#I feel burnt out I draw a bit too much

[tmgmrk]

[can-of-slorgs]

Completed the Shenkuu Stamp collection some time ago, so it was only fair to draw my girl Mirsha

[obsob]

yes i am getting emails 

[natelia-aldelliz]

Guys... Listen I know I said I'd draw something for valentine's day but I had a bit of a rough week sooooo I'm just going to write it out instead, maybe I'll finish drawing it some day, maybe not. It's behind a show more because it's long.

(also there's talks about having sex but no actual sex, and like, general warnings about Ghost's backstory but it's very vague here).

Soap was hanging around outside, trying to bring himself to do something, anything. But the weather was nice for a February day, and the sun was out, and it was making him feel like a cat basking in the heat.

An arm wrapped itself around his shoulders, a huge body suddenly weighing on him. Ghost.

Soap hummed comfortably. This day was getting better by the minute. Any chill he might have felt from being outside in a tank top out of pure Scottish spite was instantly soothed.

Simon often times saw himself as a cold man, freezing to the touch, hidden behind a layer of ice. A proper little Elsa, Soap almost snorted out loud. The truth was that while yes, his fingers and toes' temperature was sometimes abysmal, especially in bed, the rest of him was the warmest place Johnny had ever been.

"I've got something for you in our room," Ghost whispered against his throat, making Soap shiver.

Simon had begun calling Soap's room theirs a few weeks ago and Johnny couldn't have enough of it. He was so in love it genuinely hurt sometimes to restrain himself from squeezing him to death.

"Is that so?" he purrs, knowing how Ghost likes that. If this day didn't end in sex he'd be very surprised. He'd long learned to recognize when Simon wanted sex and when he didn't, and the way he squeezed his pec in response to his voice was a very easy tell.

But then again Simon was way less subtle than he thought he was.

They made their way back to their room, and there it was, a repurposed shoebox, badly wrapped with cheap wrapping paper. Johnny couldn't be more excited, he had never received any gift from a significant other. To be fair he adored gifting but always felt awkward receiving.

But this was Simon. Something that Simon had chosen to give him.

He sat on the bed, leaving enough space behind him for Ghost to sit there so he could use him as a very comfortable backrest. When he did, he grabbed the gift and began opening it.

He knew that Ghost liked to tear the wrapping paper, liked the sound of it and liked tearing it into the smallest pieces possible after, but he himself loved carefully unwrapping it and folding it flat so he could later maybe do an origami with it or put a piece in his journal. Probably both.

This one was full of tape but he still very much enjoyed himself, considered it a challenge. He enjoyed the chase, wanted to drag it on. Ghost huffed impatiently behind him, a bit tense, probably nervous.

Inside the box was a weird old fashioned clunky thing. It was bright red, looked slightly like binoculars, definitely from the 70's, with a wheel of tiny pictures wedged in the top of it. Memories hit him all at once.

"Oh my god ah remember, my Ma had one of these when ah was a child! My sister and I loved it, it had pretty landscapes in!"

He put it against his eyes, excited to see what this one came with. At his biggest surprise, it was a picture of them. Simon had customised it.

The picture showed the back of himself a bit further away from the camera, pointing at something while in full gear, in a dilapidated town, Ghost's face in the foreground looking at the camera. It looked like Soap was talking to someone, but that person was cut by the framing.

"Wait, ah remember that mission, it's when ah saved Gaz from a landmine just to be shot seconds later," he laughed. "ah spent two fucking weeks in the hospital, ah was miserable. Ye kept joking ah should hiv left Gaz explode while staring at him, he was convinced ye actually wanted him dead!"

Then the next picture was indeed him in his hospital bed, unconscious but the state of his injuries told him he was probably just sleeping at least a few days after his admission, his life no longer in danger. In this one, Ghost was sleeping too, head in his elbow near Soap's head and his other hand holding Soap's hand.

"Who took this one?" Soap asked, moved by the tenderness of Ghost's hold on him in the picture. It would have been right after Johnny had admitted to maybe liking him more than friends, before they were officially dating.

"The hospital one?"

Soap hummed.

"Price did. Said it was for blackmail. Should have seen him, he looked like his child had just married the person of their dreams and had ridden off into a rainbow on a unicorn or some shit. Old man's sentimental as fuck, but I didn't call him on his bullshit, he's already old, that's punishment enough."

Soap giggled in response. The next few pictures were all of them together but each time he was either turning his back or asleep.

"Why the fuck am ah never looking at the camera?" he whined. He wanted some cute couple pictures, dammit!

"Couldn't have you suspecting what I was planning," Simon said, kissing his shoulder soothingly. Only then Soap noticed that he had taken his mask off at some point and turned to ask for a proper kiss, which he immediately got.

"Keep going, there's more pictures," Simon whispered against his lips when he tried to turn around to kiss him some more. His pouting only got him a smirk in response, so he got comfortable again and brought the slide viewer back against his eyes.

He was happy he did. The next picture waiting for him was just Simon in the mirror, almost in full gear, but with one gloveless hand dragging his trousers down so the camera could see the bottom of his stomach, follow along his happy trail and reaching the very top of his pubic hair. The picture cut of his head, but he could see that his mouth was uncovered and he was holding the glove with his teeth.

Soap groaned. "Steaming Jesus, love, you're so hot."

He felt Simon hide his face in the back of his neck, warmer than usual, and chuckled a bit. He loved him so fucking much.

There were four more pictures of Simon, in various suggestive poses and states of undress, some almost showing his cock but never quite committing, making Johnny feel like he was being teased.

He was getting hard though and so ready to be done with the pictures and access the real thing. But Simon was still tense behind him. In fact, he had only gotten tenser and tenser with each click.

Soap was unsure why. They never had a problem with their sexual life, Simon had already changed his mind about having sex after starting and Soap had absolutely no problem with that, was glad to hug him instead and reassure him when he had tried to apologize.

Simon knew that there was no pressure, ever, to have sex. Hell, Johnny would still be happy even if Simon decided that he never wanted to have sex again, and he had made sure to make Simon understand that.

Then he got to the last picture and immediately understood.

It wasn't a picture of either of them, just a little bit of paper, with a few words written in Ghost's awful handwriting.

Just a few words that made Johnny drop the viewer on the covers and turn around to grab Simon's face, worriedly looking in his eyes.

"Are you sure?" he asked, looking for any trace of Simon forcing himself. "Baby, ah'm happy to bottom for the rest of mah life, there's no pressure, okay?"

Simon looked at him with warmth in his eyes and his cheeks completely red, a wrapping bow added on top of his head. "I know," he said simply. "I just want to. I don't want to be haunted by memories anymore. I used to like it, and I want to like it again. With you. Just.... Be gentle, okay?"

Johnny kissed his forehead. "Ah dinnae think ah ken how no tae be gentle with ye, love."

[autistic-shaiapouf]

Actively beginning to catch myself going down thought spirals and this has to be a good sign actually

[amorfista]

[WIP] "Shenanigans at the beach"

The Dad Batch (and Omega) deserve a day of blissful relaxation, I don't think there's anyone out there who wouldn't agree!

While Tech is taking the best nap of his life [Part 1], Omega and Wrecker joined efforts to make the coolest sand-Tipoca city there is out there!

But hold up just a second...

-"Hey Wrecker, look!"

"...now wouldn't it be a shame if someone was feeling extra mischievous today?" Omega thought to herself. Turning to her left, lips pressed in a smile, she discovered Wrecker mimicking her expression. Apparently, he had just read her mind >:).

Tech had felt such peace, such safety that he had fallen into a deep slumber, further fueled by his usual lack of sleep.

Tough seldom wrong, today he was.

Because at this moment Tech was, in fact, in grave danger.

...TO BE CONTINUED!!

[Part 3] [Part 4]

(Acknowledging the lil' banner for a fraction of a second, it's just something I'm testing out and would like some feedback if you'd be so kind to give it :)) I'll probably make it just a tad bit more refined and (possibly) include the members of the Batch appearing on the post? but I might just randomize it for fun too. Thank you for taking the time to read this!!)

