment, then came to a decision. He would try to trust her.

“On second thought, you go ahead. I’ll have the carriage come back here to pick me up, and I can meet you somewhere,” he suggested. He didn’t know if he’d come to regret this, his heart picking up its pace as he worried yet again that she’d leave him.

She shot him a genuine smile, one that worked wonders at soothing his concerns. He found himself smiling back. “It wouldn’t do for the people of Baldur’s Gate to see me like this, would it?”

Ban couldn’t help but laugh. “You wouldn’t survive it if they ever did, Astarion.”

He laughed as well, and found himself staring at Ban’s face. He wanted to capture her lips with his, but refrained, unsure about the wards. He took a step back from the carriage.

“I’ll see you later, darling.” He knew she’d always liked that name, the one he’d used before, and was trying to make a point of using it more often now.

She giggled, and it was all he could do to hold himself back from rushing forward and wrapping her in his arms. He watched her climb into the carriage and close the door behind her, then waited as the carriage made its way out of the courtyard, watching her go. For once that sight didn’t fill him with dread and apprehension.

He felt light, yet another feeling he had almost forgotten. Smiling to himself, he made his way back inside, a spring in his every step.

Ban was perusing a clothing store when Astarion arrived and crept up behind her, leaning over her shoulder and whispering a soft, “Hello, beautiful,” into her ear.

She jerked in surprise, turning to face him.

“That was rather quick,” she said, and considering how long it usually took to get his curls to fall in line, it really was.

“I wouldn’t have wanted to waste any more time than necessary being away from you,” he said lightly, the old flattery slipping in effortlessly. “Shall we?” He offered her his hand, a quick test to see if she still had her defenses up. To his relief, she instantly took the proffered hand, and they walked together, strolling deeper into the store.

“I’m sorry about this morning, by the way,” she said, “I know it probably looked like I was slipping away before you woke up.” With the way she had tried to leave and then putting her wards up, she had no doubts about how it seemed to him.

His face tightened for a moment. “I can hardly blame you.”

He still felt that simmering anger, after all. Astarion knew that if he wasn’t careful, he could easily lose that tentative grip he had on his more selfish inclinations.

“I know.” She eyed a dress and lifted the sleeve, just for something to do. “But I did promise to try, and part of trying is giving you grace and opportunities to do better.”

He knew she was absolutely right, but still felt a certain sense of indignation at her words. As if he was once again being held hostage, only to be rewarded if he did and said the right things. But Astarion told himself that was only his past experiences talking - that she’d never meant it to come across that way. That she just wanted him to be the person she’d known back then - though even that stung.

He followed her out of the shop, and they walked along the cobblestone streets, their fingers entwined; a gesture so intimate and yet so innocent that he marveled at it.

As they walked past a vendor selling flowers he bought a single rose and handed it to her. She tucked it behind her ear.

“You should never have let me do the rite. You should have talked me down,” he remarked.

She didn’t miss a beat, keeping her pace constant as they continued to walk. She acted as if they were merely talking about the weather. “I’ve thought a lot about that, and I think it would have been selfish of me to tell you no, as much as I wanted to.”

“What do you mean?”

“To ask you to damn yourself to the shadows again seemed like a cruel choice,” she replied, studying her fingernails with a practiced look of indifference in her face. She didn’t want him to know exactly how much thinking she had done about this - how many sleepless nights had been spent lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to find out exactly where she - no, they - had gone wrong. “To continue to let you be enslaved by your hunger for blood when there was an out - it didn’t sit right.”

He frowned. “I still starve, you know?” It was a different kind of hunger, a gnawing, gaping emptiness in the center of his chest that he had no idea how to fill. She pretended she hadn't heard him, and he sighed.

“For you.” He pushed the issue. He felt like he’d replaced one ache for another, replacing the hole in his stomach with a much deeper hole in his heart, one ravenous for her love. And there was no easy way to fill this one. No quick solution, no drink, no feeding. She ignored it again, but she squeezed his hand in understanding.

