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vulpisnocturna · 5 months

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Hi im so glad you’re back! can I request chrollo x reader overstimulation?

You certainly can, and I will absolutely comply! 😩 there is a shortage of Chrollo smut and I am here to serve 🫣

Masterlist

NSFW - MDNI

Warnings: overstimulation, dirty talk, dom Chrollo, possessiveness, rough sex, fingering, oral sex (f! receiving), vaginal sex, creampie, praise kink

Word count: 2.9k

Pale fingers ghosted the skin of your arms, up and down, teasing and exploratory, and you could practically taste the smug smirk that adorned his well-defined lips, which brushed against your jaw and the column of your throat. You shivered as he breathed in the scent of your perfume mingled with the natural smell of your skin, and he let out a soft sigh.

‘Relax for me, mh? You are so tense… do I make you nervous? Does your blood rush to your stomach? Is your breath shallow and uneven? Do your legs feel weak? Is your heart hammering in your throat? Is your lower stomach so very tight and hot, my little darling? Your skin is pebbled with goosebumps, and you are shivering so much…’ he murmured against your ear, his voice a little raspy, husky and suggestive, warming you up like a bottle of vodka thrown into a fireplace. You swallowed as Chrollo’s lips trailed back to the junction between your neck and your shoulder, kissing gently, languidly.

‘I crave you’ his voice was sin itself as his lips brushed the shell of your ear, and his fingers curled around your hips possessively, greedily, squeezing over the fabric of your skirt. You bit down on your lower lip, your eyelids fluttering close. His bangs tickled your cheek, and his lips pressed against your jaw, your neck, his tongue licking the column of your throat erotically.

You let out a soft, breathy moan, which earned you a pull against his body and his teeth nibbling and pulling gently at your skin.

‘Chrollo…’ you breathed. He stroked your hair, grabbing it and pulling it slightly, exposing your sensitive neck to his greedy lips.

He smiled down at you, his dove grey eyes drinking in your expression like it was liquid gold.

‘I like that look on your face. Such a needy girl’ he purred, voice barely above a whisper, and before you knew it, you were pinned against the wall, hands flat above your head, his mouth ravaging yours. Your mind went haywire, and you moaned against his lips. Chrollo’s cologne filled your nostrils, his body pressed against yours, his tongue traced your bottom lip and his teeth tormented it. That was the thing about someone like Chrollo. Calm, controlled people like him usually needed an outlet. That outlet happened to be you.

He gripped and kneaded your ass with his free hand, his tongue caressing yours with a passion that pierced through you. Calm people like Chrollo could become a blazing inferno of passion in the blink of an eye.

His hand trailed up to your throat, fingers pressing on the sides, reducing the blood flow to your head, making you dizzy. You let his feral passion consume and ignite you, stoking the lust and longing inside you until nothing was on your mind except him.

‘I can feel your heart thumping against my fingers. Darling… you look so helpless. So desperate. But I can make you even more desperate. And I think I have a craving that begs to be satisfied’ he said in a low, raspy voice, one that was rich and reverberated in your ears. He picked you up and tossed you on the bed, making quick work of tearing your clothes off you, his gaze dark and filled with hunger and possessiveness. You moaned and arched your back as Chrollo’s tongue traced your nipple and his fingers pinched the other one, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh. His hand trailed to your thigh, and he squeezed and dug his fingers in the soft flesh, groaning against your nipple as he sucked it eagerly. You squirmed and let out a shameful mewl, which seemed to delight him to no end, because he chuckled and sucked a possessive love bite on the swell of your breasts.

Your fingers tangled in his raven hair, tugging and pulling, but Chrollo did not mind when you got a little rough. In fact, he loved every second of it. Chrollo was an eager lover, a greedy one that preyed and feasted on desperation. He sought to drain every drop of ecstasy you had to give, and his satisfaction was derived from your pleading and knowing he was the one driving you to the brink of insanity.

Chrollo’s fingers reached their destination fairly quickly, driven by his intense desire, but you were already sopping wet. He chuckled, giving you a grin that was a mixture between a boyish smile and the taunting smirk of a fallen angel.

‘Oh dear, it seems my little darling is quite desperate already. You are so wet for me’ he crooned, the pads of his fingers tracing patterns on your sensitive skin. Your breath faltered, and you whimpered, your hips twitching, your cheeks warming up at the taunting remark.

‘Chrollo- stop teasing’ you breathed, though his teasing was arousing too. He let out a soft scoff.

‘Why would I do that? It is so easy to rile you up. So easy… to make you weak with desire. And I love it’ he said, his tongue dipping to lick your ribcage as his middle finger started tracing torturous circles around your puffy clit that had you moaning and writhing. He pushed your hips down with a hand and pinned your legs with his body.

‘Ah- ah, ah. I am not finished with you yet. You’ll take what I give you, like a good girl’ he said in his rich, mellow voice, going back to tongue and toy with your nipples. You moaned more, helplessly trying to move against his fingers, be it towards him or away from him. You weren’t too sure.

Your hands cradled his head, and he smiled, dipping two fingers inside you and curling them in a blissful motion. You arched your back, letting a sinful moan pour out of your lips.

‘That’s it, that’s my good girl. Keep moaning for me, darling’ he praised, his voice hot and thick with desire as he started moving his fingers in and out, skilfully rubbing all the right places. You moaned, dragging him back up for a heated kiss that left you breathless. He kept going, kissing your neck and sucking on it harshly.

‘I am going to mark your skin, so everyone knows you are mine. Mine to hold. Mine to touch. Mine to tease. Mine to kiss. Mine to pleasure. Mine to keep’ he groaned against your ear, and you squirmed, the movement of your hips against his fingers getting increasingly more eager.

‘Ch-Chrollo… oh God-‘ you moaned, and he smirked, looking at your face, self-satisfaction written plainly on his features. His fingers worked faster and deeper, making your mouth fall open in a gasp as the coil in your lower stomach wound tighter and tighter and more intense, until you were clinging to him and kissing him sloppily as you came with a breathy moan.

Chrollo gave a satisfied groan and started kissing your neck again, teeth nipping at your collarbones, hands soothing and massaging your thighs, his mouth trailing down your torso. You squirmed when he spread your legs and started kissing your thighs, your face hot, your breath short from your recent orgasm.

‘Chrollo, wait… still sensitive’ you muttered. He gave a low, soft laugh against the skin of your inner thigh, before biting and sucking it, pinning you down when you tried to scoot away a little.

‘My poor little darling. She is so very sensitive’ he crooned, and pinned one of your thighs to the bed, flinging the other on his shoulder and blowing cold air on your clit. You let out an undignified whimper, which he promptly ignored to drag the flat of his tongue on your labia from bottom to top, tensing the tip of his tongue up as he reached your clit to flick it. You let out a loud moan, your fingers disappearing in the inky strands of his hair, and Chrollo groaned, fingers digging in the pliable flesh of your thighs as though he loathed to give you the space to squirm away from his face. His tongue twirled around your clit, pressing against it, uncaring of your whining and desperate strangled moans. His fingers glided to your cunt too, slowly pushing inside you, and he curled them, sucking on your clit at the same time. Your body twitched, and you cried out, writhing underneath him as the pain and pleasure mingled in an addictive mix. You were soon reduced to a panting, moaning mess, your hips rolling against his face and attempting to pull away from it at the same time, your chest heaving, your eyes closed as he continued to pleasure and torment you like his life depended on it.

He pulled back a little to give a smouldering, indulgent look, seeming to revel in the way your body begged him to continue even more than your voice did. He then got back down, increasing the intensity even more, sucking, flicking, curling, licking and spitting on your clit, leaving you no time nor chance to form coherent thoughts as he coaxed another orgasm out of you, one that felt almost mind-numbing. He pulled back as your aftershocks quelled down, and smirked at you, wiping his wet chin with the back of his hand and sucking his fingers clean. You were a heap of limbs strewn on the bed, unable to move, your eyes half-lidded, your swollen lips parted, your body reduced to a ragdoll.

‘Such a good girl for me’ he murmured, brushing your hair away from your face in a sudden tender gesture.

You watched him as he took his clothes off, tossing his shirt on the floor, revealing his toned arms, lean figure and pale, smooth skin. His trousers and boxers came off next, and his fingers wrapped around his cock, stroking it a few times as he looked at you before he lowered himself above you and started rubbing it along your wet labia. You let out a little whimper, and he groaned in the crook of your neck, nibbling at your earlobe and kissing your throat.

He pushed himself inside you, stretching your walls with his thick cock, driving himself inside you until the tip of his shaft was kissing your cervix. Your body arched, your nails raking across his smooth shoulder blades, your voice coming out in a loud, whorish moan at the feeling of fullness and warmth that pooled in your core. Chrollo moaned softly, his head thrown back to the ceiling, his fingers gripping your thigh and hip.

‘Ahh… you take me so well. So tight and wet for me’ he breathed in a thick, husky voice, his hand trailing down to your ass as you hooked your legs around his slim hips. You clung to him, a litany of whimpering, whining sounds leaving your lips as Chrollo started snapping his hips against you, the upward tilt of his cock making you cry with ecstasy and desperation. Your hips rolled against his, the pleasure soon overcoming the pain and sensitivity from your recent orgasm. He groaned, getting rougher and rougher by the minute, his grey eyes, usually so calm and detached, filled with animalistic desires and a feral, possessive thirst for pleasure and control. Chrollo grunted, spreading your legs and locking them apart and bent in the air with his elbows on the inside of your knees. You cried out, your head thrashing side to side as he started to trace circles around your clit with his middle finger, pinning you in place as he watched the scene with decadent, predatory lust, his eyes darting from the apex of your thighs to your face. You whined, tossing your head side to side and trying to push your legs back together.