OKAY SOO. I decided to post these two drawings that I completed a few days ago because:

- once again i deadass couldn't wait anymore💀

- I have decided to make as many "beach episode" themed drawings as I can during the summer (and fall if we get there cuz why not) so i'll just post them as I'm done with each of 'em! I have SO many ideas for it and I want it to be a big project and not some sketches as I had initially planned. I want to make it WHOLESOME and HEART MELTING!! Whenever I get burnt out or need some fresh air I'll draw other things, probably still within the Star Wars theme because the brainrot is real🤓, but just letting you know in advance because AAAH!! this is a big thing for me and I want to share it with you guys because love is all you've shown me and I want to reciprocate 💕 🥺 

- and last but DEF NITELY not least I want to celebrate thAT I REACHED 300+ FOLLOWERS TODAY!! AND ALSO 1000+ NOTES ON MY OMEGA DRAWING??!! IN LIKE NO TIME TOO!!? WHAT THE FRICK. THANK YOU SO MUCH EVERYONE!!

Never before had my art had such an impact in a community. I am so grateful for all of your comments and interactions with my drawings, it's a ridiculous boost in inspiration and confidence :) It makes me want to push my limits every time!! So once again THANK YOU!!☺️ 💕 

Here's my taglist, just let me know if you wish to join!! ♥

@dukeoftheblackstar @justalittletomato @darthmaulshispanichousewife @botherbother-blog @aftergloom @badolmen @ihaventpickedausername @ohboi @stardustbee @nik-barinova @the-chains-are-the-easy-part @gen-has-green-vibes @ejfivercommander @herbalinz-of-yesteryear @eyecandyeoz @noesqape @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @staycalmandhugaclone @callmesunny04 @freesia-writes

[yusukenui]

mental illness really is one hell of a thing

[moonlight-prose]

✧ LOVE BETWEEN ✧

a/n: i am iffy about this fic as a whole. last night writing wise wasn't the best for me and my mood has been...oof. but i will forever love cassian so much. so i couldn't fully skip this day without finishing his fic. i need to write so much more for him and the wips in my drafts are screaming. so i guess it's time for a rewatch of andor! i hope you enjoy my loves. (also the gif has me frothing at the mouth).

day nineteen - dry humping | kinktober 2023

summary: "there remained an unspoken pull between the two of you that kept you tightly wrapped around one another. your souls knotted so tight there was no undoing what had been solidified. the unspoken future you had always planned."

word count: 1.4k+

pairing: cassian andor x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, dry humping, fluff and angst, cassian being head over heels.

There remained an unspoken pull between the two of you that kept you tightly wrapped around one another. Your souls knotted so tight there was no undoing what had been solidified. The unspoken future you had always planned. More often than not, he found himself in your home. Seeking out the pleasure of your company as you both drank the shittiest caf in existence, but it was all you could find.

He would tell you the goings on around town, the things you might have otherwise missed, and you’d speak to him about your dreams. What you wanted to strive for, what life could be like if the Empire wasn’t currently destroying everything. You spoke about anything and everything, divulging things to each other that felt too private to tell anyone else.

Tonight he sat on the shitty couch, jacket discarded onto your separate chair, and eyes tracking your every movement as you fluttered around in the kitchen. The scent of your caf wafted through the house. Burnt and bitter and familiar. You poured some into his mug before heading over to your spot beside him. The blanket already pooled around his waist.

“How is Bix?” you asked, feeling him shift to face you better as you settled, dragging the rough fabric up around your legs.

He shrugged, taking a sip and wincing at the taste. Yet another familiar movement. “She and Tim are…”

“Complicated?”

He huffed a laugh, eyes shifting to meet your gaze. “You could say that.”

“He loves her.” You set the mug on your small table that tilted slightly. “It’s obvious.”

Cassian’s voice came softer, eyes tracing the curve of your body as the blanket slipped down a bit, revealing the curve of your breasts in your top. “He does,” he murmured, fingers tightening around his mug when you shifted even closer. The air between the two of you, now warm.

Silence filled the space, laying over you like a different kind of blanket. One that offered softness, comfort. A place where you knew you could be yourself and voice what you wanted out of life. Cassian felt the same. He sunk into the couch, sipping on the caf still despite its awful flavor; a gesture that warmed your heart. The nights were a time you looked forward to most. When you could finally relish in the presence of the man you’d loved for as long as you could remember.

But to Cassian you were a friend.

Simply the person he sought out when he needed someone to make him feel like his feet were firmly planted on the ground. He wasn’t the greatest friend and he knew that. He knew that he oftentimes brought more trouble than necessary, but with you he laid his troubles by the door as if they were a coat to be hung. Something he would pick up on his way out. In order to keep that smile on your face. The joy that pressed into his chest, filling him with a feeling that he found himself running from most days.

Yet when it came to you…he didn’t want to run anymore.

You didn’t notice him setting his mug on the table, too invested in the paper beside you, something scribbled on it. “I forgot to tell you—”

Grasping the back of your neck gently, he dragged you closer, his lips finding yours and drawing out a sharp gasp from your mouth. It was a meager attempt to display those feelings that ate away at his heart. Something to show you that he came here each night for a reason. You. He came to hear your laughter, to drink your shitty caf, and watch you light up at his stories.

He came to feel the warmth of your love on an otherwise cold planet.

Seconds passed and for a moment he worried you didn’t want this. That he’d overstepped his boundaries and pushed the limit of your friendship too far. Your hands sliding into his hair and dragging him closer put a stop to those thoughts instantly. A soft moan echoed in the back of your throat, punching the breath from his lungs as he practically climbed over you. His hand grasping onto your waist, sliding your leg over his hip.

“Cas—”

“I’ve wanted to do this for years,” he mumbled breathlessly, shifting to pull you up into his lap, until your knees were pressing on either side of his hips, chest pressed to his. “Ever since that fucking dinner.”

You laughed softly, fingers tracing his jaw and Cassian forgot how to breathe for that mere moment. “The dinner wasn’t so bad.”

“Bix cooking is never a good thing.”

Another giggle filled the air as you leaned down to steal another kiss. The taste of your caf, so much better coming from your tongue. He found that he didn’t mind the flavor. As long he got to kiss you afterwards. Sucking in a breath, he bit at your bottom lips, hands sliding to grasp at your hips, pushing you even closer until no space remained.

“I met you,” he replied, watching your eyes darken with lust, lips parting when he dragged you over his already hard cock. “The only good part of that night.”

Heat flooded the back of your neck, spilling into your cheeks and overheating your body. Yet you’d never wanted something more in your whole life. He captured your lips in another kiss, hips bucking up to meet yours, a sound being pulled from your chest. Heady and wet. Similar to the way he devoured you. As if you were the only source of life for miles—kissing you until you had no choice but to gasp for air, yanking on his hair to separate yourself.

“I want—oh—” Your clit caught on the seam of your pants, the press of his cock driving you insane as he dragged you across his lap again. A deep moan bubbling up in your throat, eyes fluttering shut when pleasure burst across your senses.

“I want to see you,” he said, chest heaving and eyes dark with need.

“I’m here.”

His lips curled up, grinding into you and watching your face contort, eyebrows pulling together while your mouth dropped open. “No. I want…to see you.”

The meaning registered in your brain slower than you would have liked. Yet once it did, you couldn’t find the words to respond. Each of them more incoherent than the last. He wanted to watch you cum. To witness you at the peak of pleasure, knowing that it was caused by him.

“Cassian,” you gasped, grinding down until sparks shot up your spine. Slick flooded your panties, no doubt soaking through to his pants. You dragged yourself along his lap, arms curled around his neck and lips brushing his as he panted into your mouth.

“Take what you want,” he said hoarsely, helping you guide your movements as he bucked up into you with each shift. “Use me.”

“Maker.”