After a few minutes, she continued.

“We both knew we would be murdering seven thousand people. But I also knew it wasn’t my decision to make. At least not entirely.” It had always been his choice to make, and she had tried her damndest to steer him in the right direction. But in the end his fear had blinded him and it had won out.

“Do you blame yourself?” His eyes looked dead ahead, a pained expression on his face.

“Every night. Every day. Every moment you seem… to not be you.” Ban squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. It was selfish, that even now what she felt most guilty for was losing him, and not the lives they had both condemned to whatever fate the hells had chosen for them. But neither of them had ever been paragons of righteousness, and, well. Unleashing that many ravenous vampires would have had its own consequences.

“I failed you, I failed all those people, because I couldn’t figure out which was more selfish, convincing you to save them and to damn yourself, or letting you do what seemed best for you and damning them. I knew in theory what should be done, but when push came to shove and you were begging for my help, my conviction failed.”

She took a breath. “My heart doesn’t have enough moral compunction about what we did. It never did, beyond lip service and an objective knowledge of what’s right. I only ever truly cared for what would help you.”

He considered this, a corner of his lips rising as he thought. “I was afraid.” He snuck a glance at her and was thankful to find her eyes weren't on him. He wanted to hide, but he forced himself to face this conversation. He knew that even as the spawn he would have run from it; hells, he could feel his inner self recoiling at the very idea of opening up. But if he was to be better - for her - he needed to surpass even what that spawn had been capable of and be the best possible version of himself. Unrealistic? Definitely. But he intended to aim for it anyway.

“That I was aware of,” Ban replied. They kept walking with no particular destination in mind, just letting their feet lead them. “I was afraid too. During the rite, and after. In the moment it felt like you did have a reason to be afraid - of a life condemned to the darkness, of the potential weight of responsibility for seven thousand spawn and the havoc they could wreak if unleashed. Of being alone, eventually, if we never found a way to make me undying.”

She felt tears prick her eyes, and wiped them away before they could fall. “I didn’t stop you. I could have tried harder. Instead I let you ascend. I let you change me, because I was afraid of losing you - to time, or to your anger had I refused. And I shouldn’t have.”

She bit back the sob that threatened to escape. This was the conversation they should have had as soon as the cracks in their relationship had appeared. But yet again she had let fear rule her, just as his had ruled him. In the end they were both frightened souls who only ever knew how to cling to each other - no matter how dreadful the cost.

“I should have been your compass at that moment. I should have done - I don’t know. Something. Anything.”

His legs stopped moving and he turned to fully face her, hands on her shoulders. His expression was stern and determined.

“You cannot blame yourself for everything that I do.” She tried to protest, and he shushed her.

Because she always did this. Even back then, every single thing their ragtag group ever did had fallen on her shoulders. She’d been their leader, answering for every mishap and consequence their actions ever carried. She had decided for everyone, and so any unfortunate side effects had also been her fault. As his partner, she had shielded him from every possible pain. As his consort, she had handled everything, helped him manage his schedule and to assess every political move they made.

She lifted her gaze at those words, shocked. That hadn’t really occurred to her. For so long now, it had been a reflex for her to feel responsible for every choice they made, a habit internalized so deeply she didn’t really even realize she was doing it. Her life had been so utterly consumed by him ever since they’d met, so much so that there had been little time or energy left over to identify and work through her own issues. She had given him all of her focus, all of her sympathy, her understanding, her love. He knew this, and he looked at her with a wry, slightly sad smile.

“You already do far too much for me,” he murmured, his voice low. It wasn’t a challenge to bare his heart this time - the vulnerability in her eyes made him want to be just as soft. “I deserve far less.” He always had, he thought. From seducing her at the grove, to taking that special bond they had and twisting it into this facsimile of it - for everything.

“And yet you stayed. You came back. You’re willing to try.”