‘Ahh! Too much~ too much-‘ you cried out, writhing and trembling, still struggling to close your legs. It felt too intense like this, like the pressure would make you explode, like there were hot pincers in your gut.

‘Mmm~ don’t you dare move, my little darling. You’re going to take all of me, and you are going to cum for me, aren’t you? Like a good little girl should’ he breathed, his voice rough and erotic.

‘Chrollo- I can’t- too much- I need…’ you moaned incoherently, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, as Chrollo gave deep, rhythmic thrusts that pressed right against that sweet spot inside you that made you tremble and scream.

‘You can, you’re doing so well. Keep moaning and cum for me, sweetheart. I just want one more. One more for me’ he said, whilst you made desperate noises as the knot in your stomach got tighter and tighter.

‘Ahh! Please!’ you cried out, not even sure what the hell you were asking for. Was it release? Was it mercy? Was it more pleasure?

‘That’s it, there’s a good little girl… don’t you dare move an inch, my love. You are going to cum for me, or I will make you endure this for hours until you do’ he said, his voice raspy, his finger still circling your clit, his hips slamming against you, his face contorted in pleasure, satisfaction and pure, unadulterated lust.

‘Yes- yes! Chrollo- fuck… I need- I can’t…’ you screamed, your whole body shivering, your hips jerking, you cunt squeezing and throbbing around him. He let out a strangled, blissful moan as you pulsed and clamped around him with your intense climax, which left your ears ringing, your legs shaking and your vision flashing for a few seconds. He growled, gripping your legs and moving relentlessly, showing no signs or intentions of stopping or slowing down.

‘Chrollo!’ you whined, squirming and trying to get away, your overstimulated clit aching. Every sensation was more intense and overwhelming than the last, until all your nerve endings felt on fire.

‘Louder! Say my name louder’ he demanded, his eyes darkening with untamed hunger.

‘Chrollo, please!’ you cried out, tears brimming in the corners of your half-lidded eyes, your fingers clawing at the sheets, your body rocking back and forth underneath him.

‘Good girl’ he muttered, and leaned over your ear, ‘your body belongs to me. Understood? You… are mine’

You nodded frantically, pitifully, lost in the throes of passion and his control. Chrollo grinned, starting to lose his cool, becoming more and more intense the closer he got to his own climax.

‘Say it, sweetheart’ he instructed, his voice gruff. You whined.

‘’m yours, Chrollo’ you moaned. Chrollo smiled slightly, pleasure and satisfaction etched on his face.

‘That’s my good little slut’ he crooned, and your teeth sank in your bottom lip as he continued to pound you into the mattress. The knot in your stomach was there once again, despite not believing you were even capable of having another orgasm, it looked as though Chrollo was determined to push you further, to make you lose yourself in his arms. And you were. Your mind was empty, your body was ablaze with desire and pleasure, your eyes were bleary and fucked out.

‘Beg me to cum inside you. Beg me for it’ he said harshly, voice low and demanding. You could hardly even think with the intensity of the sensations travelling through your body.

‘Oh? Is my pretty little slut too fucked out to answer me? Would you like me to stop, then? Should I leave you like this?’ he taunted, thrusting roughly and deeply inside you, pounding against your cervix. You let out a loud, desperate scream.

‘No! Please, Chrollo- Cum inside me, please- please don’t stop…’ you pleaded, and he looked as though your words had sent him spiralling into a maelstrom of passion, satisfaction, pleasure and predatory lust.

‘Such a desperate, needy girl. Such a good girl’ he purred, his pale skin glowing with a silver gleam in the moonlight streaming from the window, his dark eyebrows furrowed, grey eyes narrowed.

You sobbed, writhing, the hot, tight pressure in your lower stomach becoming so strong you couldn’t think, couldn’t form words, couldn’t do anything but feel. You clamped and throbbed around him, and Chrollo let out a curse, becoming almost feral.

‘Yes, yes! That’s it. Fuck, that feels so… so tight- so good. Good girl. Cum for me. You can do it… oh God- I’m close’ he groaned, and you tossed your head side to side, your whole body trembling and shivering in his grasp, your vision blurring, tears staining your temples as a white-hot, mind-numbing orgasm washed through you like a tidal wave, making your whole body tense up. Chrollo moaned against the skin of your throat, biting down harsher than he probably meant to, his hips stuttering as he came inside you, your name a prayer of passion and reverence on his lips.

He swallowed, slumping on top of you, releasing the tight, bruising hold on your legs and catching his breath. Your own breath was laboured and shallow, your skin feverish, your eyes closed as you basked in the afterglow of one of the most intense experiences of your life.

Chrollo rolled over to your side after a minute or two, drawing patterns on your ribcage. He gave you a boyish smile, a rare sight of unadulterated warmth in his grey eyes.

‘You are incredible’ he murmured, planting a kiss on your shoulder. He cradled you in his arms, soothing you with his fingers grazing your spine.

‘You are mine and I am yours’ you murmured, nuzzling his chest. He sighed in contentment, repeating the phrase to you, like your own personal “I love you”.

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jaemskitty · 7 months

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I Don't Gotta Be The One — NJM

gênero: smut e puro smut | angst? acho que não, talvez se você estreitar os olhos

n/a: oie! voltei :) <33 fiquei muito animada com esse plot e dependendo da recepção TALVEZ isso vire uma serie, ainda não sei. enfim, espero que gostem <333 NÃO deixa de ler os avisos, evite desconfortos!!

Era por volta de 01:00 da manhã, ou algo assim...Não tinha ideia ou certeza porque havia resquicios de álcool no sangue e outras substâncias mais, talvez...Bala? Também não sabia, só lembra de estar suada em mais uma festa da fraternidade durante a semana e ter colocado algo em sua língua.

Lembra também claramente de ter brigado com Jeno, seu namorado, e ter pegado carona com um cara qualquer até esse maldito posto de gasolina que ficava perto do campus. Era um posto, não era? Era. Analisou o lugar em borrões e as luzes fracas e esverdeadas confirmavam tudo, mas o veredito vinha das bombas de combustível ali e uma loja de conveniências 24 horas, essa que você estava praticamente de frente. Sentiu uma breve ansia de vômito e tocou o traseiro a procura de algum bolso e dentro desse fantasioso bolso alguma moeda que pudesse comprar uma garrafinha de água ou um doce pra tirar aquele maldito álcool do seu sangue. Choramingou com a maquiagem já borrada de lágrimas anteriores e chutou a garrafa de vodka que tinha trazido consigo berrando em pura fúria, tristeza e tanta coisa mais misturada.

O maldito vidro sequer quebrou e então riu-se da própria estupidez e estado, passando os dedos na testa a vontade de chorar intensificou, mirando os próprios saltos brancos, agora meio sujos, agachou-se e catou a garrafa pela metade novamente. Fungando olhou o batente da calçada da lojinha e arrastou o próprio traseiro até o lugarzinho, sentando-se desleixada como se não estivesse vestindo a porra de uma mini-saia.

— Idiota! — gritou em soluço como se o cuzão de seu namorado estivesse ali em sua frente.

A garrafa contra os seios cobertos por uma espécie de top a fez ter um estalo e lembrar de algo; o doce. Tirou então um pirulito dentre os seios e o abriu calmamente, enfiando então o docinho entre os lábios.

Fungou derrotada; por que tudo tinha que ser uma humilhação em sua vida? Não bastasse como tudo sempre pareceu andar para trás, ainda haviam essas pequenas inconveniências que mexiam com seu emocional cada dia mais. Sua mãe foi embora logo cedo de sua vida e teve que ouvir o cara que se dizia ser seu pai berrando o quanto ela era uma prostituta e então teve que ver logo em seguida ele realmente colocar uma prostituta embaixo do mesmo teto. Teve que viver o inferno com aquela mulher até seus 16 anos, onde foi mandada por, pasmem, seu pai a uma escola interna e de lá migrou pra essa universidade o centro de Seul e tudo o que tinha agora era Jeno e Yeri, sua melhor amiga.

E talvez nem pra isso servisse.

Jeno...Jeno era o cara perfeito, bom pelo menos no inicio tudo foi muito bom. Deveria desconfiar que aquela cara de malandro iria trazer um combo de coisas para foder com você. Jeno fazia o que queria quando queria e ainda queria estar certo no final das contas e hoje não foi diferente, afinal, ele só havia beijado uma das líderes de torcida bem na sua cara. Que idiota da sua parte cobrar por isso, não é? Tolice.

Suspirou com dor de cabeça e pensou o que sua vida tinha se tornado.

Uma lágrima solitária escorreu por sua bochecha corada e foi tirada de seu devaneio ao ouvir uma voz conhecida, conhecida até demais.

— Ou! Tá' me ouvindo, lindinha? — Era Na Jaemin.

Seus olhinhos subiram em direção do homem ali parado na parte de cima do batente.

— Quê? Claro que eu tô' te ouvindo... — quase em um devaneio você respondeu. Ver ele dali parecia te deixar tão...Menor.

— Não parece...não me viu chegar, não me viu passar...eu vim comprar mais bebidas pra galera, que porra tá fazendo aqui? — Ele gesticulou e tudo o que conseguiu realmente ouvir foi a ultima pergunta. Revirou os olhos.

— Seu amiguinho outra vez. Feliz? Vocês fazem tanta merda cara e esperam que a gente engula todas elas como uma boneca de pano. — disse isso quase despencando em choro e moveu o pirulito de um lado ao outro em sua boca. Jaemin que tinha as mãos no bolso dera apenas um risinho nasalado.

