#but its wild seeing everyone say “everyones gone :(” | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

3416 · 20 days

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the thing about the mitch talk that makes no sense is like. yes, an organization CAN get someone to waive their nmc by saying they're not going to pay what he wants and it would be better for everyone involved to get on board with the idea of a trade if that's the path the organization has Most Certainly decided on, but mitch marner has all the leverage with the leafs in this situation, and it still hardly makes sense to force that or be sure of it at this moment. IF they approached him about not wanting to sign him for what they know he's going to ask which is prob 11.5-12.5 i'd guess (which... why THIS year would suddenly be the year they changed their mind about having a forward group make so much after signing absolutely ridic contracts last year is already lol and before a huge one comes off the books w jt... like.. flkdjs it feels like a fan fueled narrative of frustration here), that would essentially force him into giving them a list of teams he'd be willing to go to. it will be a short list of competitive teams who also are not going to want to be giving up much. the LEAFS would then have to find a trade that works within those very specific teams and is worth it to them, and they might say fuck it, mitch will be the better option to try to get us to the post season this year. and then be a) forced to let him walk for nothing in return if they still don't want to sign him at the end of the year or b) tempted to give him an extension where he MIGHT have driven up his own price based on performance that year. like it just. this narrative that mitch marner in the last year of his contract with a full nmc will be somehow forced out of the leafs and that's the LIKELY outcome is so ????????? tell me one trade where this team improves w the guys out here on expiring deals as it stands rn and why the organization would see improvement bc i can tell you they aren't just going to trade for the sake of cap space. i know the trade deadline and everything will also come into play if he hasn't been re-signed by then, but there's a very real chance mitch marner drives up his own price the way nylander did and then what. people are going to be even more furious like ??? just the surety with which people act like it is happening and Has to Happen despite not knowing whats available on the market or having a genuine proposal is actually terrible for the leafs, lol.

#sorry im still going here but every time i see posts abt it its like #Yes obviously an organization has some leverage and can pressure players into doing things. thats definitely not unheard of #but thinkin the LEAFS hold the cards here is kind of wild bc mitch can say no fuck you im staying? and then what are u gonna do #play him on a 4th line? bench 11 million dollars lfkjdsklf... who helps u succeed in the regular season which you STILL need to do #its just silliness and drama perpetuated by ppl fed up with yet another first round exit like #theyre not going to disrespect mitch marner but i just ultimately dont see how ppl think the organization does not value that man #they know the stats....... the impact.........#this isnt some situation where theyre just like. well experiment with four forwards making lots of money is OVER. the next one up is gone.#like the amt of moving parts and the amt of power mitch specifically holds is.......#a lot flkdvjx #i just need this summer to be over lmakfjdsk i cant #ultimately mitch gets the call on everything and yes the external pressure exists but i truly hope he fucks over the team on the way out #if thats what he decides #and i dont hope he takes a discount so everyone can just keep crying honestljyklgdjklf if he does extend.#which in my mind is definitely the most plausible option lol

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nightmaremybeloved · 3 months

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hi kim i just wanted you to know i am so happy to still see you here <3

im happy you're still here too !! 💗💗💗 we have weathered the storm together, comrade

#asks #kiuda #less people left from my dash #then i thought #which is good !! dont get me wrong #but its wild seeing everyone say “everyones gone :(”#im like. who is Everyone #sdjkhaksdljhfgkjhg

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nomaishuttle · 11 months

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mad abt the taz graphic novels again. sighhhhhh

#literally if taako wasnt grreen thats like soo many of the problems i have with it gone. granted i havent read them in ages #it is wild to me that theyre knly up to eleventh hour #bc i feel like the first 3 of them came out like one after the other bc i had all 3 of the first ones #and then just like..kdk what theyve been doing for 4 yeaes #sigh. i think the graphic novels r a rly fun idea i love the idea of seeing taz in a visual medium and ikk no design would satisfy #everyone. bc its a podcast we all picture them differently #but like cmon. i feel like everybody on earth hates green taako itd be so easy to just not do that. at least #i will say i do like merle and magnus #designs in the gns grabted i havent looked at them in a while but i remember thinking they were fine. lucretia was fine like literally #most of them were fine if like. very... idk they just felt like the most safe versions of the designs which makes sense #its the same as like #how everybody in the tma fandom pretty much drew jon and msrtin the same way. yk.#like thats how i feel abr the gn designs which like i totally get. yk... but also -_- whatever #idk. basiclaly

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jessiesjaded · 2 years

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Honestly I do kind of drastically underestimate how bizarre my family members can be but once in a while it strikes me and I'm just like.... Oh. Yeah. If I hadn't been dealing with this since I was a kid I'd probably be a lot more weirded out or worried.

#like my mum has had untreated depression and anxiety for at least 15 years #my brother 100% does as well #but like other family members will say shit like they get possessed by ghosts and their souls leave their bodies and they can see #themselves like birdseye view from above as if thats not a wild thing to say ??????#the traffics lights have cameras and that the lights are 'watching them'#almost everyone on mums side is an alcoholic as well #this isnt me being mean theyre mostly nice fairly functioning people #but it does just hit me sometimes like Oh yeah they should have gone to the doctor years ago.......#my one uncle constantly writes insane threatening letters to people #its just one of those things where i talk to someone from a family that doesnt have this stuff and theyre like vaguely horrified #and im just like oh... was i not meant to say that....

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satoruxx · 5 months

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pairing: gojo satoru x reader | 1.2k words summary: shoko-centric, as in it’s written from her pov, based on yesterday’s leaks bc i finally have some hope, simple bittersweet angst to fluff !! he’s coming back trust <3

shoko’s eyes are focused as she works, but they can’t help but drift towards you, taking in your expression—half hopeful and half terrified as you watch her hands critically.

your teeth are digging into your bottom lip— worrying the flesh with bites and nips that are sure to eventually draw blood.

she wants to click her tongue and rub your shoulder in the hopes that you’ll stop looking so stressed. but she understands—after all, her hands are occupied with the most important thing in your world.

satoru’s body has begun regenerating on its own—as shoko had expected when he was brought back to her. her body had clicked into autopilot when that blue haired kid handed him off to her, her brain choosing to ignoring the overwhelming sense of relief that washed over her when she saw him pulled away from that death field.

so she could only imagine your feelings in this moment—scared, angry, and yet so hopeful.

because that’s what gojo satoru was to everyone—an embodiment of hope. he had been as such for so many years. she has no doubt that even in death he would be the same.

but despite all that, she wants the blue eyed idiot to wake up already—wants to see his lopsided grin and your relieved face when the two of you look at each other. so all she does is continue to work, because that’s what she’s good at—what she’s always been good at.

working in the shadows.

you don’t say anything to her—you’ve known her long enough not to. shoko thinks back to the thousands of times she’s healed you up after missions, thinks of your sheepish grin when she scolded you for being careless out there. you’ve always been careless about yourself.

she thinks you’ve only ever been truly concerned when satoru was the one who was in trouble.

the two of you were idiots—because while the two of you may not give a shit about your own safety, shoko constantly worried about you both.

so she inhales through her nose, keeping her eyes trained on satoru’s body. “he’ll be fine,” she says, voice steadily echoing around the room. she can feel your eyes on her, feel the studying gaze of them, and oddly enough she relaxes under it.

something so familiar about this all.

she hears you sigh, a nod to her statement, and shoko takes it as a sign of agreement.

it has always been this way with the three of you—too many words unnecessary. at one point in time, it used to be that way among the four of you too.

shoko doesn’t know how much time passes. all she can focus on is the energy flowing from her hands to satoru’s battered body and your rapidly steadying breaths. the silence is not unwelcoming—an odd comfort in the midst of the chaos raging not so far away.

something tilts on its axis when his eyes finally open.

shoko feels like her breath has gone cold, settling low in her chest as she watches him sit up. there’s a brief moment of confusion in his face—eyes hazy as he looks at her. she gives him a pointed stare, not trying to betray her emotions, but the expression is enough for satoru to understand that he wasn’t supposed to be here. the haziness in his eyes clear, and shoko thinks she might be hallucinating because he looks almost apologetic.

and then, his gaze travels past her, to the back corner, and when they land on you shoko can see the puzzle pieces click together. his pupils dilate, lips parting in a sharp inhale as everything finally comes back to him.

you choke back a sob—a sound so pained and shoko almost feels as though it’s cut through her flesh. satoru’s eyes are wild, arms reaching for you before his brain can even catch up. he pulls you against him with reckless abandon, your body folding into his like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

which, shoko understands, it is.

your arms are tight around satoru’s midsection, head buried into his chest—as though if you let him go he’ll slip away all over again. shoko doesn’t blame you—she doesn’t take her eyes off of him for the exact same reason.

satoru’s fingers remain tangled in your hair—a tremor to them that only the most observant eyes can pick up.

your shoulders shake with the effort of holding back a plethora of emotions that shoko both understands and doesn’t. satoru’s hands smooth down your hair, chest heaving as he shuts his eyes and presses his nose to your temple.

it’s an embrace that shoko is almost proud to see—a reunion that she’s grateful to be privy to.

satoru pulls back a little, hands cupping your face as his eyes dart over your features—wild and bright with life.

“‘m sorry—” he’s saying, voice oddly steady for the way his fingertips are trembling against your skin. “i didn’t—i thought—fuck, ‘m so sorry, sweets—”

“you came back.” you’re whispering, voice unsteady and thick with unfiltered longing. you pull him back into a hug. “thank god. you came back.”

satoru’s arms tighten around you imperceptibly. a featherlight kiss dusts your forehead—barely a touch but there all the same.

shoko smothers an amused huff. it’s about time.

your voice is shaking even with your cheek pressed against his chest. “i thought that you—”

satoru nods against your temple. “i did,” he answers, licking at his dry lips. “i mean—”

a sharp inhale. you pull back to study his face. satoru’s voice becomes imperceptibly softer. “i saw…”

shoko doesn’t need to ask what he saw—she knows it automatically. you seem to know it too.

“it’s fine.” he’s shaking his head, lips quirking upward—his thumb brushes over the slope of your cheek with the utmost care. “it doesn’t matter.”

you give him a rueful smile, eyes uncharacteristically dewy, and shoko thanks her lucky stars that the expression seems to bother satoru just as much as it bothers her. she watches him cup your face, leaning his forehead against yours with an oddly somber sigh. your fingers come up to press against his knuckles, and satoru smiles, eyes fluttering at the touch.

shoko sees the color slowly start seeping back into his skin, an all familiar flush dusting his cheeks as he looks down at you, and her shoulders drop—a weight lifting.

she takes a step back.

satoru makes eyes contact with her over your head. there’s something there, deep within cerulean blue, that has shoko’s body finally relaxing. he studies her, eyes wide and open, and for the first time in a long time, she sees the message in them clearly.

his lips curl upward at her, an expression so nostalgic it makes shoko think she can hear the sound of teenage laughter—a gentle voice whispering about the good and bad of their lives. she shuts her eyes—helpless.

satoru watches her expression, somehow understanding, and he smiles to himself. his chin tips down at her, an acknowledgment of sorts, that has her feeling oddly emotional.

shoko shoves her hands in her pockets, and for the first time in a while, she allows herself to smile.

