#exhilarating achievement

[skannar]

Ascending the Face : Minute Fiction

How many minutes in a year? Take one for yourself and read a minute fiction. MINUTE FICTION Sponsored by: If you enjoy this “Minute Fiction” please follow skannar on the social media platform you followed our link from. skannar is funded by advertising, affiliate marketing sales fueled by visitors like you. Your follow is appreciated. Your fingertips grip the rough surface of the sheer rock…

[absentlyabbie]

man i remember when my time at sandrock was still in development and there was some dev update introducing the town doctor character, fang, with his pretty delicate facial features and long shampoo-commercial hair, looking like every cliche of a "cold, reserved anime pretty boy" distilled

and then the update where they said they would make him romanceable/expand his backstory due to popular demand, and i rolled my eyes in utter disinterest at what looked like the same cardboard cutout love interest we've all seen a million times, cuz that is just not my bag, personally

and then i played the game and well fuck, so he's actually disabled due to deep childhood trauma, and you help him through his struggles to a place where it's less debilitating, learn he's extremely, passionately motivated to help others not suffer the way he did, and is in fact kind and awkward and a little bit of a dork

and oh no, whoops, i've tripped and fallen and married him

[flecks-of-stardust]

i get the appeal of speedrunning now i think

[sturnioz]

‘THE FIRST TIME’ — MATTHEW STURNIOLO

pairing. matthew sturniolo x fem!reader genre. smut

word count. 2.4k

❝are you ready? are you sure you want this?❞

content warnings. established relationship, explicit content, virgin!reader. virgin!matt, loss of virginity, big dick!matt, unprotected sex, creampie,

Matt’s lips are gentle against yours, his hand resting on the nape of your neck as the other cups the side of your face, his thumb caressing the warmth of your cheek. You completely melt beneath his touch, your own lips reciprocating the kiss as your fingertips brush over the material of his shirt, desperate to grab him and pull him in close.

Kisses weren’t foreign in this new relationship you have with Matt. You both have shared a few lingering kisses well before you became an official couple, but making out in the middle of Matt’s bed was something that was new for you both.

Neither of you were experienced—or had experience. Past relationships weren’t as serious as this one, and you were both unsure and not ready to dive deeper beyond light kisses, hand holdings and cuddles, until now.

Kissing longer than a few mere seconds seemed exhilarating and you didn’t want the feeling to end, you undoubtedly craved more. 

Your mouth trails from his own, across his stubbled cheek and down his neck, pressing light kisses to his skin. Matt groans at the unfamiliar feeling, eyes fluttering close as his mouth drops open, letting out a choked moan as you suckle at his skin, trying your best to colour the area in purple-red marks that you had once seen in a movie you watched. 

You admire the work you created with a proud smile, mentally congratulating yourself for achieving something on your first try. Your gaze meets Matt’s before he leans in close, pressing wet, open mouthed kisses onto the skin of your own neck.

Your face feels hot at the thought of him marking you, wanting to give back what you had given him but your thoughts are cut off as you gasp, feeling his teeth nip at your skin before being soothed by his tongue, the action sending a shrill down your spine and your tummy swirls with excitement. 

“Do you…” Matt pauses for a moment to catch his breath, licking at his lips. “Do you want to sit on my lap?”

You nod your head, fully aware of how awkward your current positions actually are and you take his hand in yours, allowing him to help you climb onto his lap. You’re seated comfortably on top of him now, and Matt goes to lean in to kiss you again but he slowly retracts, staring at you with an unfamiliar look in his eye and eyebrows knitted together.

Confusion hits you at his expression, “What is it?”

“This is new…” Matt whispers quietly as he shifts beneath you and you look down, finally understanding what he’s talking about. Your arousal from kissing is obvious against his sweatpants, having leaked through your flimsy shorts and your face crumbles in embarrassment. You go to move, to get off of him completely but his hands grip your hips, holding you down. “That’s… so fucking hot.”

“Matt..” You whimper his name, affected by his words as you fist his shirt, slowly rotating your hips over his before your lips find his again.

He tilts his head to the side, deepening the kiss as his tongue slips into your mouth, his hands sliding beneath your shirt to press against your bare back, the skin burning beneath his touch as he caresses your body until his fingers graze the hem of your shirt.

“Can I take this off?” Matt questions against your lips. You hesitate for a moment at the thought of your boyfriend seeing your bare chest, the nerves and anxiety kicking in and surging through your veins at doing something so intimate, but deep down you know you are ready to give yourself to Matt. 

You know how much he truly loves you.

You nod your head, giving Matt the go ahead and he smiles, pushing the fabric up and over your head, your exposed chest leaving him flustered. Your face feels warm under his gaze, bringing your arms up to cover yourself until he shakes his head, gently grabbing your wrists to keep your arms at your side.

“Matt—”

“You’re so beautiful.” Matt compliments you, his eyes filled with adoration and love as he captures your lips with his. He pulls you in closer, tracing soothing patterns on the skin of your back, running his fingers down your spine as yours tug on his shirt.

Matt immediately gets the message, breaking away from the kiss to slip his shirt over his head, throwing it carelessly to the side and you allow yourself to stare, completely taken aback by his bare chest, unable to stop yourself from following the happy trail down his stomach to his pants. 

His fingers reach out to hook under the waistband of your shorts and suddenly, you’re yanked out of your trance and back to reality, the reality of where you’re about to lose your virginity to the love of your life.

You were about to give him something that deems precious to you, and he was doing the same.

“Can I take this off?” Matt asks for permission as he pulls at your shorts. You don’t trust your voice, so you nod your head and lean upwards to help him tug the material down your legs, hearing him let out a shaky exhale when he notices you aren’t wearing underwear. He licks his lips, leaving a glossy shine behind as his thumbs slip beneath the waistband of his boxers, knowing that this was the final step needed.

You move back to allow Matt some room to raise his hips from the bed, watching with eager eyes as he pulls his boxers down to his thighs, and his cock slaps against his stomach. Your mouth waters at the sight.

He’s bigger than you anticipated, pretty pink veins run along the length to his tip which glistened with precum under the low lighting of the room. Matt’s nervous as he observes your reaction, bottom lip tucked between his teeth, cheeks tinted a pink hue as he watches your facial expression. 

You raise your head to meet his gaze, and a shy smile spreads across your lips as a relieved smile takes his own. His hands—gentle and delicate—are placed on your hips as he helps guide you closer, fingers squeezing the flesh of your skin as you hover above his cock, the tip brushing through your folds that sends shivers down your spine.

“Are you ready?” Matt mumbles, licking his lips nervously. “Are you sure you want this?” He seems just as anxious as you, but your chest blossoms with warmth at his constant checks to see if you’re still okay with what’s about to happen. You smile and nod your head, your arms loosely draping around his shoulders as you lean in to kiss him. Matt sighs against your lips, “I love you.”

You’re unable to mutter the same words back as a gasp rips from the back of your throat when Matt helps you sink down onto his cock. Your fingers grab at his shoulder blades, nails digging into his skin which elicits a hiss from him as you feel the uncomfortable pain spread through your pussy and around your legs. 

A cry falls from your lips and Matt whispers repeatedly apologies into your ear through grunts and groans, the feeling of your spongy walls squeezing around him makes his eyes roll to the back of his head, and his grip on your hips tighten.

He helps to continue sinking you down onto his cock until he’s fully sheathed inside, remaining as still as he possibly could for you to both adjust to this new and foreign feeling.

The stretch is painful and uncomfortable. It feels as though your insides are burning and you’re unsure if able to move, and you wince through tears as your body instinctively tries to force him out of you. Matt’s unbelievably patient with you, to which you found so loving and considerate. He leans back to wipe away the tears that drip down your cheeks, pressing affectionate kisses to your face as he coos, trying to soothe your erratic breathing.

“You’re doing so well for me, you got it,” Matt encourages you between smooches. “Good girl,” His thumb swipes across your wobbly bottom lip. “Can I move?”

You sniffle as you nod, “Yes.”

Matt’s careful when he decides to switch your positions, his hand pressed firmly to your back to hold you close to his chest as he slowly turns, laying you down on the bed. He stays between your thighs, lips pressed together tightly as he stifles a grunt at the deepness the new angle gives him, inhaling through his nose and exhaling through his mouth as he tries to calm himself down, not wanting his lust to overpower his emotions and pound into you at the speed he desperately craves.

You run your fingers through his hair and scratch your nails at his scalp, and Matt leans into your touch as he slowly pulls out halfway before rolling his hips forwards, his cock slipping deeper into you once again and this time, you gasp in pleasure.

His head drops down on your shoulder, his nose nuzzling into your neck as he groans, curses spilling from his lips as he lazily thrusts into you.

“Big—fuck—you’re too big.” The words tumble out of your mouth unexpectedly, and it makes Matt’s movements falter for a moment. 

A sudden whine slips past his lips at your compliment once it dawns on him, and his hands hook beneath your thighs to tug you closer, giving you the subtle hint to wrap your legs around his hips which you immediately obey, locking your ankles together at the middle of his spine, and you mewl when his cock brushes against a certain spot when he starts thrusting inside of you once more. 

Your eyebrows knit together at the new sensation that forms in the pit of your stomach, and his cock that rubs against your walls seemingly makes him struggle to breathe properly. The intense pleasure becomes too much for him to handle as his movements speed up, the sounds of his hips slapping to yours and the moans and whimpers leaving your lips encourage him further.

With a tight grasp on his bicep, your back arches and toes curl as the pleasure builds, repeatedly calling out his name as broken moans fill the air.

“You’re tight—shit, kid—tightening around me,” Matt struggles to speak through grunts, his thrusts sloppy and uneven as his own high starts to chase him. “Fuck, baby.”

Matt removes his head from your neck to hungrily press his lips to yours, swallowing your sounds with slow movements of his kiss, and his tongue dips inside of your mouth. You desperately try to reciprocate the kiss, but with one deep thrust it sends your orgasm toppling over you and you hold him close, a guttural moan muffled by his kiss.

Your legs tremble around his body, and your cunt spasms around his cock which leads him into his own orgasm, his body stilling as he cums inside of you in long spurts. Matt struggles to hold up his weight, and collapses down onto your body as he rolls his hips, helping you both ride out your highs

You lay in bliss, aware of the liquid that spills down your thighs and onto the sheets below, and you make a mental note in your head to remind yourself to wash them afterwards as you relax into Matt’s embrace. His hands curl beneath your body as you massage his scalp, sharing gentle kisses and quiet words of affection before it was time to let each other go.

Matt places his palms on the bed to help himself sit up, and his gaze drops down as he watches his cock slip out of your puffy hole. Your nose scrunches up, pulling a face of discomfort at the feeling as you lean up on your own elbows to look at the mess created between your legs.

“Oh shit, that’s a lot,” He mutters under his breath, and his eyes widen as he observes the way his cum drips out of you. His cheeks are flustered and he bites down on his bottom lip, but his attention snaps to you when he hears a snort leave your lips, eyeing you as your hand comes up to cover your mouth to hide your laughter at his awkwardness. He rolls his eyes, “Shut up.”

Matt climbs off of the bed and enters the bathroom, and you remain in bed with an amused smile on your face. However, the events prior slowly start to dawn on you as you feel a dull ache between your thighs that spreads around your hips, causing you to shuffle uncomfortably. 

You wince at the discomfort, rubbing your palms across your thighs in hopes to soothe the soreness but fail to do so, and your bottom lip forms into a pout as you glance over at Matt who comes back into the bedroom with a glass of water and a damp towel.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Matt’s quick to put down the glass and towel once he notices, and he crawls across the bed to cup your face in his hands. He frowns at the pained look on your face. “Are you alright? What’s wrong?”

“It just aches a little.”

“That’s fine, baby. It’s normal. It happens,” Matt reassures you with a smile and you nod your head slowly, watching as his hands massage the skin of your thighs, immediately bringing you the relief you needed. You lean up to kiss him as a thank you and he grins against your lips, kissing you back with the same amount of love and adoration before he moves his mouth to leave a trail of noisy pecks and smooches across the skin of your cheek, eliciting a giggle from you.

He helps clean you up, gently dabbing the warm, damp towel over your skin, cleaning the remains of what happened a few moments prior before hooking his arm around your middle, guiding you off of the bed and into the bathroom for you to pee.

Once he leads you back to bed, he wraps the blanket over both of your bodies, and you curl into his chest beneath the duvet, your hand finding his to lace your fingers together, leaving delicate kisses on his knuckles as his free hand caresses the back of your head.

A murmur of ‘i love yous’ and other sweet words of affection are the only sounds heard in the bedroom, and sweet caresses and fond kisses follow close behind before the two of you lull into unconsciousness, keeping close together as you refuse to let each other go.

© sturnioz

[angel-sweets666]

making out with mr aizawa

shouta aizawa x reader one shot

aizawas never had a crush on a ex student, never. That’s inappropriate. But when you reach your 3rd year at UA and turn 18/19/20, his drunken self manages to blurt out his longing for you.

mentions of katsuki bakugo x reader

YOU ARE OF LEGAL AGE, A ADULT, NO PEDOS. I DONT WRITE FOR PEDOS

Warning: alchohol ,making out, Mentions of sex. age gap (ur 18-20 years old and he’s around 33

You nervously waited for your name to be called, heart pounding as you anticipated your moment on stage. Three long years at UA High School were finally paying off; soon, you would be a pro hero. "Mina Ashido," Present Mic's voice boomed through the auditorium, snapping you out of your thoughts. You watched as your pink-haired friend happily skipped up to the stage, her carefree demeanor hiding the same nervousness you felt about graduating and stepping into the world of pro heroes.

Mina shook hands with Principal Nezu, who, to be frank, looked like a knock-off, whitewashed Mickey Mouse. The sight brought a small, nervous smile to your face. Then, she turned to Mr. Aizawa, your homeroom teacher. To everyone's surprise, he looked quite presentable for once! His usual shaggy hair was tied into a neat half-up, half-down style, and he wore a sharp red and black suit. His genuine smile for Mina was a rare and touching sight, sending a wave of warmth through the audience.

Mina, grinning from ear to ear, skipped down the stage steps after receiving her diploma. As soon as she reached the bottom, she dropped her act and yelled excitedly, "I GRADUATED! I ACTUALLY GRADUATED!" Her happiness was infectious, and the crowd erupted in applause and cheers.

Your nerves momentarily eased, you couldn't help but smile wider. Watching your friends achieve this milestone was both heartening and exhilarating. Soon, your name would be called, and you would join them in this monumental step toward becoming a pro hero.

you looked up at mr aizawa, he was always an attractive man but seeing him like this. Cleaned up and neat, made you feel something for him. Was this a crush? Little did you know he’s had the same feelings for you since your 18th/19th/20th birthday despite you being his student.

Present Mic's booming voice filled the auditorium, "Name Last Name!" His quirk negated the need for a microphone, causing your breath to catch in your throat. Slowly, you rose from your seat, feeling the weight of everyone's eyes upon you. Yet, amid the sea of faces, a particular gaze from the stage seemed to linger longer than the rest.

With measured steps, you made your way toward the stage, nerves and excitement swirling within you. You approached Principal Nezu, who greeted you with a warm smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Congratulations," his soft but oddly unsettling voice praised, "I see you will be a fantastic hero. Will you come to the after party?"

"Yeah, I will," you replied with a smile, trying to shake off the unease his demeanor had stirred within you. Moving on, you approached Mr. Aizawa, towering over Principal Nezu at his impressive 6'1" height. His usually disheveled appearance was surprisingly neat today, accentuated by a red and black suit that seemed out of character but fitting for the occasion.

You extended your hand, which he clasped in a firm grip that lingered longer than with the other students. "See you later, kid," he said, his usual stoic expression softening into a genuine smile that held a hint of affection. It was a rare sight from the usually gruff teacher, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude.

"Yeah, see you," you replied, returning his smile as you stepped away from him. Walking off the stage, it finally began to sink in. You had graduated from UA High School, marking a significant milestone on your path to becoming a pro hero. The applause and cheers from the crowd washed over you, your face lit up as you stared at all the people who were once your classmates and you began

You slowly made your way back to sit next to Mina, noticing her cheeks were even pinker than usual. "Did you see the way Mr. Aizawa looked at you!? He's so into you!" she squealed excitedly.

"Eugh, he's our teacher!" you gagged playfully, though a part of you secretly liked the idea of your former teacher having a crush on you now that you were no longer his student.

"Well, former teacher, actually," Mina corrected with a mischievous grin. "We graduated, and some of us are 20 years old. It doesn't matter! He's so into you, babe," she added, nudging your shoulder playfully.

You chuckled nervously, unsure how to process Mina's teasing. Mr. Aizawa had always been a supportive mentor, but you never imagined there could be anything more between you. Still, Mina's insistence and playful encouragement sparked a flutter of excitement in your chest. As you glanced back at Mr. Aizawa across the room, you caught his eye briefly, and for a moment, you wondered if there might be some truth to Mina's teasing after all.

some time later at the after party

As the evening unfolded after the graduation ceremony, you found yourself at the after-party, surrounded by your friends and fellow graduates. The venue was lively, with upbeat music filling the air and colorful lights dancing across the walls. Mina, true to form, was the life of the party, dragging you onto the dance floor while laughing and cheering.