In the middle of the street, he tipped her chin up to him with an unusual amount of gentleness and hesitance. He wanted to be the man who could tell her to leave. To tell her that she deserved better than this, that she could go to Gale, or Halsin - or anyone else, really, and they would be better than the Ascendant.

“I want to be the husband you deserve.” She was undoubtedly his wife, ever since he’d turned her.

Perhaps even before that, he thought, his mind drifting back for a moment to their earlier days. But was he her husband? Had he ever behaved like anything even resembling that, beyond the surface level?

“But if I can’t, you should-” he began, and found that he couldn’t get the words out. His eyes fell shut, fighting himself. You should go. I love you enough to let you go.

Say it. Say it!

He couldn’t. He exhaled roughly, a low rumble of frustration slipping out. He snapped out of it as Ban’s hand touched his cheek, her thumb brushing across the sharp line of his cheekbone. He opened his eyes to meet hers, seeing her smile, and he saw nothing but understanding in them. She wasn’t perfect herself, and she would never hold him to that standard.

“The real you,” she reminded Astarion. Not perfect. Real.

With those words the Ascendant needed little encouragement. He leaned forward, capturing her lips with his own. When the kiss broke, they were both breathless. He smiled, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Let’s go home,” he whispered.

The carriage ride took too long for both of them. The moment its door was closed Ban straddled him, the bumpy ride only serving to enhance the sensations running through their bodies. Astarion frantically slipped his hand under the waistband of Ban’s trousers, moving his hand downwards until he found her clit and her folds. To his immense delight, she was already wet, her underwear damp.

He gave her a quick glance, and when she nodded, he worked his index and middle fingers inside her, pushing them into her perfect core. She gasped, and his cock throbbed in sympathy, making him wish it was him inside her instead. He kept his hand still, teasing her a little, making her buck her hips and fuck his fingers. The carriage hit a rock and jolted upward; she made a small noise of pure pleasure as his fingers were inadvertently shoved deeper into her.

“Do you want it here?” he asked, meeting her lust-filled gaze with his own. He curled his fingers inside her, earning himself a low, needy moan.

She thought about it for a moment, then shook her head. With every ounce of willpower she had left, she moved off his lap, reclaiming her seat.

The sudden loss of her body pressed against his cock made him ache, and he sighed a little. Staring at her, he lifted his two drenched fingers to his mouth, licking every inch of them while maintaining eye contact. His other hand palmed the bulge in his trousers, trying to ease that overwhelming need.

“When we’re home, then.” He stopped palming his erection; there was an insistent throb from his cock at the loss of sensation.

A short while that felt like an eternity later, they stumbled out of the carriage, rushing to get inside the palace. Ban tugged his hand, leading him to the ballroom and straight to his garishly ornate throne. As he moved to sit, she stopped him with an arm across his chest.

“Uh-uh,” Ban cooed, shaking her head and sitting on the throne herself, spreading her legs. “Kneel.”

Astarion took a moment to process the command. He glared, opened his mouth to protest, then thought the better of it. It had been enjoyable, surrendering to her; and so he did as she’d asked, sinking to his knees in front of her. He scooted forward so that his torso sat between her spread legs.

She smirked, the sight of him kneeling before her a thrilling one. “Good, sweetheart.” she crooned.

Watching her face, Astarion slipped into his role without difficulty, and the world shrunk down to just her and his need to please her.

“May I?” he said, hands hovering over her trousers. “Please?” he added immediately, knowing she’d demand it otherwise. At her quick nod his hands moved deftly, undoing the laces and tugging the trousers down, shimmying them off her legs.

His hands rested on her thighs and pushed them farther apart, spreading her open like a feast only he could enjoy. He could see the gleaming wetness of her sex, and he leaned in to press his tongue against her folds.

She bucked her hips up into his tongue in a rolling motion, seeking more friction. Astarion’s hands gripped her hips for purchase as he delved deeper, his tongue finding her entrance and slipping inside, thrusting into her.