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mrfoox · 1 year

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How to explain to people I care for how special they are to me without being creepy 😔

#miranda talking shit #Like dude... If youre one of the 3 people i want to be bothered by... Youre so fucking special #If youre one of the 3 people i can hold eye contact with for more than two seconds per conversation youre so amazing #If youre one of the 2 people i can talk to for hours without feeling social/mental fatigue... Youre top tier #Like i likr a lot of people but there are so few who i can say do not tire me or i am very truly comfortable with #And i wish i could make them understand how big of a deal it is for me... For me that is so special. I dont have many people like that #I have people i can allow to bother me and will be okay with it but only a couple i genuinely want them to bother me #Text me call me talk to me whenever i love you and am not ever bothered by you and i always have time for you #Fabian is definitely one and i think he doesnt get it bc we have gone through many periods of weeks where we talk daily #Sometimes we dont for weeks at all. But hes one of the rare people i can feel ... Im not fatigued by.#I love many people but most will take different amounts of social energy from me. Some more than others so i really have to be in the right #Place to be able to handle them. So when i find the people who i dont get that with who i can just be around and talk with without feeling #The fatigue im... I wish i could explain how truly special they are to me. Everyone and everything tire me but you #And oliver is one out of 3 people (my mom being one and Linnéa friend since we were 13 is another) who i can look in the eyes #For many times for long periods and i dont feel .. Uneasy. Like thats actually amazing. The privilege and/or superpower you have is huge #Idk what it is with oliver. Idk i know i like him but the fact im so comfortable is wild. Usually around people i have a crush on i am shy #Blushing and looking away. With him im like 👀 hey... Yea . I dont mind him seeing me and i hate being seen by everyone #Maybe its bc hes so ... Unbothered? I feel not judged. I feel like he can see me and not judge and thats sadly shocking for me

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imarealnugget · 4 months

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Ryomen Sukuna when he's jealous

Feat. Sukuna Ryomen, female reader

TW. smut, jealousy, mention of words "pussy","cock" etc.. JealousSukuna!xfemale!reader

Words Count: 1k

Synopsis: You and Sukuna have been dating for just over a year, and one day you met another guy, with whom you immediately bonded. Sukuna didn't hide his high jealousy, but one day, after seeing you hugged your friend goodbye, Sukuna decided to show his jealousy once you got home, talking to you, provoking you, giving the appearance of being calm, in order to intimidate you, finally to punish you, he decides to fuck you until you have understood that you're his and only his.

Hiii, before starting with the fanfic, I wanna apologise to everyone for my absence, now I'm back with other stories, don't worry ^^

You and Sukuna, a couple that had gone through a year of ups and downs. Your relationship was like a wild flame, fueled by the intensity of your personalities. Sukuna, with his aura of danger and his provocative gaze, had always been the type of person who attracted attention. But with you, it was different. You were an explosive mix of desire and conflict. One day, during an evening in the city, you met a boy who immediately caught your attention. His carefree personality and casual attitude made you approach him immediately. Sukuna, with his unwavering jealousy, didn't fail to notice your new friendship. His sharp gaze rested on you both, and you could perceive his jealousy in every single movement. Over time, your relationship with the new friend solidified, and Sukuna did nothing to hide his disgust. Sukuna's jealousy was like a burning fire inside him, fueled by his innate possessiveness. With every smile you directed towards your friend, his expression became darker and darker.

One afternoon, as your friend walked away, you approached him for a farewell hug. It was at that moment that Sukuna decided to let his jealousy emerge in all its intensity. When you returned home, his provocation began without delay. "Your new friend seems to enjoy your company a lot," he said, a mischievous smirk on his features. The tone of his voice was calm, but his gaze burned with desire and possessiveness. They began a sort of dangerous game, a dance of sharp words and piercing eyes. Sukuna provoked with his seductive attitude, trying to elicit a reaction from you. "Don't tell me there's something between you two. I would be jealous, you know?" he whispered, his voice a subtle poison of desire. As the evening progressed, Sukuna continued to weave his web, igniting his jealousy in increasingly provocative ways. He approached you with a burning gaze and a devilish smile. "I wonder what you can do to make me jealous," he said, his eyes scrutinizing yours as if he wanted to read every reaction. The tension increased, but somehow, your response was a silent challenge. You accepted the game, responding to his provocations with a mischievous smile. Sukuna, despite showing an enviable confidence, couldn't completely hide his burning jealousy. When they finally reached a stalemate, Sukuna decided to lay all his cards on the table. "I don't like sharing you with anyone else," he admitted, his tone now more serious, but still full of provocation. "You're mine, understood?" Your response was a simple smile, a mixture of complicity and challenge. It was as if you had established a balance between you, a dangerous game of desire and jealousy that made your relationship even more intense.

The night continued with a burning passion, as if the confrontation had ignited an even greater flame between you: one hour later, you were sitting on the top of him, riding is cock so hardly that the only sound that you two heard was his balls smashing against the fat of your ass. “Kuna.. you feel so f-fucking good!” you tried to say without moaning and rolling your eyes back in your head, failing mercilessly. “I know, that’s because i’m better than that mother fucker that you call “friend” ‘y know that, huh?” Those words came out from his mouth voluntarily, while he was watching you loosing your mind of him and for his fat cock. “You wanna cum, don’t you? Oooh, but bad girls can’t cum so easily after what they did, right?” “F-fuck Kuna.. let’s be serious: I did nothing wron- ahh fuck-”. He didn’t let you finish your words that he smashed your clit hardly, before teasing it with his two fingers. “Oh, you did nothing wrong? Are you sure ‘bout that?” And you didn’t answer, leading your tired head on his shoulder, while his fingers digged in your hips, guiding and helping them while riding his cock fastly. “Look at me.” He demanded, but you didn’t have more energies: when he fucks you your body is vulnerable, you always give all of yourself to him, your body and your will. “I said look at me.” He grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Listen carefully: i’m going to cum deep inside of you, if you won’t let any of my cum drip from your pussy, I will let you cum, alright?” “But Kun- mmh..” He slides two of his fingers in your mouth, forcing you to close your eyes and drool. “Shh, doll, you’re mine, remember? So you will do everything I say, understand?” He whispers in your ear with a smirk on his face and all you can do is saying yes moving your head gently. After some seconds, you became the toy that Sukuna was using to pleasure himself and made himself cum inside of you. “Fuck y/n, i’m cumming-” He warns before shooting much hot cum deep inside your folds. When he slowly slides his dick away from your pussy, you did everything you could do to make sure that nothing came out from your cunt. Sukuna also laughed while watching you doing everything you could, even if you were tired as fuck. “That’s a good girl. Ready to cum?” “Yes, pleaseplease..” You beg, tired of that day, even though you were so much excited. Then Sukuna slides one, two.. three fingers inside of you without any warning, so you gasped, almost closing your legs, but he kept them spread apart with his big, veiny hand. His fingers were working perfectly inside of you, and in few minutes you felt your cum close. “Kuna.. i’m cumming, oh fuck- cummingcumming.. Sukuna-!” You moan and whimper, impatient to cum, then you cream all over his fingers, leaving a smirk on his face. “Mhh, you screamed my name before cumming, not your friend’s..” and that’s all you heard before diving yourself in a long sleep of nine hours, after that day full of feelings.

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moonstruckme · 4 months

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hi! I loved your fic with reader and sirius in a situationship and he comes over for a hookup and reader is super stressed and he helps. Can you please do another one with that dynamic? Maybe angst where they’re hanging out at a party and Sirius is all over reader but then says they’re just friends? Possibly smut ensues 👀

I love reading you work!!

Thanks for requesting!

cw: smut mdni, p in v, semi-public sex, hurt no comfort

fwb!Sirius x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

“Shh.” Sirius nips at your earlobe, eliciting another half-suppressed mewl from you as he presses you into the wall next to James’ shower. “You want everyone here to know what’s going on? James’ll have a field day.”

“He’s already gonna know if I walk out all marked up.”

“S’not my fault, is it?” he hisses, fingertips digging into your ass as his teeth scrape across your pulse point. “Why’d you have to wear this fucking dress, huh?”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” you pant, but you’re laughing, tits bouncing almost completely out of the tight bodice as he thrusts into you, the lace lining barely covering your peaked nipples. Sirius’ eyes had gone nearly all black when he’d seen it in your closet. Dollface, when did you get this pretty little thing? You’ve been waiting for the opportunity to undo him with it ever since.

Part of you wonders if he’d had a similar plan tonight. Sirius is wearing—or, well, he had been wearing—the black jeans you’d helped him thrift last weekend, slung low over his hips and paired with a tank top that shows ample expanses of his inked-up torso and arms. He’d watched as you drank the outfit in, and the pretense of socializing at James’ party hadn’t lasted long before he’d drug you into the bathroom by your elbow.

Sirius shifts, pushing you harder against the wall as he takes your weight with one hand, freeing the other to paw at your boob. It plops readily out of its confines and into his palm. You moan as his thumb brushes your nipple, ducking your head to smother the sound against his shoulder.

You start kissing the tattoo there a second before he finds the spot he’s been searching for inside you and your head lolls back. Your hands spread over his shoulders to ensure you don’t topple over, lightheaded and cock-addled.

“Easy, pretty girl.” Sirius’ tone is smug, his hands coming back to your ass as he hits that spot over and over again. He presses his lips to yours sweetly, swallowing your sounds. “I know you didn’t have that much to drink, try to stay upright for me.”

Pathetically, it warms your heart to think that he’d been keeping an eye on you. You use what leverage you have against the wall to grind your hips into him. Sirius groans, pounding into you so hard you think you must ascend, your vision all starry and wild as pleasure shoots out from your core, tingling all the way to your fingertips.

Distantly, you’re aware of Sirius covering your mouth with his again, thrusting into you a few more times before he comes too and bites down on your bottom lip as his grip tightens on you. Your chest hurts. You feel almost like you could cry, which is new. You both stay there for a minute, him relaxing his hold on your ass until it’s a bit kinder and you idly pulling a strand of his hair through your fingers, until Sirius breaks the kiss. His eyes meet yours, the color of heavy clouds, and you have the sense that he’s peeling you like a tangerine. Seeing down to your hidden, squishy bits.

“You alright?” he asks you.

You swallow. “Yeah,” you say, pleased to find that your voice holds no trace of the emotion spreading like a blight behind your sternum. “You?”

Sirius’ lips tilt. “I’m fantastic, dollface.”

He adjusts his grip on you, letting you get your legs underneath you before lowering you to the floor. Your panties bunch around one shoe, getting slick on your ankle.