You went lightheaded. The rush of need plowing through your body as he led you through the movements. Your legs were slightly shaky, eyes squeezed shut and lips scratching along his cheek. But you wouldn’t have it any other way. Cassian held you like you were precious kyber. Something he could one day lose in the middle of terror.

“I’m gonna, Maker I’m g-gonna—fuck Cas—”

Licking a hot trail up your throat, he felt you shudder above him, your cry bouncing off the walls of your house. He watched the bliss wash across your face and wanted to see it again. As many times as you’d permit him. Pressing his hips up and grinding roughly against the seam of your pants, he felt his body lock up—his rough moan pressed to your chest. His cock twitched in his pants, cum soaking through the fabric.

It would get uncomfortable soon, but he had you on top of him, pressing kissing down his neck and sucking on the skin. Drawing out another soft moan.

“That was new,” you said softly, smiling into his shoulder. He chuckled, hands moving to cover your ass. “Although I wouldn’t mind adding that to our nights.”

“Shitty caf and a good fuck?”

You slapped his shoulder, body shaking as you laughed and he couldn’t stop himself from joining. Feeling a type of joy that only came around you. He wanted to lock it in his chest. To remember what this felt like even when he wasn’t there with you. But to Cassian there was no place he’d rather be.

“Perfect,” you whispered, brushing your lips against his, sealing your future with a kiss he felt down to his toes.

[songofsoma]

sleepless

kinktober day 1: face-sitting

pairing: karlach x f!tav words: 1,374 rating: explicit

read it on ao3

Sleep eluded her tonight, that was for sure. 

Daefina had stared up at the stars for countless hours, hoping their peaceful glow would lull her to sleep. That plan had yet to be wholly successful. Instead, it had left her alone with her thoughts. In particular, thoughts about a certain woman lying next to her. 

Rolling over, she snuggled into Karlach’s side. She was so warm against the chill of the night air filtering through their flimsy tent. Daefina craved her in every aspect. She craved her closeness, to breathe in the faint smell of sulfur and amber that clung to her skin and feel the roughness of her scars as fingertips danced over battered skin. 

Even now, she found herself doing it. The arm draped over her chest trailing the gnarled lines of her shoulder, marking where she had been burnt. The ruggedness of her exterior was a dichotomy of her heart—so loving and tender—that watching Karlach finally live her life as herself only made Daefina fall harder for her every day. 

Daefina turned her face to kiss the unmarred shoulder. She hadn’t planned for her actions to wake Karlach, but slowly she stirred. 

First, she mumbled something entirely incoherent. And after a large yawn, Karlach groaned, “Is it morning already?”

She shook her head, then realized Karlach still hadn’t opened her eyes. “No. I didn’t mean to wake you, I’m sorry. Go back to sleep.”

“Hm,” she hummed, eyes fluttering open. “Why are you awake then?”

Daefina propped herself up on an elbow to look down at her. “Can’t sleep.”

“Do I need to tire you out?” It only sounded half like a joke. But the way Karlach’s eyes suddenly focused very seriously on her face made her realize the wheels in her brain were already spinning.

“Depends what you have in mind, Sparky,” she teased.

Karlach grinned, teeth glinting in the dark of their tent. “Come ‘ere then,” she prompted, beckoning her closer with a crooked finger. 

Daefina bent down, though it was Karlach who eagerly surged to catch her lips. Large hands cupped her face to draw her in closer. Her tongue swiped against Daefina’s bottom lip, begging to be granted access. Who was she to deny her? 

She was practically lying on top of Karlach in order to kiss her properly. Not that she seemed to mind. In fact, it was further encouraged when Daefina felt an arm slip beneath her and was guided to straddle her. 

Her hair that had long since fallen out of her braids hung around them like a curtain. It was as if they existed in their own little world within the canvas of the tent. Nothing could touch them except each other. 

Karlach’s hands slid up her thighs and beneath the loose tunic she wore to bed. Daefina shivered, even though her touch was like sitting in front of a roaring heart, both in temperature and pleasure. Fingertips played with the hem of her underwear at her hips. 

“Take these off,” she murmured against Daefina’s lips, still refusing to fully break their kiss until the last second. Mournfully, she had to pull away to execute Karlach’s command. 

With a bit of help from Karlach and awkward maneuvering, her panties were tossed to the side.

“Changed my mind. This off too.” She tugged on the nightshirt. 

Swiftly, Daefina stripped it off. Much easier than her bottoms in this position. 

As she perched on Karlach’s hips, straddling her, she couldn’t help but smile under the weight of Karlach’s gaze. Fiery eyes drank in every detail of her as if she were witnessing the sight of Daefina’s body for the first time all over again. It was like this most times. Karlach adored her too much to let any memory go to waste, those were her words. 

Finally, hands squeezed her hips and tugged her forward, much to Daefina’s surprise. 

“You want me to—?”

Her question was cut off by Karlach’s vigorous nodding. All prior evidence that she had been fast asleep moments ago seemed like hours in the past. “Sit on my face? Fuck yeah, I do.”

With a soft laugh, Daefina allowed herself to be guided until her hips hovered over Karlach’s face. She heard her breathe in deeply, unable to stop the blush that flooded her cheeks as Karlach moaned just at the scent of her arousal. 

“No wonder you weren’t able to sleep. Way too worked up.” Thumbs spread open her cunt as she admired just how wet Daefina already was. “Fuck, baby.”

She had no time to form a response before Karlach lifted her head, tongue running up the length of her sex. It elicited a gasp from her. There was not a chance to ground herself on her own, either. Before she knew it, Karlach was pulling her down to fully be flush against her face as her tongue eagerly continued its path.

Daefina couldn’t staunch her cry when her attention focused on her clit. Karlach circled and flicked it with the tip of her tongue until she squirmed. But the iron grip Karlach’s arms had wrapped around her thighs allowed her to go nowhere. She couldn’t slink away from this pleasure, not even when Karlach sucked the swollen bud greedily. 

As she teetered forward, she found herself grasping Karlach’s intact horn for support. It was rough against her palm and the engraved runes pressed into her skin, most likely forming indentations. She didn’t care and instead grasped it for dear life.

In turn, it made Karlach moan as Daefina inadvertently began to guide her movements. Daefina was lost in a blur of pleasure as hips ground against Karlach’s face. 

She took it in stride and adjusted Daefina’s hips so she speared herself on Karlach’s awaiting tongue. 

“Gods, Karlach,” she mewled, blissfully allowing herself to be led to fuck herself with Karlach’s tongue. It was nice having a big, strong girlfriend. It was easy for her to take control when Daefina turned mindless, too wrapped up in her ecstasy to think clearly. And Karlach loved it. 

She loved fucking Daefina so well that she couldn’t think. She loved it when she had to take over, assisting in every move of her hips to allow that satisfaction to continue. But, she also loved what Daefina did when her body just took over. Like now as she ground herself against Karlach, tongue still buried deep inside her. Every roll made Karlach’s nose bump against her clit, intensifying the feeling.

Daefina used her grip on her horn to press herself harder into her, moaning and gasping into the silent night as she clawed her way to the peak. And when her rhythm stuttered, Karlach anchored her in place and lapped at her clit like it was her last meal. 

It was more than enough to send her crashing into a climax.

She trembled and panted as the orgasm electrified every fiber of her being. And as she hunched forward, struggling to recover, Karlach continued to milk out every last bit of pleasure there could be had.

Daefina struggled to even out her breath, slowly coming to her senses again. She had enough to realize she was probably suffocating Karlach and scrambled backward to sit on her chest. Her lover seemed to be in a daze judging by the smile so big it threatened to crack her cheeks and a look of pure adoration in her eyes.

“That was fucking awesome,” she said dreamily. The bottom half of her face glistened and she seemed to be in no rush to clean herself up.

“I don’t know who enjoyed that more. Me or you,” Daefina mused, grabbing her discarded shirt to wipe Karlach’s face. 

“Oh, definitely me. Successfully fulfilled a fantasy I had no idea I had until now.” Her hands fell back onto Daefina’s thighs, not protesting as she was cleaned up. 