The sudden hot press of his tongue, his nose brushing her clit, and his warm breaths dancing over her flesh made her groan helplessly, her hands fisting in his hair. She made a point not to pull too hard, gently guiding him where she wanted him to go.

Astarion obeyed without complaint, his tongue moving up to lavish her swollen clit with attention. His tongue alternated between licking and going around in circles. He couldn’t help but tease her a little, his tongue stilling, pressed against her clit. The unmoving pressure and his hot breath made her whine; she bucked against him insistently. She shot him a warning glare and he relented with a smirk, resuming his movements.

Ban watched as Astarion snaked one hand down his body, unbuttoning his trousers and freeing his aching cock. The head sprung out first, engorged and blushing a gorgeous pink. The rest followed, and Ban shifted a little to get a better view as Astarion wrapped a hand around himself and stroked. She appreciated how his hand glided along his length, his precum making the tip glisten obscenely in the sunlight. She felt herself clench, longing to have him deep inside her, but resisted for now.

He let out a low, guttural moan as he touched himself, realizing that if he kept this up he wouldn't last very long at all.

“Ban,” he pleaded, trying to use the round, wide eyes that he knew melted her heart. He kept his mouth on her, both lips and tongue working to bring her ever closer to climax.

“Stop touching yourself, and then maybe I’ll let you fuck me.”

He immediately obeyed, a small whimper escaping him as his cock pulsed, begging for more. He returned his hand to her inner thigh, his tongue lapping at her entrance and then moving back to her clit. He suckled her more insistently now, trying to be good and to give her what she deserved.

Ban’s hands worked, lifting her shirt off. She was now fully naked, and he took a moment to drink in the view, his cock giving another pained throb at the sight.

She tugged his hair gently, an instruction to lift his head, and he did. His eyes met hers, and she could tell he was lost in it, his gaze hazy. His chin and mouth shone with her wetness and she smirked, satisfied by the sight.

“That was wonderful, Astarion. Now you can sit.” She stood and he wordlessly shuffled over to sit on his throne. She marveled at the sight for a moment, then nodded.

“Remind me what you wanted, again?”

He didn’t hesitate. There was no room for his pride at the moment. “I want to be inside you, love.”

“Anything else you’d like to add to that?”

“Please, I’m begging you,” he replied, his cock visibly pulsating, the vein running across the top throbbing in time with his racing heartbeat.

She took in the sight of the Ascendant on his throne, begging for her, and gladly relented. She climbed up and slowly sat on his cock, both of them moaning at the sensation of finally being one.

She braced against the back of the chair and kissed him, tasting herself on his tongue. “Go ahead, Astarion,” she murmured, “Take what you need.”

It was all the permission he needed. He thrust upwards, slamming his cock deep inside her with every stroke. His hands wrapped around her waist, seeking purchase as he pummeled into her again and again. Astarion was mostly silent; the only sounds that escaped him were small pants and whimpers. He didn’t have to perform for her, didn’t have to think. He only had to take her. It was sublime.

She didn’t move much, grinding against him lazily, content to let him ravish her to his heart’s content. She could feel him pulsing inside her as he approached his climax, his breaths getting faster and shallower as he chased it. His eyes were squeezed shut, his lips parted. Ban reached down to grip his hips, feeling every clench of his ass as he hammered into her again and again.

She slid a hand down to rub her clit, beginning to chase her own climax. The combination of Astarion’s movements, the sound of his ragged breathing, his utter focus on taking his own pleasure, and the feel of his thick, hard cock pounding into her were almost too much.

“Why does this feel so good?” she whispered, mostly to herself.

Astarion smiled, his eyes remaining closed. “Because it’s us.”

They were both wonderfully close. As his mouth opened in a whimper, Ban slipped two fingers inside, feeling for a fang. He playfully sucked them, not realizing what she was planning. She found a fang and pressed it with her fingertip until it broke skin, blood dripping onto his tongue.