“Ugh,” you sigh, sitting down on the lip of the tub while Sirius takes his condom off. “Can you pass me some toilet paper? I can’t put these back on like this.”

“Just throw them out.”

“I can’t, I really like these.” You start to reach for the toilet paper on your own and Sirius finally obliges, passing you a wad. “Thanks.”

He tugs his jeans back up, buttoning them before leaning on the wall to watch you. You keep your focus on your task and not on ogling how his biceps bulge when he crosses his arms like that. “I can just get you another pair,” he says.

“You don’t need to do that.”

“Oh, come on.” His tone takes on a familiar quality. You look up, and sure enough, he’s smirking down at you. The expression does things to your stomach you can never let him find out about. “I’m the one who ruined ‘em in the first place, aren’t I? Let me make it up to you.”

You would say it’s been sufficiently made up, but you only shake your head, folding the toilet paper over to a dry part. “I’m not throwing them out. I just need a minute, then I can put them back on.”

“Suit yourself, darling.” Something in you flutters at the pet name, but then Sirius pushes off the wall. “I’m gonna head out, get back out there so nobody sees us leave together.”

You keep your gaze downward. “Good idea.”

You notice him flash you a smile in your periphery. Even without really seeing it, you can guess what it looks like: flirty, impersonal. “See you out there.”

He opens the door, and you see only a flash of light brown hair before he’s slipping out and shutting it behind him, shielding you from view.

“Hello,” Remus’ voice says slowly. He must’ve just been passing by, but if the extended occupation of the bathroom hadn’t caught his attention, Sirius’ hasty exit certainly has. “Don’t suppose I need to ask where you’ve been.”

“That,” you hear Sirius say in his jovial way, “would be terribly nosy, Moony. Unlike you.”

You creep closer to the door, pressing your ear to the crack in time to hear Remus’ amused hum. “Don’t suppose I need to ask if you know where y/n is either, do I? Mary’s been looking for her.”

“I’m sure she’ll turn up shortly,” Sirius replies.

There’s a short period of silence wherein you wonder if they’ve walked away, but then Remus says quietly, “I hope you’re being careful.”

Sirius laughs, the sound derisive. “Thank you for your concern, but you’ll find a condom in James’ bathroom trash if you’re worried enough to go looking.”

“Not what I meant. She’s a sweet girl, Sirius. Don’t fuck her about.”

You can practically hear the lewd joke forming on Sirius’ tongue, but his voice lowers, unexpectedly sober. “I’m not,” he says. You stop breathing. “She’s under no false impressions, alright? We both talked about what this was before we started, and she doesn’t want a relationship any more than I do.”

Remus’ sigh is long-suffering. “Sure.”

“Honest, Moons. We’re just friends.”

Your heart—your stupid, mutinous heart—shrinks and withers like a balloon without air. You move away from the door as quietly as you can, sitting again on the cold lip of James’ tub. Sirius says something about taking charge of the music selection, and you breathe carefully as he and Remus go off. You’re furious with yourself, humiliated for feeling so dejected. Sirius is right; you had been clear about what you wanted when you first started this thing. Boundaries had been laid down. Just because your feelings have changed, that doesn’t mean his have. It was unfair of you to look for more from him.

Your underwear are a lost cause. You bury them underneath more toilet paper in James’ bin, hiding the condom while you’re at it. You’ll get yourself new ones without telling Sirius. What you do shouldn’t be his problem anyway.

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deadtired-highkeyenergetic · 3 months

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I Won't Lose You

I've been told by all my friends who have played bg3 that durge runs should not be the first run of the game but here I am, doing just that. In my defense, I want to go around as a fictional dragonborn trying to kill most things and save scumming on dialogue choices for approval ratings.

Summary: The dark urge takes over when Astarion gets injured in battle. In the aftermath, you flee, afraid of what the others think of you now but Astarion goes after you to bring you back to camp and reassure you that nothing has changed.

When the arrow pierces through his shoulder, all you can see is red. Blood roars in your ears, a scream tears itself from your throat and you change. You become a different person, your legs move of their own accord, the dagger in your hand twirls and you stab downwards. Over and over again you stab, blood splattering all over you but you don’t care. You’re not thinking, everything is a blur except the one word that rings in your head.

Kill.

And so you kill, your dagger tearing into flesh and drawing blood with each sickening squelch. The metallic taste floods your tongue and you grin. You feel alive, powerful, invincible. No one can stop you, no one can take anything away from you ever again. Laughter bubbles within your chest, bursting forth as you stand there, head thrown back. Blood drips from your clothes onto the floor but you barely notice it. Euphoria thrums through your veins, you’ve killed the being who tried to take the only thing you have left from you. It feels wonderful.

You feel as though a weight has been lifted from your shoulders and raise your arms towards the sky, laughing all the while.

“Try it! Try and take him away from me!” You yell. “I’ll kill you all!”

Adrenaline rushes through your veins as the goblins flee in terror from the figure covered in blood. Your legs begin to move, feet pushing off the floor as you hunt them down, a wild gleeful look in your eyes. Your dagger slices through their skin, ripping open arteries, tearing off limbs and you only laugh harder at their screams of pain.

You slam your dagger into the neck of the goblin leader, crouching on its back as the body falls to the floor with a loud thud.

“No one can take him away from me,” you growl. “Not even the gods.”

You look up to see your companions’ various reactions, but the only one you really care about is Astarion’s. As you take a step towards him, reaching out with a bloody hand, he takes a step back, ruby eyes wide with horror. For a moment, all he can see is Cazador, drenched in blood with a grin so wide it stretches his face, and then he blinks and you’re standing in front of him, a look of hurt in your eyes.

Before your name can fall from his lips, you’re gone, running into the nearby forest. Everyone turns to look at him, the same question in their minds: what did he do?

Back in camp, Astarion tries to ignore the gnawing feeling in his chest as Shadowheart heals his injury. He can’t shake the look you gave him before running away, the fear that filled your gaze. He recognised the look, after all, it was the same as the one he wore as Cazador’s spawn – the look of despair.

“I’m going out for a walk,” he says and leaves the camp before anyone can say anything. In all honesty, he has no idea how to find you, all he knows is that he has to. He can’t leave you alone to fend for yourself, especially not in that condition of yours. Letting out a sigh, he makes his way back to the battle site. He can try starting from there, track the scent of your blood and hopefully find you before anything else does.

When he reaches the site, he notices a lone figure sitting by the bloodstained rubble, their knees hugged against their chest.

“Y/N,” he calls out. You look up, and then quickly look back down, curled even more into yourself. Astarion feels his undead heart ache at the sight of your current state. You’ve always been the life of the party – cheerful, upbeat, optimistic. He’s the one who is broody, sitting in the corner and staring at everyone else and yet here you are, sitting all alone in the cold night with no fire to keep you warm.

“May I inquire as to why you have stolen my role as the broody rogue?” He seats himself next to you whilst maintaining some distance. You keep silent, staring into the distance.

“Come now, darling. Let’s head back to camp, the others miss you dearly, not as much as they miss me of course but –”

“Leave.” Your voice wavers. When he doesn’t move, you repeat your words a little louder. “I said leave.”

“But why, darling? You’re clearly cold and hungry, the camp has both fire and food. Don’t tell me you plan on freezing to death while starving? It’s not a very comfortable way to go,” he tuts. “You should choose a better way of dying.”

“I deserve it,” you mutter. “After what I did.”

“After what you did? You killed the goblins and protected the weak, I don’t believe any of that is deserving of such a slow death.” Astarion attempts to lighten the mood but your face remains sullen.

“You know what I’m talking about. I saw it, the way you looked at me. You don’t want me anymore, you shouldn’t. I’m a monster.” Your voice cracks, tears sliding down your cheeks.

“That’s not the worst thing I’ve seen,” his voice drops to a whisper. “And my feelings for you haven’t changed in the slightest. I still want whatever it is that we have, this weird relationship of ours. Nothing will ever change my mind about it. Your appearance simply…reminded me of something I’d rather forget in that moment, but the situations couldn’t be more vastly different.”

Astarion reaches out with a hand, simply holding an upturned palm towards you. A simple gesture, but one filled with so much meaning between the two of you. You stare at it, a hand slowly reaching out before pulling back again when you see how bloodstained your hand is.

Seeing as you are still in no mood to talk, he continues. “Whenever Cazador was covered in blood, it tended to be my blood. Usually it was after he had finished torturing me for whatever sick reason he had and he would smile at me, asking if I would be his good pet. You were covered in goblin blood, vowing to kill anyone even the gods if they tried to harm me. You were protecting me, not harming me, and I am forever grateful for that.”

Astarion takes your bloodstained hand and presses it against his cheek, leaning into the warm feeling, “I need you, Y/N.”

You feel a fresh wave of tears prick at the corners of your eyes, biting your bottom lip to stop the cascade. He shifts closer to you and leans in, ready to pull away should you flinch but you remain still, looking him in the eye and so he wraps himself around you, holding you tightly.

The dam bursts open and you weep, clutching at his tunic. Ugly tears dampen his sleeve, ruining his perfect appearance but Astarion doesn’t care. He’d do anything for you, just like how you’d do anything for him. The vampire spawn rests a reassuring hand on the back of your head while the other rubs circles on your back as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear. Right now, only you matter, and if you needed a shoulder to cry on, he would be that shoulder.

“I can’t lose you,” you sob through the tears. “I’ve lost everything else already, I can’t lose you too. WIthout you, I…I don’t know what to do. You’re the only one who keeps me going.”

Astarion presses his lips to your head, closing his eyes as he takes in your sweet scent, “I can’t lose you either, Y/N, and I promise, we will remain by each other’s side forever.”

His words make you cry harder and you bury yourself into his chest, crying until you have nothing left to give and lie there panting, cries reduced to sniffles. Astarion kisses away the tears that remain on your cheek, lips lingering longer than necessary with each kiss before pressing his forehead against yours.

“All these years, I’ve always wondered if anyone would ever care about me to the point where they would do anything to protect me, and now I’ve found my answer in you,” he murmurs. “I couldn’t be happier knowing that you would choose me over everything else.”

“I love you too,” you whisper back. “Thank you, for accepting me after seeing what I really am.”

“Any time, dearest.” He continues to cradle you in his arms, gently swaying from side to side. As your eyelids begin to flutter shut, he decides that tonight, it can’t just be you who is vulnerable. You trust him enough to drop your guard to this extent around him, he wants to repay the favour.

“I had a nightmare about you, just the other night.” He gently pushes your hair out of your face, tracing your jawline. He’s been wanting to keep this a secret, afraid of scaring you but since you had challenged the gods themselves, perhaps a vampire wasn’t that scary in comparison.

“Did I look hot in it?”

Astarion blinks in surprise. Maybe he was rubbing off on you too much. Amusement colours his face as he gives your cheek a poke and pouts. “First you steal my role as the broody rogue in the party and now you try to take my place as the residential flirt?”

“It’s all your fault,” you huff good naturedly, folding your arms across your chest. “You’ve been a terrible influence on me.”