The atmosphere was surprisingly relaxed, with even the former teachers joining in the festivities. Mr. Aizawa, now dressed casually and looking more approachable than ever, was engaged in conversation with some other graduates near the bar. You couldn't help but smile at the sight of him letting loose, a stark contrast to his usual stoic demeanor in class.

You grabbed a drink from the bar and joined the circle of your friends, exchanging stories and jokes about your time at UA High School. Denki was showing off his dance moves, much to everyone's amusement, while Bakugo, surprisingly relaxed, recounted a particularly explosive training session.

Amid the laughter and chatter, you caught Mr. Aizawa glancing over at you from time to time, a small smile playing on his lips. It was a side of him you hadn't seen before, and it made you realize just how much he had cared about each of his students.

As you looked back at bakugo you tilted your head to the side “I’ve never seen you so relaxed, how much did you have to drink?” You giggled “I’m on my 3rd vodka!” He chuckled and leaned on kirishimas shoulder, the red head laughed and and pushed bakugo “get off me man!” He said with a raspy voice and happy tone. However you just could not get peace with the idea of aizawa, he seemed so calm for once, so happy.. maybe even attractive? You leaned over to Mina who was busy flirting with kirishima “should I go flirt with mr aizawa?” You asked the lively girl “OH MY GOD YES. GO GO GO, but after that you gotta go out with bakugo so we can go on double dates” she insisted “yeah alright, don’t go making me an aunt with kirishima Mkay?” You grinned at her while kirishima blushed and began making out with Mina.

you walked over to the bar and sat next to aizawa, looking over at him “so what are you gonna do now that we’re graduating?” You asked the 33 year old “ahh.. start over, teach first years and watch them graduate too.” He grins to you, alchohol on his breath. “Right yeah.. that makes sense” you nodded and grabbed a bottle of vodka “shit.. can’t believe i actually grad-” you were interrupted by aizawa placing his arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him “you know since your birthday I’ve been thinking about you” he cooed, getting close to your face. He’s obviously saying this because he’s drunk, but drunk words are sober thoughts right?

you gulped “you have..?” You asked him, going from between his eyes to his lips “yeah.. you look so kissable..” he chuckled, leaning to kiss the corner of your lips. You let him peck your lips and cheek, blushing deeply.. his deep voice grumbled in your ear “let’s go somewhere more private yeah pretty girl?”

And that’s how you ended up here, behind the building making out with your high school teacher. Aizawa pushed you against the wall as he held your face, kissing you deeper. Your tongue swirled with his, he pulled back with a wet noise “god your good at this..” he grumbled and grabbed a handful of fat from your thigh and smashed his lips against yours again, using his other hand to twirl with your hair. You two kept this up for a while, only parting for air when needed then going back in for a passionate make out, he leaned down to kiss at your neck and play with your hair. Leaving deep purple hickeys across his neck “god I wanna fuck you dumb…” he mumbled against the skin on your neck

“then do it”

[lilacxquartz]

RIVALS;

satoru gojo x f!reader

summary: you always thought that satoru gojo hated having you as a rival, but after getting to know him, it turned out to be something so much worse.

tags/warnings: abduction/kidnapping, betrayal, rough sex, non-con, yandere, one shot, drugging, kissing — w.c: 1.6k

ao3 • masterlist

In some ways, it was exhilarating.

Being the second best to the strongest, that was.

From the very first day that you enrolled in Jujutsu High, you weren’t quite sure where life would lead you exactly but it certainly wasn’t to where you were now.

Everyday, after all, was an endless pursuit of an achieving both academic and combative excellence. Everyday, you pushed your body and mind above and beyond, seeking out the strength you didn’t know you had. You always assumed that by the end of it all, you would end up as maybe a grade two or even one with your efforts, but to your surprise, you got the recommendation to graduate as a special grade at just eighteen.

Just like him.

However, with every step forward, a creeping exhaustion settled in, dragging you down a path you couldn’t quite handle the journey of. Through the endless training that forced you to keep up with your prestige and the missions that the higher ups threw at you—it didn’t take too long to wear you out—leaving you weary, tired and almost even jaded as a result. Your mental state was one slight push away from the verge of a total collapse.

It was infuriating in some ways because you couldn’t help but compare. You were only human, after all. Sorcerer or not. Being a step below Satoru Gojo soon felt insulting and even though you didn’t consider him to be a rival, it still felt like… a drag, almost. His power was ingrained within him, whereas for you, it was a never ending grind.

It wasn’t quite envy, but you wished it could be easier. If even for a single day.

However, when your graduated classmate seemed to acknowledge your efforts, it technically felt like he appreciated you after all. A validation beyond anything you could dream of; his attention feeling almost intoxicating as he delivered what felt like genuine praise upon your believing ears.

But then it all started to go wrong and you weren’t sure why.

How were you supposed to know however that beneath his easy smile and casually friendly demeanour laid something else beyond what he presented you with? That through your rise to the top, the expectations that followed, he saw you as nothing more than a threat? Another cog to add to the failing machine, a system that he wanted to take down as his own. True, he played the part of a supportive friend, feeding you words to help you feel secure in your success, but there was something darker that lurked beneath his cheery surface.

How were you supposed to know that after he invited you over for coffee, that you’d soon fall asleep from the spiked liquid, only later to wake up with your hands and wrists completely bound?

It was a sickening realisation as you soon understood that behind those friendly words that you thought were spoken in confidence to you as his friend were nothing more than fleeting sweet nothings that he lied into your ears, leading you believe in a version of him that didn’t exist. He had everyone fooled, but especially you, into thinking that he could coexist with his rival.

Tucking you away into a small closet, at least for now, the room felt awfully confining as it housed you. You knew you were in deep trouble, especially as his words now came out cold, unforgiving and almost mocking.

“Don’t cry,” he spoke, “I’ll keep you company. I’ll make you feel like the spotlight always stays on you, but unfortunately, nobody else will ever see or hear from you again.”

Quickly stifling your protesting lip that quivered in response, pausing your voice that urged to fight past the horrific situation you had found yourself within, he didn’t let you. Instead, he spoke on your behalf.

“Don’t cry,” he repeated with more emphasis this time, “I’m saving you. Being the strongest shouldn’t be your responsibility to bear alone, that’s why I’m lifting the burden for you.”

And with that he closed the door, watching your trust fade away as the world around you darkened.

But it was for a good cause.

To keep you safe.

Satoru however grew needier and needier the more often he visited you, keeping you all locked up in his room, somehow perfectly bound and unable to leave. It was only a matter of time before he grew curious about you in that sort of way, seeing you as both something to protect as well as demanding stress release from you.

It was so exhausting keeping you as his big secret, after all. You had no idea what he had to go through to keep this all under wraps.

So when he sprawled you out over the bed, it wasn’t as though you didn’t anticipate it after all that he had otherwise done to you, but it still hurt all the same.

You grunted as it happened, taking a hit face down into the mattress; your whole body sinking over the soon crumpled bedding. You tried to fight him off—yet even as strong as you were—it wasn’t enough, even for you.

He pulled you up, raising your hips to meet with his own building excitement before peeling your jeans down and sliding your underwear away too. All he had to was shuffle out of his own clothes, dropping the fabric down to his knees. You couldn’t see a thing as he forced you to face away, but you could feel as his cock pressed against your sex and forcefully slid inside.

It didn’t matter how much you writhed around and begged him to stop, nor how much your legs thrashed or how your hands tried to pull themselves away from his pursuit; he wouldn’t pull away—instead however—he would push forward, again and again and again.

He grabbed at your hips and dug crescents into your skin with his fingernails for stability, wrapping his palms around you as he slammed himself back and forth your soon bruised ass. It felt insulting as he shushed you through your involuntarily whimpers, because what else were you supposed to do… especially in a situation like this?

“Please,” you gasped out.

Yet he never kept giving you the response you wanted, his voice deceptively warm as he spoke behind you, “You have no idea how good you feel.”

He would continue to cut you off with every protest with a praise, yet nothing about how he complimented you felt good at all.

“Such a good girl, taking me so well.”

“You’re so incredible, I knew it was a good thing I kept you around.”

“So good, so good—“

All it would do was make you feel sicker and sicker, somewhat nauseating you as he continued to pound inside your abused cunt. You couldn’t help but feel nauseated, maybe even dizzied from what was happening because you simply couldn’t understand why. If this was the consequence from your academic effort, then you would have never tried to reach for the stars, if it was as bleak as this.

Satoru continued to spear his length into you; his size hurting you as it stretched against your resisting walls. His cock filled you out completely, feeling almost torturous with how he would relieve you from the pressure as he pulled out, only to impale you again, forcing tears to spill out of your eyes when you felt it all happen again.

Each and every single thrust felt rougher than the last, as if he was beginning to lose himself in the sensation. He would bury his hips as far as he could into the cushioning of your ass, chasing the addiction of the release he wanted so goddamn much.

Soon enough however, he flipped you around to your back, taking in the sight of your dishevelled appearance; your messy hair, your tear-stained cheeks and puffy eyes and both the best and the worst of all, the overall look or hurt and betrayal.

Satoru didn’t give you a warning as he started it all up again, positioning himself in between your legs while maintaining eye contact with you. Those chilling blue eyes were no longer serene, but painful as they bored into yours and yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to look away.

He moved into you again, wrapping your now tired legs around his shoulders, enjoying the sensation of your surrendered weak state. He lifted you ever so slightly yet again, pushing his cock into your core and melting into you once again.

Satoru was relentless as he pounded into you, bucking his hips feverishly as he chased his almost strained release. The entire time, he wouldn’t break eye contact with you, forcing you to watch as he mercilessly took you again and again. Your insides clenched around him, longing for him to stop but he wasn’t quite ready just yet.

He picked up the pace regardless, shuddering out shaky breaths as he pushed himself to his limit; slowing down with each remaining thrust, yet rutting at a more impactful rhythm. He was close too, he was so fucking close. It was an addictive sight to him after all, to see your body convulse and quiver from him overwhelming you, to watch as you longed for his release too (even if it was for a completely different reason).

Leaning down for both comfort and the rising sensation, he pumped his length forward one last time before going limp. His hips grinded themselves a little more however, attempting to milk himself as much as possible into your shuddering body.

Yet, it didn’t seem to be entirely over as he pulled away from you ever so slightly.

Perhaps you were naive for thinking that this would be the end after he got what he wanted.

As his lips brushed against your ear, you couldn’t help but feel almost frozen from the delusions he whispered forth.

“I’ll promise that I’ll never leave you now,” he assured you, meaning every last word, because after all, there was no greater love than something so sickeningly obsessive as something unrequited.

At least to him.

[mrsfancyferrari]

Just One Kiss

Summary: You & Charles are just best friends but when he wins in his home for the first time, things might change

Song: Reflections - The Neighbourhood

Author’s note: Congratulations to Charles Leclerc for winning in his first home Monaco Grand Prix! This is my first F1 story and I recently started following F1 so please give constructive criticism.

Word count: 2.4k

Your best friend was racing across the last track, and you held your breath, anticipating the outcome. The crowd was on their feet, cheering and shouting as the finish line approached.

As he sprinted towards the end, you could see the determination behind his helmet, the sheer will to win. And then, in a burst of speed, he crossed the finish line, victorious.

The stadium erupted in applause, celebrating his incredible feat of athleticism and the months of hard work and training that had led to this moment.

His victory at the Monaco Grand Prix was not only a personal triumph but also a historical moment for his team. It marked his first win on this iconic track, solidifying his status as a rising star in the world of Formula 1 racing.

The streets of Monte Carlo were filled with joy and excitement as fans and fellow drivers alike celebrated his remarkable achievement.

As you joined in the jubilant celebration, you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and admiration for your best friend. You had witnessed firsthand the countless hours of dedication and sacrifice he had poured into his career.

From early mornings at the gym to late nights studying data and analyzing race strategies, he had truly given his all.

And now, as you stood among the crowd, you knew that this victory was just the beginning of an extraordinary journey that would undoubtedly lead him to even greater heights in the world of Formula 1 racing.

As soon as he parked close enough, he jumped out of his racing car and ran over to his team with happiness. They embraced him with open arms, their faces beaming with pride and joy.

Together, they celebrated this monumental victory, knowing that it was the result of their collective effort and unwavering support. The atmosphere was electric, and the moment will forever be etched in their memories as a symbol of their shared triumph and unbreakable bond.

You squeezed through the crowd, determined to catch a glimpse of your best friend before he headed for the podium. Finally, you spotted him, his face still flushed with the adrenaline of the race.

You shouted his name, waving your arms to get his attention, and when he saw you, a wide smile spread across his face. He made his way towards you, and in that moment, you felt an overwhelming sense of pride and happiness for his incredible achievement.

As he ran over to you, a surge of joy and excitement overcame both of you. He engulfed you into a tight hug, lifting you up off the ground.

You quickly wrapped your arms around his neck, holding on tightly as the exhilaration of the moment washed over you. The crowd roared in applause, their cheers blending with the sound of your friend's racing heartbeat, creating a symphony of triumph and friendship that echoed through the streets of Monte Carlo.

Placing you back down, you both looked at each other in silence, something you two started doing recently. It was as if words were no longer necessary to understand each other's thoughts and feelings.

"You did it," You whispered, unable to control the tears gushing down your face.

Charles grinned, "Yeah, I did, with you by my side," he said, his voice filled with gratitude and emotion.

While you played with his hair on the back of his head, you smiled back at him.

As if something had possessed you, you quickly leaned in and placed a quick kiss on Charles' lips.

Both of you were shocked by your actions, your eyes widening in surprise as you pulled away from the unexpected kiss.

What have you done?

The atmosphere around you seemed to pause for a moment, as if time itself had frozen, before the crowd erupted into a mix of gasps and cheers, unable to believe what they had just witnessed.

Charles heard his manager call him, and as he quickly glanced back, his eyes met yours. He smiled, a mix of excitement and uncertainty in his expression, and said, "I'll talk to you when I come back, promise."

He left the embrace and followed his manager, disappearing into the crowd as he made his way towards the podium. As you stood there, still in shock from the unexpected kiss, you couldn't help but wonder how this moment would change everything between you and Charles.

The crowd continued to cheer, but in that fleeting moment, you both knew that something had shifted between you, and there was no going back. . . . .

You couldn't help but feel a tinge of guilt as the laughter of Daniel echoed across the room as you explained your issue to him. It was clear that he found the situation amusing, and it made you question whether confiding in him was the right decision.

"Come on, don't be so hard on yourself," Daniel replied, his laughter subsiding.

"It's not every day that you accidentally kiss your best friend. But hey, maybe this could be the start of something amazing between you two."

You sighed, still unsure of how to navigate the complex emotions swirling within you. "I don't know, Daniel," you said softly. "I'm just worried that this kiss might ruin our friendship."

"Don't worry too much," Daniel reassured you. "Who knows, this could be the beginning of a beautiful relationship."

"Exactly, maybe finally my favorite ship will get together," Oscar added, coming out of nowhere to join the conversation.

You lightly punched Oscar's arm for his comment, trying to hide your blush and dismiss his teasing. Deep down, though, you couldn't help but wonder if he was right, and if this unexpected kiss with Charles could truly lead to something more than just friendship.

"Just think about it, you two would look too cute together!" Oscar said while holding his arm in 'pain'.

"This is not what I meant when I asked for advice," you muttered, keeping an eye out of the Monegasque.

"Our advice is to ask him out, no ifs or buts," Daniel started.

"But," you interrupted, "what if he doesn't feel the same way? I don't want to risk losing our friendship."

Daniel sighed, understanding your hesitation. "I get it, but you'll never know unless you try. And if there's a 100 percent chance he says yes, then maybe it's worth taking the leap."

"But what if there's also a 100 percent chance he says no?" you countered, your voice wavering with uncertainty.

Daniel paused, considering your question. "Well," he finally said, "then at least you'll have closure and can move on without any regrets."

As the boys left you, you couldn't help but mull over their advice. The idea of asking Charles out was both exhilarating and terrifying, but deep down, you knew that regretting never taking a chance would be even worse.

It didn't take you long to find out that Charles, along with the rest of his team, were celebrating their victory by the dock.

His smile was enough to make you retreat. The warmth in his eyes and the genuine happiness he exuded made you momentarily remember about doubts of asking him out.

Maybe, just maybe, you were content with keeping things as they were for now, cherishing the friendship you had with Charles.

The party was a lively affair, with colorful decorations adorning the dock and laughter filling the air. Families, drivers, and workers mingled together, sharing stories and celebrating the team's victory.

The aroma of delicious food wafted through the crowd, enticing everyone to indulge in the festive feast. The atmosphere was filled with a sense of camaraderie and joy, as people danced to the upbeat music and raised their glasses in cheers.

It was a true celebration of hard work and success, and you couldn't help but feel grateful to be a part of such a vibrant and supportive community.

As you observed the lively celebration from the corner, you took a moment to gather your thoughts and plan what you would say to Charles when you finally had a chance to speak with him.

Having given up on love, you found yourself scrolling through the online world looking for signs that he might be interested in you and what to say when you want to confess your feelings.