— Calma gatinha...Porquê não me conta o que aconteceu? Uh? — se estivesse um pouco mais sóbria perceberia o quão canalha ele soou, mas esse era Na Jaemin, estando sóbrio ou bebado e chapado como agora. Ele não prestava, era exatamente igual a Jeno... por isso eram amigos e talvez isso explicasse o formigar que sentia entre as pernas sempre que o pegava olhando pro seu rabo de saia nos corredores do campus.

Seus olhinhos brilharam em direção do capitão do time e quase babou como uma idiota com o mínimo de atenção que recebera dele. Talvez fosse o álcool. Piscou atordoada e negou devagar.

— Eu já te disse, foi o Jeno. — Levantou cambaleante e segurou-se em Jaemin como se ele não estivesse muito louco como você e como se não fosse uma maldita desculpa para sentir a firmeza de seus braços. Por Deus, ele era tão grande...

Não convencido ele te olhou dos pés a cabeça e lembrou como admirou esse seu look de ninfeta a noite toda antes disso. Foda-se Jeno na verdade... Jaemin era canalha. Ofegou quando, mesmo alta, sentiu os olhos predatórios rasgarem e virarem seu corpinho do avesso. Estava tão exposta, era tão humilhante tanto quanto todas as situações que passou em sua vida.

O vento da noite bateu em seu corpo seminu sem dó e grunhiu agarrada a garrafa de vodka. Jaemin riu-se apoiando um pé na calçada, passando os dedos entre os cabelos bonitos ele brincou com a língua enquanto te encarou. Outra vez evitou aquilo, fechou os próprios olhinhos e apertou os punhos se repreendendo explicitamente devido ao álcool.

— Do que tá' rindo, Jaem? — sua voz vacilou e sentiu ele aproximando.

— De você...completamente burra. — Ele sussurrou quando mais próximo ele encarou enquanto te sentia tremelicar tão pertinho. — O que cê' acha da gente ir rapidinho no banheiro pra você tomar uma água, limpar esse rostinho e me dizer o que aconteceu, hm? — Jaemin continuava sussurrando como a voz do demônio em seu ouvido, profundo e estupidamente perto...colocando seus cabelos atrás da orelha te fazendo arrepiar involuntariamente.

E então não teve saídas, simplesmente assentiu apertando a garrafa entre os dedinhos como se sua vida dependesse disso, os nós brancos dos mesmos mostravam seu desespero.

Ele sorriu. Sorriu com a própria vitória enquanto te olhava profundamente antes de ir até a loja de conveniências.

Você observou quietinha Jaemin pedir e pagar a garrafinha d'água para a atendente totalmente indiferente aquilo tudo, parecia rezar para seu turno acabar e poder ir embora. Compreensível. Estava quietinha apenas por fora, porque por dentro parecia haver uma bomba relógio em seu peito, principalmente quando ele saiu e aquele sininho da porta ressoou dez vezes mais alto em sua alma.

Jaemin arremessou a garrafinha para cima e a coletou com um reflexo incrível enquanto vinha em sua direção. Tocou sua cintura a guiando pra algum lugar, talvez o banheiro como ele dissera. Apenas confiou.

Ele abriu a porta daquele lugar insalubre e apertado e meio que te colocou pra dentro com o próprio corpo. Tão forte...Tão firme...Grande. Porra, o que era aquilo? Que merda era aquela? Talvez fosse o alucinógeno ou o álcool...

Apoiou as mãozinhas na pia e mirou o próprio reflexo no espelho e puta merda, estava devastada. Completamente devastada. Mordeu o lábio inferior e esperou a visão estabilizar, sentindo Jaemin ali atrás e o vendo também pelo vidro do espelho.

Ele era bonito e isso era inegável.

O homem abriu a garrafinha e aproximou o máximo, até demais, outra vez empurrando seus cabelos da frente de seu rosto angelical, posicionando a garrafinha rente aos seus lábios e mirando aquilo de pertinho enquanto te ajudava.

— Abre a boquinha, abre...— obedeceu arrepiada e um suspiro quase gemido escapou de seus lábios ao engolir a água gélida. Merda, era tão refrescante. Ali estava tão quente, você estava tão quente. A mão livre de Jaemin acariciou os seus cabelos e desceu até sua cintura, se aproveitando como um fodido e apertando sua carne. — Isso, boa menina...engole tudinho, hm? Vai ser bom pra você. shhh...— Ele viu seus grandes olhos o olhando enquanto bebia gole por cima de gole, sentindo-se tão acolhida e cuidada por ele, quase esquecendo o quão cuzão ele também poderia ser. Naquele momento só se sentia mimada, cuidada da forma que talvez merecesse.

Uma gota escorreu por seu queixo e tossiu engasgada, levemente. O Na recolheu a garrafinha e deu tapinhas na suas costas quase nuas. Fechou a garrafa depositando no balcão da pia e aquele lugar apertado e mal iluminado pareceu perfeito. Um banheiro de posto de gasolina, que merda. Que baixo.

E era assim que ele queria.

— Shhh...agora me diz, o que aconteceu com o babacão? — divagou encostado na parede, o que não era tão longe assim de você na verdade. Ali ele poderia ver todo seu corpinho outra vez, fodido de tesão com aquelas meias torando suas coxas.

— Jeno beijou uma daquelas vadias de torcida na minha frente... outra vez. — e só piorava, se sentia manchada e baixa e...que porre era falar sobre aquilo sempre.

Jaemin apenas suspirou.

— Você também é uma vadia de torcida, _____. — sua nuca arrepiou e ficou sem palavras e parte daquilo era verdade. Jaemin preguiçosamente subiu o olhar por seu corpinho e pros teus olhos aguados naquele espelho.

— Cala a boca...

— Eu menti? — ele sorriu.

— N-não...— Assumiu com o olhar baixo.

— Mas deixa eu te contar um segredo?

Seu olhar para ele diante do espelho fora como um sim.

— Cê' é a vadia de torcida mais bonita entre todas... — Assumiu e você não conteve as coxas apertando uma na outra. Ele riu-se porque percebeu e pendeu a cabeça pro lado, cinicamente.

— Jaem...— quis repreender mas foi mais algo como estar a beira de um colapso tamanho tesão que crescia em si e não era de hoje.

Havia feito tantas coisas e durante tanto tempo para conseguir aqueles olhares de Jaemin sobre si, sobre seu corpo. Era humilhante porque não deveria nem sonhar em gostar de ser cobiçada por ele...não deveria nem estar dentro desse cubículo com ele.

A nivel de contexto Na Jaemin, capitão do time, era o namorado de Yeri, sua melhor amiga, e melhor amigo de Lee Jeno, seu namorado. E você era uma filha da puta, uma vadia de torcida...

— O quê?! — Ele aproximou como um animal e meteu a mão enorme entre suas pernas por trás sem piedade, por baixo da saia agarrando sua boceta e toda sua área intima com uma pegada apenas. Jaemin suspirou contra seu ouvido perto como um animal e fortemente te maleou e te fez quase tropeçar enquanto abriu suas pernas apenas com um impulso, aquele impulso. Seu salto confundido entre os coturnos pesados do Na. Mordeu o inferior e soluçou chorosa quando percebeu o sorriso dele, provavelmente ao sentir toda a sua umidade e detalhe — tá' sem calcinha, cadela desprezível... é assim que cê quer o respeito do Jeno? uh? andando bebada e sem calcinha por aí...Toda melada porque o melhor amigo do seu namorado cuidou de você, hm? — fez beicinho de falsa piedade e você tão pequena e reduta apenas choramingou de cenho franzido negando com a cabeça. Foi tão burra e cada vez mais se molhava toda. — pasmem, namorado da sua melhor amiga! Confuso, né bebê? Mas tão sacana da sua parte...— ele zombou te olhando o tempo todo.

— E-eu...eu n-não... — não estava mais bebada, estava no nível de Jaemin, mas mesmo assim não conseguia formular frases coerentes. Ele riu genuinamente excitado. — J-jaem...!

— Fala...Fala cadela! — Ele rosnou impaciente te encarando pelo espelho uma das mãos livre subiu até suas bochechas, queixo, virando agressivamente e te fazendo olhar nos olhos dele. Tão submissa ali embaixo, mesmo com os saltos parecia uma pulga comparada ao forte capitão do time. Jaemin sorriu canalha te olhando de cima e apertou seu queixo até que grunhisse de dor e fosse forçada a abrir a boquinha borrada. — Isso, bem melhor... — e impulsionou até que pudesse cuspir em sua boca, bem ali dentro a imundície foi completa e seu gemido não passou despercebido, espremendo os olhos apertou a bancada e teria esfregado as coxas se não fosse a mão máscula ali, bem na sua bucetinha. — Engole.

Assentiu como pôde engolindo tudinho como uma boa vagabunda e naquele instante não lembrava de mais nada sobre sua moral e vergonha na cara. Só queria ser uma das vadias de torcida de Na Jaemin.

Queria Jaemin dentro de si como se sua vida dependesse daquilo e era por isso que estava rebolando como uma puta na mão daquele homem, quando na verdade ele fez o mínimo pra todo esse tesão ascender. Era humilhante. Era o pior estado que um ser humana poderia chegar por carência e necessidades. Naquele momento queria o amor de Jaemin dentro de si, não necessariamente ser amada. Só queria algo e quase suplicou quando deitou a cabeça contra o peitoral forte, inalando o perfume masculino você chorou.

— Shhhh....— a mão que estava em seu queixo saiu dali deixando marcas avermelhadas e pousou em seu pescoço, um falso carinho depositado. — Me diz o motivo de tá' chorando, gatinha...tá' me ouvindo?