He smiles softly, giving you a peck on the lips, “I suppose I have. Although I must say, you have a long way to go before you can ever reach my level.”

“I can’t possibly put you out of a job, can I? Whatever will I do to keep my vampire lover around then?”

“You simply need to exist, darling. That is all.”

Your gaze softens and you press your lips against his, kissing him deeply.

“Do you want to talk about your nightmare?” You ask once you reluctantly break away from the kiss to breathe. He nods, swallowing hard.

“Cazador had you. He threatened to kill you unless I returned to him, threatened to turn you into one of his spawn just like me and make you suffer for an eternity while I watched. You swore and cursed at me, saying all this was my fault, that it was all because of me that you were now on the cusp of being turned into a vampire spawn, and I –” His fingers tremble. “I didn’t know what to do.”

“Star –”

“I hesitated! I thought about putting myself before you, and I –”

“I want you to do that.”

His eyes widen, “darling, you can’t possibly –”

“Star, you’ve spent far too long putting everyone before yourself. You need to start putting yourself before others from time to time, to stand up for yourself. I want you to live your own life, not someone else’s. And if Cazador ever comes for us, well I won’t let him separate us. We’ll have each other’s backs as we always do, and he won’t stand a chance.”

You say it with such certainty that Astarion almost believes you, but a nagging voice in the back of his head reminds him of how strong Cazador is. Yet, looking deep into your eyes and seeing your resolve, a small part of him dares to hope again. Maybe, he really could stand up against his master with you by his side. Maybe one day, he really could be free, but for now, he’s more than content to simply hold you in his arms, feeling your warm embrace and his undead heart soaring.

#astarion bg3 #astarion x durge #astarion x reader #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 #astarion ancunin #astarion x you #astarion #astarion angst #astarion romance

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grims-sunshine · 8 months

Text

🤍 Where I'm supposed to be 🤍

Summary: Tav (aka the reader) is taking care of Astarion after defeating Cazador.

Word count: 1.5k

Pairing: Astarion x Tav/Reader

Tags: Hurt / comfort; I think this is called reverse comfort? (When the reader comforts the character); lots of mentions of blood; Not 100% canon compliant but it's just minor details/ me not wanting to simply retell what happens in the game

A heavy silence falls over the crypt as Astarion sinks to his knees. You almost preferred it when he was still screaming. The current silence feels like a dark presence stretching over you, making it difficult to breathe.

You can sense that your other companions are just as uneasy as you are. Karlach uneasily fumbles with the handle of her weapon and Gale is biting his lip while staring at the gory scene in front of you with Astarion as its main actor.

They're clearly struggling to decide what to do now. So are you.

Your first instinct is to hug Astarion, to fuss over him and make sure he isn't injured, but you're not sure he wants to be touched right now. However, just standing there watching him doesn't feel right either.

"Astarion?" You finally ask, taking a small step towards him, carefully stretching out your hand like you're talking to a wild animal. He doesn't react. His eyes are fixated on the dead body of his former master in front of him, almost like he's waiting for Cazador to jump up and start mocking him again. Like the moment he looks away, Cazador will return back to life and continue to attack.

You follow his stare, seeing the multiple stab wounds and the puddle of blood he's lying in. No, that bastard is dead.

You kneel down next to Astarion, placing a hand on his shoulder. If he noticed you at all, he isn't showing it. You look at him, trying to make out any immediate signs of injuries. He doesn't appear to be hurt, but you do notice the slight tremble of his bottom lip and the way his eyes swell up with tears. You gently pull him towards you, wrapping your arms around him. Astarion doesn't resist, letting his head sink into your chest.

He's completely still for a few moments, then the previous silence is broken by a series of loud sobs. Astarion's hands grasp the back of your shirt, fists balling together like he's scared you'll disappear. He trembles in your arms and you pull him even closer. You run a hand through Astarion's hair in an attempt to soothe him, even if just a little bit. It's sticky with blood, but you hardly notice that.

"It's okay, love. He won't hurt you anymore," you whisper in his ear, your other hand gently stroking his back. He only sobs louder in response, but it seems to help him breathe a little more evenly.

You're interrupted by the other spawn approaching. They still appear in just as much shock as Astarion, eyeing the corpse of their former master like they, too, can't believe he's really gone yet.

"Well… What now?" One of them eventually asks, all of them turning to Astarion like they expect guidance from him now.

You look over to your companions, hoping one of them might step in to redirect the spawn. But before any of them can say something, Astarion loosens his grip of you, getting up with his back straightened.

He's still sniffling a little, but already looks far more composed than before. Or, at least he tries to look composed.

Perhaps he even manages to convince everyone else that he's really okay. However, you can't help but notice the slight tremble in his legs as he walks over to pick up Cazador's staff, and the way he's fighting to keep his voice steady while talking to the others.

You've spent enough time around him, observing his mannerisms, to know when he's putting on a show. As much as he tries to appear alright, in truth he's far from being okay.

As Astarion's siblings leave, his eyes trail after them, staring off into the distance even after they're long gone. You put a hand on his shoulder, hoping to break him out of his trance. "Astarion, are you alr-" He cuts you off.

“Let’s just go home. I've had enough of this place," he says without turning around, just loud enough for you to hear.

You only nod in response and Astarion starts walking, the rest of your party following close behind.

Nobody says a word on your way back to Elfsong Tavern. Yet, you grow increasingly worried for Astarion. He looks like he's barely holding himself together, while pushing his emotions as far down as possible. You can only hope he'll open up to you later, rather than trying to pretend the events of tonight never happened.

The moment you reach Elfsong Tavern, Astarion drags himself upstairs to the floor you rented, straight to his bed where he sits down, staring at the wall. You contemplate whether it would be best to leave him alone with his thoughts for the time being, or whether you should try talking to him.

Eventually you decide to just sit down next to him, quietly reaching for his hand. "Just so you know," you start, "you don't have to talk right now if you don't want to. But I'm here for you."

Astarion nods in response, ever so slightly squeezing your hand.

You don't know how much time passes like this, but Astarion eventually breaks the silence, almost startling you with how suddenly he starts speaking.

“Do you think I made the right decision back there?” His voice doesn't have its usual smoothness to it as he speaks. Instead, it sounds sore and raspy. He just sounds tired.

“Yes.” You say it wholeheartedly, not even having to think before you respond. Astarion made the right decision - Of that you’re sure. “You’ve proven you’re better than Cazador. You didn't cause others to suffer for your own benefit. You made sure he'll never hurt anyone again. I’m absolutely certain you made the right decision.”

Astarion hums, nodding slowly as if he's contemplating your words. “At least one of us is sure, then. I really hope you’re correct.” He sighs and runs a hand over his face. "I'm not so certain I did the right thing. But maybe I should trust your judgment while I can't think straight."

You squeeze his hand tightly, and he gives a weak squeeze back. “Give it a while for everything to settle down,” you suggest, gently. “Once you’ve had some time to work through all this, I’m sure you’ll see things have worked out for the better.” He just grunts in response, letting his head sink against your shoulder. You sit like that in silence for a while, and you can tell he’s on the brink of falling asleep.

“Hey, how about we get all this blood off you and go to sleep?” You suggest, running a hand through his hair. Astarion just nods, allowing you to pull him along and lead him towards the small bathtub in the bathroom.

You run some warm water and grab a sponge while Astarion sits in the tub. Under normal circumstances he probably wouldn't let you take care of him like this, but tonight he doesn’t protest as you run the sponge over his skin, making sure to wash off the blood still sticking to his skin. He even closes his eyes for a while, completely giving himself into the care of your gentle touch as you run the water over his head in an attempt to get the blood splatters out of his hair.

Once you're sure you've gotten rid of all the blood, you bring Astarion a towel, wrapping it around him.

He sits there and watches as you grab a second towel, using it to dry his hair.

As you're about to put the towel away, you suddenly find Astarion's arms finding their way around your waist, pulling you close enough for him to rest his head against your torso.

You freeze in place, only moving enough to drop the towel and run your hand through Astarion's still damp hair. Just by his expression you can tell he needs to be close to you right now, and you have no intention of denying him that comfort.

After a while of being together like this in silence, you gently nudge Astarion. "Let's get you to bed, alright? It'll be much more comfortable there."

Astarion seems reluctant to let go of you, finally agrees to it after you promise not to leave his side for the night (not that you would've done so either way).

As he climbs into bed, you lie down next to him, pulling him into your arms. Astarion seems happy to rest his head on your chest. He seems almost peaceful like this, listening to your heartbeat while you run a hand across his back with gentle strokes.

"Thank you. For taking care of me… And for stopping me from probably making a big mistake. It's good to have someone looking out for me for once," Astarion mumbles, sounding like he's on the edge of falling asleep.

You run a hand through his still damp hair. "Don't mention it. You would've done the same for me." You press a kiss to his forehead, catching a glimpse of the slightest smile curling Astarion's lips. "And I hope you know you can always rely on me."

Astarion nods, hugging you a little tighter. "Yes. And I'm grateful for that, too."

Soon after, the only thing you hear is Astarion's soft breaths as he drifts off to sleep. You can only hope the next day will be a little brighter for him. But if not, he still has you to rely on.

Thank you for reading 🤍

Title was inspired by this

#bg3 astarion #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x mc #baldurs gate astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion ancunin

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quintinh43 · 2 months

Note

a blurb/fic of Quinn and elem school teacher and them “fighting” over paying for something!

Thank you for requesting, I had so much fun writing this 🥰

It was an unnaturally hot day in mid-April in Vancouver. People were treating it as of was a summer day in July. Everyone was out in shorts and dresses, having picnics or tanning, or swimming in spring chilled water of the Pacific.

You and Quinn were no exception. The beautiful day had coordinated with one of Quinns' rest days, which had all miraculously fallen on a Saturday. Meaning you didn't have to work. All in all, it was a very happy coincidence that you and Quinn decided to take full advantage of.

Quinn had proposed going out for breakfast, which had turned into going out for brunch because Quinn kept getting distracted by how gorgeous you looked in your floral printed sundress. He had eventually just tossed you onto the couch, bunched your dress around your hips, and ate you out till you were shaking beneath him.

Brunch was amazing. Quinn took you to an outdoor rooftop restaurant that served the best waffles you had ever eaten. When you leaned across the table with a piece of waffle on your fork for Quinn to try, he grinned and winked at you as he closed his lips over the fork suggestively.

Your cheeks flush all the way down to your chest and it made Quinn's grin grow even wider. After brunch the two of you decide to walk the coastline. You hand is wrapped around Quinn's arm as the two of you walk the park, playing the game of trying to decipher the detailed life stories of strangers.

"Oh, ice cream!" You jump excitedly pointing at the ice cream stand that has a long line, "please, Quinn, can we?" You ask, eyes glittering with hope.

Quinn chuckles, "of course we can baby," he says pressing a kiss to your forehead. It's the moments like this that make him wonder why it took him so long to tell you he loved you.