Maybe instead of relying on online advice or searching for signs, it might be best to have an open and honest conversation with Charles.

Find a quiet moment during the celebration to approach him, express your feelings sincerely, and ask if he would be interested in exploring a romantic relationship. By directly communicating your emotions, you can avoid misunderstandings and have a clearer understanding of where you both stand-

As you were lost in your thoughts, suddenly your chin was raised up and your eyes were forced off your phone and look into the eyes of Charles. His gaze was intense, and you could see a hint of curiosity and intrigue.

He then leaned in closer as he tilted your head up, his lips brushing against yours for seconds, and you could taste the salty sea water from when he jumped into the docks.

You were taken aback by the unexpected kiss, the taste of salty sea water lingering on your lips.

"Hey, can we talk somewhere else in private?" Charles asked desperately.

"Ye- Yeah," you stuttered, having Charles lead you with his hand in yours out of the party. Your heart raced with a mix of excitement and nervousness as you followed him, wondering what he wanted to talk about in private.

As you stayed silent, your mind raced with possibilities of what Charles wanted to discuss in private. Was he going to reciprocate your feelings? Or was there something else entirely on his mind?

The anticipation and uncertainty only fueled your curiosity as you both entered the closest empty room.

Charles let go of your hand as soon as the room was secure, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. It was as if the connection you had just shared was abruptly severed, leaving you longing for his touch once more.

"Are you going to start or should I?" Charles asked as he leaned against a piece of furniture, his eyes never leave you.

The intense eye contact he made made you feel as though your legs were suddenly giving out.

"I don't know what you're talking about?" you muttered, avoiding his eyes at all costs.

"Well, I'm thinking about the kiss you gave me in front of national television," he stated. His voice was filled with a mix of amusement and disbelief.

The realization hit you like a wave, and you couldn't help but blush at the thought of the millions of people who saw that intimate moment between the two of you.

"And I can't stop wondering if it was just in the moment or if there's something more between us."

You shake your head vigorously, denying any deeper meaning behind the kiss. "It was just a spur-of-the-moment thing," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean for it to be taken seriously."

There could never be anything between the two of you anyway. The public would never allow it. Just deny it.

"Mon chérie, are you sure? Because your expressions say otherwise," he teased as he started to walk over to you, his playful smile revealing that he saw through your denial.

The way he closed the distance between you made your heart race even faster, and you couldn't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, there was a possibility for something more between you and Charles after all.

Charles always loved to tease you in every way possible. Either it was placing your cup on the top shelf or holding your phone in the air, he was always determined to tease you these days.

But this was different.

"No, Charles, I'm certain. It was just a momentary lapse in judgment, nothing more," you insisted, desperately clinging to the denial. Deep down, you knew that pursuing anything with Charles would only lead to heartbreak and disappointment.

It was better to keep your feelings buried and maintain the illusion of friendship.

As Charles stood in front of you, barely any space between you two, his eyes bore into yours with an intensity that made it hard to maintain your denial.

The air crackled with tension, and despite your best efforts, you couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, there could be something more between you and Charles.

"Want to try again to see if it was just a 'momentary lapse'?" he asked, raising your chin again. His words sent a shiver down your spine, tempting you to give in and explore the possibility of something more.

His lips were hovering over yours, teasing you with the possibility of what could be. The air between you was charged with anticipation, and it took every ounce of willpower to resist the temptation and maintain your denial.

"Just say it," He muttered, "Just say it and I'll do the rest."

But as you looked into his eyes, you couldn't deny the truth that they held. They were filled with a longing and desire that mirrored your own, and in that moment, you knew that your denial was futile.

"I want you," you finally whispered, surrendering to the undeniable connection between you and Charles.

Charles captured your lips with such hunger, his kiss filled with the years of unspoken longing and desire that had been building between you. In that moment, you both knew that there was no turning back, and that the possibility of something more had become an undeniable reality.

Your hands wrapped around his neck as you deepened the kiss, losing yourself in the intoxicating passion that had been simmering beneath the surface for far too long.

In that moment, you both knew that you were no longer able to deny the magnetic pull between you, and that surrendering to this forbidden love was inevitable.

"I love you," you whispered, your voice barely audible in the midst of your passionate embrace.

Charles's eyes softened, filled with a mix of joy and relief, as he murmured, "I love you too," sealing your fate in a love that had been yearning to be acknowledged. . . .

[deadly-diminuendo]

You Were My First

a spawn astarion x fem!tav reader oneshot / nsfw / ~3.9k words

Summary: The night he bit you, Astarion awakened something unexpected within you: desire. You offer to let him bite you again, only to receive a more scandalous offer in return. And though you have never before had a lover, you have never felt more tempted.

CW/Tags: virginity loss, vampire bites/blood drinking, tadpole mind sharing, fingering, oral sex, piv sex, act 1

Read on AO3

Or read below...

You toss, you turn, any hope of drifting back to sleep lost to you as memories of last night echo through your mind.

You let Astarion bite you.

And you liked it.

A little thrill runs through you as you reach your hand to your neck. You trace the marks where his fangs had pierced you, remembering the rush of exhilaration you experienced, the strange sense of intimacy you felt as he drank his fill. To lie beneath him, heart racing, losing yourself… Not so different from a lovers’ tryst, you imagine.

Not that you would know. You were quite the romantic in your youth, dreaming of waiting for the one. As the years passed by, you adopted a more practical view, seeking out not an unattainable ideal, but a genuine connection, simple and achievable��still, you never found it, and your first time has yet to happen.

Whether it is because of the unfathomable pull you feel towards your pale companion, or the threat of death lurking around every corner, you are beginning to believe attraction alone is enough.

Gods, you’ve given so much of yourself to Astarion already. And you would give him so much more.

You want him to be your first. Badly.

Really, you should know better. The man is a liar, a flirt, a vampire. He held a knife to your throat the very moment you met, questioned so many of your decisions in his exasperated, exaggerated tones, revealed himself to lack the morals you hold dear to your heart. You two are worlds apart, clearly.

But no amount of reason can dull the growing ache between your legs.

Tired as you are, you prop yourself up, your eyes scanning the surrounding campsite. Most of the others are fast asleep, or at least tucked away in their tents. Only Astarion is nowhere to be found, his tent open and empty, an extra unoccupied bedroll near the fire. Not yet back from his hunt, so it seems.

Temptation urges you to relieve yourself of this tension as you did last night following your exchange with your unexpected visitor. You were careful, shielding yourself with your blanket, limiting your movements, suppressing the sounds that nearly spilled out of you. You got away with it then, you think, but with Astarion still gone, you decide the risk tonight is too high. The embarrassment of him returning and catching you would be more than you could possibly handle.

You sigh. Standing up, you quietly make your way to the riverside. Something about gazing across the moonlit water brings you peace, and right now, peace is what you desperately need.

But you are not alone for long.

“Couldn’t sleep, my dear?”

You gasp as you whip around to see him standing before you—as useful as Astarion’s talent for stealth has proven to be, his penchant for sneaking up on you makes you nervous.

“No,” you answer, though you do not elaborate. “Did you have any luck on the hunt?”

“Not so much as a squirrel, I’m afraid, though they are hardly any better than the rats. There is nothing out there so tasty as you anyway.”

Your heart pounds, your cheeks flush, your mouth runs dry. The satisfied smirk he then gives you tells you he noticed.

You search for something sensible to say. “Will you be all right…?”

“Oh, yes, of course,” he says, a touch aloof as he picks over his sleeves. “If our little adventure continues as it has, I’m sure it won’t be long before more foes will have the misfortune of crossing our path. Blood will be much easier to come by now.”

Your shoulders slump a little, and you realize just how much you want him to sink his teeth into you—and maybe not just his teeth. You must be losing your mind.

“Maybe…” you squeak out, and then you freeze. No, this is a ridiculous idea, the worst idea—you cannot do it.

That wolfish look of his returns as he concentrates his full attention on you. “Yes?”

Ugh. You are going to do it.

“You can feed on me tonight, if you would like.”

“My, my. What a sweet, generous little thing you are,” he purrs as he inches closer, eyes ever locked on yours. “I could never refuse such an irresistible invitation. Shall we find somewhere more comfortable? Perhaps you’d care to join me in my tent?”

“Your tent…?!” You expected a little flirtation, but not this sort of proposition so soon.

“Come now, don’t act so surprised. The thought of last night has driven me to distraction, you know. And I know you feel it too.”

Oh, you do. You have wondered about it, cannot stop wondering about it—what it would be like to feel his skin, to hold him tight, to kiss his lips.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me. The way you tilt your lovely neck, even now.” Instinctively you straighten it as your cheeks burn hotter.

You cannot actually go through with this… Can you? There is something… off, about it all. Something wicked in his intense gaze and devious smile. Like a tiger eager to devour its prey.

Or a vampire eager to devour your blood, plain and simple. Perhaps that’s all this is, an attempt to guarantee his meals.

“I think it’s my blood you want, not me.”

“Not only your blood, I assure you. I rather liked having you under me. Indulging in you. Making you squirm. I’d like to explore that further.”

You know what the right choice is, the one that is sensible and safe: no.

But you’ve been sensible and safe for far too long.

“I… I would too,” you confess. You feel painfully shy now. Not even a tenday you’ve known him, and here you are, agreeing to share a bed with him.

He grins at you as he smooths away a strand of hair from your neck. You shiver at the sensation of cool fingertips touching your skin, your pulse quickening, anticipation rising as he lifts your chin, as your eyes again meet his.

“I thought so.”

And then his lips touch yours.

His kiss is perfection, equal parts sensual and sweet, the way you like it. It is not your first kiss—but this is better than anything you’ve known before. He pulls you in tight as you wrap your arms around him, longing to savour him, melt into him, become one with him. You never want to stop kissing him—but you crave more. Your hips rock gently, surrendering to instinct as he grasps at your blouse, looses it from your waistband.

This is really happening, you think—and then the reality of it all comes crashing into you, and though you have never wanted a man more, you find yourself pulling away.

You know you need to tell him.

“Second thoughts?”

“No,” you assure him, building up your nerve. “I want to, but… Well, I’ve never done this before.”

His eyes widen and you begin to shrink under his incredulous stare. “You’ve never had sex?”

You nod.

“Really, darling? I mean, there is a certain… innocence about you, but… Never?!”

“Innocence?” you repeat, feigning greater offense than you feel. He is teasing you, sure, but you don’t feel he is outright mocking you. You tease him back. “Make fun if you must, but if you really find me too sweet for your taste, I’ll gladly go to bed alone.”

“Oh, darling, there is no need for that. I’ll admit I have a bit of a sweet tooth from time to time. And I’m more than happy to help you right this terrible tragedy of yours.” He pauses, momentarily dropping his theatrics. “Are you sure about this?”

“Yes,” you affirm, both to him and to yourself. “This is what I want.”

“Hm, I suppose it’s fitting, then. You were my first, after all.”        

You chuckle at this, equally charmed and perplexed. “What do you mean?”

“The blood of thinking creatures was forbidden fruit to us lowly spawn. Not anymore thanks to the tadpole—and thanks to you. You are the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted.”

Why exactly the idea of this man literally consuming you enthuses you so, you do not know—but you decide you do not care either. You might as well embrace it.

“To your tent, then…?”

“Perhaps… but there is one other place that might suit us better.”

+++

Astarion leads you into the woods with the promise of a more private setting.

You recall all the romantic tales you read over and over again as a child, the sort starring a noble hero and a kind-hearted princess who fall hopelessly in love, find happily ever after.

This is a far more lurid tale, you think. One of a maiden swept into a dark forest, carried away to the lair of a charming scoundrel, finding sinful delight in his arms.

Not what you ever pictured yourself doing. No, this is much more thrilling.

You imagine passion, primal and raw, surrendering to the predator within him as he takes your blood, takes your body. But as you approach a sweet little hideaway made up of blankets and pillows, you know you are in for something more tender, more intimate.

“Funny that this cozy spot is already here,” you comment, knowing he must have set this up long before you agreed to come here with him.

He shrugs, playing innocent, though he clearly isn’t. “I thought we might have use for it eventually.”

The first thing he does once you reach your destination is strip off his shirt, and you can’t help but steal a glance at his flawless form, your hands longing to run across his lean muscle and smooth skin. A touch nervous still, you opt for a more modest start for yourself, bracing against a nearby tree as you unlace your boots.

Just as you kick them off, he is on you, kissing you, tugging at your clothes, eager to pick up from where you left things earlier—and you are too. You work together to undress yourselves and each other, until not a single barrier is left between you.

He takes a step back, drinking in the sight of you, and you survey him with equal scrutiny. You have never before been naked in front of a man, and as much as your instinct tells you to shield yourself, you don’t.

And gods, he is gorgeous like this… You could feel him twitch against you as you locked lips, and now to see with your own eyes the undeniable effect of your touch… You want to drop to your knees and worship him, lavish him with your adoration—but your inexperience holds you back, makes you anxious.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, a welcome boost to your confidence.

“So are you,” you say, laughing softly.

“Obviously.” You laugh again, more heartily this time, your amusement lessening the apprehension you feel.

He closes the gap between you with another kiss, soft and tender and all too brief.

“Tonight will be all about you,” he tells you. You inhale sharply as you open your mouth to protest, but he speaks first. “If you’re still sure about this, of course.”

“I am, but… What about what you want?”

“Oh, don’t worry about me, darling. I know I’ll have my fun with you.”

Astarion guides you down to your makeshift bed. His approach is slow, surprising you a little, but you appreciate it. He pulls you onto his lap, treats your back to a soothing massage, your muscles relaxing under his touch.

“That’s it, love, let all that tension go.”

He draws you closer, peppering your neck with kisses as he holds you tight, the occasional graze of his fangs stirring your senses. Though you are acutely aware of his vampiric nature, how he could pierce your skin, drain you dry at any moment, you marvel at how safe you feel cradled in his arms. His hands begin to roam, your need for him growing as he discovers every curve, every line, every detail—everywhere except where you want him most.

You already know how talented he is with his hands, and you wonder what else he can do with those dexterous fingers.

As one hand glides down your abdomen, you smile, knowing you will not have to wonder much longer.

A whimper escapes you as a single index finger gently runs along your entrance, curling into you with each enthralling stroke.

“Last night, when you went back to bed… You touched yourself, didn’t you?”

Oh. You were less covert than you thought. “Yes,” you admit, struggling to maintain your composure as he begins to trace slow, soft circles around your clit.

“And you were thinking of me?”

“Yes,” you sigh, a little more sheepish about this confession than the first.

“Good girl. I want you to show me what you did. Show me how to please you.”

You feel a tingle in your mind as he seeks to open the connection between you.

So you let him in.

You concentrate hard on the memory of your own touch, the rhythmic pressure of rubbing fingers into your sex, bringing yourself to elation. An art you have perfected in the absence of a lover to share yourself with.

And then the thought of him slips in, how you ache to be one with him, to share in his pleasure, and he in yours. A want that transcends the physical realm, you realize now, a want to not only know his body, but his mind, his heart, his soul, through and through.

Panic hits—you have exposed far too much, left yourself far too vulnerable. You hastily sever your telepathic link.

“You sweetheart,” he purrs, amused. Embarrassed though you are, his touch quickly makes you forget all else.

Tucking a second finger behind the other, he gravitates to the spot you prefer, the one you showed him in your mind, each stroke skilled, precise, perfect.

All you can do is give in.

You allow yourself to moan, to let him know just how well he’s working you, how easily your climax will likely come. The sensation is familiar, executed with an expertise that matches your own, but this time enhanced by the excitement of being with a partner. Of being with him.

You ascend towards your peak, your mind cycling through everything you have ever dreamed of doing, everything you hope you will have the chance to try with him: to ride him, to stroke him, to suck him, but most of all, to let him do anything he wants to do to you.

“And what was it that pushed you over the edge?” he asks, his voice now a whisper in your ear, making the whole encounter feel so illicit, so filthy. You could listen to him like this for hours. “Picture it. Show me.”

Oh, gods.

You follow his command, your minds melding together once more as you bring forth the memory, your favourite new fantasy.

The moment he bit you.

To succumb to him, to feel your blood coursing through you both, to let him conquer you so completely… You want him to taste you again. You want to feel his cock moving inside you when he does.

His fingers still stroke you flawlessly, the apex within reach—and you both know how you can get there.

So he bites your neck.

Release finally washes over you, waves of intense pleasure pulsing throughout your entire body as you writhe about, a result of both your orgasm and his indulgence in you.

“Gods,” he growls as he lets go, as the feeling begins to fade, as your minds disconnect once more. You delight in the possibility your bliss was a shared experience, flowing from your consciousness into his, flooding his mind with your pleasure. You let your body collapse against him.

“Oh, we’re far from done yet, my darling.” He pulls your face to his, your lips parting eagerly, welcoming the brush of his tongue against yours. You can feel him grin against you before he stops to speak.

“So eager to be tasted, you sweet thing. Perhaps I might… taste you elsewhere?”

You think you know what he means, but you are truly entering the unknown now. Unease still lingers in your mind, yet anticipation propels you forward, eager to know what delights you have yet to discover, what carnal liberation he can bring you.