— Jaem...P-por favor...por favor m-me...faz alguma coisa...!...Jaemin eu tô enlouquecendo, porra...

Chorava de tesão e ouviu cada nota da risada debochada do homem acima de si. Ele amou sua submissão exacerbada, o jeito que você fazia questão de ser uma putinha sem valor nenhum. Sem amor nenhum pela vida.

Ergueu seu rosto em outro solavanco e praticamente fodeu sua boca, beijando como se sua vida dependesse daquela merda e todas as substâncias, lícitas e ilícitas, misturaram-se. Gemeu estupidamente alto, chorado, sofrido. Jaemin quem guiava e fazia praticamente tudo porque suas pernas e corpo já haviam parado de funcinar há muito tempo. Sentia-se suja e era isso que a fazia escorrer entre as pernas. A língua de Jaemin era intensa e profunda, um beijo pornografico e completamente banhado em desejo. Escárnio. Raiva.

Para ele não era diferente a sensação de comer a mina' do seu melhor amigo. Aquele filho da puta iria mesmo te comer. Porra, ele iria e precisava. O pau doía dentro da calça e foi em uma mordida em seus lábios que ele rosnou e posicionou-se agressivamente atrás de seu indefeso corpo.

As mãos de Jaemin vieram desde seus lindos cabelos desarrumados até sua cinturinha exposta e então seu rabinho fora acariciado e finalizou apertando suas coxas dolorosamente. Jaemin parecia a cada movimento querer te causar dor e dano, como se estivesse te punindo por algo que merecia.

Ele estava sério, o rosto travado em seu próprio prazer e nada mais importava. Sua pele coberta de glitter daquela maldita festa queimava febrilmente e sua mente girava. Só queria aquilo e queria o mais rápido possivel.

Pelo espelho sujo e desgastado pode mirar algo que quase a fez ir ao chão e não era segredo que se sentir rente ao chão tamanha submissão a deixava louca. Jaemin era grande, e grande em tantos sentidos que era tudo visivelmente lindo pelo espelho. Tão miúda e reduzida a um nada, era isso que era e confirmou quando teve o rostinho pressionado contra o vidro do espelho quando o homem por trás de si lhe encoxou tão fortemente.

— h-hm! — O Na não teve dó e sentiu isso fisicamente. Completamente exposta e sem domínio nenhum da situação. Revirou os olhinhos pois só queria mais.

— Gosta disso, não é? É disso que cê' gosta...De ser tratada como uma prostituta...— e ele não parava de esfregar o próprio pau entre sua bunda e em toda sua bucetinha exposta. Aquele pedaço de pano não escondia nada. Sorriu entre lágrimas e concordou com a cabeça ainda pressionada no vidro. — Bem que o Jeno falou dessa putinha que tinha na cama...— seu coração apertou e a buceta também com aquela informação. Era doentio. — responde com a merda das suas palavras, ____. — inclinou sussurrando autoritário, te olhando através do espelho.

— Sim..! Sim, sim...sim...p-por favor, Jaemin...

— Certo, linda. Eu vou descer as calças e meter meu pau nessa sua bucetinha linda e vai aguentar tudinho como a vadia que você é, me entendeu? — Agarrou teus cabelos e te fez balançar a cabeça positivamente, como um fantoche, porque já não estava mais em si tamanho tesão.

— S-sim...— antes que ele ficasse mais alterado resolveu arriscar o fiasco de voz.

— Boa menina. Isso mesmo, eu gosto de respostas e não de putas mudas.

Fechou os olhinhos quando ele liberou a pressão em sua cabeça, mas permaneceu ali empinada e exposta para ele, pronta pra ser sua boneca de foda. Ouviu o tilintar do cinto do Na e então o ziper e o próximo passo fora grunhir com o simples contato da cabeça do pau do mesmo em sua bucetinha inchada e melecada.

— Tão cheia de mel...vai ficar perfeita cheia de porra...vai me deixar encher, não vai? uh? vai voltar pro colo do neno com a bucetinha lotada da minha porra...não é, sua cretina?!— ele forçou-se sem piedade enquanto pisava no ultimo resquício de humanidade que habitava em seu eu. Grunhiu chorosa e sentiu o quão grande ele parecia ser.

Jaemin era bem maior que Jeno e teve a certeza quando a cabeça, mesmo estando tão melada, queimou no estiramento. Sua voz falhou em um leve gemido, manhosa, arrastou a mãozinha até o abdômen do homem buscando piedade.

— Tira a mão.

Ele foi seco e forçou-se ainda mais, adentrando aos poucos rudemente. Jaemin tombou a cabeça a medida que seu prazer crescia em seu canal apertado e quente. Suas unhas fincaram-se ali e percebeu que não surtiria efeito algum. Ao mesmo tempo que aquilo doía, te fazia apertar em um prazer descomunal. Gostou daquele tipo de coisa...Gostou do tipo de amor de Na Jaemin, gostou de ser cada vez mais degradada por ele.

Ele.

Olhou pelo espelho com os olhos molhados e pidões e então o ouviu uma ultima vez.

— Tira a sua mão ou eu vou tirar.

Mordeu o inferior e sentiu ele entrar mais um pouco. Que porra! Parecia não ter fim. Tão quente e grosso.

Estava tão esticada. Era tanto.

— É d-demais...Jaem, é t-tão grande... — perguntou-se como Yeri aguentava tudo aquilo e então um sentimento de inveja subiu em suas pernas fracas; iria aguentar cada centímetro.

Antes que pudesse reagir ao aviso sentira as consequências; Jaemin agarrou suas mãos com uma apenas e prendeu em suas costas, então com a outra te arrumou como uma boneca, te empinando o máximo e praticamente chutando suas perninhas a fazendo abrir-se o máximo. Completamente exposta e propicia a lever aquele cacete.

Jaemin não teve piedade e gemeu animalesco quando enfiou tudo o que restava até o talo. Seu gritinho e contraida fora a resposta. O homem segurou-se pra não vir, porque a sua buceta era de outro mundo, completamente viciante. Molhada, quente e apertada. Também era demais para ele.

— Porra...! Ai, caralho...é disso que cê' gosta...vadia...Tá' apertando meu pau inteiro...— então com a mão livre ele te fez erguer metade do torso o encarando pelo reflexo manchado.

Vendo o quão bem ele poderia te foder.

Sua entradinha inteira pulsava ao redor daquele pau, e podia sentir cada centímetro de Na Jaemin latejando em seu interior, podia sentir que iria ser quebrada ao meio e iria agradecer por isso. Sentia a ponta dele pressionar perfeitamente em seu colo do útero e era surreal aqueles lugares que Jeno nunca alcançara. Poderia gozar e morrer ali mesmo. Seu coração batia mais rápido do que quando usava qualquer merda daquelas que vendiam pelo campus. Jaemin era a melhor droga já experimentada por ti.

Quando deu por si o homem estava te comendo como um animal faminto. As pancadas eram certeiras e fodidamente rudes; perfeitas. Sempre te machucando, mas te deixando em um êxtase total. A dor e o delírio sempre andando de mãos dadas em sua vida inteira e se sentir assim nas mãos daquele homem dentro daquele banheiro de estrada era como estar no céu.

Mas era uma prostituta, ele tinha razão.

Lágrimas desceram de seus olhinhos e os gemidos ficaram mais dengosos que o normal, onde Jaemin rosnava em seu ouvido e acima de seu pequeno corpo dominado ele batia sem dó em seu ponto de ruptura, em seu limite, fechando os próprios olhos cada vez que tinha sua bucetinha apertando e a cabeça batendo no colo macio. Te puxava como se não fosse nada, tirava o comprimento inteiro e se abaixava um pouco apenas pra alcançar seus quadris e meter com vontade até as bolas pesadas.

Jaemin poderia jurar por um instante que aquela era a melhor foda de sua vida, foda-se Yeri e qualquer outra que tenha comido em toda sua vida.

Mordeu seu pescoço contendo um grunhido enquanto ouvia seu soluçar e se deleitava com isso, porque seu chororo alimentava a fome e a vontade de te fazer sofrer e sentir aquele prazer excêntrico que só ele poderia oferecer.

O Na moveu a mão até seu pescoço e ali tomou impulso, mudando o angulo de suas estocadas sentiu seu corpinho espasmar, retesando e o apertando, bem como seu gritinho desesperado. Não conseguia pensar em mais nada, só nas lágrimas derramadas e em como estava burra; a mente completamente em branco, somente Jaemin te comendo naquele lugar ao ponto de te machucar toda, por dentro e por fora. Mentalmente e emocionalmente. Era assim que gostava. Realmente era disso que você gostava; desse amor rude.

— Eu achei, não foi? É bem aqui...— você acentiu completamente burra, completamente perdida. Fodida. Jaemin sorriu e arfou ao te sentir praticamente escorrer por seu cacete e entre as próprias pernas, em suas meias e nos coturnos do Na; gozou e sequer sentiu-se. — puta merda...gozou meu pau inteiro, gatinha...olha seu estado, ____. Completamente lesada de tanto pau...Fodida da cabeça...Você é doente, ____...— ele continuou metendo e metendo e metendo, te fazendo ver o próprio reflexo e a imagem de quem agora vocês eram. Quem voce era. — Que bag-bagunça...— riu-se entre um arfar e um gemido. Estava tão perto e iria cumprir a promessa de te encher até a borda.

Tua mente já havia ido embora e por mais que ele te fodesse tão sensibilizada apos um orgasmo fulminante, sentiu-se agradecida por aguentar tanta pica enquanto ele mesmo perseguia a própria libertação.