You tug him over the the line, chattering excitedly about the prospective flavours. Where you were always down to try a new flavour, Quinn stuck with what he liked. He would never tell you, but one of the reasons he did it was so if you were disappointed in the flavour you got, he would trade with you because he knew you also liked his flavour.

"Ooh Quinn! I think they have raspberry white chocolate!" You grin shaking his arm eagerly.

"That what you gonna get?" He asks, unable to keep the smile off his face. Seeing you happy makes him happy. And with the combination of the sunny weather, he can't keep the smile off his face.

"I don't know yet, I'll decide when we get there. What are you getting?"

"Take a wild guess," he snorts, flicking you in the forehead.

"Meanie," you huff, bumping his chin with your head playfully.

Soon enough it's your turn to order, "I'll have a scoop of strawberry cheesecake in a waffle cone, and he'll have a scoop of cookie dough in a waffle cone as well, please."

The poor teenage girl who looks like she hates her life, scribbles down your order with a nod. You shuffle around your purse for your card, but Quinn is already slapping a twenty dollar bill on the counter.

You snatch it off the counter quickly with a glare, and slap your card in its place. Quinn grabs your card off the table and replaces it with another bill thats gone just as fast as the first one. The girl looks ready to strangle you both. Quinn pulls out another twenty, and half wrestles you out of the way while he hands it to the girl directly.

"Keep the change," he mumbles apologetically, dragging you out of line to wait for your ice cream.

"Quinn," you turn on him with a glare, "what was that for?"

Quinn plays confused, "What do you mean?"

"I was going to pay!" You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. Quinn rolls his eyes, mimicking your position.

"Babe, please, not this again." He groans

"Quinn, I asked you to get ice cream, that means I have to pay." You grumble.

"I say this with all my love babe," Quinn says squishing your cheeks between his calloused palms, "That's a stupid fucking rule. I'm your boyfriend, I'm always gonna pay."

"But I don't want-"

"I have a strawberry cheese cake, and a cookie dough in waffle cones?" The girl calls out, cutting your arguemnt short.

You smile, at her thankfully while Quinn grabs the ice cream. He hands you yours and slings his arm over your shoulders as the two of you continue your walk.

"Why does it bother you so much when I pay for things?" Quinn asks seriously, taking a lick of his ice cream.

"I'm a grown adult." You say grumpily, "I can pay for my own things."

Quinn flicks your ear, "Don't give me that bullshit. Tell me why it bothers you so much."

"I feel bad," you mumble.

"Why do you feel bad?" Quinn pushes, offering you a lick of his ice cream. You take it gratefully, offering yours in return. Quinn happily takes a lick, humming in approval.

"Dunno, I just do" You shrug, "I don't want you wasting your money on me."

Quinn looks slightly offended "Baby, its not a waste. I love paying for you. If you wouldn't kill me for it do you know how long ago I would've given you a credit card on my account?"

"Oh God, please never do that," you groan, covering your face with your free hand.

"You still haven't given me a real reason as to why you don't like it when I pay." He says again, fingers tracing comforting shapes on your collarbones.

You sigh, head dropping against his shoulder, "I don't want everyone to see me as a the girl who's with you cause of your money."

Quinn looks at you incredulously, "are you serious?"

You nod sheepishly.

"Babe, who gives a fuck what random strangers think? You're my girl, I wanna spoil you in every way possible."

"I know, I know, but for some reason, it really gets to me." You sigh.

"Well, you'd better stop letting it get to you because I'm paying for everything for the rest of our lives," Quinn says dramatically.

You snort, elbowing him in the ribs lightly, "ok, hot shot."

"Seriously baby, if that's the only reason, don't let it bother you."

"I'll try," you say, taking a bite of your cone.

"You'd better." He says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Suddenly, there's something cold sliding down your cheek. You can help but screech, jumping away from Quinn. He's laughing as you thumb a glob of cookie dough ice cream off your face.

"How dare you!" You gasp, licking the ice cream off your thumb. You dip your finger into your ice cream to retaliate, but before you can wipe it on his face, he's grabbing your wrist and sucking your ice cream coated ginger into his mouth. Your brain short-circuits, cheeks turning a brilliant shade of red.

Quinn smirks around your finger and lets it fall from his lips. "What's wrong, baby?" He teases, like he didn't just do what he did in public.

"You are so bad," you mutter, still blushing.

"Only for you baby," he grins, pressing a kiss to the side of your head, "only for you."

A blurb from this universe

#loving you is as easy as abc 123 #quinn hughes #qh43 #quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes x you #hughes brothers #quinn hughes x reader #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #vancover canucks #nhl blurb #nhl x y/n #nhl x you #hockey imagine #hockey blurb

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solbaby7 · 6 months

Text

Psychological Warfare

pairing: rhysand x reader

warnings: cruel Eris, insinuated methods of torture, taunting, angst, swearing, in depth descriptions of a panic attack, and again angst

summary: The High Lord watches his most fearless soldier shatter to pieces

—

“Just perfect,” You mutter snarkily to Rhysand under your breath, eyes scanning the lavish office and the steadily growing number of High Lords occupying its space.

It was spacious enough to fit the obnoxiously large table in the middle; had an assortment of liquors in their freshly polished bottles and no food.

Intentional, no doubt.

Booze them up and when their guards are low, the intel will flow.

“It won’t take long,” He hums back, hand rubbing soothingly at your thigh under the table and even though it’s clear to him you don’t want to be there—to others your face is the picture of neutrality, almost completely expressionless in your seat.

You ignore the side eyes, the Lords who clutched their wives tighter once clocking that you were in the room too—a vicious soldier that fought in the Night Courts armies, more skilled and bloodthirsty than any other recruit; more calculated and five times as determined as any other able body in those camps. Rhysand had hand picked you, promising you safety, warmth and a family if you’d accepted a position on his personal guard.

That had been nearly two hundred years ago.

One final group walks through, four men with auburn hair and sun-kissed skin and your body goes ramrod straight, quickly regarding Rhys in your head.

Were they invited?

Baron was.

“I see you’ve taken to collecting strays, Rhysand.” Baron’s eldest son jokes, dark eyes taking you in like a wild animal that had been perpetually starved.

“You should mind your tongue before I let her off her leash.”

Your throat immediately closes at the words—they were innocent; meant to be encouraging but the cruel laugh that pulls from Eris’ chest as he lowers into his seat is anything but comforting and you shift in your seat. “Funny you should say that,” Eris continued, practically vibrating in excitement. Fire burned in those brown eyes when he continued, he seemed to barely notice the others who’d been gathered for the meeting as well—watching, waiting with gazes that ping-ponged back and forth between you.

“Don’t.” You breathe out and for once everyone raises a brow at your tone, shock evident at the cracks beginning to emerge quickly in your fearless facade. The wide eyes, the slight wobble of your chin and that raw scent of genuine fear fills the room.

“I don’t know,” Eris drawls out, one leg crossing over the other and it could just be your vision but you’re certain you notice the lights in the room glowing just a hair brighter but it might as well have been a thousand degrees with the sweat beading at your hairline. “Everyone’s interest is now piqued, I’d be a terrible guest if I left them hanging.”

Your hands are shaking now and the look Rhysand sends you is enough to have your head bowing in embarrassment. His mouth opens to say something, probably to mention how you’d completely shut off access to whatever was going on in your head; how all your High Lord could see was tall, thick walls lined in barbed wire and heavily reinforced guards that remained stationed at every post—nearly impenetrable.

But, somehow, Eris finds a weak spot.

You try to brace yourself, the eerily cool pinprick of anxiety poking holes all over your body until everything felt like you’d gone numb.

“That’s enough,” Rhys spoke, a hand holding yours tightly under the table, shouting through the bond for you to just tell him what was wrong; what the hell was happening?

Trying to stabilize you, to will soothing words and calm feelings through that same connection but nothing works. One of your legs bounce uncontrollably, teeth gnawing at the insides of your cheeks until you can taste the blood and even then you keep on going.

“She ever tell you about her life before you and the Night Court?”

Your eyes squeeze shut, memories beginning to shove their way to the forefront of your mind after centuries of carefully locking it up and sealing it away. A noise pulls from your throat as you try and fail to regain your composure and a thick tear begins to burn trails down your cheek as Eris’ excitement exuded. “Eris.” It comes out choked, a half-plea but you should’ve known better—the Autumn Court never did do mercy.

You’re heart is racing and you’re sure that any of the high fae in the room can hear exactly how frantic your breathing has become yet you can’t bare to look at their horrified faces—eyes wide and mouths agape in astonishment as the Night Courts fearless warrior broke before them like a child who was denied the comfort of their mother. “She was given to me as a gift,” Your eyes clench shut, one hand digging into the roots of your hair when you feel Rhysand’s fingers tightening around your other. “—her old drunk of a father practically begged me to take her off of his hands.”

You could still smell the stale beer of your father’s breath when he’d dragged you through the streets in nothing but your nightgown and presented you to the High Lord and his heirs.

You’d never forget the way the males stared you down from their thrones, eyes raking in your body like it was nothing more than a new recipe their kitchen servants had come up with. “Please.” You beg, vision so blurry you can barely make out the cruel smile he wore, the burning white of his teeth blinding you like the most scalding parts of a fire. “Stop it.”

“I didn’t have much use for her at first,” Eris shrugged casually, retelling the story with such fond remembrance, glancing over to one of his brothers with a finger pointed. “But then my brothers and I were drinking one night and they jokingly asked if I needed a pet.”

Rhysand snarls at the way the word makes you flinch, eyes frantic and foggy like you were right there again—reliving the humiliation, the fear and disgust that brewed within for not being able to protect yourself. It had been part of the reason you’d trained so hard when you had escaped. Promising to never let any male degrade you in such a way again.

Eris rips at hundreds of years worth of healed scars in seconds, teeth thrashing and blood coating his maw while he tore you apart and exposed you for all to see.

You shrink in your chair and Rhysand’s heart clenched at the way he feels you go distant, staring at Eris but not really seeing the room before you; as if the eldest son of the Autumn Court had weaseled his way inside your head like Rhys could. There’s no explaining the way the air had stilled, High Lords exchanging apprehensive glances, murmuring words to Baron to tell his son to stop but Eris refuses to listen—drunk off the power and high off of your pain.

You can feel wetness on your face, your hands; it’s seeping through your pants and you can’t quite understand why. Not when Eris has his claws sunk deep within, waving the red flag bloodied with all of your secrets for all to observe. Like a show in the amphitheater, trapped in your own mind you relive every moment, deep sobs racking your body so badly the table shook with your emotion. Rhysand is beginning to gather you, shaping dark magic around your body so no one can see or hear you but the magic doesn’t hold, you’re too unstable—emotions too high and powers brewing on overdrive as it reacted to your distress. “I can’t breathe.”