She snorted as she slid back down Karlach’s body to straddle her hips once more. “Glad I could help. Though, I’m not sure I can sleep after this.”

Karlach batted her hand away and caught the back of her head, pulling her down into a crushing kiss. “There’s no way I’m letting either of us get any sleep now. That’s a promise.”

[talesofesther]

under the sunlight

Summary: After 200 years of darkness, Astarion feels the sun on his skin again.

A/N: It's been quite a long while since I've enjoyed a game the way I'm enjoying BG3, a feeling I've missed all too much. And of course, this pretty, charming boy has secured his place in my heart fairly quickly. I love him, he deserves all the warmth and softness in the world. And this is a moment I've been wanting to visualize for a while. So, here's a small drabble about Astarion's first time back in the sunlight.

Requests for Astarion are open, if anyone wants more of him here. <3

Masterlist

The world around him smelled like smoke and burnt flesh, the air stung as it ghosted over his dry lips. Dust and remains of rubble clung to his skin, his body felt heavy and sore all over. Each movement more painful than the last, for seconds that felt like hours.

The pale elf didn't know how it happened, all he knew was that the mind flayer ship he had been trapped in had started to fall, and fall, and fall; until it crashed, and he crashed with it. He also had no idea how he had survived, but he wasn't about to complain.

A deep groan escaped Astarion as he steadily regained consciousness. He kept his eyes clenched shut, a headache pounding his head and making him wince.

He scratched the dirt and grass beneath him, grounding himself. His muscles complained as he slowly started to push himself up, and as he tried opening his eyes, a hiss fell past his lips and he blinked several times. Squinting, he tried to adjust his sight to the bright sunlight.

He stilled. Hand frozen midair as he was about to shake the dust off his hair.

Sunlight.

Moving faster than he probably should, given his state, the vampire crawled backward until his back hit the trunk of a tree. His skin only partially hidden from the warm glow.

He tucked his knees closer to his chest, eyes wide as he watched the soft slivers of sunlight that sneaked between the leaves dance on the tip of his fingers. With a trembling hand, he gingerly curled a finger around one strip of sunlight, as if the light would bend its rules for him to hold it.

Sharp fangs dug into his lower lip, scratching and drawing a drop of his own blood. There was a tightness in his chest, clawing at his throat; whether it was fear or hope he didn't know. Maybe a bit of both.

A soft breeze flew by, carrying away the stench of smoke and bringing a distinct perfume, no doubt from the berry bushes nearby. The skies cleared, welcoming, beckoning him under.

With his palm up, Astarion eyed the stripe of sunlight resting on his hand. The soft glow had a gentle warmth to it, kissing his pale skin ever so tenderly. It was enough to blur his sight, tears brimming on the bottom lid of his eyes.

Could it be?

Wobbling in his stance, feet unsteady, Astarion pushed himself up. He took one, and then two steps forward—resembling a wild cat walking into a cozy home, after sleeping countless nights out in cold streets.

When the warm light of the sun embraced him—without pain, without burning—a quiet whimper fell past his lips, and Astarion closed his eyes. He angled his chin up to the sky, pleading for the sun's attention. For it to kiss his cheeks and dry the drops of blood on his clothes. For it to shine on his silver hair and warm up his cold skin.

He blinked his eyes open, lower lip trembling when his sight was temporarily blinded by the light. He looked around him, to the bright greenery and the blue skies and the mountains far away.

It was so warm. After 200 years of cold nights. He felt so warm.

Tears fell down pale cheeks, glimmering, under the sunlight.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

Astarion’s taglist: @milkiane @v1ci0us

[yuri-is-online]

Seven Plus One Happy Haunts (An 800 Followers Thank You)

"NRC is having a culture festival?" You blurt out, immediately drawing the attention of everyone in your class. Normally this interruption would be met with a swift smack, but the thought doesn't even flicker across Crewel's mind much to the envy of your classmates. Instead, something similar to a stress headache seems to work it's way across his face as he takes a brief pause to breathe.

"I take it the Headmage has neglected to inform you of this?" He says it like a question, but really it sounds more like he is begging you to prove him wrong. "He was supposed to ask your permission."

"Permission for what?!" You try not to sound too panicked but that's difficult when Crewel's normal sternness re-emerges to silence Ace and Deuce's whispers.

"Sit!" He cracks his crop and returns to the black board. "And Yuu, once classes are done for the day, meet me back here. It will be much easier for me to explain things to you and Grim than sending you on a wild crow chase." Oh you don't like the sound of that at all. ~~~~ By the time classes are over, you are drooping under the weight of an entire school's worth of whispers and surprised you remember your way back to your Homeroom.

"Where's Grim?" Crewel asks, though he doesn't sound terribly worried. So it's bad news bad news.

"He decided to ditch me for Ace and Deuce and I didn't have the energy to chase him down, sorry." Your book bag drops with just as dramatic a thunk as you do.

"Let me make you a coffee, you are going to need some." Crewel sighs. "As you might be aware, culture festivals tend to involve things like booths and side show games."

"Typically they're run by the classes or clubs, right?" You aren't really liking where this is going.

"In anime and at normal schools yes. And if this had been any other year that would be the case for us too but someone-" the same tension headache from this morning reappears, "got the bright idea to suggest that we form groups by putting the entire student body into an ai generator of some sort to encourage team work or something like that."

"Oh." No wonder Crewel can't seem to tell the difference between the containers where he keeps the instant coffee packets and the wet wipes. "Are you ok? Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Very sweet of you to offer pup." He lets you take over the coffee and smiles gratefully when he sees you move to make him a tea. "But back to how this effects you, one of those groups got the bright idea to run a Haunted House, and the Headmage suggested they use Ramshackle for 'authenticity's sake' and generously offered them your assistance as well."

"Compared to some of the other things he's done I guess it could be worse?" Not that you are thrilled, your tone makes that clear. "I mean it's a haunted house, it could be fun. What is it you want me to help out with anyway?"

"That's what they've been arguing over." Crewel looks and sounds very, very tired as you finally notice the growing chatter of voices just outside the classroom door that is finally making an entrance alongside a very familiar face.

"I'm telling you, it makes the most sense for Yuu to help me!"

notes: Thank you all so much for 800 followers! Normally I'd run an event but I got a wee bit burnt out with the last one, so please accept this humble Haunted Mansion themed offering~ And feel free to guess who is who, I originally intended this to be a Halloween themed thing so I picked most of the cast members from boys people thought were getting neglected from the SSR pool (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧ Emphasis on most

Haunt 1- Host With the Most: Vil

Haunt 2- Manipulating the Buyers: Rollo

Haunt 3- Life Lines

Haunt 4- Tie the Knot Tango

Haunt 5- Nevermore

Haunt 6- Life Hereafter

Haunt 7- Rest in Peace

Bonus Haunt- ???

Taglist: @nothingfuninthislife

[giorno-plays-piano]

House of Chains

Part VI

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x mage!reader

Warnings: noncon, yandere, obsession, canon-typical violence, chase scenes, death of minor characters.

Words: 1.4k

Summary: In return for help to come back to your home world, you have been faithfully supporting the Greens to put Aegon on the throne. But when your promise is fulfilled, neither Otto nor Aemond are keen on letting you go.

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V

P.S. Finally, the long-awaited twist!

_________

At first, Daemon's face betrays nothing as if he hadn't heard you. You think he might consider it a joke as anyone else probably would: you don't look like a lunatic, asking to be burnt by a dragon. Hell, you went as far as travel to Dragonstone, to the lair of your worst enemy, for this, somehow evading soldiers and Rhaenyra's supporters on your way. Daemon surely thinks there is some catch.

"So dramatic," he muses, making an imperative sign with his hand to make Caraxes quiet, the dragon restless behind his back, eager to have you between its teeth. "There are enough dragons in the Red Keep. Why mine?"

You feel yourself trembling, droplets of sweat sliding down your back from fear and pressure. No, no, you can't. You must stay firm, or it'll all go to Hell. Daemon should believe your lies.