You give him a nod and a smile.

He maneuvers around you, and with a firm tug at your hips, he has you flat on your back. His lips explore you, trailing kisses along your skin until, finally, he is between your legs.

And then he licks you.

The sensation is entirely foreign to you, overwhelming, overstimulating at first. He seems to recognize this, focusing on gentle, broad strokes to ease you into it, to build you up until you are ready to be devoured.

And when you reach that point, you instantly understand what you have been missing.

“Astarion!” His name escapes your mouth as a bewildered cry, the pleasure you feel unlike anything you have ever experienced, every lick, every stroke, every swirl has you moaning, nearing your peak already. You glance at him, and he fixes his eyes on yours, the sight of him lapping away at you driving you deeper into this mesmerizing madness. You run a hand through his hair, fingers entangling in his silvery curls, and with the other, you reach for his.

“Yes…” you hear yourself chant, high-pitched and urgent, as he tongues your sensitive nub with quick, deliberate flicks.

Orgasm overwhelms your whole being—your body tenses and spasms, your wails ringing out so loud you fear they might reach the campsite—but you are long past caring now.

You thought it might end there, but instead his tongue feathers against you, a light touch to let you recover—and then he goes in for the kill again. You buck against him in a frenzied search for release as he continues working you, desperate to let this newfound rapture engulf you entirely.

Euphoria fills you once more as you shake violently against him. Countless times you have used your own fingers, thought you had found the limits of your body, but this pleasure is beyond belief, beyond what you ever thought was possible.

He stops, but only briefly, just long enough to make a single request.

“One more for me, darling?”

You watch him as he continues to pamper you, your next climax coming so easily you can barely comprehend it, your keening shattering the quiet of the night.

And now there is only one thing you long to experience more.

Astarion crawls over you, splaying your legs apart with his knees, your anticipation for him burning so hot now it agonizes you. You whine as he guides his length along your folds, coating himself in your slick, driving you wild with need.

“Astarion, please…” you find yourself begging, unwilling, unable to wait any longer for him to claim you.

Mischief pulls his mouth into a grin. “Please what, dear?”

It takes everything in you to say it, but you do. “Please fuck me.”

He rewards you immediately, easing his way inside. You adjust to this intoxicating new sensation, feeling only a hint of resistance as he stretches you, until at last he is wholly inside.

“You’re taking me so well,” he tells you, his seductive tone making you melt.

Gods, you have never felt more full—he fits so perfectly in you, as if your bodies were made to match each other. You bask in the delicious friction he creates as he pulls away only to plunge back into you again and again, your moaning, soft, intermittent at first, becoming bold, steady.

You love every sensuous detail—the feeling of skin on skin, sweat on sweat; the look of pleasure that graces his handsome face; all the noises you make together, from his little groans to the wet, salacious sounds of your joining. You arch against him, every thrust hitting you just right—he knows he has you hurtling towards your release, knows the moaning, writhing mess he will make out of you.

And then it comes. The sweetest surrender.

You tighten around his cock, revel in in every tremor of your release, sing out in pure ecstasy.

You lavish kisses upon him, his neck, his collarbone, his lips, anywhere you can reach, eager for him to feel as cherished as you do, to take his pleasure in your body, to give in to his deepest desires. And he does, you think, his restraint beginning to falter as you surrender to the powerful, relentless motion of his hips meeting yours.

His want is clear as you feel the tips of his fangs against your neck, and you are more than willing to comply.

You open the link between you, pushing a message from your mind to his: “I’m all yours.”

You barely notice the twinge of pain, too lost in bliss to care, too stimulated by the sensations that flow from his consciousness to yours—how your blood fulfills him, thrills him, sates him, how deliciously pliant your flesh is as he sinks into you endlessly, how he’s, oh, so close to his climax.

So close that you once more find yourself rapidly approaching your own—you sense his want, his need to feel the elation of emptying himself inside of you, your own core equally aching for his spend.

When you register the tell-tale twitch of his orgasm, you slip into your own. His pleasure crashes into your mind, and yours into his, becoming indistinguishable—an intimate and intense intertwining of your bodies and minds.

As you lie together, silent and satiated, your minds both your own again as you attempt to readjust to reality. You relish in the lingering thrill of sex, recall every moment of pleasure you experienced, from your first kiss to the moment he finally spilled into you. You just had the best night of your life—but doubt creeps in, gnaws away at you.

You are sure he truly wanted you when your minds merged—yet you could sense something else, something dark underlying his consciousness. You look at Astarion—the smoulder he gives you is as calculated and collected as it always has been, betraying nothing. A perfectly crafted mask.

You realize just how much you wish that he will drop that mask for you one day, that you might truly bond and connect. You knew this risk was there, that you might end up feeling more attached to him than you perhaps should—but you have a little hope, and you will hold on to it. You reach for his hand, enclosing it in yours.

“I’m glad you were my first,” you tell him.

He gives your hand a squeeze, repeats his little joke from earlier as he smiles back at you. “And I’m glad you were mine.”

Maybe you are playing the fool, but something in his eyes, in his voice, something about the way his own words seem to surprise him… It feels genuine this time.

And for now, that is enough.

Thank you for reading!

My AO3 | My Masterlist

This was the first fic I finished on AO3, and now here it is on Tumblr! I'm currently working on two more short x reader fics, one for Spawn Astarion and one for Ascended Astarion, but I haven't ruled out also writing a follow-up for this one where our reader shares another first with him. 👀

Work is particularly annoying right now, but I hope to have more smut to share soon!

[xveenusx]

Guilty

Paring(s): JJ maybank x fem!reader

Summary: it didn't matter that she did everything for him. it didn't matter that she loved him. insecurities ruin a great thing, love can't fix these problems

Authors note: angsty angsty angsty, bad JJ

Song rec: grave by tate mccrae

Part 2: Wanted

Perfect.

Everything had to be perfect. 

The perfect dress. The perfect makeup. The perfect boy. 

The past several days were borderline catastrophic with JJ getting arrested for sinking Topper’s boat. I begged and pleaded with my parents to help me get him out, promising them anything they wanted. They asked for the one thing I couldn’t give them. JJ. 

And yet, I said yes. I said yes because the thought of him sitting in a cell all alone, stuck with nothing but his thoughts made my stomach turn. He’s always thought that nobody needed him. Maybe that was something his drunken father drilled into him but it was far from the truth. I needed him.

Everything had spun out of control and it all started the minute I met JJ Maybank. But I wouldn’t trade it for the world. Being with him was like walking for the first time. Nerve wracking yet exhilarating--freeing.  

My life before him was just that, a life. Everything revolved around being the perfect little daughter to my parents. Debutantes, charity dinners, polo matches, and country clubs filled my schedule to the brim but they were rarely there. My mother was running a successful fashion line, working on her latest release while my father was a shark in the courtroom. While I loved every second of splurging on clothes, lavish trips to Europe, brunch at my favorite restaurant, I was missing something. I always felt like something was missing in a world where I had everything. 

That’s not to say I’m ungrateful for every opportunity my position and family has afforded me. But when you spend enough time with people you realize are only conversing with you for money or to step on you to increase their social capital, nothing seems genuine. 

Everything interaction was superficial and it became isolating. But with JJ, each and every moment we shared was intimate and unfeigned. 

He taught me how to surf the swells he spent hours in daily. I learned the slight touch of hand in the art of being a mild kleptomaniac. After several failed attempts and many loud complaints, I could finally balance on his dirt bike. 

None of these moments could be bought with money and maybe that’s why I cherished them so much. I cherished them so greatly that I refused to let them go.

And in turn, I couldn’t let him go. Despite the ever growing distance that's wedged itself between us the moment he was released from jail. Maybe it was a pride thing, or maybe it could have been the condescending jabs my dad threw his way, but JJ had pulled away. 

My father's threats to revoke the bail money hung heavy above our heads. So tonight, I was going to try and change that. I needed to bridge the gap that had us so far apart. Midsummers was how I was going to achieve that.

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and held it for several seconds to calm my racing heart. I open them slowly, dragging my gaze along my reflection on the floor length mirror at the entrance to the club. A silky number drapes my dainty figure in the softest brush of yellow with threaded pearls as straps. Ivory satin Jimmy Choo heels from their latest collection decorated my feet. 

The familiar rumble of a truck had a grin pulling at the corners of my lips. My parents were somewhere in the building, having been on the board and needed to sign off on some last minute details. 

I didn’t mind the constant abandonment. The loneliness that once clung to me had slowly evaporated the moment JJ entered my world. 

Grabbing my Chrsitian Dior clutch, I headed for the entrance of the Island Club. A familiar mass of shaggy blonde hair had my feet moving quicker. The minute his face came into view I knew something was wrong. 

His lips were tight in a grim line as he continuously shook his head. I quickened my steps, apologizing swiftly to several people who were trying to get my attention. 

“I’m sorry, sir. Are you a member here?”

“Well, no, but my girlfriend-.” 

“Then I’m afraid you're going to have to turn back around. This is a private club.”

“Listen dude, my girlfriend invited me and-”

“Sir, you need to get back into your vehicle before I call security.” The coordinator, who went by Ryan, dismissed JJ without a second glance.

JJ’s eyes narrowed. “If you’d let me speak-”

“This is private property.”

“Bro, calm down. You’re not protecting the president.” JJ huffed, shoving his hands into his pocket. His cheeks tinted a slight red which had my blood boiling. 

He was person. Period. One that didn't deserve to be treated like that especially in such a public setting. I was livid at the thought of Ryan managing to make JJ feel embarrassed. 

“You’re not a member-”

“No, but I am.” I snapped coming to a stop beside him, causing the event coordinator to rear his head back in surprise.

“Hey, baby. ” The familiar pull of his voice coated me like the warmest honey. A smirk tugged at his lips at the obvious irritation on my face. 

Pausing to give JJ my attention, I placed a soft kiss on his lips and pushed back a wild strand of blonde hair. “Hi.”

The smile he gave me was like a sudden beam of light that hit me square in the chest. 

“I am so sorry. I didn’t realize he was with you-”

“Add JJ Maybank to my member account,” My words were sharp and left little room for argument, though they were dripping with the sickeningly sweet tone I mastered at the young age of twelve. “Consider yourself up to date.”

“I’ll get it done.” With that, Ryan tipped his head and left quickly. 

I bristled once more, muttering under my breath, ”Dick.” My chest was heavy with guilt at his treatment, wondering if this was actually a good idea. I gnawed at my bottom lip nervously.  

This was not how I wanted our night to start. 

“I’ve never been a member before.”

Not bothering to conceal my giggle, I turned around and allowed my eyes to drift over every inch of JJ. The black suit I bought him was fitted and hugged every muscle in a way that had my stomach clenching. 

Sun kissed hands reached for me the moment I was within his reach. My arms wrap around the mass of lean muscles, my nose buried in his neck. Taking a deep breath, salt and sex wax filled my senses and I let myself relax. 

Home. He felt like home.

“You look very handsome.”

A rumble left his chest. “My sugar mama bought it for me.”

Hiding my face in his chest, a loud laugh slipped past my lips. JJ shushed me almost immediately, “People are looking. We can’t have them thinking we’re together.”

I pulled away, trying to keep a straight face at his antics. “We are together.”

“Shit, we are?” He held out his hand, amusement and mischief dancing in his eyes. “My sugar mama can’t find out or she’ll cut me off.”

How could I not love him when he made me laugh so hard my stomach hurt?

I hit his arm with my purse in mock outrage before taking his hand while his other touched my bare back. The feel of his rough calloused hands from all his hard work has me suck in a breath. Those rough hard hands knew my body intimately, inside and out. 

“Do that again and I’m finding the nearest bathroom.” JJ leaned down, his lips brushing against the top of my ear. 

A clearing of the throat had us both turning our heads. My father stood there with a stoic face, his eyes promising retribution later. 

Looking at my father directly in the eye, I place my arm in the crook of his, lacing us together. 

“I see you brought a friend.” The last word is spoken with clear disdain. 

My grip on JJ’s arm tightened. “I brought my boyfriend.”

“We’ll talk about this later.” 

As if they’d actually be home, I thought but decided to keep that to myself.

Deciding that this entire conversation was pointless, I was dragging JJ away from the pair when my father grabbed JJ, whispering something in his ear.

My stomach shrunk and apprehension filled me as the light look of JJ’s face fell, replaced with a flat look and hardened eyes. 

“Duly noted, sir.” His mouth curled in a sarcastic snark. 

I shot my father a disappointed look. Curling myself into JJ’s side, my arm wrapped around his waist and I tugged us into the party. “Ignore him, please.”

“Already forgotten, princess.”

My eyes watch his face for any sign of distress, but find nothing. Guilt ebbed aways at my walls.

“Let’s go find Mr. Adams. He owns a chain of surf shops. I’m sure if we schmooze him, we can get you a solid job or maybe even a board.” I tossed him a wink that had him grinning. 

“I like the way you think. Lead the way, gorgeous.”

Despite his hand on my back, all the warmth we had a mere moments ago was gone. I couldn’t help but notice the small distance he kept between us. One that didn’t exist until my father opened his mouth. 

Several hours later, the sun had begun to set and a cool breeze now caressed my bare back. I embraced the cool breeze due to the several glasses of champagne I had. 

Despite my love for the warm buzz it gave me, it did little for my bladder. “I’ll be right back.”

His eyes widened in alarm. “You can’t leave me here with these people.”

I smothered my laugh with my hand. “Did you want to come with me?”

“To the bathroom? Kinky, I’m in.” JJ responded, clutching my hand in his before expertly pulling us through the crowd. 

Nothing could peel off the cheesy smile that bore my face. Despite the slight hiccup at the beginning of the night, JJ charmed most of the members with his charm and humor. I was hoping with some networking, I could help JJ get some security. I believed he was capable of doing just about anything. He had such determination and never let failure keep him down. 

JJ knew how to hussle and I wanted everyone to see his potential, even if at times he didn’t see it himself. 

My heels clicked along the granite floor, our hands swinging in the air. A shriek escaped my lips as JJ twirls me around, my dress swishing around my ankles. “Gorgeous.” He puffed out his cheeks, his gaze boring into mine.

Our matching grins were nothing short of radiant. Being with him was easy in a world filled with difficult people. 

“Well this is disgusting.”

JJ went rigid. That wouldn’t have concerned me if he hadn’t muttered panicked curses under his breath. “If someone says one more thing to me..”

JJ never let Rafe intimidate him before but for some reason JJ seemed a little more hesitant with this exchange. Realization dawned on me. The boat. Fuck. 

I let my hands fall while rolling my eyes and turning to face Rafe. There he stood in all his stuck up glory, not a hair out of place and his suit neatly pressed. He looked every bit of a country member as one could possibly be with the light blue suit paired with a white undershirt and blue bow tie, brown dress shoes on his feet. 

“Don’t you have another line to snort?” I asked.

Sure, Rafe was conventionally attractive, if you didn’t pay attention to the blown pupils and the constant brush of his nose or the foggy look in his eyes. 

JJ snickered beside me, his hand softly tapping my ass twice in support. 

“JJ, go get me a drink.” Rafe cocked his head.

“I’m actually a member here now.” JJ responded, his hand caressed my cheek softly.

Shocked painted Rafe’s face. “That’s not poss-”

Kelce and Topper stood beside him, both in colored pressed suits as well. They kind of looked like the-”You powerpuff girls have fun.” JJ said with a crooked smile and a tip of the hat.

He seized me by the wrist and strode over to the exit. Relief at his plan to avoid a fight was fleeting at Rafe’s next words.

“If I knew a trailer home and food stamps was all it took for you to open your legs, I would have tried a long time ago.”

JJ jerked around in seconds, ripping out of my grip. He stalked towards Rafe, drawing his arm back before connecting with his jaw. 

A shout passed my lips, my hands covering my mouth in horror as JJ struck Rafe twice more, one blow hitting him directly on the nose. Blood began to gush out of Rafe’s nose, staining his dress shirt a deep crimson. “Say that shit again. Say it.”

Rafe let out a mirthless laugh, his lips pulled at the sides revealing his red stained teeth. “Once a pogue, always a pogue. Isn’t that right, JJ?”

Kelce jumped into action, his arm wrapping around JJ’s neck, pulling him off a Rafe into an effective headlock. That’s when I noticed two more hulking figures and suddenly we were surrounded. 

“Five on one, Rafe? Really?” JJ choked out, tugging at Kelce’s arm. 

Without thinking, I walked behind Kelce and slammed the metal clasp of the bag against the side of his head. Once. Twice. Three times. “Let go of him!” 

Kelce let out a yelp and jerked back, causing his grip on JJ to loosen just enough for him to get free. I went towards him in an instant, but he pushed me behind him as he surveyed the remaining men in front of us. 

Whispers dragged my attention from the scene in front of me as I locked eyes with several members who had poked their heads into the locker area. Shit, this really wasn’t good. I needed to get JJ out of here as soon as possible. I didn’t want to give my father any more ammunition against him. 

Clutching his arm, I tugged him once more towards the exit. I could hear more activity outside the locker room which had me pulling at him harder. I wasn’t going to let Rafe make him look bad in front of all these influential people. Over my dead body. 