Eris ignores your struggle, the way you are clearly drowning and fighting with all your might stay afloat but he keeps dragging you back down and genuine happiness is glowing on his skin at your reaction. “Spent all week mulling it over but I was walking through town and saw this display in a window,” He lets out a little chuckle, leaning in closer with fingers tapping casually against the mahogany wood, preening when you shrink away from him. “—a collar and a leash and it just hits me. My little pet. Come on, tell me you remember me putting it on you for the first time.”

Rhysand takes a more aggressive approach, protective nature on overdrive as you sob so hard you barely have time to suck in more air. Your hands are clawing at your throat, nails digging in, drawing blood and Rhys’ head whips back, double checking that Eris really hadn’t been using a daemati but when he looks into your mind—the towering walls inside are no more.

Rubble and glass is scattered everywhere in thick chunks like it’d been torn apart from the inside out, the plumes of smoke is scratchy in Rhys’ lungs but he keeps forward and right in the middle; covered in rags and bruises, ribs showing and cheeks gaunt, lashes and burns that covered more than it didn’t—was you.

With that damn collar around your throat.

“Don’t be like that, Rhysand,” Eris cackles in the background but it sounds like he’s doing it right in your ear. Your cheeks are red with your own blood and when Rhysand goes to help you stand, you’re putty in his hands. “I hadn’t even gotten to the fun part yet!” There are soft words, a palm cradling the back of your head as the High Lord of the Night Court picked you up and winnowed you away.

—

Azriel is waiting in the foyer when Rhysand returns with you in his arms, still sobbing but he’s calmed you enough to stop the scratching. Thick, angry lines assault your neck, blood pouring free and the moment he’d conjured up and illusion for your mind of you breaking free of that collar and burning it forever, did you stop fighting.

“What happened?” The shadow singer hissed, clearing the space between them and when his hand hovers over you, inches away from touching, another deep cry pulls through. “What the fuck did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Rhysand snaps back with equal intensity, violet eyes blazing with anger and deep, unsettling worry as you clutched so tight on his shirt he was sure it’d rip. “Call the madja, right now!”

Rhysand urges away a worried Elaine but eventually stops fighting it when you seem to calm in her presence. Falling into action easily, Elaine followed close beside, dress swishing against the glossy floors while humming some soothing tune that had your sobs settling into broken hiccups and soft whimpers. Mor seems to appear out of nowhere, face firm and gaze hot when she regards her cousin and it takes no more than a second before you’ve been transferred into her hold. Nesta falls in tow, already equipped with thick blankets and steaming tea. “Just go,” Mor huffs out, her hands raking through your hair as she leads you to your room. “We’ve got her.”

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar x reader #acotar x you #high lord rhysand #rhys acotar #rhysand x reader #rhysand #rhysand angst #nesta archeron #azriel #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames #eris vanserra #send asks #acotar

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urlibragirl · 1 month

Text

summary : you and eren were childhood friends, but you guys drifted apart. One day, Eren decide to stick the pieces back.

warnings/content : mdni!, fem!reader, jealous!eren, eren is a virgin, little bit of angst, p in v intercourse, unprotected sex, oral sex(m receiving)

word count : 1271

Sighing heavily, Eren rubbed his forehead as he tried to recall the events leading up to your falling out. You guys had been inseparable during childhood, always playing together and sharing secrets. But somewhere along the line, things changed.

He remembered the day clearly, it was after Jean had joined your group of friends. There was something different about you, you seemed happier, more confident. And yet, at the same time, she seemed distant too. Like there was part of herself that kept hidden even from him.

Grinning widely, you clapped your hands excitedly as you talked to your friends about the tv-show you watched the night before. Your laugh echoed through the hallways, drawing attention from everyone around you.

You may have been known for being somewhat wild and carefree, but there was no denying that people enjoyed being around you. Even though Eren preferred quieter gathering, he couldn’t help but admire your ability to light up any room you entered. Watching you interact with others made your heart ache just a little bit more.

He wished things could go back to how they used to be, but he knew that ship had sailed long ago. Instead, he forced himself to focus on his studies, hoping that one day he might finally gain control over his feelings. Little did he know, your paths were destined to cross again under unexpected circumstances.

One fateful evening during winter break, Armin hosted a party at his place which included most members of their original friendship circle. Despite initially declining due to personal reasons, Eren eventually caved in under pressure from Mikasa and Jean who insisted he needed some time off studying. Reluctantly agreeing, he arrived at Armin’s house.

As the night wore on and the party reached its peak, Eren found himself drawn to you, despite the animosity that had grown between you two over the years. With a determined stride, he made his way through the crowd until he stood in front of you, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Hey," he said, trying to keep his voice casual despite the butterflies fluttering in his stomach.

You glanced at him, “Oh, hey Eren,” you answered “It’s been a long time.”

You guys stood in awkward silence for a moment, the weight of your unresolved issues hanging heavy in the air.

“Look, I didn’t mean to ignore you or act like a jerk. It’s just that seeing you with Jean made me realize how much I missed having you around. We were best friends since forever, and suddenly, you were gone. I tried to move on, but my heart wouldn’t listen. So yeah, maybe I acted immaturely sometimes, but deep down, I was hurting too.”

Your eyes widened in surprise as you listened to Eren pouring his heart out. You hadn’t expected such honesty from him. For once, he sounded vulnerable instead of aloof. “There’s also something I need to tell you,” you began, your voice barely above a whisper. “Something I’ve been wanting to say for quite a while now…” You paused for effect, taking a deep breath before continuing.

“The truth is, I’m in love with you. From the moment we met all those years ago, I knew there was something special between us. And as time went by, that feeling only grew stronger.” you finally said.

“But what about Jean?” Eren asked with a surprised tone. “Oh, with Jean it wasn’t anything serious,” you said. “It’s going to sound horrible but both of us needed someone to forget about the friend they were in love with, me with you and him with Mikasa, but apparently it wasn’t really effective”

“So why didn’t you say something?” he asked. “Well, I could ask the same thing to you Eren?” you answered, teasing him a little bit.

“I guess I was just scared,” he admitted sheepishly. “ Afraid that maybe you really had moved on without me – I’ve missed you Y/N,” he confessed, his voice shaking. “More than you’ll ever know”.

As your faces drew closer, the world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in a bubble of intense emotion. Your hearts raced in unison, beating wildly against your chests as you prepared yourselves for whatever laid ahead. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, your lips met in a tender, passionate kiss.

It was as if all the pent-up frustration and sorrow from your tumultuous past had suddenly vanished, replaced by a powerful wave of desire and affection. Time stood still as you were both lost in the moment, savoring every second of your long-awaited reunion.

When you guys finally pulled apart, you gazed into each other's eyes, lost in the depths of each other's souls. "I love you, Eren," you whispered, your voice shaking slightly with emotion. "And I love you too, Y/N," he replied, his voice equally strained.

As your lips parted, Eren found himself struggling to catch his breath. This was new territory for him; he had never experienced such intense passion before. He looked into your eyes, wondering if she felt the same way.

To his relief, he saw a mix of lust and tenderness reflected back at him. Gently guiding you towards the nearby bedroom, he led you inside and closed the door behind you. The room was dimly lit, casting eerie shadows across the walls.

Undressing each other slowly, you were revealed in the sight of each other's naked forms for the first time. Despite being a virgin, Eren couldn't hide his excitement or nervousness. You sensed his apprehension and decided to take charge.

Kneeling down beside him, you ran your hands up his thighs, stopping just short of his erection. Looking into his eyes, you gave him a reassuring smile before taking him into your mouth. Eren let out a moan as you teased him expertly, sucking gently on his cock while running your tongue along its length.

Overwhelmed by pleasure, he reached down to touch your hair, encouraging you to continue. As you worked him over with your skilled tongue, he couldn't help but wonder how lucky he was to have found someone like you.

Meanwhile, you moved up to straddle Eren's lap, grinding your hips against him suggestively. You wanted this to be special for him, and you intended to make sure it was. Slowly lowering yourself onto his hardened member, you gasped as you felt him slide inside your wet folds. It was tighter than she expected, but in a good way.

You began moving up and down, meeting his thrusts halfway as you both sought release. The sounds of skin slapping against skin filled the air, punctuated by gasps of pleasure from both parties involved. Eren grabbed hold of your hips, pulling you closer as he buried himself deeper inside your warmth with each stroke.

Your rhythm became faster and more urgent as you neared climax. Just when it felt like neither of you could take another moment, you both cried out in ecstasy, your bodies shuddering together as you reached orgasm simultaneously.

"Oh god," Eren groaned, his voice hoarse from exertion. "That was incredible." He pulled you closer, burying his face in your neck as he savored the scent of your skin. "I don't think I've ever felt anything like that before." You smiled contentedly, tracing gentle circles on his back. "Oh don’t worry, we're just getting started."

With renewed energy, you two began exploring each other's bodies once more, lost in the heat of the moment. Every touch sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, heightening your senses and deepening your connection.

a/n : i wrote this at 2 a.m, so there might be grammar mistakes sorry

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ragingbookdragon · 1 year

Text

A Saving Grace

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 2K Warnings: Explicit Language, Violence

**********************************************************************

Ever since she had arrived, there had been no complaints from her, even spending so much time around a group of men. Any time someone had asked something of her, it was a quick “Yes sir, I’ll get it done.” With no issue in her tone, and she did, in fact, get it all done with a degree one could only call perfection.

No one seemed to understand her though. She walked with an air of grace, a sun-bright smile lighting up her face, enthusiasm in her voice when she spoke. She kept everyone on the edge of their seats when she talked to them, attention rapt as if they looked away, they’d miss the world. And she was kind. Oh, so kind, and they knew when she played with the young children in the village, helped the elder women carry their laundry and baskets of food. The smile never left her face, the joy never left her voice, the grace never left her soul.

An Angel, they decided she was. The group’s mascot, a beautiful Angel with deadly precision and skill.

Quite a contrast from her call-sign she’d come in with.

Whore.

Their mouths had dropped, eyes wide, disbelief written across their faces, what type of person, let alone a beautiful woman such as herself, would allow anyone to call her Whore. She hadn’t told them. Just that it was what she chose.

Despite going through the SEAL program, she had no real-world combat experience, only the training she’d received at SEAL boot-camp. Simon was inclined to not bring her along, but she insisted.

I won’t get in the way. I’ll provide backup and follow your lead, Lieutenant.

The compound erupted into chaos whenever the alarm sounded, and Simon had cursed their luck as bullets whizzed by. He shouted orders through the comms, go left, go right, stay center, open fire, suppressing fire.

She’d gone left, into a double open ended steel container that had been converted into a lookout. The shock from the carbine caused an ache in her shoulder but she paid it no mind, taking out enemies where she could see them, one even getting too close into Ghost’s blindside. He dropped five feet from the Lieutenant and the man’s head cocked up towards her, and even at this distance, she could see his eyes widen in what she registered as shock. He’d only ever called her by her rank, Ensign. Never regarded her with the term she gave herself. Call him a gentleman, but he knew better than to say something like that, even if it was her call-sign.