"I am pregnant with Aemond's child," you declare, loud, the sound multiplying and echoing deep in the cavern, and Daemon's face finally changes, eyebrows raising. "He forced himself on me. His payment for all I've done for him and his brother, I suppose. And I better die in flames than work for him again."

Luce whimpers softly against you, a bit of blood staining his grey collar.

Before Daemon can ask you questions and ruin your story, you continue, "Why should you care? Because you don't want me alive. You know I'm not truly a Hightower, don't you?"

There's a recognition in his eyes, and Daemon bows his head mockingly as you draw a deep breath, griping the blade harder so it won't escape your sweaty palms.

"I am behind the murder of the White Worm and most of her spies," you smile, baring your teeth at him like an animal. "I killed Ser Harrold Westerling when I found out he supported Rhaenyra's claim, and many others who thought they could fake their promises to King Aegon II. I've been spying, torturing, and killing your wife's friends in the Red Keep for more than 2 years. But Hightower betrayed me, and I'd rather die than give birth to Aemond's child."

The more you talk, the more Daemon's face twists in cold fury, his hand clenching a torch like it was a sword. Does he believe you? It is, perhaps, difficult to trust a word of a woman who looked too young and too feeble to do any of those things, but you have arrived to the Dragonstone undetected and even took Lucerys hostage despite the castle being full of guards, lords, and servants. It isn't a coincidence, and Daemon has always been too suspicious of you, a girl appearing out of nowhere and serving the Queen with too much vigor.

The anger and a thousand of other emotions in his eyes give you some hope.

"Burn me, Daemon Targaryen." You exclaim loudly, trying to make him act, your hand trembling. "Send my charred remains to Aemond as a gift. I'm sure it is a fair price for the sins I've committed."

"Why going such a long way?" The man suddenly asks, and you freeze, afraid you won't answer his question. "You could have jumped from the balcony and killed yourself instantly."

You lick your lips nervously. "I could, and Aemond would grieve me. But when he knows I prefer to go to his greatest enemy and have my body burnt rather than marry him, he'll be enraged."

Finally, you see a ghost of a smile on the Rouge Prince's lips. Yes, this is violent, resentful enough, a good reason for him to believe you. Mysaria's murderer wouldn't want to die like a faint lady-in-waiting. She'd want revenge. She'd want her betrayer to hate, not mourn her.

Daemon makes a move with his hand, and Caraxes crawls closer. There isn't much for him to lose.

"Let the boy go, and I'll burn you," he simply says, and you are ready to burst from the surge of adrenaline, your heart beating wildly.

He said yes. Daemon said yes, and you'll be going home.

"But please, burn me for long!" You almost cried out, too excited to keep calm and almost releasing your grip on the boy. "Burn me till there are only bones left."

Lucerys weeps in your grasp, but you don't hear him. You don't even feel the handle of the dagger in your own hand, eyes on Daemon as he smirks, recognizing a fellow monster he thinks you are, a daring creature dressed in white cloaks's robes and armor that don't even fit you. It is impossible to not recognize a woman in men's clothes, and yet no one asked questions when you boarded the ship. No one saw anything suspicious when you landed. No one demanded an explanation why a woman was marching in the Dragonstone castle among the Kingsguard. No one saw you kidnapping Rhaenyra's son.

Perhaps it is true you murdered Misariya and her spies. He knew somebody did. You are sure he thought of Larys, the slippery bastard, but tracking down so many spies in such a short time seemed very unlikely for him without someone's intervention.

Someone who could point at the right people as if by magic.

Truly, you are a creature he would never understand, but Daemon is not a fool. Leaving a dark horse like you alive is too much of a luxury when you are conveniently asking for death right in front of him.

The man nods, and you gigle like a madwoman.

"I'll let Lucerys go on the count of three," you announce, and Caraxes steps closer, his monstrous, clawed feet leaving giant imprints on the ground, and you feel the earth tremble a little. "Shoot the flames then."

It's a horrifying feeling, but you are electrified, every part of your body filled with magic you saved for the last incantation. You are going home. You will be back to the Tower, free to join your teacher and family. No more gloomy stone castles with their ice-cold chambers and pesky kings. No more swords, heavy armor, pretentious dresses, and silly jewels. No more spying and murder.

No more Hightowers and Targaryens.

"I'm sorry, kid," you whisper to the boy before you start counting. "One. Two."

Luce stills against you, color drained from his face.

"Three."

You drop your dagger, and he dashes to the side, holding his neck as if it bleeds profusely, but you don't look at him. Your eyes are on Caraxes and how it unclenches its massive jaw, fire building up inside its throat like in a forge of a blacksmith. It should be enough. Caraxes is not a young dragon, and his strength might rival Vhagar's. It will be enough.

When it unleashes its flames, the words of the incantation are ready on your tongue, and you feel the glow filling you up like hot air fills a giant balloon. It's working. Caraxes' fire is enough.

You chant, and you chant, and you chant until the world starts spinning around you, and the cave, the dragon, and the men finally blend into the great nothing.

________

Subtle wind plays with your hair.

You stand in the midst of the dead gardens of Babylon, surrounded by hollow grey trees that had dried up a thousand years before you were born. Their crooked forms don't scare you: you are far too familiar with the view, wandering here after each of your trips to the other worlds. On the contrary, if anything, it is comforting.

You have arrived safely back to the world of the Tower. You can even see it from here, its tall, proud form making you tranquil and nostalgic.

Unbelievable. You are home.

You have to wipe away the tears with your dirty hands before you can take a step towards it. You've made it. Soon, you'll be sitting on the red and yellow pillows in the great hall, listening to your teacher berating you for such a dangerous journey, eating barley soop and garlic bread, and wearing a long embroidered tunic and your many necklaces and rings. You will never see Westeros again. You won't even step out of the Tower before you feel whole again, pulling your old self back piece by piece before you remember nothing of the stupid, cruel world you have been a prisoner for two long years.

You are free to do as you like.

But when you make a step towards the Tower, you hear someone's sigh behind your back. And when you turn your head, you see a man dressed in black leather who sits on the trunk of a fallen tree.

__________

Aemond Targaryen stares back at you, a crooked smile spread over his face.

Part VII

Tags: @heavenly1927 @yazzzmints @devils-blackrose @lost-and-founds @kennafild

[nzia-writes]

•{Speak life unto me}•

RATED SLUTTY 18+

Sums: Riri let’s you practice a majorette dance routine in her garage while she remodels her prototype.

I feel like Dom would channel Riri in this manner. It’s a sappy little something that’s heavy with dialogue. You have been warned. Enjoy.

Interact please and thank you

(tagging a couple folks I seen under riri fics: )

@donewit51life @mysticalmarss @shinsousliya @c0cac0laguns2 @mlmilani @melodykisses @doms-fav @verachii @luhreen @zayswriting

Riri Williams

You draw a breath, trying your hand at Coach’s complex combination once more. You fail with ten steps off count, ten seconds off beat, and ten milliseconds from freaking out.

This is the 100th time and disappointment has been the only result. Come on man. Seems as if fuck-ups is what you run into and a fuck-up is what you are. What else do you call someone allergic to consistency within performance in life and in art?

Coach is gon’ tell me that my efforts ain’t worth a damn again.

Skylar, the captain, gon’ call me all sorts of expletives again.

Maybe they are right. You are not the dancer you presumed yourself to be. You aren’t exhorting enough passion. You aren’t going to succeed with a dancing major. You aren’t going to dethrone Skylar from her rank as captain. Not with all of this lack. So much lack.

“Imma failure, man,” you grit.

The shrill of Riri’s hand-held power tool spurs the cacophony all the more. There is too much going on. There is too much not going on. Failure. Tears. Doom. It is an incessant thought.

You have had enough.

A reverberant scream rattles every solid item within the garage. “Fuck! Fuck Fuck!” Your vocal chords give a roiling wave of heat.