“People are coming. We have to go.”

His chest rose and fell with quick breaths, his steele blue gaze not leaving Rafe’s.

“I’m serious. For me, JJ, please?” My final plea seemed to have pulled him out of his angry haze. Without wasting a second, he let me pull him further and further away from the group. Lacing his hand in mine, I made quick work of fixing his suit and his hair, pressing soft kisses as I went. 

“Whenever you’re done slumming it, you know where I am.” Rafe called out from behind us, earning us enough leers from fellow members. 

He tore his hand from mine. “Fuck this.” 

Apprehension coursed through me.

I could feel the storm brewing with each step he took. I trailed behind, my small steps nothing to his long strides. Rafe hit a nerve. One that JJ refused to acknowledge and let fester for months now. It was the elephant in the room any time I offered to pay anything at all. It bothered him, all the money my family had.

“Ignore him, Jayj.” I called out from behind him but his steps never faltered. “Rafe was just trying to get a reaction out of you.”

I could hear the soft melody of the music drifting over the wind from the party that was supposed to fix all our problems. Perhaps I was sticking a bandaid on a gaping wound. 

His shoulders were tense as he stopped a couple feet in front of me, shaking his head. Nerves had my stomach in knots. I only had one shot at trying to fix this. Feelings were never JJ’s thing. He spent months fighting our attraction before he finally gave in. Dating a Kook was never something JJ considered. 

Unfortunately, it was something others thought as well because they never failed to remind him. My father included. 

So here we are. JJ was backed into a corner and like any wounded animal, he had two choices. He could concede or attack and I knew JJ like the back of my hand. He would never give up, so instead he’d go for the throat. 

Too bad it was my throat he went for. 

“I understand-” I stopped speaking the moment JJ whipped around, his eyes cutting me deeply.

“You don’t.” I didn’t respond. My eyes lingered on his busted lip and bruised chiseled face. “You don’t understand so please don’t try to make me feel better by pretending that you do.” 

I pursed my lips. JJ was right, I didn’t understand what it was like to be in his position, but that didn’t mean I didn’t care. That I didn’t want to take away every ounce of pain if it meant he would be happy. 

“You’re right. But Jayj, it’s Rafe.” I argued softly, not wanting to draw attention to us. “He always says shit like that to rile you up but you’ve never let it bother you before. Why now?”

JJ’s face flushed. “Because he’s fucking right. That’s why it bothers me.”

My lips wobbled and I pressed them together. I had gone out of my way to ensure he’d never feel this way. I guess I failed. 

I moved closer, my steps unsure and clumsy. “You never said anything.”

My hand rested against his chest, and I could feel the familiar pounding of his heart. 

“That’s nothing new.” He lifted his shoulder in a half shrug.

That did little to ease the emotional storm brewing within me. Every interaction since he was little was nothing short of violent and negligent. 

He wasn’t used to softness and kindness. We were trying to navigate in uncharted waters but we’re thrown off the boat every time the water got choppy. 

“We can go. Let’s just go, baby. Let me just say bye to my parents-“

“Stop.” He demanded, his tone serve. So unlike JJ. 

I dropped my hand and instead chose to focus on the sound of our breathing. I had to keep my head on straight, because I could tell he was already building up his wall so high, making his fortress impenetrable. 

JJ had never had a consistent thing in his life and I’ll be damned if I let that happen to us. 

Squaring my shoulders back, I faced his heated gaze head on. If he wanted an argument, he’d get one, but we’d both be leaving together. 

I had no intention of going anywhere. 

“Stop?” I echoed, raising my brow.

His eyes were as cold and hard as obsidian. “Yes, stop. How is leaving going to solve any of this?” 

“You’re picking a fight with me for no reason. I’m not the one you’re mad at.”

JJ raked his fingers through the sun bleached golden strands causing them to fall along his forehead. “Maybe I am.”

My eyes widened at his words. What had I done? He’d shared every bit of his world with me and I only wanted to do the same. 

Was that not what people do when they’re in love? Aren’t you supposed to share your interests with your partner and aren’t they supposed to want to know them? 

“For what?” 

He tugged at his shirt collar. “Why am I here?”

My brows furrowed in confusion. Why would he even ask that? 

“Why am I here, at this Midsummer's bullshit?” 

“Because I wanted you to be.” I smoothed out my hair to give my trembling hands something to do. “It’s something that matters to me, it’s not bullshit.”

I had spent months planning this party since my parents were on the board. I wanted everything to be perfect for them and for him. It all seemed silly now. A part of that stung deep in my soul. Bullshit was never a word I used to describe any of the interests he showed me, yet he so easily spouted it at me.

JJ stayed quiet but continued to fidget with the silver ring on his finger. I wanted to close the distance between us but didn’t know how. 

“Don’t let Rafe of all people ruin this. His opinion means nothing.” 

He lifted his chin. “It matters to your dad.”

I barely held back my wince. “He doesn’t get a say in who I date, JJ.”

“Oh, are we lying to each other now?”

“W-What do you mean?”

“Are we going to pretend that you don’t care about what your parents think?”

I took a step back as though he hit me. “Stop talking before you say something you’ll regret.”

“Everything you do is to get their attention. You’d die without their approval.”

In a manner of speaking, he was right. My parents barely paid me an ounce of attention and it was hard not to think it had to do with me. There must have been something wrong with me for my parents to not want to spend time with me. I spent the majority of my life trying to live up to their expectations hoping to be the daughter they always wanted, but nothing worked. I couldn’t get them to love me.

And he threw it all in my face.

I stared at him with tears in my eyes, hurt and stricken. 

At the sight of my tears, he looked away with his jaw clenched. 

“Why are you with me?” He hissed, holding out his arms. “It’s not like I can take you to dinner in Paris or buy you the clothes you like so much.”

Insecurity was a cruel thing. It had the power to turn someone as confident and sure as JJ into a puddle of irate nerves. And as his insecurity continued to dig its hooks further into his skin, he continued to rip into me, piece by piece.

“Because I love you. Because you make me laugh.” My voice raised, my hands clenched into fists by my sides. “Where is this coming from?”

Anxiety wound its way up my throat clocking off my air. 

“You’re fucking shoes are four grand. Do you know what I could do with four grand? I could get the power turned on in my house, or better yet, pay for the house.” The look he shot me had me wanting to be six feet under. He’d never looked at me like that before. He made me sound vapid and superficial. Like I didn’t spend most of my time on his side of the island. 

The guilt I felt early came back tenfold. Guilt for my position. Guilt for the money my family had. Guilt for the things I enjoyed buying, both for him and myself. 

Maybe I was just as bad as Rafe. 

Pain sliced my chest as his gaze continued to penetrate me like bullets.

“The other side of the island is starving and everyone here is drinking champagne and gambling a mortgage for fun. It’s disgusting.” JJ began to pace, shaking his head in disbelief. “You had me kissing ass to all these people, and for what? A job? Stop trying to turn me into something that I’m not.”

I wrapped my arms around my waist. “That wasn’t what I was doing. I was trying to open doors for you so you had options. All I wanted was to help give you a fighting chance.”

“I didn’t ask for your help.” The words continued to pelt at me, hitting my heart every time. The pressure in my chest only tightened further.

“Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do for the person you love?” My voice shook, matching the trembling of my body. “It never mattered before.”

I'd never been in love before him. I didn't have anything to compare it too since the most affection I get from my parents is a card on my birthday. I thought by doing everything they didn't do for me, supporting and comforting and physical touch, would somehow translate into love.

“Of course it mattered. You’re a fucking Kook.” The raw and angry words seeped into my veins, the audible crack of my heart echoing for all to hear.

My throat constricted. Enough, I couldn’t hear anymore. No, no, no. But JJ seemed to have other plans.

“I mean, I’m standing here in a custom Tom Ford whatever that could have fed me for months. I’m out of my element and it makes my skin fucking crawl. John B is getting sent to CPS and Pope is getting jumped and I’m here at some stupid dinner with the people that did it to him. What does that make me?”

My chest cracked open and my heart caved in. I finally saw the broken boy in front of me. Bruised and broken, completely uncomfortable and unsure of himself. 

“Kiara’s a kook.”

“Kiara’s different and you know that.” It remained unsaid but I knew what he was referring to. Kie was a hippie rich chick who didn’t enjoy all the things I did: designer clothes, luxury dinners, expensive food. In other words, I was a self absorbed kook princess that didn’t care for those around me. 

It didn’t matter that I spent most of the summer with JJ helping him fix homes in the cut. It didn’t matter that I donated to charities or helped send care kits to those on the cut after the hurricane. It didn’t matter that I spent almost all my free time with him and the pogues just as Kiara did. 

To him, I represented everything he hated. It didn’t matter that I loved him so deeply I defied my parents. It didn’t matter that I upended my life and chose to be with him. He could never see past the money, something I had no control over.  

I may have been standing in custom Christian Dior and Jimmy Choo, but I’ve never felt more cheap as JJ continued to cut me down with each word. 

“Do you want me to apologize?” My pulse spiked as a burst of adrenaline had me spouting the truth. “I had just as much a choice of being born on figure eight than you did on the cut.”

He looked at me like he hated me. “I don’t know how we deluded ourselves into thinking this could ever work.”

“You don’t get to stand there and make me feel guilty for who I am. Just because I have money and like nice things, doesn’t make me an asshole. I’ve treated everyone in my life with kindness. Don't group me with them.” 

JJ scoffs, pointing at the crowd on the dance floor. “Them? Them--means your parents, baby”.

“I’ve never treated you less than me.” It was a last ditch effort.

“At least I know what Kook pussy tastes like.” He went for the kill. “Money and daddy issues.”

I stilled. The world stilled. Vicious hurt curled its way into my soul, etching every bit of it until I no longer existed. 

Like I said before, I had no intention of going anywhere. But, I guess to JJ, he always had one foot out the door.

I think I stopped breathing. I blinked at him, hoping cameras would pop out and the whole thing came out as a prank. But, no cameras appeared. 

Just him and I stood, in a field, an arms length apart but a universe away. 

“You don’t mean that.” The words came out strangled. “Take it back.” 

He said nothing. I had to bring a fist to my mouth to try and block out the harsh sob that threatened to escape.

“JJ, please.” I begged, my hands catching his arm. “Let’s just go.”

His normal vibrant eyes regard me coldly, a muscle jumping his jaw. I was drowning in my emotions. Everything had escalated to a level I couldn’t fix, because he wouldn’t let me. The bathroom seemed forever ago in the scheme of things. I can see the battle in his eyes of whether to give into his self destructive behavior or to come back to me. 

Any hope I had of him coming back to me dissolved in a matter of seconds. A security guard came up behind him, gripping JJ by the forearm and tugging us towards the front of the party. My eyes widened in horror as I realized they were going to parade him around in front of everyone which would just humiliate him more.

“Jeez Daryl, could you loosen up your grip,” JJ complained, attempting to jerk out of the large man’s grip. He didn’t so much as flinch at each of JJ’s gripes either.

"What do you think you're doing?" I snapped, "Let him go, Darryl."

Darryl shook his head and gave me an apologetic look. "No can do. Mr. Cameron complained."

JJ Scoffed. “I can let myself out. I have two legs.”

“JJ, please stop.”

“I appreciate the discretion, Daryl.”

He self-destructed right in front of me. JJ grabbed a drink off an unsuspecting member and chugged it down before tossing the glass on the floor.

In the end, JJ was always going to be JJ. I saw the moment he decided to destroy everything we had. It was a slight shift in his body and that penetrating gaze of his hardened into a cruel amusement. JJ shrugged my hand off his, before his eyes flitter across the crowd as though he's looking for someone. Then I watched as they landed on a familiar brunette. 

“Hey, let him go. I’m a member of this club and I invited him.” Kie shouted at Darryl who paused for a brief moment. I could see her parents trying to discreetly get her to stop but Kiara refused. At the sound of her words, an appreciative grin tugged at JJ’s lips.

It didn’t matter that I had said the same thing hours ago. It didn’t matter that I not only defended him but made him a member. I liked shiny flashy things and she didn’t. Apparently, that made her better than me.

“Mandatory power hour at Rixon’s, Kie.” He shouted, pointing at where she stood in front of her parent’s. “Pope, you as well, alright?”

I had a disposition for loving people too much, no matter how they treated me. And for the first time in my life, I didn’t care that I wasn’t presentable. I didn’t care that tears were falling down my face or that my hair was a mess. I didn’t want to be left behind. He promised.

“Let me come-”

Exasperation filled his features. "Take a fucking hint. You can go be with someone like Rafe now. You two deserve each other."

“Alright, Kie c’mon.” He didn’t spare me a second glance. I had to watch as Kie took off running towards him with Pope in tow. JJ held out his arms to catch her, arms she happily jumped into. John B lets out a humored shout while JJ spins Kiara around and they take off.

Leaving me all by myself. My parents nowhere in sight. 

And suddenly everything hit me at once. My dress was too tight, my heels were pinching at the skin on my feet, the music was too loud, my hair was a mess. Nothing I did was right. Once again, I was left alone. Abandoned by the one person I thought would never leave. All because I loved him too much and he hated everything I couldn’t control.

I stood there, feeling like a silly little girl in a silly little dress I spent hours looking for, urging him to look back. He never did. 

Authors note: I hope I hurt your feelings because I hurt my own writing this :) pls let me know what u think!!! I love hearing from you guys

Tagging my favs: @maybankslover @sipsthecoffee @alyisdead

[v-iv-rusty]

I forgot how good movement/combat feels in bloodborne

[transform4u]

Mirror, Mirror on the wall...

Dylan, 32 years old and a rising star in the world of journalism, had finally achieved his big break after years of hard work. Now, he enjoyed a comfortable six-figure income, residing in a stylish one-bedroom apartment overlooking a serene park on Chicago's west side. He was known for his easygoing nature, a friendly demeanor, and a contagious laugh that invited others into his world. Dylan took pride in his caring disposition, always looking out for his friends and partners.

Despite his contentment, one persistent annoyance nagged at him: a particular guy on Grindr who seemed relentless in his pursuit. This individual, far from Dylan's type, exuded a flamboyance that clashed with Dylan's more reserved personality. His profile picture, donned in drag, irked Dylan every time it appeared on his screen. Yet, amidst his success and popularity, Dylan prided himself on being his own person—not conforming to stereotypes, but embodying a cool, composed image that he meticulously cultivated.

After a long day at work followed by a rigorous gym session, Dylan returned home to unwind. Just as he settled in, his phone buzzed unexpectedly with a message on Instagram—not from his friend Kyle about their usual happy hour plans, but from the persistent Grindr user. Irritated yet intrigued by the message's tone, Dylan hesitated before reluctantly opening it.

"Hey Dylan. It's clear now that you don't want to date me. And I'm totally fine with that. Maybe you think you're too hot or too cool or whatever to date me. But you've only lived one life. Hah. That's gonna change."

A doorbell interrupted his thoughts, drawing Dylan to the front door where a package wrapped in vibrant red packaging lay waiting. Curiosity overcame him as he brought it inside and unwrapped it, revealing a mirror shaped like a melting heart. Puzzled by its arrival and wondering if he had made a drunken purchase, Dylan decided to hang it on his wall despite its mismatch with his usual decor.

Upon hanging the mirror, Dylan discovered a small letter tucked within. Reading it aloud, he found himself drawn into an impulsive act—reciting the mirror's enchantment aloud, inviting a change he could not have anticipated.

Dylan stood in front of the mirror, mesmerized and slightly apprehensive, as the first effects of his impulsive incantation began to take hold. The air around him crackled with an electric energy, a sensation he could only describe as a tingling wave coursing through his entire body. It started subtly, a faint tremor in his muscles, like a dormant power awakening. He read a note:

"Dearest Dylan. I'm so happy you decided to hang up my mirror. I know how much you love to look at yourself. Hah. Well. Look deep into the mirror. And soon you love life will change. It's a going to be wicked fun. Just look at the mirror on the wall and speak aloud the following words…

Mirror, Mirror on the wall. Give me a life to be hated by all. Mirror, Mirror my face looking back at me. Give me the personality of someone I'd hate to be. Mirror, Mirror show my worst self. Mirror, Mirror change thyself" As he spoke the words aloud. The paper fell from my hands and the mirror glowed and glowed almost incasing my entire room. What had he done?

At first, Dylan relished the transformation. He watched in awe as his reflection morphed before his eyes. Muscles tightened and expanded, sculpting his physique into something that mirrored the fitness models he had admired in magazines. His abs became chiseled, arms bulged with newfound definition, and his biceps swelled with strength. It was exhilarating; a validation of the hours he had spent at the gym, honing his body to perfection.

But as the changes intensified, doubts crept into Dylan's mind. His initial thrill gave way to a growing unease. He remembered the words he had spoken to the mirror: **"Give me the personality of someone I'd hate to be."** Panic simmered beneath his skin as he realized the gravity of his request.

The mirror, now glowing ominously, seemed to reflect not just his physical transformation, but something deeper—an alteration of his essence. His reflection's smirk deepened, its eyes gleaming with a knowing malice. "Oh, I'm going to enjoy this," the mirror whispered, its voice echoing with an otherworldly resonance that sent shivers down Dylan's spine.