Astarion whined, licking her finger, his hips thrusting erratically, the taste of her blood sending him over the edge. He rode out his orgasm, grinding into her as he felt his cock spasming inside her. The feel of him filling her with his seed pushed Ban to the brink as well. Rubbing at her clit desperately, she clenched around Astarion’s oversensitive cock as she finally reached her peak. He whimpered, the sensation a mix of pleasure and of pain.

They both came down from the high, Ban slumped against Astarion, his arms pulling her in for a hug. He was fully clothed from the waist up, and she could feel how sweat-soaked his shirt was. He was still catching his breath when she spoke again.

“Good, sweetheart?”

It took him a moment to respond. Their bodies were still joined, and he was content to stay that way for a little while longer. As reality came back, he placed a kiss on her forehead, removing her fingers from his mouth.

“Amazing,” he breathed.

“Ban,” he asked after a moment, his hand tucking errant strands of her hair behind her ear, joining the flower he bought her. “Do you think we'll ever be the way we were?”

Do you think you’ll be able to forgive me? The last part he projected directly into her mind, not trusting himself to try and speak it aloud.

She frowned. “I don’t know. Probably not exactly the way we were. But that’s not to say we won’t ever find something resembling it. Or something even better.” She didn’t answer his second question.

Astarion slowly pulled out of her; she felt the warmth from his cock and his come slowly leak out. She instantly missed it, wishing he’d stayed put longer.

Hearing her say that, knowing that she didn’t forgive him yet, hurt. He knew why - had fully been expecting her response - but that didn’t lessen the sensation he felt in his chest, like a knife had been twisted between his ribs, puncturing his heart. But he didn’t fight back, nor even feel offended. It felt good to speak the truth. To have a little honesty and openness to each other’s feelings, instead of the constant games they’d played with one another before.

“Well, I suppose we have time,” he said airily. He had another chance to win her, and even if it was a struggle, he hoped that these past few days were a sign that he was making inroads at winning her trust and love again.

“We do.” She kissed him again. They stayed that way for a long time, wrapped up in each other’s arms in the heart of their little kingdom.

In their bliss, they didn’t notice the feeling of being watched, failing to sense the weight of the invisible eyes that had been observing them since they’d gone out into the city.

[tenderlady]

Hi there! A while ago, you said in your tags to this post that you believe David Lynch would be one of the best suited directors for making a movie about the Beatles. What can I say, I've been thinking about this ever since, vaguely-yet-passionately agreeing, without putting my thoughts into actual sentences...Would you mind elaborating?

You ever get an ask so good you have to break out your laptop to type up your thoughts with greater alacrity?

My friends and I have this concept that we call "trapdoors," which are basically concepts or things that, if brought up in conversation, will cause whoever is talking to you to tumble into an abyss of information that you are duty-bound to provide. Beatles biopics happen to be one of mine, so if you would like to join me in the abyss, the trapdoor is under the cut.

I actually have a few working directors that I think would do a great job with a Beatles movie, including Sofia Coppola, Peter Greenaway, Park Chan-wook, and even, potentially, Martin Scorsese. But the more I think about it, the more convinced I am that the best-suited director working today for making a Beatles movie is actually David Lynch.

I think a lot of this ultimately comes down to what you want from a Beatles biopic, and what you haven't liked about Beatles movies in the past. For me, I'm tired of Beatles-biopic-as-hagiography and I want more stories that approach them as fully-rounded people. And one thing that is very specific to me personally is that I'm interested in the moments when the Beatles story has occasionally tilted toward the magical and mysterious, for lack of better phrasing. So an ideal Beatles biopic, for me, would be one that is dedicated to showing the Beatles themselves as holistic human beings and doesn't shy away from showcasing their bad behavior, but also one that is concerned with portraying those magical realist elements that I find so fascinating.