A startled RiRi flips up her welding helmet and lays her tool on the floor. By the time your hollering simmers down, your big brown eyes leak with the pressures of failure and your edges coil from sweat; a newly installed thirty-six-inch buss down gone with the speed of light.

“Y/N.”

A boisterous scream again.

Riri jumps in fright. Damn.

You labored pants follow thereafter.

“I keep on and keep on failing! Busting my ass day in and day out. Still coming up short!” You yell. You yank up your duffle, lodging your belongings inside as aggressive as your body allows. Surely it allowed just the right amount. It wasn’t offering much in many other departments. Useless, it was.

As she powers off her prototype, Riri hesitantly speaks. She’d be damned if she triggered more rage and hurt. Then there’s two bitches arguing and one leaving. “Sugg.”

“Uh uh I’m leaving. I can’t keep doing it, Ri.”

“And what you plan on doing after?”

“Ion know! Lord knows these folks don’t wanna see me win. Lord knows I ain’t got the talent in me to win!” You zip your duffle and turn to Ri, face stricken with defeat. “I’m just tired. I’m not cut fah this shit, ya heard meh?”

“Rest. You need some,” Riri says. She’s so calm, you have no other choice but to be.

“Rest? You think the world gon’ let a nigga like me rest?! Outta’ yo’ damn mind. I’m out.” You turn to go.

“You need cooling and I got it for you. Come talk to me real quick.”

“Ri…”

“Come here, boo. Please.” Her eyes plead beneath fanned out eyelashes.

She removes her welding helmet and places it on the table congested with her quantum technology and hammers. Once she shakes out her box braids, she waves you over. Maybe..just maybe..entertaining what she has to say will end with weights being lifted.

Your bag slumps to the floor and you make your way to Riri. She keeps herself true to her concern and wipes away your tears the moment you are in arm's reach. She reeks of oil and burnt metal but her aura is sweet enough to mute the most unpleasant fumes.

“I can’t stand seeing you like this..” She leans against her work table while you stand before her. Her hands work with caution to fix your disheveled appearance. “Worryin’. Stressin’. You too pretty for that.” She then laughs a bit inwardly. “Got yo’ minks lifting like they got something smart to say.” She simply peels them off and sets them aside.

You persist with a hardened mug, ever the one to cradle rage until everyone feels it.

“Come here,” she sighs, inviting your rigidness into all of her softness, raising on her tiptoes to wrap the parts of you in need of double love. “Let that shit out, sugg. You owe yourself that much.”

She is right. You do. Your rage has cracked a series of dams, but Riri’s love has cracked many more. You whimper and squeeze her small frame tight. “I love you, girl.” The words shake as you inhale. “I love you s-so much.” You squeeze tighter, rocking from side to side.

When the tough battles are fought, she’s the only man standing, willing to fight with you no matter who the enemy may be. She’s going to step about her Sugg.

“Imma always be here when everybody else ain’t, you understand me?”

“Yeah,” you exhale. She coaxes with back rubs and encouraging words until the sniffles are no more. You both soon separate to lean on the table side by side. Her fingers brush yours.

“Whatever rage you feelin’, you entitled to feel. Let it all out, much as you can.”

“Tell that to my mama. To coach. To that doghead bitch Skylar.”

Their hatred and high expectations have silenced your innermost parts. The Y/N you strive to be. And you keep silenced to keep safe, for life has become something that needs to be survived. Not lived.

Riri frowns. Your strength is admirable. You were forced to the bottom at such a young age, unheard and treated unfairly, yet here you stand with the dignity of a knight. She has sworn to sit for hours if it means you are being seen and heard and validated. She will be the change you need to see if no one else will.

“The only way out of this hurt is into it. You gotta face it.” As harsh a truth it is, life will not progress until it is experienced.

“Please… ion know the first thing about facing life. I’ve hid from most of it.”

“It ain’t something you know how to do, it’s something you learn to do. I’m here to help you find your way back. Always.” She slides her hand in yours. Squeezes softly.

“Thank you..so much.”

“That’s what I’m supposed to do. Now go ahead. Tell me how you feel. I wanna hear your heart.”

“I just got too many folks praying on my downfall. Especially back home where my mama swears my dance major ain’t worth it. No support from them unless it’s to flaunt their lavish lifestyle.”

That’s that shit right there, Riri thinks. Makes her want to disrespect your entire bloodline. But she holds back for your sake. You love them, after all. “Listen here.” She turns your face toward her, eyes locked.

“We are two young black women who made it out the slums with what we had. Talent and brains. Your ‘mama nem’ can’t take credit for that shit. You got out and did the work. That’s truth. Don’t let nobody tell you no different. Not even yourself.”

You nod. It is hard to believe, but is isn’t impossible to believe.

“Now as for the dancing. What’s up with that? Had you saying you not talented enough and whatnot. I don’t want you talking about my girl like that again, alright?”

You cheeks flush. “I don’t see nothing untruthful about it, Ri. I’m last…always. Coach and Skylar make sure of it. I’m trying for captain but… as you saw earlier I ain’t got it in me. I fuck up more than anything, ya’ know?”

Riri lets that process. She then gestures to her prototype. It’s a polished transformer looking thing. “From one creator to another, the best work is produced during our moments of strife. I’ve failed more times than I have succeeded, but that’s what makes a legend. You are a legend in the making. Don’t give up.”

“I ain’t say I was allat na’. I’m just dancing to somebody else’s shit, ya heard meh?”

“You are always so wrapped up in all you lack that you don’t take the time to see how blessed you truly are. Mama, you got it good. Real good. You shine bright and you have this remarkable essence. That shit changes people and I need you to see it for yourself.”

The more one disregards their gift the quicker it is lost on them.

Riri continues. “Hear me out..if you ain’t invited into somebody else’s circle, form your own. You were co-creator of some of the most viral dances in the loop. You got the smarts, the talent, the moves..” her eyes drink you in from toe to head “the body,” she smirks. “You can do it.”

You lick your lips and look away. Forming a dance team? Hell no. Impossible. There will be too many odds: people willing to sabotage, your own self-esteem, and the pressures of adulthood. It wouldn’t work.

“Nah I’m good on that. I’ve hid from the spotlight, cast as a shadow all my life. I’m fine where I’m at.”

“Did you hide in the back? Or were you forced to the back?”

“I um…”

You are sent on a voyage of memories that were to not be seen again. Now here they are demanding you see yourself for who you are. You have existed so long in this world as nobody. How would it feel to actually be somebody?

“Gotcha,” she laughs.

“You did,” you chuckle. “Look at you being a ghetto monk and shit.” You tug her to stand between your legs.

“And look at you flodgin’ like it ain’t making you feel something good inside. Let yourself feel it, boo. It’s what you deserve.” She flattens her palm on your abdomen, teasingly trailing it up your chest. She outlines the swirly ink sheathing your neck, acrylics lightly scraping brown skin as her hand curls around it.

“You think so?” You bite your lip, fighting the inner-princess.

“Mhm.” She knows it so. “You cool with the backseat?”

“But you all dirty and dusty.”

She tilts her head, braids falling to one side. “Under these clothes I ain’t.”

“I-“ Eyebrows raised. “Girl go head, hea’? Lemme get in this backseat.”

She laughs like the goddess she is and removes her fire-proof apron with the rest of her gear. “On your back for me too.”

“Yeah, mama.” The words melt off your tongue.

Yes, you feel as if you are gliding on your toes, carrying your heart with less strain. It is the Riri effect so it seems. You are truly grateful for a friend with a lethal mouth.

~¥~

The back of Riri’s car is humid and smells of sex. You lay across the seats, thighs forced back into their plushness, pussy spread open for her filthy onslaught. She is situated in a sniper's position with her small feet dangling out of the open car door. Her devious eyes bore into your own. This has surpassed casual sex long ago. This is love-making.

“Damn girl,” you gasp as she jerks your thighs open the moment they close in on her face. She hums against your bundle of nerves, wagging her head for a deeper dive into your oasis. You sweep her braids into a makeshift ponytail, gyrating lusciously. She eats it like she’s starving; so precise and sloppy.