As the transformation continued, Dylan felt an unnatural confidence surging through him, mingled with an unsettling arrogance. His once warm and inviting laugh took on a haughty edge. His friendly demeanor hardened into a dismissive smirk, and his generous spirit twisted into selfish impulses. The very traits he had prided himself on—kindness, empathy, humility—began to erode, replaced by a cold, calculating demeanor that he barely recognized.

Despite his growing discomfort, Dylan found himself unable to tear his gaze away from the mirror. It was as though he was watching a collision of his idealized self and his deepest fears, all brought to life by his reckless words. The mirror's reflection taunted him, mocking the person he was becoming.

In that moment of realization, Dylan knew he had to undo what he had set in motion. But the mirror held him captive, its eerie glow pulsating with an irresistible power. As he struggled against the creeping darkness within him, Dylan's heart sank with the weight of regret.

What had he done? And how could he ever return to the person he once was?

As Dylan wrestled with the unsettling changes in his demeanor, the transformation took an unexpected turn. The electric waves that had initially expanded his muscles began to reverse course. He felt a strange sensation of compression, as if his body was shrinking down, compacting itself while retaining the newfound strength and definition.

His arms, once bulging with exaggerated muscles, now tightened into a more refined and compact form. The exaggerated bulk softened, the lines of his physique becoming sleeker yet still maintaining a toned athleticism. Dylan's abs, previously sharp and defined, now settled into a leaner but no less impressive configuration. The transformation seemed to redefine his physical presence, sculpting him into a different ideal—a more compact, agile version of the muscular figure he had momentarily embodied. At first, Dylan didn't realize what was happening. His focus had been on the muscular changes wrought by the mirror's magic. But then, he noticed it: a gradual shrinking, a diminishment of his stature. Inch by inch, Dylan's height decreased, each moment bringing him closer to the ground until he stood at a diminutive 5 foot 4.

As his body underwent this metamorphosis, Dylan's skin tone deepened into a rich, bronzed tan. It was a stark departure from his natural complexion, now radiating with a sun-kissed glow that seemed to intensify under the mirror's eerie illumination. The mirror's magic continued to work its unsettling effects, altering not just his appearance but seemingly his very essence.

Dylan's gaze flickered down in shock as he noticed his shirt melting away, replaced by a garish gold chain draped around his neck. The chain, ostentatious and gaudy, clashed starkly against the more subdued attire he had preferred. It gleamed in the dim light of his apartment, a visible manifestation of the transformation's shift towards a persona he neither recognized nor desired.

The realization hit him hard. What had begun as a frivolous experiment had spiraled into something far more profound and irreversible. His reflection in the mirror now bore the mark of someone he might have once scorned—an exaggerated caricature of confidence bordering on arrogance, adorned with symbols of material excess that clashed with his previous understated elegance.

Fear and regret coursed through Dylan's veins as he struggled to comprehend the depth of the mirror's power. The once-inviting mirror now seemed to taunt him with each passing moment, its glow pulsating with a malevolent energy that mirrored the darker facets of his altered personality.

As he stood before the mirror, trapped in a transformation he couldn't control, Dylan's thoughts raced. How could he undo this? Was there any way to revert to the person he had been before his ill-advised invocation? With each passing second, the answer seemed to slip further from his grasp, swallowed by the insatiable hunger of the mirror's magic.

As the transformation continued, Dylan's mind began to fog up. His once-sharp intellect was dulled by a sudden influx of base desires and primal urges. The mirror's magic had not only altered his physical appearance but also rewired his brain, stripping away any semblance of rational thought or empathy he once possessed.

In its place grew an insatiable lust for women—their curves, their scents, their soft skin against his own hardened form. He found himself fixated on images of bikini-clad models and celebrities with impossibly large breasts and tight asses. His gaze lingered on every woman who crossed his path, imagining what it would be like to possess them in the most carnal sense possible.

His thoughts were no longer focused on intellectual pursuits or meaningful relationships; instead, they revolved around parties filled with alcohol and drugs where he could indulge in casual sex without consequence or commitment. The idea of settling down with one person seemed foreign to him now—a concept that held no appeal whatsoever in this new reality where pleasure was fleeting but easily attainable through superficial means alone.

Dylan's once-passionate love for men had been reduced to nothing more than a distant memory as he embraced this newfound heterosexuality wholeheartedly (or rather whole-mindedly). He found himself drawn towards masculine traits such as strength and dominance over feminine ones like sensitivity or emotional depth—qualities that were now deemed weaknesses by his transformed mindset.

As the transformation continued, Dylan's mind was flooded with more fuckboy thoughts. He found himself laughing along with the reflection in the mirror, which seemed to be enjoying his descent into shallow superficiality.

His flaws and memories began to change as well. His once-kind nature was replaced by a selfish and entitled attitude; he now believed that he deserved whatever he wanted without considering others' feelings or needs. His intelligence had been reduced to a basic understanding of popular culture and trends, leaving him unable to engage in meaningful conversations beyond small talk or gossip about celebrities.

The mirror erased any memories of Dylan's past relationships—both platonic and romantic—replacing them with fantasies about scoring hot chicks at parties or picking up women at bars using cheesy pickup lines learned from watching reality TV shows like "The Bachelor." His once-loving personality had been completely erased, replaced by an insatiable desire for attention from anyone who could provide him with temporary gratification or validation through social media likes or compliments on his physique which now included muscular abs but also featured excessive tanning.

As the transformation continued, Dylan became as shallow as possible. He wanted nothing more than to bang a hot chick who would make him feel like a real man. The image in his mind was that of a blonde bombshell with big boobs, toned abs, and an ass that wouldn't quit. She had to be tall enough for him to feel dominant over her but also petite enough for him to easily lift her off the ground during their passionate encounters.

Her personality didn't matter; all he cared about was how she looked on his arm at parties or how good she would be in bed (preferably multiple times throughout the night). He envisioned himself taking her out for expensive dinners before whisking her away to some exclusive club where they could dance until dawn while sipping champagne from flutes held aloft by waiters dressed in tuxedos.

The thought of waking up next to this perfect specimen of femininity filled Dylan with an almost primal desire—a need so strong it eclipsed any lingering traces of empathy or compassion he once possessed.

With his newfound confidence and shallow desires, Dylan mindlessly walked towards the nearest bar. He knew he would find plenty of women there who would be interested in someone like him—a tall, muscular guy with money to burn and a cocky attitude to match.

As he entered the dimly lit room filled with people drinking and dancing, his eyes immediately scanned for potential targets. Spotting a group of girls at one end of the bar, he made his way over without hesitation or any thought about being polite or respectful.

"Hey ladies," he said loudly enough for them all to hear as he slid onto an empty stool next to them, "what's up?" His tone was crude but laced with false charm as if this was something he did every night instead of being completely out of character for him just moments ago.

The woman he had addressed turned towards him, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in his appearance. "Not much," she replied curtly before turning back towards her friends and continuing their conversation.

Undeterred by her lack of interest, Dylan leaned closer to the group and spoke directly to the woman again. "So what brings you girls out tonight?" He flashed a fake smile that revealed a row of perfectly white teeth now slightly yellowed from too much alcohol consumption over the years.

The woman rolled her eyes but didn't respond right away, instead choosing to ignore him completely while sipping on her drink nonchalantly.

Feeling emboldened by his new persona, Dylan reached out and grabbed the woman's ass without hesitation or consent. She let out a surprised gasp but didn't move away as he expected her to do. Instead, she turned towards him with a look of amusement in her eyes that made his heart race faster than it had in years.

"Well aren't you just full of surprises?" she said playfully before taking another sip from her drink. "I must admit, I wasn't expecting someone like you to hit on me tonight."

Dylan grinned widely at this small victory, feeling more confident than ever before as he ordered himself another round at the bar while keeping one eye on the group of women across from him.

As the night wore on, Dylan found himself growing more conservative and homophobic. His new persona seemed to thrive on these negative traits, embracing them as part of his identity. He began making crude jokes about gay people, laughing along with his friends at the expense of anyone who didn't fit into their narrow definition of masculinity.

His once-open mind had closed itself off completely, leaving no room for empathy or understanding towards those different from him. Instead, he focused all his energy on maintaining an image that would impress others—a tough guy who wasn't afraid to speak his mind even if it meant hurting someone else's feelings in the process.

Looking into the mirror, Dylan saw a reflection of himself that he barely recognized. Gone was the thoughtful, kind-hearted man he once was; in his place stood Austin—a tall, muscular straight fuckboy with a cocky attitude and an insatiable desire for women.

Austin's hair had grown out slightly longer but still maintained its sleekness thanks to regular trips to the barber. His eyes were now darker and more intense, reflecting his newfound confidence and willingness to take risks without considering consequences or others' feelings. His clothing consisted of designer labels that screamed "money" while showing off just enough skin to be considered tasteful by those who shared similar tastes as him.

Fuckboy Austin was the perfect embodiment of shallow, straight masculinity. He had an impressive physique thanks to hours spent at the gym each week, but he didn't let it go to his head—he knew he could always do better. His wardrobe consisted of expensive designer clothes that fit him perfectly, showing off his toned abs and broad shoulders while remaining tasteful enough for any upscale event or club scene.

His personality was just as well-crafted as his appearance; he had a cocky attitude that made women swoon but also came across as arrogant when dealing with others who didn't meet his high standards for attractiveness or success. He loved nothing more than hitting on beautiful women at bars and clubs before taking them home for a night filled with passionate sex followed by morning-after regrets on their part, which only served to fuel Austin's ego even further.

Fuckboy Austin lived a life filled with meaningless hookups, expensive nights out at clubs, and endless self-improvement efforts to maintain his perfect physique. He spent hours each day at the gym, lifting weights and running on treadmills while listening to motivational speeches on his headphones. His diet consisted mainly of protein shakes and pre-workout supplements that he believed gave him an edge over other guys trying to score with the same women as him.

Austin was also quite popular on social media platforms like Instagram and TikTok where he shared videos of himself flexing in front of mirrors or giving workout tips for those looking to get into shape themselves. His follower count continued growing daily thanks largely in part due to his good looks but also because many found inspiration in seeing someone so dedicated towards achieving physical perfection.

As far as hobbies went, Austin didn't have any real interests outside of working out or picking up chicks at bars; however, this lack of depth didn't seem bother him much since it allowed him more time focus solely on improving himself physically instead wasting energy pursuing meaningful relationships or intellectual pursuits.

Fuckboy Austin's life revolved around one thing: himself. He spent every waking moment thinking about how he could improve his appearance, his social status, or his chances with the latest hot girl who had caught his eye. His days were filled with trips to the gym followed by hours spent on social media, where he would post pictures of himself flexing or posing in front of mirrors while wearing nothing but a pair of tight briefs.

His nights were even more action-packed as he would hit up various clubs and bars looking for new conquests to add to his ever-growing list of notches on his bedpost. He had no qualms about using cheesy pickup lines or playing mind games with women just so they would give him their numbers or agree to go home with him later that night. Once he had secured a willing partner (or two), Austin would shower them with compliments and gifts before taking them back home for an evening filled with passionate sex followed by morning-after regrets on their part (which only served as fuel for Austin's already massive ego).

Despite all this success, there was still something missing from Fuckboy Austin's life—a sense of purpose beyond superficial pleasures like material possessions and casual encounters. Deep down inside, he knew that there must be more out there than just endless parties and meaningless hookups; however, those thoughts were quickly pushed aside whenever another beautiful woman crossed paths with him at some trendy nightclub.

[wxnheart]

yandere!messmer x reader.

Messmer who encounters his mongrel intruder time and time again, and time and time again, they fall only to come back and challenge him. And time and time again, he finds himself fixated on you and your determination to see your journey through. The same journey put upon you by his mother. The same mother who doomed him to hell.

Messmer who figures he could kill two birds with one stone. If Marika could deny him the tranquility of life, he would deny her and her purpose the freedom that came with death. And he would do so with you by his side. And so Messmer waits for your return, his tainted love bereft of light.

Messmer who sits and contemplates your end goal. What could you possibly hope to achieve on this journey? What could you possibly hope to gain from Marika's ambitions? No matter. What you want, what you seek, the Light couldn't possibly give, but his flame would provide you with warmth.

Messmer who almost contemplates pursuing you himself rather than letting you come to him again. What an interesting turn of events. Initially, you were met with faint incredulity. Faint incredulity became annoyance, annoyance became anticipation, and anticipation became impatience for who else could fall and rise back up again to challenge him but his determined love? He loves and hates you for it.

Messmer who begins to obsessively track your whereabouts from the comfort of his hold. He has eyes and ears everywhere in this shadowed land. Nothing goes unnoticed under his watch. Messmer who feels this... exhilaration when he learns you're near. And so he prepares to strike.

Messmer who's never fully embraced the excitement of battle until now as his plan comes to fruition. Messmer whose strikes are hard-hitting, his evades frustrating, and his anger and desire clear for all to see. Except, perhaps, for you.

Messmer who defeats you yet again, but instead of dealing the finishing blow, long fingers grab your chin and—wait, he's kissing you. Messmer who tightens his grip as you try to pull away. It's firm, overwhelming, and harsh.

Messmer whose smile is small and serene compared to your confused countenance, singular eye glowing ominously in the half-lit room. Messmer whose smile remains intact even as you question and try to pull away. Messmer who simply murmurs, "My consort..." and your blood runs cold.

Messmer, he who was denied peace, finds his own, and it comes at your expense. If he could not be free of the abyss, you cannot run toward the light. All is as it should be: his mother's dream and your ambition reduced to ashes by his flame. And peace comes at last.

[theostrophywife]

kiss with a fist | chapter one.

masterlist 💋 chapters 💋 playlist

pairing: theodore nott x reader.

song inspiration: kiss with a fist - florence and the machine.

author's note: i'm so excited to share this series with everyone. this was literally meant to be a one shot fic but i have no self control therefore it spiraled into a whole series. without further ado, please enjoy the first chapter and let me know what you think 🤎

Wit beyond measure is a man’s greatest treasure. 

Intelligence, knowledge, wisdom. These were the traits that Ravenclaws valued most, but if the founder of your house could see you now, Rowena Ravenclaw would probably roll over in her grave. 

Because there was nothing smart about falling in love with Theodore Nott. 

In fact, it might be the most idiotic thing you’ve ever done in your entire life. 

So why did it feel so bloody exhilarating? 

To understand your descent into madness, it was prudent to trace the events back to point zero. 

It was a rainy September afternoon, unusually dreary even for the Scottish Highlands. The first week of your return to Hogwarts had been chaotic to say the least. Between performing your prefect duties by showing the first years around the castle and dealing with the clueless third year that accidentally set off Weasleys' Wildfire Whiz-bangs in the Great Hall, you were absolutely knackered by the time Friday rolled around. 

Unfortunately, you had no time to rest. Even though the term just started, you were already spending much of your nights studying until your eyes felt like they were going to fall out of your skull. Tonight, you were in the potions laboratory tackling a particularly stubborn advanced draught. No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t figure it out. 

You dropped a sprig of wormwood into the cauldron and stirred counterclockwise then clockwise, just like the recipe instructed. The concoction bubbled to the surface. Holding your breath, you peered into the mixture with hope that this try would finally turn out successful. The potion turned a vibrant magenta color before exploding all over the front of your uniform. 

Sadly, this was the closest you’d come to brewing the Angel’s Trumpet Draught. You sighed, wiping down your tie with a washcloth. It did nothing except make the mess worse. What you needed was a good old fashioned soak.

Luckily, you had access to the prefect’s bathroom on the fifth floor. During this time of night, it would be gloriously empty. Giving you the perfect opportunity to wallow in bubbles and self pity. 

The trek from the dungeons to the fifth floor was fortunately uneventful. The hallways were dark and quiet, allowing you to slink off to the bathroom in peace. With a whisper of pine fresh, the pearly gates opened.

You turned on the faucets, setting the temperature just below boiling and dispensing herbs and fragrances into the tub. When you were finally satisfied, you quickly discarded your soiled clothes and eagerly stepped into the warm bath. The scent of rosewater and pink himalayan salt instantly relaxed you. 

You sighed deeply, leaning against the marble tile and closing your eyes. This was definitely not the way you thought seventh year would go. Your last year at Hogwarts was supposed to be the highlight of your academic career. While your housemates fretted and fussed over quidditch games and blood moon balls, you refused to take your eyes off the prize.

Ever the diligent student, you had no interest in extracurriculars unless it brought you closer to your dream of becoming an accomplished potions master, which would hopefully catch the eye of the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers. Joining the prestigious group was a dream that you had been working towards since first year. Blood, sweat, and tears had gone towards achieving this goal, especially during your most recent break. 

You spent the entire holiday interning at the Brewery, attending lectures at the Magical Division of the University of Oxford, and you had not only completed the assigned reading for your Advanced Potions class, but Professor Slughorn’s personal recommendations as well. All of that hard work should have placed you ahead of the curve, but your class rank remained the same as always. 

Second. 

Not first.

Never first.

No, that spot belonged to that rich infuriating smartass pureblooded motherfu—

“Theodore Nott,” you said, lacing your voice with as much venom as you could muster. 