Enter David Lynch. Lynch has a well-documented fascination with the pop culture of the mid-20th century and an interestingly sumptuous eye toward production design (I'm thinking about the ambiguously midcentury setting of Blue Velvet in particular here), so I think at the bare minimum, if he were to make a Beatles movie, it would look right. But I'm more interested in Lynch's directorial choices and pet themes than I am in how his films look.

Much of his work is concerned with fame, be it the attainment of it or what it means to have it (ex: Mulholland Drive, Inland Empire), and also with the production of art and what it does to our psyches to create (ditto the above examples). These themes would obviously come to bear in any serious film about the Beatles, but I think David Lynch has historically had interesting things to say about these topics.

Lynch's films (and work in general) often veer into horror in their sudden depictions of graphic violence and sexuality, but that would actually be a more realistic depiction of the Beatles' history than most of what we've gotten. I think a gritty, Wild at Heart-style Lynch movie about Hamburg could be very fun. The leather and the 50s and the weird sex stuff of all of it is very Lynch, but all very true to the reality of what the Beatles' lives were like. Their story is full of these seemingly random spurts of violence (Stu getting kicked in the head, the Bob Wooler incident, the cherry bomb at the concert, John's murder, George's stabbing, just to name a few), to the point where reading about them can feel occasionally Lynchian in itself.

For me, though, the biggest draw of having a Lynch-directed Beatles movie is what Lynch is best known for, which is that dream-(or nightmare) feeling that so much of his work has. Something that drew me to the Beatles as an overeducated adult with lots of music listening behind me now is this strange sense of the mystical that hangs over so much of the Beatles narrative. The story of Paul's premonition of the dream with the gold coins, the John and Paul being mirror images of each other, people in the Beatles circle being visited by dead loved ones in their dreams, John and Paul claiming to have SHARED dreams, the whole Emperor of Eternity thing; like I could go on and on and on. These stories are all so fascinating, but often get underexplored in the (legitimately) very rich text of the Beatles story, so I get it, but I also know that Lynch would see these moments and do something really fucking cool with them.

Primarily, I see a Lynch-directed Beatles biopic going one of three ways: a Blue Velvet-style gothic set during the Beatlemania years about a naive black-Irish twink biting off more than he can chew in the pursuit of fame. David Lynch loves doubles and doppelganger imagery (Mulholland Drive, Twin Peaks, Inland Empire....), so I think he would get a lot of mileage out of the matching Beatle suits and haircuts and all the merch with their likenesses on it. I also want to see some real horror mined out of the hiding in meat vans and getting mauled by girls with scissors trying to cut off your hair for relics. Shit is crazy.

Option two would be a Mulholland Drive-style psychological horror set during the height of the Beatles' Swinging London decadence, like around 1967, potentially including India. It would definitely 100% include the Emperor of Eternity acid trip and would be primarily focused on the strange relationship and identity sublimation between John and Paul. Again, Mulholland Drive-style. Gayest potential option imo.

The last option, and the one that makes the most sense with where Lynch is in his career rn, is a Twin Peaks: The Return-style meditation on nostalgia and memory and time. I think this one would probably be getting a little too close to the present day to be feasible, but I think a lot could be done with the idea of current-day Granddude Paul constantly seeing reproductions of his own younger self and dead friends and lovers everywhere he goes. As much as I love Now & Then, the whole thing does how a weird techno-gothic, Black Mirror sheen to it, one that I think Lynch would recognize and have something to say about. Would this make Paul Coop and John Laura Palmer? Hard to say and much to unpack there, but still.