— J-jaem...! A-ahn...ah! — cada vez mais rápido e errático em seu interior. Cada vez mais duro e rude. Açoitando até sua pobre alma.

Jaemin estava lindo suado, tão suado quanto você e os cabelos negros grudados na sua testa bonita a deixava insana, assim como sentir o peito febril do mesmo batendo em suas costas a cada investida. O salto a deixava bamba e incerta do próprio sustento e se não fosse aquele homem já haveria caído.

— P-por favor...por favor me enche...enche minha bucetinha de porra, p-por favor...Eu suplico..!

Sorriu e acelerou, bem como não calibrou sua própria força e aquilo foi o estopim, o fim de Na Jaemin. Te ver suplicar literalmente por aquilo havia sido demais, demais pra si e sua resistência.

Jaemin te empurrou contra a bancada e enterrou-se o máximo, pressionando seus lugares mais sensíveis e certificando-se de que encheria a portinha de seu útero de esperma. Seu pezinho cedeu e torceu levemente um dos tornozelos, e ali deitada soluçou pedindo por favor sem parar. Por favor o quê? Não sabia. E então ele gozou.

— Ah, porra....! A-aqui...Toma minha linda...— Minha. Aquele grunhido ecoou por sua cabecinha tola e sentiu cada jorro de porra quente dentro de si. Pegava fogo, fervia e era inexplicável como chorou de prazer com aquilo.

De prazer e de culpa.

Um tapa foi depositado em sua bunda exposta e ainda com ele atado dentro de ti você rebolou preguicosamente, restituindo sua postura ou ao menos tentando com as perninhas tão fracas.

Ofegante e de rostinho encostado naquele mármore podre se deu ao luxo de ter uma crise de choro em meio a sorrisos e risos.

Era o mais fundo de um poço de humilhação que poderia chegar, mas estava tão feliz em trepar com o melhor amigo de seu namorado e namorado de sua melhor amiga.

n/a: espero que tenham gostado <33 eu amei escrever esta...deixa eu saber o que achou, hm? >< asks e comentários estão abertos a seu amor e críticas construtivas <33 comentários maldosos serão apagados e ignorados. bye bye xoxo 💋

#joy things #smut #nct dream #nct smut #nct dream smut #fanfic #na jaemin #jaemin smut #smut jaemin #na jaemin smut #vou morre de tesao #Spotify

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auburniivenus · 27 days

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❛ the truth is, i don't want just anyone. i want you. ❜

Under the hushed serenade of capriciously dancing candlelight, her epidermis is ornamented in an avast, satin-like luminescence, transmuting her into the absolute specimen of carnal yearning. She emerges as a supreme being of sensual aspiration, her voluptuous silhouette seducing his psyche, manifesting before him as if Aphrodite herself had descended, morphing upon the robust tableau of his masculinity. The space is energized with a perceptible magnetism, her essence irresistibly gravitating towards his, attuned to the unrestrained, primal strength that radiates from his being, akin to the prelude of a sun’s dawning warmth. With an adulation bordering on reverence, she explores the untamed terrains of his torso, arms, and deltoids, her fingertips gliding with the ephemeral grace of autumnal zephyrs caressing Gaia’s verdant carpet. Their forms, in divine consonance, merge against one another, sculpted from transcendent matter, her presence embracing the intoxicating warmth that radiates from his core. Her palms, passionate and imperious, assert their privilege with a scorching heat that surpasses temporal bounds,— ballet of concupiscence.

In this nexus of time, her sole yearning is to disintegrate into his corpulence, to amalgamate into an inconspicuous unity with him. Her mind is now a shrine void of all but a singular, relentless urge to surrender to his sovereignty, to the exquisite tyranny of his caress. “Astarion…” An utterance, a susurration of aphrodisia, wafts upon his lips as she absorbs his enticing parfums of vodka, black pepper, and leather, unforgettable and obstinate. With a poise born of fervent concupiscence, her palms, both graceful and decisive, loosen the lace that encircles her, permitting the satin vestments to descend in a gentle cascade upon his frame, unveiling the magnificent grandeur of her denuded appearance in an aphonous pledge to the supreme being of her adulation. “Than, claim me. Enshroud me in your omnipotence, my lord.” She entreats, timbre a mellifluous caress, her gaze veiled in a miasma of corporeal craving, aroused appetite.

Perched on the brink of ecstasy, she is agog to imbibe his quintessence. Inoue, in an act of sublime abdication, inclines towards him, her debauched bosom against his, her fingers weaving through his argentate tresses as she beams, a luminescent witness to her adoration for his unparalleled pulchritude. “My precious aeterno amante.” Intones, a proclamation of perpetual amore as her fingernails delineate the contour of his lips, a harbinger to their souls’ impending fusion. Then, with a languor that belies the vehement tempest of her urge, their lips coalesce, igniting an inferno of insatiable desire that threatens to engulf them whole. The incisive, exigent fervor of her osculation arouses him. Her yearning is as deep and ineluctable as the vampiric lust for the elixir of life.

@estarion - ascended.

#( — .:｡✿*┆ answers ❀ ❞ )#ooc; not even sorry #tw: suggestive #ooc; i submit my heart to them because dude they good #ooc; we created a masterpiece ship miki #( — .:｡✿*┆ BG3 VERSE❀ ❞ )#( — .:｡✿*┆ AETERNA AMANTES : ASTARION & ORIHIME ❞ )

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alevadalouca · 2 months

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𓏲 * when death says: hello, darling. i respond: fuck it!

CEMRE BAYSEL? não! é apenas ASLIHAN ERSOY, ela é filha de HADES do chalé 13 e tem VINTE E OITO ANOS. a tv hefesto informa no guia de programação que ela está no NÍVEL III por estar no acampamento há TREZE ANOS, sabia? e se lá estiver certo, ALLIE é bastante DIVERTIDA mas também dizem que ela é DISSIMULADA mas você sabe como é hefesto, sempre inventando fake news pra atrair audiência.

habilidades: reflexo e força sobre- humanos. extras: é bissexual e faz parte da equipe de patrulheiros. conselheira do chalé de hades.

alev, a gadanha: como a arma da morte, em sua aparência a gadanha tem a cor toda prateada, mas sua lâmina é composta por pequenas caveiras e descrições sobre a morte. aslihan consegue manipular o tamanho da gadanha através de um pequeno botão em sua base, podendo ter uma arma de cabo longo ou pequeno, assim como, a dividir em duas, mas neste caso, assume o tamanho de uma espada comum. quando não está a utilizando, a arma assume a forma de um bracelete prateado.

manipulação de fogo infernal: é capaz de gerar e controlar chamas extraídas de regiões infernais, podendo utilizá-las como manipuladores de fogo usam chamas comuns, porém com algumas diferenças. por ser um tipo incomum e sobrenatural de fogo, Seu poder destrutivo é consideravelmente superior. aslihan além de conseguir incinerar seus alvos, consegue manipular o fogo para transformá-lo em uma bola explosiva, consegue montar escudos ao seu redor e usá-lo em sua arma, mantendo-o acesso na lâmina. o fogo tem a capacidade de causar dores e tormento, tanto físicos quanto espirituais em seus alvos; um ponto extra do poder, é conseguir reanimar criaturas infernais com o fogo, porém, nunca tentou com pessoas.

maldição de hades: claro que hades não deixaria a filha só sair do submundo, não não. aslihan teve a funcionalidade do seu poder alterado, quando usa em pessoas (que estejam vivas, carne e osso etc) consegue sentir o mesmo que seu alvo. exemplo: se com o fogo do inferno a outra pessoa sente muita dor física, aslihan sente o mesmo; se as dores forem mentais (podendo ser luto, ansiedade, depressão) igualmente.

trigger warning: menção a menor de idade usando drogas.

hades foi facilmente atraído pela mente de esmeray, não somente pelo que percorria na consciência dela, mas pela energia de morte que a rondava. responsável por uma funerária, lidava com cadáveres o tempo todo, no entanto, de forma mórbida, escrevia sobre cada um deles em seu diário, criando vidas e as manipulando com um senso incomum sobre a morte. para aslihan crescer dentre os mortos foi a parte fácil da sua infância, difícil foi perceber a morte se aproximando da própria mãe em forma de câncer: sentia o cheiro, via a áurea. a doença se espalhou rápido, a consumiu em três meses e um pouco mais daqueles dias cruéis, se tornou órfã. ou ao menos, imaginou que fosse.

o luto a transformou, a alegria provinha apenas quando usando drogas, quando cobria o corpo de tatuagens, quando brigava com alguém na rua. tornou-se uma rebelde com causa, e uma noite, em meio a choros e garrafas de vodka esvaziada, a voz de hades se fez presente através de um dos corpos que estavam no subsolo da sua casa, aquele que foi esquecido e tido como indigente. uma voz intensa e nada empática, revelando a verdade para a criança. o deus foi rápido, curto e até grosseiro em dizer a ela que estava correndo perigo, que precisava ir com as crianças que logo bateriam a sua porta e ofereceriam uma saída. a princípio pensou em recusar, afinal, tinha tudo o que desejava: liberdade. mas algo em seu interior, a avisava que já havia vivido muito para um semideus sem treino.

os anos no acampamento foram fáceis, mais uma vez, a parte difícil veio após sua primeira missão em nome do pai. precisava recuperar um objeto em nome de hades, mas veja, perdeu o controle dos próprios poderes e o deus precisou intervir antes que pessoas fossem feridas sem necessidade. dois anos, foi o tempo que passou presa no submundo, comendo do mesmo alimento de cães infernais, sendo tratada como um lixo; tornou-se uma sombra, atormentada por almas que sofriam. naquela oportunidade, percebeu que jamais passaria de um cão para o pai, para os deuses. luke castellan sempre esteve certo em querer acabar com os olimpianos.

allie entrou no acampamento com quinze, a missão foi com vinte e quatro,

fazem dois anos que hades a liberou, mas apenas com a intenção de livrar-se do peso morto.

aslihan odeia o pai, e deixa isso bem claro nas diversas vezes que tentou queimar o chalé.

embora seja uma pessoa que quer que os deuses se acabem, se esforça um pouco no acampamento.

pode ser conhecida pela personalidade rebelde, porém, bem animada quando envolve álcool e drogas.