“Riiii. Just like that.” You nearly force your face to become one with the seat cushion as she swiftly slides her favored fingers inside, stroking your gushy walls, twisting deliciously. She had made the quick decision to pop those acrylics off before the escapades began.

She comes up for a breath, licking her lips slathered in your nectar. “Come on, mama,” she whispers sweetly. “Don’t close up on me. I need you to take it for me, okay?”

“Okayyy. fuuu…uhhn.”

“There we go,” she whispers, glancing down. “Look at you.”

It takes all the strength in you to open your eyes to look down on command. “Shiiiit,” you whine. You didn’t feel yourself creaming.

“She’s creaming like this for me?” Riri bites her lip.

Your response sounds scrambled. You were sure it was a stammered, “all for you.”

“That’s my sweet girl.” She means that in a myriad of ways.

“My god,” you cry softly, “Baby.” You use two fingers to widen pretty brown folds, the back of your head sinking into the seat as she plunges her fingers deeper. Wet squelching noises and breathy moans surf the wind. Your brain is shoved into a mind-bending utopia, it feels so fucking good.

You glance down again to see a string of arousal dribbling down the valley of your ass only to be slurped up by the very lips milking you out. Fuck. The lick is long and ravenous, from the crack of dawn to the peak of your mountain, pouty lips suckling as if it were a dreamsicle in sticky heat.

The more speed she exerts the lower your moans drop. You are now whimpering and whispering incoherent babbles, trying your hardest to fuck back, but you consistently run up the length of the seat from Riri’s freak nastiness.

“That’s it, beautiful.” She hooks her fingers, submerges them to their deepest, and holds still. Her thumb flicks your nub deliciously. Your sharp inhale churns her brain in the best way there is, smooth skin prickling in awe of your slick muscular body and your contorted faces. So beautiful, she moans.

There is a pause in time. A hitched breath. A stuttering heart. Love. So much of it it spills over the both of you.

Riri transmutes it powerfully, keeping the pad of her fingers rubbing that raised sensitive spot inside. Your eyes cross and roll back. “Oh yes yes..” Your hand comes down to plunge her fingers in deeper so she can get in that. “Fuuck…..gonna cum. Cum…” You whine in melody, pushing out a river of glistening slick. It drizzles down Riri’s fingers just as promised. “Uhh my god.” You exhale deeply.

“There we go. Feels good to let go?”

You nod, moaning uncontrollably. She crawls up your body to enrich your lips with a salacious kiss. It’s a moaning mess clouded with a tenderness neither of you will choose to acknowledge until your hearts see fit. You spread your cheeks as she slides her fingers in and out of your creamy canal, white fluids oozing out as you clench and unclench.

“You so…” you hiss in pleasure as she slips her fingers out with care, gathering all of what you spilled with an idle circle of her fingers.

“Talk to me nice,” she hums. “Unless you want it again.”

“I can’t do it again,” you exhale, eyes heavy. You palm her cheeks, kissing her lips sweetly. Her long braids fall over your faces but you don’t care to move them.

She brings her fingers up and plunges them in your mouth. You leave not a drop leaking as she slides them out and leans in to suck it off your tongue. You both pull away to stare. You see it. She sees it. Feels it. Smells it. It’s there and it’s mighty.

“Thank you fah that, baby,” you grin. You pronounce it as beh-beh. That ‘nawlins’ never left.

“You know how deep my love runs for pussy. No need to thank me.”

“Mhm. Cute ass.” You press another fat kiss to her lips, running your hands down to her ass to grip her up. She bites her lip and breathes through her nose. She loves that shit.

“I need me a cold drink,” you chuckle.

“Guh you and me both,” Riri laughs.

End note: Imma eat every single time. 🤷🏾‍♀️

Fun fact: I write the smut quicker than the story itself.

[frenziedfireworks]

hi! i was wondering if you could do something like draco having a sort of mental breakdown, and the reader comforting him? or maybe the reader catches draco trying to scrub or scratch his death eater mark off. ps, i love ur work 💗

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary : Your boyfriend is having a tough time and you're there to help.

CW : sad!Draco, Draco rubbing his skin raw, bit of a mental breakdown + comfort

You had been staying at Malfoy Manor quickly after you received an owl from your boyfriend. The tyrannical things his father was making him go through and the trauma he had to endure.. You had hoped to lighten it. You knew he had his bad days but he mostly preferred to keep it to himself. He had said “it’s easier for him to think” during those moments. You had more just accepted he still wasn’t used to affection and he had been terribly neglected. 

Today was one of his bad days. You had sauntered around the manor all day in hopes of catching a glimpse of him. Much to your dismay the only person you caught was Lucius. 

“Ah, Y/N. Out for a stroll? Do be careful. You never know what you will find around the manor these days. Definitely at this time of night.” Lucius said in a haughty tone as he looked you up and down. You simply nodded to the man and began to walk away. You had to see Draco.

–

Your hand went to knock on his bedroom door when you heard the muffled sobs. You knew he wouldn’t let you in until he had finished or would just act like nothing had happened. So despite better judgment and privacy for your boyfriend, you yanked the door open. 

Draco’s bloodshot eyes met yours before he turned away. You noticed his pulled sleeve and the scratches against the dark mark. He had been picking at it long enough to draw blood.

“Dray, sweetie.” You moved in and rubbed a hand lightly against his back. His body wracked with silent sobs as he slowly leaned into the touch. You took it as a good sign and wrapped your arm around him, pulling his form into you. “It’s going to be okay. I know things are hard but we are going to get through this. Together - remember?” You whispered to him and he took a few deep breaths. His head turned and you saw how puffy and red he was. Evidently crying for some time now.

“Do you really think it’ll be okay Y/N? After everything I’ve done? I am just becoming what I hated.” His words spat with disgust and his nails traveled down the scratches on his forearm. Your fingers pushed his hand away and you brought it up to your lips. You placed delicate smooches against the burnt skin, watching as his grey eyes widened.

“You have been pushed and pulled in every direction. You do what you must to stay alive. You are not them and never have been. You are a survivor.” You brush at his pale locks and lean in to press a soft kiss to his forehead. The blonde’s face melts and he automatically nuzzles into your neck. His grip around you is tight and his breath left goosebumps. 

“I love you. I’m sorry.” Draco’s voice was small, obviously still feeling the turmoil. You just hummed and held him in the embrace. You were glad he had finally allowed you to see him - the true him.

“I love you too. There is no need to apologize. I’m here for everything. Good or bad. You’re safe with me.” You could feel the tiny smile against your flesh that widened on Draco’s face. He may not have an easy life but he would always have you.

–

“Let’s clean you up and get you to bed.”

 You walked to the bathroom and grabbed a rag. You wetted it with warm water and made your way back, grasping at his mangled arm. Draco took a few deep breaths as you washed over the spot and then placed the towel against his face. Moving it against his porcelain skin you wiped away until he looked pleasantly relaxed. You placed a small kiss to his lips before placing back the cloth. Draco scooted up the bed and got in, waiting for you to join him. 

You got comfy beside him and sighed as you felt his head lean against your chest. Your fingers ran through his hair and his breathing began to slow.

“Goodnight Y/N. Thank you..”  

Your heart warmed at the soft and sweet tone, happy to bring some comfort to your dear boyfriend.

“Anytime honey. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

[bartxnhood]

lover of mine | m.g.c

michael clifford x reader

summary: after a long day, you just want to be wrapped in his arms.

warnings: none !

wc: 532

requests open

not proofread

Copyright © 2023 bartxnhood. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

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michael opens the door to your shared home, he slips his shoes off and drops his keys on the table next to the door. “babe?” he calls out as he walks through the empty house.

usually, you’re in the kitchen or on the sofa binging a new tv show you found, and inevitably get michael hooked on it as well.

but it was dark and quiet with you nowhere to be seen.

he walks through the house, peeking his head in a few rooms as he heads upstairs. just to see if you were maybe in the bathroom or laundry room, but still no sign of you.

as he opens the bedroom door he is met with your figure curled up underneath the duvet with southy and moose at your feet. he sees how your chest is rising and falling steadily so, he assumes you are asleep.

michael walks to his side of the bed, taking everything out of his pockets and resting them on the bedside table, he gingerly raises the duvet and lets himself under.