Regardless: I think David Lynch is the only one out there doing it in a weird, fucked-up way that the Beatles would deserve. (Also he literally got into transcendental meditation because of the Maharishi, so there's definitely some six-degrees-of-Beatles happening there lmao)

If you read all of this, thank you, and I'm sorry, and here is a picture of Kyle MacLachlan as Paul from the David Lynch Beatles biopic that is currently screening in my heart for your trouble

[hades-in-bloom]

‘Till Death Do Us Part, Pt. 1 | Leon S. Kennedy x Reader

summary: Leon is late to his own wedding, albeit he seems to have a solid excuse.

could be read as a follow up to

content: assumed older Leon, assumed age gap, no mentions of y/n, a tad of angst, everything’s about Leon, the Redfield siblings stepping in, reader’s POV

author’s note: there’ll be plenty of Leon himself in the follow up, i pinky promise; as always, barely proofread, proceed at your own risk.

word count: author is capable only of drabbles, so.

thank you so much for reading, y’all

xoxo

***

When the Redfields barge into your room uninvited, you immediately think of the worst.

“Where is he?” you jump out of your chair, dragging a hem of your wedding dress with you towards the siblings. Your patience is wearing thin before Chris takes a deep breath, and Claire speaks up. You can imagine these two play rock-paper-scissor behind the door on who is going to be a bearer of the bad news, although right now you are not sure who wins at the end.

“He is late,” Claire’s gaze pleads you to stay calm. She has way too much faith, though, and she definitely asks too much of you, when Leon is late to his own wedding; and as the Redfields are here, you are convinced that things are a tad more serious than your fiancé being stuck in one of New York’s terrible traffic jams.

Somehow Chris reads your mind.

“He is going to be here soon,” Redfield vows, although you don’t think that he is in a position to. Leon S. Kennedy should’ve been the only man to vow anything to you today.

“Where is he?” you ask again, this time with a specific accent at beginning of the sentence, and the more you eye both Claire and Chris with a searching glance the heavier the air. Claire gives her brother a dirty look, and only then Chris admits:

“Leon was called to work last night,” Redfield confesses. You blink once, feeling sick. This would mean that last night Leon lied to you. Chris seems to notice your thought process again. “He didn’t want to worry you. He was supposed to be quick.”

“He was supposed to be at his bachelor’s party,” you object. You can’t blame Chris for Leon’s assignment, but right now you have to blame someone. Redfield understands.

Claire makes a step forward, touching your shoulder, and then hugs you. You freeze for a second, but then hug her back, and Claire holds you tight.

There is still hope that he shows up. Sooner or later, and better late than never. Observing Leon for the past months, you are afraid of “never” being a real possibility even without his stupid job intervening. After all, he didn’t have a great track record of committed relationships, and he wasn’t himself since you’ve started talking about your engagement.

You pull away from Redfield after some time and take a deep breath, collecting yourself.

“He is worth the wait,” Claire says gently, and you show her a weak, but sincere smile in reply.

“He is,” you mumble. He is worth it indeed. This man is a walking problem, but you care about him too much to give up on him that easily. Also, he is lucky to be pretty.

So you ask the Redfield siblings for a favour, – to take care of the guests, – and you wait.

You just need him to get back to you alive. The rest is easy, no matter how hard the conversation is going to be.

***

Your wedding banquet is sacrificed in an attempt to make it up to the people who showed up for the wedding that has never happened. Leon is not just late – he is too late at this point, and your faith is running thin. Also, you are painfully sober for the sake of staying sane by the time he’s back.

He has to get back.

Chris, on the other hand, is a half way into the bottle of whiskey, although, considering his constitution, he needs a lot more alcohol to get drunk. You think that you’ve made a right decision sending him to entertain the guests.

Later you take it as a bad omen when Redfield approaches you with a concerned look at his face.

“His operator says that he’s off the grid,” Chris sees your confusion. He is quick to explain. “Leon isn’t responding.”

Redfield doesn’t like how your eyes widen, and he adds in the last detail; the one he would pay a pretty penny for not to say it out loud at your wedding.

“He was declared missing ten minutes ago,” Chris places his wide palm on your shoulder, but you resent his pity. “I am so sorry.”

You don’t respond, and it takes you a moment to decide on the course of your actions.

You attract everyone’s attention with the loud clink of an exquisitely looking silver knife on a thin champagne glass.

Then your voice breaks for the first time.

“The wedding is cancelled.”

***