#* considerando likes para plots !#𓏲 * about. ヽ chaos fire desire the secret of death.

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o-craven-canto · 4 months

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Words borrowed from other languages in English

Very incomplete list, based mostly on The Languages of the World (3rd ed.), Kenneth Katzner, 2002 + a heavy use of Wiktionary. some notes:

Many of these words have passed through multiple languages on their way to English (e.g. Persian -> Arabic -> Spanish -> French -> English); in that case I usually list them under the first language that used them in the same acception as English.

I generally don't include words whose ancestors already existed in Middle English, unless their origin was exotic enough to be interesting.

The vast majority of borrowings are terms very specific to their culture of origin; I generally only include those that are either very well known amng English-speakers, or of general use outside that culture.

INDO-EUROPEAN FAMILY (West and South Eurasia)

Hellenic Greek: angel, chronometer, democracy, encyclopedia, geography, graphic, hieroglyphic, homogeneous, hydraulic, meter, microscope, monarchy, philosophy, phobia, photography, telephone, and way too many other scientific or technical terms to count

Germanic Afrikaans: aardvark, apartheid, fynbos, rooibos, springbok, trek, veld, wildebeest Danish: Lego, simper Dutch: brandy, bumpkin, coleslaw, cookie, deck, dock, dollar, landscape, freight, furlough, maelstrom, noodle, Santa Claus, waffle, walrus, yacht German: aurochs, bildungsroman, blitzkrieg, cobalt, dachsund, eigenvector, ersatz, gestalt, hamburger, hinterland, kindergarten, kohlrabi, lager, poodle, quark, sauerkraut, wanderlust, yodel, zeitgeist Icelandic: eider, geyser Norwegian: auk, fjord, krill, lemming, narwhal, slalom, troll Swedish: lek, mink, ombudsman, rutabaga, smorgasbord, tungsten Yiddish: bupkis, chutzpah, kvetch, putz, schlemiel, schmaltz, schmooze, schtick, spiel, tchotchke

Slavic Czech: robot Russian: fedora, glasnost, intelligentsia, kefir, mammoth, pogrom, samizdat, steppe, sputnik, troika, tsar, vodka Serbo-Croat: cravat, paprika

Celtic [many of these words are shared between the two languages] Irish: bog, galore, gaol, geas, glen, orrery, shamrock, slob, whiskey Scottish Gaelic: bard, bunny, cairn, clan, loch, ptarmigan, ?scone, slogan

Italic-Romance †Latin: [way too many] French: [way too many] Italian: allegro, aria, balcony, bandit, bravo, calamari, casino, chiaroscuro, crescendo, contrapposto, fresco, gazette, ghetto, gusto, inferno, lava, mafia, malaria, pants, quarantine, tempo, umbrella, vendetta, volcano Portuguese: baroque, brocade, cachalot, cobra, creole, flamingo, petunia, pimento, zebra Spanish: abalone, armadillo, bolas, bonanza, canyon, cargo, chupacabra, cigar, cilantro, embargo, gaucho, guerrilla, junta, manta, mesa, mustang, patio, pueblo, rodeo, siesta, tornado, vanilla

Iranian Persian: bazaar, caravan, checkmate, chess, crimson, dervish, divan, jackal, jasmine, khaki, kiosk, lemon, lilac, musk, orange, pajama, paradise, satrap, shawl, taffeta

Indo-Aryan †Sanskrit: brahmin, Buddha, chakra, guru, karma, mantra, opal, swastika, yoga Bengali: dinghy, jute, nabob Hindi: bandana, bungalow, cheetah, chintz, chutney, coolie, cot, dungaree, juggernaut, lacquer, loot, rajah, pundit, shampoo, tom-tom, thug, veranda Marathi: mongoose Romani: hanky-panky, pal, shiv Sinhalese: anaconda, beriberi, serendipity, tourmaline

DRAVIDIAN FAMILY (Southern India)

Kannada: bamboo Malayalam: atoll, calico, copra, jackfruit, mahogany, mango, pagoda, teak Tamil: curry, mulligatawny, pariah Telugu: bandicoot

URALIC FAMILY (Northern Eurasia)

Finnic Finnish: sauna Saami: tundra

Samoyedic Nenets: parka

Ugric Hungarian: biro, coach, goulash, hussar, puszta, tokay

VASCONIC FAMILY (Northern Pirenees)

Basque: chaparral, chimichurri, silhouette

TURKIC FAMILY (Central Eurasia)

†Old Turkic: cossack, yurt Tatar: ?stramonium Turkish: baklava, balaclava, bergamot, caftan, caviar, harem, janissary, kebab, kismet, minaret, pastrami, sherbet, tulip, yoghurt Yakut: taiga

MONGOLIC FAMILY (Mongolia and surrounding areas)

Mongol: horde, khan, ?valerian

SINO-TIBETAN FAMILY (China and Southeast Asia)

Tibeto-Burman Tibetan: lama, panda, tulpa, yak, yeti

Sinitic [Chinese languages closely related, not always clear from which a borrowing comes] Hokkien: ?ketchup, sampan, tea Mandarin: chi, dao, dazibao, gung-ho, kaolin, oolong, shaolin, shanghai, yin-yang Min Nan: nunchaku Yue (Cantonese): chop suey, dim sum, kowtow, kumquat, lychee, shar-pei, ?typhoon, wok

TUNGUSIC FAMILY (Eastern Siberia)

Evenki: pika, shaman

KOREANIC FAMILY (Koreas)

Korean: bulgogi, chaebol, hantavirus, kimchi, taekwondo

JAPONIC FAMILY (Japan)

Japanese: banzai, bonsai, dojo, emoji, geisha, ginkgo, hikikomori, honcho, ikebana, kamikaze, karaoke, koi, kudzu, manga, origami, pachinko, rickshaw, sake, samurai, sensei, soy, sushi, tofu, tsunami, tycoon, zen

AUSTRONESIAN FAMILY (maritime Southeast Asia and Oceania)

Western Malayan Javanese: ?junk [ship] Malay: amok, cockatoo, compound [building], cootie, durian, kapok, orangutan, paddy, pangolin, rattan, sarong

Barito Malagasy: raffia

Phlippinic Cebuano: dugong Ilocano: yo-yo Tagalog: boondocks

Oceanic Hawai'ian: aloha, hula, luau, poi, wiki Maori: kauri, kiwi, mana, weta Marshallese: bikini Tahitian: pareo, tattoo Tongan: taboo

TRANS-NEW GUINEAN FAMILY (New Guinea)

Fore: kuru

PAMA-NYUNGAN FAMILY (Australia)

Dharug: boomerang, corroboree, dingo, koala, wallaby, wobbegong, wombat, woomera Guugu Yimithirr: kangaroo, quoll Nyungar: dunnart, gidgee, quokka Pitjantjatjara: Uluru Wathaurong: bunyip Wiradjuri: kookaburra Yagara: dilly bag

AFRO-ASIATIC FAMILY (North Africa and Near East)

Coptic: adobe

Berber Tachelhit: argan

Semitic †Punic: Africa Arabic: albatross, alchemy, alcohol, alcove, alfalfa, algebra, alkali, amber, arsenal, assassin, candy, coffee, cotton, elixir, gazebo, gazelle, ghoul, giraffe, hashish, harem, magazine, mattress, monsoon, sofa, sugar, sultan, syrup, tabby, tariff, zenith, zero Hebrew: amen, behemoth, cabal, cherub, hallelujah, kibbutz, kosher, manna, myrrh, rabbi, sabbath, Satan, seraph, shibboleth

NIGER-CONGO FAMILY (Subsaharan Africa)

unknown: cola, gorilla, tango

Senegambian Wolof: banana, fonio, ?hip, ?jigger [parasite], karite, ?jive, yam

Gur-Adamawa Ngbandi: Ebola

Kwa Ewe: voodoo

Volta-Niger Igbo: okra Yoruba: gelee [headgear], mambo, oba, orisha

Cross River Ibibio: calypso

Bantu Lingala: basenji Kikongo: ?chimpanzee, ?macaque, ?zombie Kimbundu: ?banjo, Candomblé, gumbo, macumba, tanga Swahili: askari, Jenga, kwanzaa, safari Xhosa: Ubuntu Zulu: impala, mamba, vuvuzela

KHOE-KWADI FAMILY (Southwest Africa)

Khoekhoe (Hottentot): gnu, kudu, quagga

ESKIMO-ALEUT FAMILY (Arctic America)

Greenlandic Inuit: igloo, kayak Inuktikut: nunatak

ALGIC FAMILY (Eastern Canada and northeast USA)

†Proto-Algonquin: moccasin, opossum, skunk Cree: muskeg, pemmican Mikmaq: caribou, toboggan Montagnais: husky Narragansett: ?powwow, sachem Ojibwe: chipmunk, totem, wendigo, woodchuck Powhatan: persimmon, raccoon