Between the pale moonstone pillars stood the source of your academic anguish. Theodore was dripping sweat, his green and silver quidditch jersey covered in mud and grime. The prefect badge pinned to his robe was barely visible, more brown than silver. His curly brown hair fell erratically across his cheekbones as he brushed a stray strand away to squint in the faint light. 

The side of his mouth quirked up into a smirk when he recognized you. “You know, most people just call me Theo.” His gaze lingered on your form, which was barely covered by pink suds. “Especially those who know me rather intimately.”

You flushed in response. Amusement danced in his watercolor eyes, which seemed brighter now thanks to his sun kissed complexion. Knowing Nott, he probably spent his summer laying out in the Italian sun while attractive witches fed him grapes by hand. You didn’t get a tan like that from holing up in the English countryside with nothing but a boiling cauldron and a dusty textbook for company. He didn’t even have the audacity to pretend like he was worried about his class ranking. The bastard. 

“Every rule has its exception, Theodore,” you gritted out. “Now get the fuck out.” 

He cocked his head, sending a mass of wavy brown locks to spill to one side. “You’re right. Most people don’t usually say my name like it’s an unforgivable, but I guess you’re special in that way, diavolina mia.”

Little devil, Nott's idea of a fond nickname, irritated you to no end. Your annoyance only made him use it more. Gods, what a wanker. 

“Are you deaf or just thick? This bathroom is occupied,” you huffed, sinking lower into the bubbles. “Leave before I scream bloody murder.” 

Theo smirked. “Oh, I guarantee you’ll be screaming.” He kicked his shoes off, leaving them in a messy pile beside your own neatly arranged boots. “Though the only thing I’ll be murdering is that pu—”

The glare you sent his way would have sent lesser men running for the Forbidden Forest. “I’m serious, Nott. I’ve had a terrible fucking day and I am not giving up the bath.” 

“Neither am I,” he countered. “Practice was brutal. I ate shit on the pitch and all I want to do is to reap my prefect benefits via bubble bath. I’m afraid you’re just going to have to learn how to share, sweetheart.”

You watched in stunned silence as he peeled off his jersey. The moonlight streamed through the glass stained windows, painting him in a surreal sort of light. There was no ounce of shame to be found in Theodore Nott as he stripped off his trousers and stood stark naked in the middle of the bathroom. 

Look away, you thought. Look the fuck away now.  

But like a moth to a flame, you found yourself horribly drawn to the cocky, arrogant, son of a bludger. His tall frame cut an imposing figure in the dark as slivers of moonlight danced across his ridiculously toned chest and well-defined abs. He was neither brawny nor scrawny, but somewhere in the middle, which unfortunately happened to be your sweet spot. 

To make matters worse, the smug prick seemed perfectly aware of your ogling. You could’ve sworn Theo flexed as he stalked towards you. Unlike most boys his age, he wasn’t awkward or bumbling. Theo was confident in his body. Too confident. 

You sighed. “Can you at least attempt to be decent?” 

“Why? It’s not like you haven’t seen it all before.”

As if you needed a reminder of this ongoing tryst between you. Theo waded to your side, leaning his head back as the warm water sloshed around him. His eyes fluttered close, those thick lashes of his kissing the top of his cheekbones. Water trickled down his collarbone and you had to fight the urge to lean over and lick it off. 

“I told you, last time was—“ 

“The last time,” Theo finished. “I’m perfectly aware, principessa. You say it every time.” 

“I mean it this time.” 

He cocked his head, flashing those hypnotizing eyes at you. “Oh?” Theo drawled slowly, reaching out to brush a wayward lock of hair that had escaped from your braid. “Did my poor little Ravenclaw finally find the courage to say no to the big bad Slytherin?” 

Your breath hitched as he pressed his lips against your throat. “Fuck,” you whispered. 

“Go on then, love,” Theo hummed against your skin. He kissed the sensitive spot beneath your earlobe, making you involuntarily arch into him. Slender fingers wrapped around the base of your throat, holding you in place. “Tell me what you want, diavolina.” 

You sighed in defeat. “Stop being an asshole and kiss me, Nott.” 

Theo grabbed the back of your head and crashed his lips against yours like a man starved. After months of going without, you came to the horrid realization that you craved this as much as he did. You crawled into his lap, straddling him as he gripped your hips hard enough to leave bruises. 

I am a stupid girl, you thought. A stupid, horny girl who had no business snogging Theodore Nott. 

One, you were bitter rivals. Two, Theo awakened a dangerous side of you that defied all logic. This whole fucked up situation started because of your lapse of judgment last winter. As always, Theo had said or done something to annoy you during class and in return you hexed his drink to taste like dragon dung. He retched for a week straight. Somehow Snape found out that you were to blame and placed both of you in detention.

One thing led to another in the potions classroom and you ended up with your skirt around your waist and Theo’s head between your legs. You quickly resolved that the only way to shut him up was to keep him occupied and occupied he was. Ever since then, the two of you had been at it like rabbits. 

You thought that you would leave all of it behind in sixth year, but barely a week into this term and you were already repeating the pattern. 

“I’ve been thinking about this all summer,” Theo groaned into your mouth. 

“That’s cute, Nott,” you responded sarcastically. “Miss me over the holidays, did you?”

Theo rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. Don’t act like you haven’t been thinking about this too. You’ve been testier than a Hungarian Horntail since the minute you got off the platform. I could tell that you haven’t been properly fucked since our little impromptu goodbye in the broom closet last spring.” 

“You’re absolutely repulsing.” 

He smirked. “Then why are you pulling me closer?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Shut up and fuck me before I change my mind.” 

“You could say please.” 

“I could,” you said with a shrug before gripping his cock and lining him up at your entrance. Theo groaned as you sank down into him with a satisfied little smirk. “But I won’t.” 

The moan that came out of his mouth barely sounded human. “Fuck,” he said, burying his head in the crook of your neck. “How do you always feel so fucking good?” 

You knew what he meant. As much as you hated to admit it, Theo was right. You hadn’t gotten properly laid since your last tryst. There had been other boys this summer, but none of them made you feel like this. Because sex with Theo wasn’t just sex. It was warfare. You fucked like you both had something to prove. 

Even now, as you grinded your hips against him, Theo thrusted upwards with equal force like you were competing for the bloody house cup. You ran your fingers through his hair, frowning a little. 

“What?” Theo asked. 

“Did you cut your hair?” 

He grinned as he trailed kisses along your jaw. “You don’t like it?”

“Less to hold onto.”

“Don’t worry dolcezza,” Theo chuckled darkly. He squeezed your thighs and pressed you against him roughly. “I’ll make sure to hold on tight for the both of us.”

You hummed in agreement before sinking down again, setting a steady rhythm as you rode him with reckless abandon. For someone who valued logic, every ounce of common sense you possessed went out the window when it came to this infuriating boy. 

Maybe you were a masochist. But as Theo thrust sharply into you, the stupid little voice in your head said that you didn’t really mind the pain. 

You moaned as Theo tilted your chin, capturing your lips with his. It was a clash of tongue and teeth as you fought for dominance, putting your bodies to the test. He knew exactly what buttons to press, which sensitive spots to hit, how to challenge you physically and mentally. 

“Gods, right there.” You whimpered, digging your fingernails into his back. Theo’s hypnotizing eyes snapped to yours, piercing through every layer until you felt even more bare than you already were. “Don’t fucking stop, please.”

He smirked. “So you do have bedside manner after all.” 

“Not for you,” you said as you grinded down hard, making Theo bite into your shoulder. 

“Salazar fucking save me,” he grunted. 

“Your founder can’t save you now, Nott.” 

“Cruel, ruthless woman.” Theo looked up at you like he was praying to the stars. His movements stilled as your gazes collided. “Tell me you missed this. Tell me that no one else makes you feel like this.” 

You whined at the loss of friction. “You’ve picked a shit time to get all sentimental on me, Nott.”

“It’s not sentiment, it’s the truth,” Theo declared, thrusting lazily. “And I want to hear you say it.” 

“Why?”

“Call it curiosity,” he said casually. “I want to know if I measure up to the boys back in Oxford.”

Not even close, you thought. But you were not about to admit that out loud. 

“Curiosity killed the cat, you know.” 

Theo chuckled before sinking his teeth into your neck. “But I’m not a cat, little bird. I’m a snake and I’m coiled around you ready to strike if you say the word.” 

You shivered slightly. This constant back and forth, all the bickering and banter, was just you and Theo’s sick and twisted version of foreplay. Gods, you fucking missed it. 

“Fine,” you grumbled. “Theodore Nott, you are an infuriating little shit but you fuck like an absolute demon. I missed sneaking around with you in the broom closet, the charms classroom, the astronomy tower, and wherever else we managed to defile in this bloody castle. Is that what you wanted to hear?” 

The shiteating grin on his face almost made you want to take it all back, but then he flipped you over, laying you down on the cold marble tile and staring at you with so much lust in his eyes that you felt the depths of his desire in your core. He crawled over you, water trickling down his tanned skin. 

“Close enough,” he remarked before hiking your leg over his shoulder and burying himself so deep that you clawed the edge of the tub to keep yourself from slipping. 

The rest of it was a blur of skin on skin as Theo unleashed himself on you. His mouth, his fingers, his cock were all just tools of seduction that he wielded with lethal precision. 

The pleasure washed over you in waves, crashing again and again as he made you cum not once, not twice, but a total of three times. By the time he reached his peak, you were so exhausted that the two of you collapsed in the dark. 

You laid side by side, staring up at the domed glass ceiling in stunned silence. After a moment, Theo turned over to face you.

“So?” 

“So what?”

“Did I manage to knock that stick out of your arse?”

You rolled your eyes, pushing off the tile. “And that’s my cue to leave.”

“I’m kidding. I’m good, but I’m not that good,” Theo teased, following closely behind as you put your clothes back on. He eyed the bright magenta stain on the front of your uniform. “What happened there? Did you murder some poor unsuspecting pygmy puff?” 

“No, but I did a number on the potions lab,” you lamented with a sigh. “That stupid Angel’s Trumpet Draught is bloody impossible to brew.” 

“That old thing?” Theo asked, pulling out a fresh set of clothes from his quidditch bag. “I finished it ages ago.” 

You gaped, nearly tumbling over your own skirt. “How? I followed the recipe word for word and this disastrous stain was all I managed to achieve.”

“Sometimes you have to go off the book,” he replied. “Experiment a little.” 

“No thanks, I’d rather keep all my limbs intact.”

“I think you’re doing a rather splendid job of endangering yourself all on your own,” Theo said sarcastically. He cocked his head as you slipped on your boots. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll show you how to brew the draught in exchange for a favor.” 

You narrowed your eyes in suspicion. “What kind of favor?” 

“That’s for me to decide and for you to accept.” 

“I’d rather not give an egomaniac a nuclear advantage.” 

Theo rolled his eyes. “Do you want my help or not, diavolina?” 

“Fine,” you said with a sigh. “But only because I’m desperate.” 

“Words every bloke is dying to hear.” 

Without a word, he tossed a mass of balled up fabric in your direction. “What’s this?” 

“A jumper, an article of clothing generally worn to retain warmth in colder climates,” Theo deadpanned.

“I know what a jumper is, you tosser. Why are you giving it to me?” 

“Because, you’ll get a cold walking around like that,” Theo explained with a longsuffering sigh as though you were a clueless first year. The corners of his mouth quirked up. “Plus, I can see your nipples through your blouse and as much as I enjoy the view, I doubt that flashing Filch is at the top of your bucket list.” 

“You truly are appalling,” you replied, shrugging the slightly faded jumper on. The thing was so worn that you couldn’t even make out the inscription on the front. The fabric swallowed you whole, skimming the top of your thighs. It also smelled like sea salt and smoke and boy. One boy in particular. 

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” He grinned, showing off those stupid little dimples of his. “Meet me in the potions lab tomorrow. Eight o’clock sharp, just like old times. And bring a muffin.” 

“For the draught?’ 

“No, for me.” Theo said, holding the door open. “I’ll need motivation if I’m spending my Saturday morning with you.” 

You slipped into the hallway and flipped him the bird. His laughter followed you in the dark like an annoying shadow.

“See you tomorrow, my little pygmy puff!”

Taglist: @annaisabookworm@marina468@yaraasthings @the0doreslover@bubybubsters@moony-artemis @natasha887@lucyysthings@criesinlies @bunnymallowo@niktwazny303@letmedownslows @siriuslyalovergirl@wordsarelife@clairesjointshurt @daydreamingabthar @mishtay @cherry-hoe  @littlebookbengal @maybefoxysouls @nomup  @aliensknowmyillusions

[usagiumiko3]

Intense reflections

˗ˏˋ Sylus has a thing for your red lipstick ˎˊ˗

Sylus × Reader

Love and Deepspace

Words: 2,325

tw: just kissing, touching and sexuala tension (・ω<)

ao3

Sitting at your vanity table, you carefully apply your deep red lipstick. In the reflection of the mirror, you could see Sylus sitting on the bed, his eyes fixed on you with intense focus.

His gaze devours you and it makes you feel nervous, knowing that every movement of yours was being observed and savored by his blood red eyes. The way he looked at you was like an aphrodisiac to him, evident in the dilation of his pupils. They were intense and all consuming, taking in every shift of your body and every brush of your hand against your lips. The way he looked at you made you feel both exhilarated and nervous, as if he was under a spell.

You try to will your body to ignore his overwhelming presence, but your hand betrays you with its trembling. Nervousness consumes you, causing your heart to quicken and your breath to catch in your throat. The weight of his gaze feels heavy on your skin as you struggle to keep your composure.

As you gaze at your reflection in the mirror, you can't help but feel confident and beautiful. Tonight is a special event and Sylus has invited you to be by his side. He picked out a stunning dress, heels, and accessories for you, all according to his own taste. You couldn't complain even if you wanted to, because everything he chose is exquisite. You marvel at how he always manages to have such impeccable taste and give you gifts that take your breath away with their beauty and value.

You push away your thoughts and refocus on applying your lipstick. You part your lips slightly and glide the lipstick smoothly over them, feeling his intense gaze on you. After skillfully applying it with clean edges, you gently tap the middle of your lips to blend it in. As you focus on achieving an even application, you suddenly hear his deep rumbling voice.

"That color suits you well, sweetheart" he commented, his eyes drinking in the sight of you. You couldn't help but shiver slightly as his words washed over you.

You smile and continue to apply your lipstick, determined to get it perfect.

"You look especially stunning tonight" you hear his voice deepening even further, if that was even possible. "I can hardly contain myself until we arrive at the event."

You pause with your lipstick mid air as you glance at him in the mirror. “Pardon?”

He gives you a mischievous grin and for a moment, you could have sworn that his eyes were glowing with a deep red lust.

"You heard me, sweetheart. How many times do you think I can refrain myself from ravishing you in that beautiful dress?"

Slowly, he rises from the bed and approaches you from behind. You can sense his warmth as he stands close to your back. His fingertips trace a path down your shoulders and arms, sending an electric wave through your body. As he leans in close, his hot breath tickles your neck.

As you lift your eyes to meet his in the mirror, a jolt of adrenaline courses through your body. His strong, piercing gaze holds yours, sending shivers down your spine. You can feel the intensity emanating from him, and it both intrigues and intimidates you. Your heart races as you try to keep your composure under his unwavering stare.

His voice, a low growl, whispers,"Have I told you just how beautiful you look tonight?…I can't seem to tear my eyes away from you, even for a moment..”

You can feel his lips brushing against your neck, causing you to swallow nervously. "I can see that..."

His lips travel down your neck, leaving a trail of kisses in their wake. You feel his hot breath against your skin, sending tingles down your spine. He slowly takes your earlobe into his mouth, nipping it gently with his teeth.

“You should see yourself.. so beautiful and so deliciously tempting" he whispered between the kisses.

He reaches out and grabs your face, forcing you to look at him. His gaze travels over your features, focusing on your plump, red lips. A slight smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth as he considers you.

"You know what would be an exquisite accessory?" He says slowly, his voice low and tinged with a hint of mischief.

Staring into your eyes, his gaze filled with a fierce, almost primal desire, before his words slowly reach your ears. "A lipstick mark..made by you…"

"And where do you want it?"

He leans in, his face inching closer to yours as he takes in every detail of your features. With a gentle touch, he runs his thumb along your chin, observing your lips contour, before speaking again in a hushed tone.

"I want it right here.." He reaches up and taps his neck just below his left ear, his gaze never leaving your own, a silent request in his eyes.

"Are you sure? Because everyone at the event is going to see it.."

He grins, his eyes darkening slightly as he gazes at you, his hand still gently holding your face.

"That's exactly why I want it. So that every single person that looks at me tonight, knows that you're the one who put it there.."

As the tension between the two of you builds, the room seems to shrink, the only thing that matters is the desire that courses through you both. You realize that, for him, this is not just about the lipstick mark, it's about claiming him as your own, making sure that everyone who sees him will know that he is yours... and yours alone.

The certainty in his voice is undeniable, and you find yourself capitulating to his desire, knowing that you can't resist the pull of his unyielding gaze. As you lean in towards him, the room around you fades into the background, and you see only him, only this moment. Not as if you weren't already seeing only him.