Whore! Left!

She turned too late; the carbine knocked from her grip by the man who had at least two heads on her. Her hands went to her sidearm but his were already winding around her throat, lifting her against the metal of the container, a choking gasp escaping what little room was left before all air cut off. The man’s eyes were wild, nothing there, but she saw herself in their reflection, a cornered and caged animal who’s only chance was fight. Rage welled inside her, not fear, only the red-hot, iron rage bubbled through the adrenaline, and she let her arms go slack, no longer digging her fingers into his hands, she gripped the K-Bar in its sheath, yanked it and sunk it into his neck. Those eyes went wide, the craziness of them disappearing in favor of shock before they hazed, and they both dropped.

Her lungs burned, eyes watering as she sucked in air, careful to avoid too much in the situation she needed to not be lightheaded. A noise came from the side, and she pulled her Eagle from its holster, pointing it towards the boot scuff and her eyes met Ghost’s.

Can you move?

Yes sir.

Scrambling, she grabbed her rifle, and nodded.

Ready.

***

She sat on the bench, scratching at the sheet of paper, filling out the report that some of the squad had left behind, a promise to do it another time. A gentle clinking sounded next to her, and she looked over, watching as Ghost sat beside her, a glass in front of him, a bottle of Kentucky between them.

“Pour us a round, yeah?” he murmured, and she obliged, pouring each of them a decent amount; he watched as she picked her glass up first, taking a big sip but not swallowing for a few moments. His eyes met the darkened bruises on her neck. “Feel alright after today’s injuries?”

She swallowed and set the glass down. “Fine. Sergeant Mac—Uh, Soap, gave me some pain cream for them.” A small smile crossed her lips. “I had some in my pack, but I think he was trying to be kind and extend a branch, so who am I to turn it away.”

“Yeah, Soap’s good like that. Hard head, good heart.”

Her smile only grew wider, but it fell as she glanced up as he folded the balaclava above the bridge of his nose and took a sip of his bourbon. Ghost had a scar that started from the edge of his ear down to his lip, almost like someone had scratched him and torn his upper lip in two. The healing was mangled, something she recognized as self-stitching scars.

“Believe it or not, I got this from a cougar.”

She blinked, shock etching her features that turned into confusion then to thought and she quipped, “That’s why they say not to tease older women.”

For the first time since she’d met the Lieutenant, he snorted, a smile etching his features as he muttered, “Good one.”

“Where did it happen?”

“Took a trip to Brazil one day. My luck I ran into one in the wild.”

“Uh huh. Kinda surprised you survived that one.”

“I’m a hard man to kill.”

They fell into an easy silence, both sipping their liquors and she glanced down at the report she had been writing. “Everyone wants to know why, y’know.” She felt his eyes on her. “Why my call-sign is ‘Whore.’ No one knows me here, though I didn’t really expect a bunch of hardened soldiers to know the most prominent models of the times.”

Ghost watched her take her phone out, tap the screen a few times before she laid it down in front of him, allowing him to look over; what he saw surprised him.

Two Time Grand Winner of Miss Universe and Miss Earth Ditches Crown for a Uniform and Rifle As She Enlists In USN!

He took the device, scrolling down the article.

Winner and Model (Y/N) (L/N) (28) tossed her crown and dress aside for a uniform and rank earlier this year as she seemingly dropped from the existence in the runways and stages in May of last year. Little comment has been given from her family, though her tough and endearing, multi-billionaire father (F/N) (L/N) has stated this was not a plan she thought well through. When asked for a comment, a representative from the United States Navy declined, saying that Miss (Y/N) was a part of a greater force and her whereabouts would not be disclosed for her and team’s safety. So far, no one has managed to find where she is but perhaps one day, she’ll return to the spotlight and reclaim her crowns.

Ghost handed her back the phone, and now everything about her, her speech, her mannerisms, the way she carried herself, all made sense. They’d been interacting with a woman who’d grown up in the spotlight ever since she could walk.

No emotion came from her face as she spoke.

“When I was at SEAL training, one of the instructors kind of…took me under his wing. He eventually told me that his wife was a fan of the pageants and knew who I was when he’d mentioned me. Though she knew I couldn’t be coddled, she did ask for him to watch out for me.” She simply gazed at the table. “The others didn’t appreciate the small kindness his gave me at times, simple words of encouragement or a pat on the back. They nicknamed me the ‘The Captain’s Whore.’ I heard it from them, under their breaths as I walked by. But I paid it no mind. I’ve been called far worse from people I loved.”

She stood from the bench and poured herself a hefty amount of the Kentucky into her glass before walking towards one of the windows. “When we graduated, they asked us for call-signs. What did we want to be recognized as?” He saw a smile come across her face, a proud one. “Three guesses on what emotion they all felt when I chose ‘Whore’ as mine.”

Ghost watched her. “Why did you?”

“So they’d have to say it to my face and not behind me back,” she answered, matter-of-factly. “As damning of a word as that can be, I took it from them. I took the power they had in that word, and I made it mine. They’d have to call me something they thought would hurt me, but I saw it in their eyes every time they said it, that I had come out on top. And I did. I was the best in my class. I suspect that’s why Captain Price commissioned me for the 141.”

She turned, a sardonic almost pitied look in her eyes, and Ghost saw the drunken haze starting to crawl into them. “Ironically, I’ve never even had sex with anyone.” Downing the glass in one swig she set it on the windowsill and turned to stare out at the night, watching the few soldiers still outside moving equipment around. “I wasn’t scared today. This was my first real firefight, but I wasn’t scared. Not even when the enemy had me by the throat. I wasn’t afraid. I was angry. Enraged. There was no fear, only intense hatred, and belligerent rage.”

Her breathing calmed. “I should be horrified at myself. I killed people today. I took the lives of men and women who were husbands and wives, who had children and spouses, mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers, aunts and uncles and cousins, and yet, I don’t feel sadness or regret. I did my job, I took out enemies who were trying to kill myself and my squad-mates. I fought to protect people I cared for. But no matter how righteous my actions were or for what saving grace they were, I should be in tears, and yet…I have none left.”

Ghost saw the reflection of her face in the glass, saw the same dead-eyed yet so filled with pain expression he saw when he looked at himself sometimes.

“He beat all of them out of me years ago,” she simply added, and said no more, silently picking up the glass and setting it back next to his. “I’ll take my leave for this evening, if that’s alright with you, Lieutenant.”

“Simon,” he murmured, and she met his gaze. “Call me Simon.” He stood from the table, gathering both glasses and the bottle in one hand and she had to crane her neck a little to meet his gaze. “And from now on, you’re call-sign is going to change. I’m not calling you something you’re not.”

“You can’t just change my call-sign, sir. That’s not how that works.” He paid it no mind but only stopped when heard, “Oh fine, what are you going to change my call-sign to?”

“Seraph. The highest of them all.”

“Wait, like the angels?” he nodded. “…Why?”

Simon glanced back at her and selfishly blamed the liquor loosening his lips as he murmured, “You. You’re a beautiful and fiercely protective woman with a burning devotion. Can’t think of a better fitting name than Seraph.”

Something flickered in her expression, an ache, a deep, deep ache he knew so well, and she simply dropped her gaze to the floor. “Thank you, Simon.”

“Get some rest, Ensign, we’ve a big day tomorrow.”

#simon riley imagine #simon riley imagines #simon riley x reader imagine #simon riley x reader imagines #simon riley x reader #simon riley #ghost imagines #ghost imagine #ghost x reader imagine #ghost x reader imagines #ghost x reader #ghost #simon ghost riley #cod #cod mwii #cod mw2

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sorrowsofsilence · 5 months

Text

Faster • Karlsson

Pairing: Jolly Karlsson x Fem!Reader

Words: 2.1k

Warnings: Smut (18+, fingering, female!receiving), choking, derogatory term used (slut).

Prompt: you know what they say, guitarists finger faster.

PART TWO HERE

Author note: I swear these got even dirtier as they went on… AWOOGA lol. But here is the last one under this prompt!! I hope you enjoyed this “mini-series” as much as I did.

THIS IS A FANFIC USING REAL PEOPLE IN A FICTIONAL SITUATION! I AM NOT IMPLYING THAT THIS PERSON WOULD DO THIS IRL OR ACT LIKE THIS! ITS FICTION!

Tags: @sammyjoeee @cookiesupplier @nyxthedestroyerofworlds @th4t-em0-k1d @lans-angels @dsireland86 @whenthesummerdies @spicywhenspeaking

Well, you know what they say, guitarists finger faster.

You swallowed harshly as you watched Jolly’s fingers grazing across the guitar strings, your mind travelling to various unholy thoughts.

The two of you were sat in the studio, producing some solo work Jolly wanted to try doing on the side. It surprised you when Jolly asked you to join him since the two of you only become friends a few months prior due to Noah, whom you had met at a Bad Omen’s after-party and talked about producing music yourself.

You and Noah had hit it off immediately, sharing interests in curating different styles of sounds and imploring each other’s creativity. You two were so invested in the conversation you hadn’t noticed the man looming behind him who was watching you with curious eyes, until Noah turned, almost bumping into him.

“Oh! Jolly!” Noah had said, his smile wide, “This is Y/N, she’s also a producer!”

You held out your hand instinctively, not even seeing the man properly until Noah stepped away, revealing the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

You were ready to melt at his mysterious smile alone as he shook your hand, tattooed fingers slipping around yours enigmatically. It was your breaking point when he spoke, the deep Swede accent that left his lips had you completely captivated, ready to surrender everything to the stranger.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Joakim, but everyone calls me Jolly.” His chestnut hair was half up in a bun and half down, the scruff of facial hair carved through his features just right. Your eyes had trailed to his piercings, the cross dangling from his lobe invigorating, and the piercing of his nose sending your stomach into spirals. Any man with a pierced nose knows how to fuck.

You were hooked the moment you met him, but you remained ignorant of his feelings being reciprocated. You told yourself he could be with anyone, and that he couldn’t have any interest in you- but Jolly was fixated that very same day.

Jolly had gone home from the party with his mind dominated by your image. He was consumed by thoughts of what could be; the smile you gave him when you two parted after talking to each other for hours during the event leaving him swooning.

For months the two of you stole glances at one another, both of you smiling in greeting when you got together with the band to work on their new album. Behind each grin was a plea for one another to make a first move; the fantasy of completely devouring each other.

Jolly wanted you more than anyone he’s ever crossed paths with. He loved the way your s/c skin radiated through the sun, your perfect h/c hair accompanying your e/c eyes. He wanted all of you. Needed all of you.

The more time you spent with the boys, the more the tension would build. You would let your fingers graze across his skin when you passed each other equipment, and would purposefully wear certain clothes you knew drove him wild. You’d walk past with a sauter in your step, bending over in front of him to pick up cables or reverb pedals after a recording session.