SALISHAN FAMILY (Pacific coast at the USA-Canada border)

Chehalis: chinook Halkomelem: sasquatch Lushootseed: geoduck

IROQUOIAN FAMILY (Eastern North America)

Cherokee: sequoia

SIOUAN FAMILY (Central USA)

Lakota: teepee

MUSKOGEAN FAMILY (Southeast USA)

Choctaw: bayou

UTO-AZTECAN FAMILY (Southwest USA and north Mexico)

Nahuatl: atlatl, avocado, chili, cocoa, coyote, chocolate, guacamole, hoazin, mesquite, ocelot, quetzal, tamale, tegu, tomato O'odham (Pima): jojoba Shoshone: chuckwalla Yaqui: ?saguaro

MAYAN FAMILY (Southern Mexico and Guatemala)

Yucatec Maya: cenote, Chicxulub

ARAWAKAN FAMILY (Caribbeans and South America)

†Taino: barbecue, cannibal, canoe, cassava, cay, guava, hammock, hurricane, iguana, maize, manatee, mangrove, maroon, potato, savanna, tobacco Arawak: papaya

CARIBAN FAMILY (Caribbean coast of South America)

unknown: curare Galibi Carib: caiman, chigger, pawpaw, peccary, yucca

QUECHUAN FAMILY (Andes)

Quechua: ?Andes, caoutchouc, coca, condor, guano, llama, mate, poncho, puma, quinine, vicuna

AYMARAN FAMILY (Andes)

Aymara: alpaca, chinchilla

TUPIAN FAMILY (Brazil)

[borrowings are often shared between these two languages] †Old Tupi: ananas, arowana, Cayenne [pepper], jaguar, manioc, piranha, tapioca Guarani: cougar, maracuja, Paraguay, petunia, toucan

CREOLE LANGUAGES (worldwide, mixed origin)

English-derived Chinese Pidgin English: chopstick, long time no see, pidgin, taipan Jamaican Creole: dreadlocks, reggae

Chinook-derived Chinook Jargon: potlatch

EDIT 08-01-24: added lots more examples, especially African, Asian, and North American languages. Still not done. EDIT 17-01-24: finished adding examples, more or less. EDIT: 18-02-24: apparently not (cheetah).

#languages #history #how beauteous mankind is #feel free to add more

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forginglace · 8 months

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Justice Society of America (Comics), Manhunter (Comics) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Damon Matthews/Todd Rice, Al Rothstein & Todd Rice Characters: Todd Rice, Damon Matthews, Al Rothstein Additional Tags: Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Mental Health Issues, Discussion of Sexual Roleplay, Hurt/Comfort, Friendship Summary:

When Todd knows things will get worse his friends are still there.

#Todd Rice #Obsidian #Damon Matthews #Albert Rothstein #Nuklon #Atom Smasher #ToddDamon #DamonTodd #//My Fanfiction

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slashaer · 26 days

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JORDAN RILEY: DISTANCE. ACROSS A LARGE SPACE, SENDER BLOWS RECEIVER A KISS. appearances. it's the second most important thing ray has, following only the fear his appearance puts into people's hearts. in the depths of the inferno lounge, ray sits at a table with several men he's done business with, either currently, or in the past. spread across their table is a game of poker, low key but high stakes, which ray is currently winning. a bottle of expensive vodka sits on ice in a bucket just in front of them, and small mirror dusted in white is set aside in favor of playing their hands. eyes glance up, gaze stretching over the expanse of his dynasty, settling heavily on the songbird that is already looking at him. as her hand lips, moving from her painted lips to blow ray a kiss, he grins - more like a snarl, lip curling around the cigar that hangs there. the man plays his royal flush, the other men groaning as they lose their precious money, but his eyes remain on jordan. cigar is removed and she is beckoned toward them, smoke twirling with the movement of his fingers. she will come. she has no other choice. @survivall.

#survivall #ray.#ray and jordan.#he's so gross i hate him

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cuartoretorno · 3 months

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Qué Fue Bro? Procede un Vodka? Puede ser el fin de semana con la Gente en Inferno Bar? Confirmas y nos vemos en Ciudad Gótica (Lima Casco Viejo) Hablamos Bro! 28/01/24

#grunge tumblr #pale grunge #tumblr grunge revival #soft grunge #vodka smirnoff #batman returns #batman #cigarros pall mall #ron cartavio #hot topic #vans off the wall #vans old school #dr martens #cervezas y chicas #pizzas y musica #Monster Energy

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penelopedellecolonne · 22 days

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Tanti attorno

nessuno accanto.

#libri #citazioni #frasi #frasi belle #frasi tumblr #vodkaeinferno #frasi amore #libro #vodka&inferno #gothic #penelopedellecolonne #booktok

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myth-blossom · 1 year

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Possibly “Cradles” by “Sub Urban”? Idk go crazy with it

Also for comedic effect “Disco Inferno” By “The Trammps”

Hi Anon, thank you for the request (and for your patience)!

I really enjoy both songs but I decided to go with Disco Inferno, the fic just popped into my head once I heard it and I was really happy imagining the scene at the H2 Berlin safehouse. Hope you enjoy! 😊

youtube

Rain battered the safehouse as thunder rattled its windows, the old frames creaking in protest as the storm blustered through Berlin. It did nothing to ease the tension of its occupants as they quietly prepared for the mission in Dubai. Olivia had tried to attempt conversation for an hour before leaving for the nearby späti, grateful for an excuse to escape the silence and find something for dinner.

Despite her hope for communication, the others just hadn’t felt like talking. They were consumed with the mission ahead of them, too busy recalculating the data to ensure there was no devil in the details that could undermine their success. They couldn’t afford any surprises, not with the destruction of Providence so close within their reach.

Grey thoroughly revisited the building schematics of the Burj Al-Ghazali before switching to review travel manifests. Diana combed through the guest list for the building’s inauguration celebration, searching for possible elimination opportunities via known associates of the Providence Partners. 47 sat across from her to clean his silverballer, needing something to occupy his hands while he waited. They shared solemn glances as time ticked ever slowly to his departure, each minute feeling heavier than the last.

THUD.

Grey and 47 immediately prepared for action as the front door burst open. Diana closed her laptop and stayed behind as Grey led 47 to the entryway, gun at-the-ready. Grey directed his weapon towards the approaching noise of rustling bags when he realized it was Olivia struggling to carry her purchases through the door.

He lowered his weapon and locked the door behind her as 47 offered to help with her bags. 47 carried them to the table as Olivia shook off her jacket and hung it on the coat rack to dry. Grey holstered his weapon before crossing his arms with a sigh.

“You certainly know how to make an entrance,” he admonished. “We thought Providence had broken down our door.”

Olivia shrugged. “You’d be eager to get inside too after walking in that mess.”

“Everything alright?” Diana asked, appearing from the living room.

“It’s more than alright,” Olivia grinned. “You should see what I got.”

They circled the table as 47 unpacked her grocery bags. He offered them a curious expression as he held up a bottle of wine in one hand and vodka in the other.

“What are these for?” he asked.

“For celebrating,” she said matter-of-factly. “I wasn’t sure what everyone liked, so I got a bit of everything.”

47 passed the red wine to Diana as he paused his unpacking to search for a bottle opener. Olivia pulled an old cassette tape from her pocket as she retrieved the dusty radio from its place on the mantle.

“What exactly are we celebrating?” Grey asked.

“The end of Providence,” Olivia grinned, waving the cassette tape at him. “I even found music for the occasion.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” he murmured, sifting through the bags of alcohol for something edible. “It’s not over yet. We still have a lot of work ahead of us.”

“Grey, we’ve been working nonstop for weeks. Everyone deserve a break, including you.”

She handed him one of the local snack cakes he had grown fond of since their arrival. He huffed a chuckle as he tore open the wrapping and enjoyed a bite of the sweet confection.

“Perhaps you’re right.”

47 returned with the bottle opener and four drinking glasses as Olivia opted for the vodka. Grey poured a decent portion of whisky into his glass as Diana and 47 filled theirs with wine. They raised their drinks as Grey offered a brief toast, his voice clear over the storm raging outside.

“To finishing what we started.”

“To the end of the line,” 47 nodded.

The glasses clinked together before grateful sips were taken. They searched through the bags of “safehouse specials” (as Olivia had called their food) for their meal of choice. The frozen meals, dried cups of noodles, and various bags of crisps & candy were not the grandest of choices for a warriors’ feast, but no one minded. They enjoyed the offerings as they shared plans for the future once Providence was finished.

The thunder was soon forgotten as music filled the safehouse. The cassette was revealed to be a mix of disco hits from the seventies, something Olivia couldn’t resist purchasing when she found it hiding at the store. She showed off her best dance moves as she spun around the table with her cup of noodles.

Burn baby burn

Disco inferno

Burn baby burn

Burn that mother down

A second glass of whisky (or perhaps the sugar from the snack cakes) emboldened Grey to show Olivia “how it’s done.” He started dancing his own form of disco in the kitchen as he had done in his younger days, leading to a small dance-off for Diana and 47’s amusement.

Come on get on the floor

I’m on fire

Let the good times roll

Diana sipped her wine and chuckled good-naturedly just as 47 tapped her shoulder. She turned to find him offering his hand with a small smile, his cheeks slightly pink (from wine or his bold request to dance, she wasn’t certain). She set down her glass and took his hand, smiling in return as they stood. They posed for a couple’s waltz and slowly stepped side-to-side to warm up, though it wasn’t long before they were twirling around the kitchen with delight. 47 dipped a giggling Diana as Grey and Olivia shouted at them with encouragement, their competition temporarily abandoned for the new spectacle in front of them.