His hand still caresses your face, guiding your lips towards the spot he had indicated. The soft texture of his neck meets the warm feeling of your coated lips.

The fragrance of his cologne mixes with the creamy texture of your lipstick. The touch of his hand on your nape grows firmer.

As you slowly pull away, you look back at his face and can observe his gaze shifting from the mirror back to your face. Was he looking at the moment through the mirror?

Sylus, however, seems to be lost in his own thoughts, a mix of satisfaction and desire in his eyes. A slow smirk appears on his face as he locks his gaze with yours, seemingly enjoying the sight of your slightly smudged lip.

He brings his hand up and slowly, gently, traces the outline of your lip with his thumb, his touch surprisingly tender in this moment.

"I have a proposition for you, sweetheart… I might be greedy.. I want more, but not in a place where everyone at the event can see..."

"The question is, are we still planning on attending that event?" you ask with a playful smile.

Sylus can't resist returning a grin, his gaze filled with mischief and desire. He leans in and pulls you closer to him, his arms encircling your waist as he speaks in a seductive tone.

"I don't think so ... not when there are much more... interesting activities at hand..”

Sylus doesn't waste any time. As soon as the words leave his lips, he grabs you and pulls you down onto the bed with him. He lands on his back, the impact of your body on top of his sending a thrill through his. He looks up at you with a sultry smile, his hands now roaming over your curves.

Sylus lays there, his shirt untucked from the impact, his chest lowering and raising in front of you. He looks up at you with a cocky smile on his face.

"Come on sweetheart, I know you can unbutton the shirt on your own... unless you want me to take this honor from you?”

You glance down at his chest, the muscles shifting beneath the fabric as he moves, and a fire ignites within you. With a fierce determination, you reach for the top button of his shirt and begin to unbutton it slowly. Each button undone, amplifying the tension between you two.

Sylus' eyes never leave your face as you continue to work on his shirt. The fabric slowly parts, revealing the smooth skin that lays beneath and the defined muscles.

You pause for a moment, your fingers hovering over his abdomen as you take a good look at the man beneath you.

A smirk playing at the corners of his mouth "Don't be shy … I know how badly you want to touch me..”

With a deep breath, you let your fingers trail lightly down Sylus' chest, feeling the warmth of his skin under your touch. You can feel his muscles flexing in response. His eyes, dark with desire, never leave yours.

Leaning in closer, you press your lips against his chest, just below his collarbone. The deep red lipstick leaves another mark against his pale skin.

You continue your journey, kissing a trail down his chest, leaving crimson marks as you go. Each kiss grows more insistent, more fervent. Sylus' hands are on your hips, his grip tightening with every press of your lips.

You move lower, feeling the tension build between you. His shirt is now fully open, exposing his sculpted torso to your eager mouth. You pause just above his navel, looking up at him through your lashes.

"How many more do you want, Sylus?" you ask, your voice barely more than a whisper.

"As many as you can give" he replies, his voice husky with desire.

With a playful grin, you rise from the bed and make your way to the vanity. You lean over the table, making sure to showcase your curves as you touch up your lipstick. Turning back to face him, you saunter towards the bed where he sits up eagerly, his eyes dark. With a confident hand, you push him onto his back and he lets out a low groan of both frustration and satisfaction at your eagerness.

He looks up at you, a smirk dancing on his lips. "Don't get me too riled up, sweetheart ... I might not be able to hold myself back.." he murmurs.

Your lips move lower, gliding along the lines of his abdomen with a possessive touch. Each kiss leaves a mark of passion, branding him as yours. The heat from his body envelopes you, filling your senses with desire that rolls off him in intoxicating waves. As you reach the waistband of his trousers, you lift your gaze to meet his.

Sylus stares down at you, his hair framing his hooded eyes, that are a dark red now, filled with an almost feral hunger.

“Are you trying to tease me?”

As he grabs you by your waist, Sylus flips you onto your back with a swift, fluid motion. He hovers over you, his gaze intense and unwavering. He traces the marks you've left on his body with a reverent touch, his eyes filled with a mix of admiration and obsession.

His hands come on your body next, roaming as if trying to memorize every curve, every dip. Without hesitation he slides his hand under your dress, running his fingers over your hip.

"You've marked me enough, sweetheart " he says, his voice deep and rough. "Now it's my turn."

He leans over, his lips finding the sensitive spot beneath your ear. His kisses are slow and purposeful, each one sending tingles in your chest.

Sylus continues to explore your body with his hands following his lips, discovering every inch of you. His touch sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, causing you to writhe and arch in response, craving for more. He pauses momentarily, his hands tracing the curves of your hips before he speaks, his voice heavy with desire.

“I will have you now”

Your breath hitches as his words send a surge of desire through you. You reach up and grab his face, pulling him down to meet your lips in a hungry kiss, meant to devour each other. The passion between you is undeniable, and you know that you are both ready to let go of everything else and just be in this moment.

Sylus breaks away from the kiss, his eyes burning with desire.

You open your eyes to look at him, but you can't hold back your giggles.

His expression turns serious. "What's so funny?”

“You have some lipstick on your lips... and around them…” you try to hold back another giggle.

As he registers your words, he runs his fingers over his lips. He looks down at his them and notices the red smudges. He frowns, trying to appear offended, but a grin involuntarily creeps onto his face.

"You're enjoying smudging me all with your lipstick, sweetheart?"

You simply smile and shrug, trying to play it cool. "I couldn't resist."

Sylus chuckles, the sound warm and deep. "You laugh about me sweetheart, but you don't see yourself right now…” he leans closer and talks with a deep rumbling tone, "You are not looking put together either”

With that, he leans down and presses his lips against yours, completely covering your lips with his. The kiss is slow and sensual, his tongue gently exploring your mouth as his hands begin to trace your body once more.

You can feel the passion building between you, and you know that there's no turning back now.

“Sylus“ you whisper, your voice trembling with need.

"What sweetheart?” He looks deeply into your eyes.

“Don't stop…” you beg, your voice barely audible.

A satisfied smile spreads across his face. “I wouldn't dream of it.”

I can make a part 2 if you guys want

[pitchsidestories]

healing II Ona Batlle x Lucy Bronze x Reader

masterlist I word count: 1644

It’s a truth universally acknowledged, that two successful female players, must be in want of the biggest title in Europe, but also want to impress their girlfriend with this huge achievement.

Playing for pride and love on the biggest stage.  The stadium in Bilbao was full of supporters of both teams, although the Barca fans were outnumbering the Lyon fans by far.

Meanwhile the second half had started, and the game was getting more heated and intense, the final was slowly slipping away from the French players fingertips, while the team of your girlfriends was gaining momentum. You watched everything unfold in front of your eyes with Lucy Staniforth who has been a friend of Lucy and Ona for a long time at this point.

“Lucy, have you seen how Lyon knocked over their former teammate?”, you asked her. It enraged you how the Lyonnais players were treating Lucy Bronze on the pitch.

“I did!”, she added in a more calm and reassuring tone, but Lucy is tough.”

“Yes, you’re right, but this was still harsh from them.”, you nodded.

“I agree. But it’s the UWCL final.”, the Aston Villa midfielder reminded you and herself. There was so much to win and loose over 90 minutes plus added stoppage time. You could almost taste the anticipation and pressure radiating from both teams on your tongue. So did your friend next to you.

The match went on, but when suddenly Ona was on the ground and Lucy Staniforth told you earnestly:” Don’t look, y/n.”

Her saying that only caused you to glance at the horrific situation closer, turning pale at the sight of your girlfriend, whose face had started to bleed heavily:” What, why? Oh no, Ona!”

“I said don’t look. That’s a lot of blood.”, she observed quietly. The horror the fellow footballer felt was written in her face too.

“Does she need to get off?”, you questioned her worried.

“No, I don’t think so.”, the midfielder slowly shook her head.

“Ona wouldn’t want to anyway, not when it’s about her first Champions League title.”, you thought out loud.

“They’re checking her.”, Lucy Staniforth remarked.

“Ona’s tough too.”, you mumbled unable to look away from your girlfriend’s red face.

“You’re right, but it’s so much blood.”, the older woman swallowed hard.

“It’s. God, I wish I could somehow do something.”, you cried out helplessly.

“You can’t. Stay here.”, she replied rationally, holding you back with her hand on your upper arm, so you wouldn’t move.

“But-.”

“They covered it. She’s coming back on.”, the midfielder interrupted you. Looking back at the pitch it filled you both with relief, seeing Ona doing alright for now.

You watched on as Ona took the pitch again, a white band-aid on her cheek.

“This will hurt tomorrow.“, you cringed in sympathy for your girlfriend.

Lucy smiled, trying to loosen up the atmosphere: “I’m pretty sure it already hurts.“

“Yes but I guess the adrenaline will help her now.“, you shrugged.

“I’m sure.“, Lucy said, fully focused on the game again.

The game was tight and hard-fought. Exactly the kind of game a Champions League final deserved and you were sure you could appreciate it more if you were less worried about your girlfriends.

Only when Alexia came on and scored the 2:0 for Barcelona in stoppage time, you could feel yourself relax. That was it, the game was over. Another UWCL trophy for FC Barcelona.

With the final whistle, you flung your arms around Lucys neck while she pulled you in for a hug to celebrate.

Your gaze drifted towards the players on the grass again.

“Let’s go down there, shall we?“, you asked, trying to keep any impatience out of your voice.

Lucy smirked knowingly at you: “Yes, go to your girlfriends.“

When you entered the pitch, the players were still jumping around in exhilaration and you had to wonder where they got all that energy from after such a game. Your girlfriends stood off to the side.

Lucy was busy examining Onas injury when they caught sight of you.

“Y/n!“, they both called, waving you over.

You hugged your girlfriends with pride: “Hi. Congrats, champions.“

“Hi, babe.“ Lucy pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“How are you both? Oni, yours looked especially bad.“, you asked, eyeing both your girls cautiously.

Ona shrugged a little self-consciously: “I’m okay. I got her studs in my face. It looks worse than it actually is.“

“Promise?“

The smaller defender nodded: “Promise. It’s just a bit swollen right now.“

You had been able to tell since you arrived on the field. Her cheek was red and the swell almost reached her eye. It looked horribly painful.

“We’ll take care of that. Right, Luce?“

Your English girlfriend nodded, a big grin on her face: “Of course we’ll.“

Ona almost rolled her eyes at the two of you: “Loves, I can assure you I’m alright.“

“I’ll get you some ice later.“, Lucy said, completely ignoring Ona.

The Spanish defender let out a sigh: “It’s fine, really. All I want to do now is to celebrate this big win with you two.“

“Ona…“, you started.

Lucy looked at you, smirking at your girlfriend: “She’s so going to regret that tomorrow.“

“Oh, absolutely.“, you agreed, amused.

Ona groaned: “Don’t talk to me like I’m the child in this relationship!“

“We don’t.“, Lucy laughed, unimpressed by your girlfriends annoyance.

“We’re just making sure that you’re going to be alright.“, you sided with Lucy.

“You should better check on Lucy, she’s older.”, Ona only half joked, bumping the fist playfully against your lover’s upper arm.

“Oh, please, I’m good. Plus wait until you two turn thirty.”, the English woman warned you both grinning.

“That’ll take a while, Lucy.”, the younger defender reminded her.

“Very true, sorry Lucy.”, you quickly switched alliances to your other girlfriend.

“I’ll remind you in a few days.”, Lucy decided.

“That’s basically forever until that.”, you couldn’t resist teasing her. Even when it meant that she was throwing you on her broad shoulders, carrying you over the pitch.

“Hey, let me down.”, you protested giggling.

“No.”, the older player replied. The win had made her forget about her knee which always hurt and made her act recklessly.

You looked for the face of your injured girlfriend, crying out:”Oni, help.”

“Lucy, we don’t want any more injuries.”, Ona intervened.

“I’m careful.”, Lucy promised.

“Hopefully.”, the younger defender said, but she did look relieved once your feet touched the ground again.

After you both were inspecting her wound, the English woman announced:” We’ll take care of you now, Ona.”

“I’m okay, really.”, Ona attempted to wave off the concerns you were both having.

After the party where the team, friends and family let loose, celebrating the champions league win, as well as the nearing end of a long, successful, but also exhausting football season, you three reached the comfort of your hotel room.

“Here’s some ice, amor to help with the swelling.”, you told her in a soft voice before it could touch her skin she stopped you with a tortured smile.

“Too late. I look like this in all the photos.”

“Yes, but you will feel better with it on your skin.”, Lucy stated, knowing fully well from her own experiences with injuries that it was at least providing some kind of relief.

Despite Ona throwing her a doubtful look, she let you do your work:” Okay, fine.”

“And better?”, you asked her quietly.

“A lot.”, the Spanish player closed her eyes in relief. Giving you a perfect view of her long lashes and freckles who were scattered around like stars in the night sky while you were comforting her with the eyes in your hands.

 “That’s good.”, you nodded happily.

“Thanks, my girls.”, Ona mumbled gratefully.  

“You’re welcome.”, Lucy whispered, while squeezing the younger woman’s hand.

Watching your girlfriends’ interactions moved you and made you feel warm and proud inside.  Especially when you were thinking about what they achieved today with their team.

“You two really left it all on the pitch today.”, you remarked in awe.

“It helped to know that you were in the stands.”, the Spanish defender confessed as she pressed a thankful kiss to your temple.

“It did?”, you lifted an eyebrow.

Nodding, Lucy joined in: “I can confirm that.“

“But I did nothing…“, you interrupted, feeling stupid to get all the praise when your girlfriends where the ones fighting on the pitch.

Lucy carefully ran her thumb across your cheek, cradling your head in her hand: “You were there. That was enough.“

You could melt at the sound of her voice. “Thanks, girls. Tonight was really special.“

“Yeah, for us too. Trust us.“, Ona smiled softly.

“I do. But now it’s time for healing.“, you decided, nodding towards the bed.

Ona sighed: “But only for a bit.“

You knew how much your girls hated to sit still and relax. Especially when it involved injuries.

You were surprised that Lucy immediately moved towards the bed. She sat down and patted the mattress next to her: “Come on, girls. Let’s try to rest, tomorrow will be just as crazy.“

You crawled into bed next to her. Ona followed you and took the place in the middle.

Happily, you smiled at the two football players, still moved by the events of that evening: “Good night, my champion girlfriends.“

“Sleep well, our pretty WAG.“, Ona grinned back.

You let out an amused huff. You never imagined yourself as the girlfriend of a football player and yet here you were, in bed with two of the most amazing women on the night of the Champions League final.

As you listened to the slowed breathing of your girlfriends, you realized that you would not change a single thing. There was still some concern about Ona's wound, but in overall contentment you also fell asleep.

[hemmingsleclerc]

Karting ┃CS55

summary: where carlos and his daughter go karting

It was a beautiful evening in Madrid and the sun reflected on the karting track while Carlos Sainz stood next to a small, elegant kart. Her daughter Camila was next to him, enthusiasm and curiosity shining in her eyes. The distinctive sound of engines roaring and tires screeching filled the air as they watched other young drivers speeding down the track.

"Are you ready, Cami?" Carlos asked, smiling at his daughter. Camila nodded enthusiastically, her small hands gripping the steering wheel with determination.

Carlos bent down to her level and explained the basics of karting. "Remember, Camila, it's all about control and precision. Start slowly, get familiar with the kart and little by little you pick up speed. And most importantly, have fun."

Camila nodded again, paying attention to every word her father said. Carlos helped her put on her helmet, carefully adjusting it to ensure a perfect fit. As she adjusted the straps, she could see the mix of excitement and nervousness in her daughter's eyes.

The engine roared and Carlos walked next to the kart while Camila drove cautiously towards the track. The air was filled with the smell of rubber and the exhilarating sound of engines. Carlos shouted words of encouragement to Camila, guiding her through the initial laps.

With each turn, Camila gained confidence. Carlos watched with pride as his daughter understood the fundamentals of karting. His eyes lit up with excitement and a wide smile spread across his face as he felt the gust of wind against his helmet.

When Camila felt more comfortable, Carlos motioned for her to stop. She approached the kart and crouched down to her level again. "You're doing great, Cam! Now, let's work on taking those turns a little faster. Remember, use your body weight to change the balance of the kart."

Carlos demonstrated the technique, leaning into an imaginary spin. Camila nodded, eager to try. The engine roared once more as they resumed their turns, Camila now executing the turns with new skill.

Time flew by and soon the sun sank behind the horizon, casting a warm orange glow over the tarmac. Carlos and Cam sat next to the kart, without helmets, sharing a moment of achievement and joy.

"You did fantastic, Cam," Carlos said, ruffling his messy hair through his helmet. "You have the makings of a great racer."

Camila smiled, her eyes shining with pride. "Thank you, Daddy! This is so much fun! Can we do it again?"

Carlos laughed out loud as he realized that he had just introduced his daughter to the world of racing. "Of course, amor. This is just the beginning. Who knows, maybe one day you'll be on the big circuits, making a name for yourself."

''Do you think that one day I will be as good as you?''

''I know you will be even better than me darling''