“mike?” you hum feeling his side of the bed dip. you hear him shuffling on his side thinking he was getting comfortable.

“i’m home..” he says softly, you hear the rasp in his voice and know he was tired. “mm” you sing finding his body heat and curling up by his side. “missed you” you say into the fabric of his shirt.

he pulls you close to his side, wrapping his arms around your figure. you feel his hand come to your back and he draws shapes, “you okay?” he asks, but you only hum in return and then fall silent for a bit.

“bad day, work was rough. i just..don’t know” you sigh. you weren’t good with your words, you could never explain how you felt so oftentimes you’d just keep everything bottled up. “it’s okay..” michael could feel your frustrations and then tension in the air, he was always a good listener but more importantly he could understand your emotions without you even uttering one word.

“im just so burnt out. needed a break” you add. michael is still rubbing your back, then he presses a kiss in your hair. “we all need a break here and there” he reassures, offering some comfort. “mm” you reply.

for a while the both of you fall quiet, listening teach others and breathing with your eyes closed. you never had to say anything sometimes, just being wrapped in each other's arms was enough.

“how was the studio?” you ask, wanting some insight on his day. “good” he answers, but you hear his tired he sounds. he was probably drifting off. “we finished mixing the album, so it won’t be much longer till it’s completed.” you smile, knowing how hard they had been working on this album and how much it meant.

“had i known that i would’ve made dinner to celebrate” you chuckle quietly. “nah” he replies, “this is enough. just having you in my arms is enough for me..” he adds, then proceeds to squeeze you as you laugh.

“i love you, y/n” he says, kissing you softly. “i love you too, michael.”

[fuutakaijyama]

HAAIIII ITS 🪼ANON REPORTING FOR DUTY!!! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ could i request all MILGRAM characters (possibly including es, but if not or if its too many its a okay!) x a reader who is a fashion designer who makes lolita-ish clothes? likee reader designs clothes and asks the chars to model them. Lolita clothes r so pretty i love them so much ajkfaj

YESSS OMG SO SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG OHMIGOSH I WAS SOSOSOSSOSOSOOOOO BURNT OUT I NEEDED A LITTLE BREAK!!!!!!!!

A LOLITA LAYOVER?! ft MILGRAM ( ♡ )

synopsis: You’ve been making clothing for each of the prisoners for what feels like years; now they have a request for something you could make them.

warning: none!

alo’s notes: I LOVE THIS IDEAAAAAA I LOVE LOLITAS AND JFASHION IN GEN THIS IS SO CUTEE

ES

“ES! C’mere I need you to try something for me!” You’d yell from your cell as you heard ES groan, begrudgingly you watched the 15 year old stomp their way to your cell like a child.

“What?!” ES complained as you held out a pastel colored suit for them, along with a larger cape you had made previously.

“Try these on for me, I put a lot of hard work into making them so you should be appreciative of it!” You remarked proudly as ES took the garments from you going back into their room to change.

Es came out hunched over as you smiled, taking off their hat and ruffling their hair. “Essie!~ Oh your so cute like this!” Es scoffed, rolling their eyes as they swatted your hand from their hair;

“How many times have I told you not to call me that?”

001 SAKURAI HARUKA

It’d been a few months since you’d given Haruka a piece to wear, you’d been thinking about something to make him when you remembered an idea you had months ago.

“Haruka! C’mere I wanna see something!” You called for the blue haired boy, holding something in the small of your hands; he came into your cell with a small ‘huh’ sounding noise as you placed a blueberry pie themed hat onto his head.

Look! It’s a hat I made! You want it?” You asked gingerly as Haruka pulled the hat from his head flipping it around in his hands.

“Mhm.. can I keep it..? Please..?” He’d look at you with expecting eyes, his brow noticeably tugging upwards as he did his best to hold eye contact.

“Yeah of course! I made it just for you!” You’d grin as you watched his face light up, a wobbly smile on his face as he hugged you. “You're the best [Name]!”

002 YUNO KASHIKI

“‘Nother dress for me [Name]?~” Yuno chuckled as you came into her cell with another dress for her to check out. You’d made fairly simple dresses for Yuno as she seemed like the kind of girl to like simple dresses but this time you wanted to be a bit more extravagant.

“Yep! I think you’ll like this one too!~” You smiled, handing Yuno the crinoline lined dress, it had an iconic cupcake shape and special hand threaded lacing on the front, it complemented her hair color.

She gave you a cheeky grin running away to go try it on; coming out shortly after with her uniform in hand and a large smile on her face as she spun around.

“I might just steal this from you [Name]~”

003 FUUTA KAJIYAMA

Fuuta didn't understand the purpose of you bringing him outfits but as time passed he’d ask you to bring him one every few weeks or months, this time around he had come with a request.

A drawing made with Amane’s fresh pack of crayons that he had drawn up on the floor of his cell, showing it to Mahiru before approaching you with it.

It was one of a large bunny sweater, blues and whites with hints of red everywhere.

His face would flush as you listened to his idea of the outfit, happily you obliged, picking out anything that you had to get the job done.

You handed over the bunny sweater watching him pull the large garment over his head as he smiled admiring the feeling of the soft fabric as he felt it through his fingers.

The rough-edged boy seemed dull at that moment, holding your new creation with as much care and delicacy as possible, muttering words of thanks and gratitude as much as he could.

“Thank you.. [Name].. it's fucking amazing..”

004 KUSUNOKI MUU

Muu was never one to ask you for much, she’d never really talk to you either, Muu had been simple and timid when it came to your ability to make clothing for her she wanted to make your life a little bit easier.

She explained the concept of a yellow chiffon-like dress which she had thought about before not knowing how to make or get one.

Reluctantly you made it for her, adding long droopy sleeves and slimmed boning, finally, you handed it over to her the expression on her face reading of both shock and happiness.

“[Name]..! I didn't actually need you to make this! I.. dunno what to say..”

005 KIRISAKI SHIDOU

He’d seen your work with Mahiru and Fuuta, so much so that he wanted to get something from you as well.

You’d look over to the purple patterned fabric lord knows how many times as you stitched it to the inner side of the coat, sighing deeply as your fingers held the needle tightly.

You questioned your ability as you gripped the fabric, feeling your shoulder become warmer with a tight yet soft grip.

“The coat looks good.. I can't wait to see the finished product.”

006 SHIINA MAHIRU

Mahiru had always been fashionable, looking so dolled up even in her prison uniform. Now Mahiru cuddles up to you while you make her a new dress.

“This fabric is so much cuter than this one.. oh! But this one is so much softer!”

She doted over the fabrics you'd placed in front of her as she felt the difference between them.

“[Name]!~ Help me pick out one of these!~” She’d squeal as she hugged your shoulders playfully, nuzzling her face into the crook of your neck as she smiled at you.

008 MOMOSE AMANE

Throughout your time knowing Amane she had never once asked you for anything large, majority of the time the only thing she'd ask of you was just if you could patch up the uniform they supplied her.

Amane seemed to be working with her impulses today instead of usually working against them, coming up to you requesting a green and blue dress.

As to your surprise she wanted to watch you make her dress, not only that but she wanted to be actively involved in it as well, even going as far to ask for large changes throughout the process.

009 MIKOTO KAYANO

Mikoto was the first person to ask you if you'd be willing to make clothing for him, whether it’d be hats, sweaters, or socks he’d always have something for you.

Tonight was no different, Mikoto and you just sat there in your cell as you stitched together a pair of mittens by hand, he’d just watch over you, his hand over yours as he inspected your handy work.

Your legs thrown over each other as you leaned into his chest, your back pressed up against his body, his chin on your shoulder.

“[Name], can I try these on when you're done?"