They continued dancing and drinking as Providence was pushed far from their minds. Morning would come and so would the burden of their plans and the return of their fight. But for now they would enjoy their celebration in the sanctum they created. For now, they would simply remember what it was like to live.

#Songs and Silencers #hitman #hitman fandom #hitman fanfiction #agent 47 #diana burnwood #lucas grey #olivia hall #hitman playlist #song inspired fic #Disco Inferno by The Trammps

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threewaywithdelusion · 1 year

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It Echoes A Spark (Ronsey)

This fic is on AO3, you can find it here. But I just went down a Ronsey rabbit-hole, so I felt like sharing it. This takes place during the Gansey on fire scene.

He was good at dangerous things, both in his sleep and while awake.

“Maybe,” Ronan replied. Gansey was moving away from Kavinsky, towards a tangle of parked cars. They looked like a dark, mechanical forest growing under the floodlights. “I’ll light a candle for your car.”

“You aren’t leaving? Harsh.”

If Gansey was going, Ronan was going.

He exchanged a few more words, sharp like teeth, with Kavinsky. Then he followed Gansey, snagging an abandoned bottle of vodka along the way.

Gansey did not get inside the BMW as Ronan had expected. Instead, he crossed to the other side of it, the side facing away from Kavinsky and the drugged-out kids at the party. Though they were exposed under the bright floodlights, Ronan felt as if they were hidden. The cars went all around them, a wall between them and the world. Only the music and the smell of weed invaded this sanctuary.

It was just the two of them. The way it had been before Adam. Before Noah.

Gansey was still on fire. The lights threw sharp shadows across his body. Across one eye, under the sharp line of his jaw. A little puddle of darkness above his collarbone.

He didn’t look like King Gansey. Neither did he look like the attainable boy from the Dollar City. He looked like a dark god, an ethereal, otherworldly being. He looked dangerous.

Ronan’s pulse jumped like his heart had stepped on the accelerator.

While Ronan had been staring, Gansey had been staring back at him. A rush of shame rose in Ronan, but there was no censure in Gansey’s eyes.

Ronan decided to play with fire.

He stepped forwards so he was closer to Gansey. Gansey didn’t step away, though there was a foot of space between his back and the door of the BMW.

Ronan lifted the bottle of vodka to his own lips and took a few deep gulps. It felt like inhaling fire. It felt like being alive.

He passed the bottle to Gansey. Gansey took it. He tipped his head back, swigging straight from the bottle, his throat moving as he swallowed.

“We’re different from them,” said Gansey when he pulled the bottle away. “From Kavinsky. We matter.”

Ronan stepped closer. Gansey stepped towards the BMW.

“Why?” It was a demand.

“Because we’re more,” said Gansey. “We love. We dream. We want.”

Ronan stepped closer. Gansey stepped back.

“They want too,” said Ronan. “Speed, drugs, sex.”

“That’s not wanting,” said Gansey. “That’s the absence of want. That’s trying to escape.”

Ronan stepped forwards. Gansey stepped back. Gansey’s spine hit the car door.

“You don’t ever want to escape?” asked Ronan.

“Escape what?” asked Gansey. “Henrietta? No.”

“Not fucking Henrietta,” snarled Ronan. “Your head. Your thoughts. Your dreams.”

Gansey was quiet, but not a patient, put-together sort of quiet. It was a dangerous, anticipatory quiet. Like the moment after the fuse had been lit, but before the spark reached the gunpowder.

He met Ronan’s eyes and his gaze was ablaze. “Yes. All the time.”

Ronan rested a hand against the metal of his car, to the right of Gansey’s head. It felt hot to the touch.

“What are you running from?” demanded Ronan.

“Death,” said Gansey. “What are you running from?”

He didn’t ask if Ronan was running. He didn’t need to.

“Myself,” said Ronan.

Gansey didn’t ask why. He didn’t need to.

Ronan leaned closer, committing himself to burning. Gansey’s gaze changed. For half a moment as realization crawled across his face, he reverted to normal Gansey. He was dragging himself from the inferno.

Ronan hated it. He kissed him.

Gansey hardly hesitated before he kissed back. His lips were soft but demanding. He clearly knew was he was doing, moving in a way that sends sparks down all of Ronan’s extremities. Ronan didn’t know how to kiss, but that didn’t matter. It wasn’t about the kiss. It was about him. It was about Gansey. It was about burning.

Glass shattered next to them as Gansey dropped the bottle. His hands rose to Ronan’s head, faltering when there was no hair for him to pull. He lowered his hands to the collar of Ronan’s leather jacket, yanking Ronan harder against him.

Ronan went willingly, the way he always did. Only for Gansey. Always for Gansey.

He bit at Gansey’s lip and Gansey gasped. Then Gansey’s tongue was in Ronan’s mouth and the kiss changed. It became deeper, more nuanced, and all Ronan could do was hang on and try to give as good as he got.

He loved this Gansey, reckless and powerful and hungry. He loved him fearlessly, the love not dulled by the anger that washed over every other emotion.

This Gansey matched Ronan’s fierce darkness in a way the other one almost never did. For Ronan, it was like looking into a mirror and not hating what gazed back. Gansey was himself made better. Gansey was a twin soul with a different kind of pain. Ronan wore his on his sleeve, while Gansey hid it in his heart. Ronan bared his teeth to scare others away while Gansey smiled wide to pretend he was fine.

They were burning.

Ronan had dreamt of Gansey’s mouth. He’d imagined what it might feel like. He’d fantasized about what it might taste like.

For once, Ronan’s dream were paltry things compared to reality.

He hadn’t imagined the way Gansey growled into his mouth. He hadn’t imagined Gansey’s hands, soft and firm, pressing into the small of his back. He hadn’t imaged Gansey’s chest, broad and muscled from rowing, against his.

Ronan pulled his mouth from Gansey’s. Gansey inhaled sharply and before he could react, Ronan trailed his lips down. He kissed along Gansey’s jaw, then down his neck. Gansey’s hands tightened where they held Ronan’s shoulder.

Gansey was a good few inches shorter than Ronan and Ronan had to bent considerably as he trailed kisses lower. He had lost count of how many times his eyes had snagged on the sharp corners of Gansey’s collarbones, and he wanted to taste them.

Gansey gasped as Ronan tugged the collar of his shirt aside. Ronan traced the outline of his collarbone with his tongue. Gansey let out a soft moan, his body shifting under Ronan. Gansey was coming undone before him, and he felt a surge of something that he was able to do this to Gansey. He wondered if anyone had ever seen Gansey come apart before.

He wasn’t sure he ever had, before tonight.

He surged back up to Gansey’s mouth, pressing them forcefully together and letting Gansey take control of the kiss.

This was everything Ronan hadn’t let himself think about. Muscled arms and a chiseled jaw and the musky scent of a boy’s sweat. Dick. Dick Gansey III. A hand cupping Ronan’s cheekbone, the skin soft and too smooth, having never seen a day of manual labor.

This was almost everything Ronan hadn’t let himself think about.

Ronan backed away from the kiss, raising his chin defiantly. Ronan had just given Gansey one of his biggest secrets and he was burning. Depending on what happened next, he could be turned into bitter ash.

Gansey straightened from the car, slowly sliding pieces of regular Gansey into place. It was like watching origami fold, little corners disappearing until the end result looked nothing like the original paper. Secrets tucking into hidden pockets.

Gansey, put-together and scholarly, met Ronan’s eyes. “You’re not like Kavinsky.”

“I am,” said Ronan. Dreams and kisses and the speedometer in his veins.

“You may appear alike on the surface, but you’re different underneath.”

The exact opposite of him and Gansey, the rebel and the scholar united by magic.

“What makes me and K so different?” sneered Ronan. “Am I knock-off brand of fucked up? The kind even Parrish could afford at the Dollar City?”

“No,” said Gansey. “You have a good heart.”

Ronan scoffed, looking away. In the distance, shadows flickered among the trees. He could tell there was a fire, but not what it consumed. Not if the fire was forging something or melting it apart.

“Ronan,” said Gansey sharply.

Ronan faced him again.

“You have a good heart,” Gansey repeated.

The fire in Ronan swelled and settled. He didn’t turn to ash. He didn’t become an inferno that scorched everyone around him. He didn’t burn and burn and burn.

Gansey knew. And everything was alright.

Ronan stepped around Gansey, unlocking the BMW and sliding smoothly into the driver’s seat. It took mere seconds for Gansey to walk around the car, but those few heartbeats gave Ronan a chance to look out the window, beyond the small bubble of solitude they had created for themselves.

K was visible in the distance, leaning against a car and laughing, Prokopenko and a huddle of girls beside him. Kavinsky felt distant, all of a sudden. Nowhere near as real as he’d felt earlier tonight. Nowhere near as tempting.

Gansey cut into Ronan’s line of vision as he got into passenger seat. Gansey was real, but he was also less tempting than he’d been.

The almost-right part.

“If you tell Parrish about this,” Ronan began.

“I won’t,” said Gansey seriously.

“If you tell Parrish, I will sick Chainsaw on the Pig until it’s covered in shit,” Ronan threatened.

“Ronan, I wouldn’t.”

Gansey met Ronan’s eyes, a mirror that saw too much.

Ronan scowled, turning away and starting the engine. He waited until he was sure Gansey was looking away, watching the explosions in the distance, then let a small smile play over his lips.

A tiny flicker, a safe fire. But it wouldn’t go out.

#the raven cycle #trc fanfic #Ronan lynch #richard campbell gansey iii #richard gansey #I don't know how to tag this man's name #Ronan and gansey #ronan x gansey #ronsey

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