Jolly would watch with hungry eyes as he licked his lips, readjusting himself through the pocket of his pants as his mind undressed you. He imagined bending you over the studio couch, holding back your arms as leverage to fuck you deeper and faster; touching himself over a dozen times to the thought of how good you’d feel, wrapped around himself- desperate to send you onto your knees, praying his name.

You sat across from him in the studio, sitting cross-legged on top of the leather rolly chair placed by the computer screen. You listened to Jolly’s strumming through the headphones plugged into the amp, bobbing your head to the music. Flickering your eyes to Jolly, his own were closed as he bit the inside of his cheek, focusing on the riff.

Your eyes wandered back and continued to watch as his hands danced through the harmony he created, his fingers picking through the strings with ease; your stomach spiralling with thoughts of what his fingers could do to your own body. You wanted to think about anything else, but your heart began to race, face flushing.

Jolly watched you admire his hands working along the neck of the guitar, and you didn’t know that he caught on to the effect his playing had over you. He strummed a few more cords before sighing, taking off his headphones and placing the guitar on the stand next to him.

“I don’t know if I liked the sound of that,” Jolly said, standing up. Your heart hammered as he got closer to you, staring up through your lashes towards the man towering over you as you sat below him.

“Can you play it back for me?” He asked, and you nodded quickly, swallowing away your lustful desires as he spun your chair around. You clicked your way through the computer, looking for the riff. You unplugged your headphones so you two could hear it aloud, and Jolly frowned once he listened to it back.

“No no,” he hummed, before leaning down over the back of the chair, face inches away as he placed his hand over yours on top of the mouse, “Here.”

You let out a shaky breath at the proximity, as he guided your hand to click the part he wanted to listen to.

“What?” Jolly whispered, turning to look at you now. You felt his warm breath cascade over your ear, “Are you nervous?”

Your face warmed as you turned to look at him, “no, why would I be nervous?”

He smiled, his lip finding its way between his teeth as he looked towards the computer, exiting the program.

“I’m tired of playing this game,” He said, standing back up and turning the chair around so you were facing his body, head barely above his waste line.

“Wh-what game?” You laughed nervously, but your stomach erupted into spirals of excitement.

Jolly’s hand gripped underneath your chin as he forced your gaze towards his own, holding you in place, “You want me-”

You almost choked on your saliva at his bold words, even if true.

“-And I want you.” He finished, eyes searching your face for any doubt. His grip tightened on your jaw for a moment as your chest rose heavily before he leaned forward, placing a hand on either side of the armrests of the chair. He hovered over you, waiting for an answer.

“Am I wrong?” His head cocked to the side, and your lips parted briefly, before shaking your head.

“No,” you bit the inside of your cheek, avoiding his eyes. Jolly’s heart raced when you agreed with his words, the realization that you felt the same way causing his breath to hitch.

“So kiss me,” He demanded, leaning closer towards you, noses almost touching. You looked at him now, eyes wide as your chest hammered with nerves.

“I said, kiss me,” He stated again, and you analyzed his expression, reading his stern yet titillating gaze.

You didn’t even nod before closing the gap between the two of you, Jolly sighing in complete relief as your lips met. Jolly kissed you firmly, immediately licking at your lip to open the kiss, devouring each other.

You almost began moaning into his lips as you vibrated with excitement, your ears warming through the heat of the moment.

Jolly himself had to restrain himself from taking you right then and there on the chair, ready to mercilessly pound into you with no constraint. Instead, he wrapped his fingers around your neck, pulling you to stand up beneath him, gripping your body as though he owned you.

You barely held yourself up against Jolly’s grasp, letting your own hands roam beneath his t-shirt and trail along the covered skin. His free hand ran down your back, memorizing your hips through a repetitive pattern as he reached beneath the short black skirt you wore.

Jolly’s hunger for you was lascivious, the grip on your neck proving so; but it wasn’t until he dipped beneath your collarbone, placing his tongue at your nape before licking his way up to underneath your jaw. His mouth moved against yours ruthlessly, afraid to miss any inch of your being, sucking along the spot behind your ear. A breathy laugh escaped your lips in disbelief at his yearning caress against your skin.

Your hands trailed to the waistband of Jolly’s jeans, tugging at the fabric, dipping your fingers dangerously close, before running them along the hem of his underwear, teasing him. Jolly was already hardening as your lips melted against his own, but he was no longer able to stop himself as he pulled you by the neck towards the studio sofa; famished and lewd.

The pent-up tension of the last few months eased as the two of you watched each other while he pushed you into the leather, replacing the anxiety with heated desperation.

“You have no idea how many times I have touched myself to thoughts of you,” Jolly shared a suave smile, and you grinned back, satisfied at his words.

“I’ve wanted you since the day we met,” You said as Jolly sat beside you, hands roaming over your body again. You slouched your body into the cushions, resting your heels on the edge. Jolly kissed you again, his hands wandering between your legs as he rubbed them up along your skin, clawing and squeezing before spreading your thighs apart. He lifted the fabric of your skirt, exposing your underwear. You thanked fucking god that you chose a slutty pair of lace ones this morning.

Jolly’s lips trailed down your neck as his fingers began to dance along your covered core, and you winced once they grazed over your desperation. You stared at him, pleading with him to do something, anything.

Jolly pulled your underwear to the side and he spread your arousal along your folds with the pads of his inked fingers. Your breath picked up pace as you watched how they grazed over you delicately. Jolly eventually began circling over where you craved him most, and you moaned into his lips with furrowed brows. You tried not to buck your hips for more friction.

“Please, fuck me with your fingers,” you pulled away from him, begging.

Jolly chuckled, “So that’s why you always watch the way I play guitar.”

He watched you intensely with parted lips as he teased you a moment more, before sinking his fingers through you. Jolly ravished in the moment you looked back at him through hooded eyes, succumbing to his touch.

“Fuck,” you cursed, refusing to break eye contact with Jolly as his fingers pumped in and out, curling upwards as he beckoned for you to moan.

“Say my name,” Jolly said, pushing into you with force, the speed of his fingers flicking against your spot leaving you blinded with incitement, “Who’s fucking you with their fingers? You’re going to come on them like the good little slut you are.”

“You,” You cried, holding your thighs into your chest as you exposed yourself fully, surrendering, “Jolly.”

The shit-eating grin plastered on his face said it all, pleased at your submission. Jolly’s other hand reached to stimulate the top of you for a moment, pushing your body over the edge.

You screamed as he remained fixated on your pleasure, pumping his fingers with immense speed through your orgasm until you pushed him away, catching your breath.

Jolly smiled proudly through hooded eyes, sliding his fingers along you one last time before bringing his fingers up to your lips.

“Suck,” He demanded, and you obliged, opening your mouth as he pushed his fingers towards the back of your throat. You moaned, tasting yourself against his fingers, sucking along his digits.

A guttural groan emanated from Jolly as he envisioned your lips wrapped around him, taking all he offered, saliva dripping from your tongue. He wanted nothing more than to fuck you aimlessly into his mattress, leaving you a withering mess.

“Let’s go back to my place,” Jolly said, kissing you desperately again before standing up, adjusting himself in his pants and grabbing his keys.

You stared at him, wanting to please him, “But- it’s your turn?”

Jolly gave you a low laugh, throwing his jacket over his shoulders as he pulled you up off the couch, smacking your ass to push you forward.

“Where else do you think I’m going to fuck into you senselessly?”

Part Two ;)

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joseline-woodhouse · 7 months

Text

I want in on talking about Annabel and Prospero.

Since most posts I've seen are about how nice it is to watch them being healthy for one another (it really is, I adore their dynamic) I decided to talk about how neither of them would hesitate to kill one another eventually.

First of all both Annabel Lee and Prospero are calculative people. Both of them care for only the outcome and how to get there. I have seen people call Annabel a hypocrite for protecting Prospero because he's important to her after what she did to Duke and I entirely disagree, more on the rescue from Ada later. We have established that Annabel really doesn't care that everyone in the academy (except one, if the Deans can be trusted) is doomed.

I don't think Annabel's general willingness to sacrifice people needs to be discussed.

Now, I'm leaning a bit far out the window here, but take a good look at Prospero in the left picture above, he looks more frustrated than anything. His chances just got a lot worse, he needs to rethink his strategy and on top of all that Ada is invading his personal space again.

Moving forward to what I think makes their mutual betrayal inevitable, the episodes after the Mansion Arc (this is were it gets interesting):

Until now we have seen Prospero mostly be mildly bothered by whatever is happening. When everything fell apart during the Lesson and everyone except for him apperently just did not do their job, he seemed like he was about to explode and seriously questioning his choice of team. Everyone else appeared to just want to go on with the day, Prospero however demanded answers, proving that he cares to win this entire game without getting side tracked.

Further his behaviour during the lesson shows that he actually doesn't get how anyone else would still be reluctant to kill their friends here. He was genuinely not expecting anyone to act out of empathy anymore.

And after the widow's watch affair and him witnessing Annabel freaking out after the labyrinth and smoothly asking about Pluto instead of giving an explanation, he is surely just one big-ish failure or unwillingness to take action away from openly confronting Annabel how it can be that whenever she is alone with Lenore, things go south ways, how whenever people want to act against Lenore, she calls it a waste of time despite the growingly obvious threat that Lenore poses.

I think Annabel actually does matter to him, and I think he matters to Annabel as well, but both of them expect something really specific from one another and sympathy alone means little to them.

Now about Annabel saving Prospero.

I believe this says everything:

Since Annabel is a chess player, get ready for chess metaphors:

In chess, most gambits are about giving away a pawn. Why? Because a pawn has very little value on its own and sacrificing a pawn in order to get a slightly more profitable structure on the board can actually be worth it.

Sacrificing a queen? If you do something like that, you better be 100% sure you're seeing a forced checkmate.

Not only is Prospero's spector really powerful, Prospero is also the only thing keeping Annabel in control of her own team right now. Other than Prospero who's supporting her as long as she keeps bringing results, she is stuck with Ada who is a complete wild card and useless most of the time, Morella who is only half on her team, Will who is loyal mostly to Montresor and Montresor who constantly challenges her leadership.

The way things are standing right now, everything she has build would fall apart the very moment Prospero is gone.

Also, what if Annabel and Lenore have to stay long enough for their teams to start falling apart? Whom does Annabel want to face in a one on one? Someone like Montresor who's spector can very much use brute force against her or someone like Prospero who's spector is similarly unforceful as hers?

We even saw, that Annabel can just simply neutralise Prospero's rats with her fog, leaving him with no real attack on her. While he applies her with status conditions she can use her blossoms to attack him after she used her fog to make his rats disappear like she did on the widow's watch

Annabel did not safe him because she likes him, which she does. She saved him because he is a very important piece for her game and no real threat to her in the long run.

Prospero follows Annabel not because he likes her, which he does, but because she keeps bringing results. Or at least she did until rather recently.

#nevermore webtoon #annabel lee whitlock #prospero #annabel lee nevermore #prospero nevermore #annabel lee #annabel nevermore #annabel #nevermore

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