#mesh x solace

[fauxridium]

Some more chibi brc doodles

[qingxin-dream]

“My Sweet Angel”

summary | months of repressed feelings bubble to the surface one night, but you’re fast asleep while wanderer is lost in his own thoughts secretly pining for you. but, uh…pining might be an understatement. (art credits: @/1eternalstar on twitter).

warnings | wanderer is down so bad, obsession, profanity, smut [18+, MDNI], dubcon, female-bodied reader, somnophilia, aphrodisiac/drugging, masturbation, edging/orgasm denial, oral f!receiving, bondage, temperature/element play, worship, slight degradation/praise, creampie

genre | pure, filthy smut (happy kinktober!🎃)

word count | 2.8k

pairing | wanderer x reader

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

A small, breathless gasp ripples through the silence of the night. The sound of crickets and cicadas is but a low roar in the background, barely enough to mask the melody of your traveling companion’s sweet, subdued moans. Merely a foot away is your sleeping form, quietly snoozing with your pretty lashes resting on your cheeks. Your silhouette is ethereal, like an angel banished from heaven finding solace in the moonlight with her wings tucked safely away.

Wanderer’s attention ceaselessly gravitated toward you. It seemed to be a natural reaction. Instinctual, even. He admired you with the deepest devotion, seconds turning into hours. There was a part of him, something long buried and locked away, which surfaced in his chest like a breath of fresh air.

Your hair cascades perfectly over your shoulders, framing the soft shape of your face. Your rosy lips part in a faint sigh. The occasional incoherent mumble of your dreams causes his ears to perk up, hoping to catch a glimpse of what your little fantasies are made of. Your exposed stomach when you roll over with a groan and the magnetic curve of your legs make his eyes darken with lust.

Archons, he had way too much time in his hands every night. Thankfully you were blissfully unaware that puppets didn’t need any sleep.

He cursed to himself between sharp, ragged intakes, his needy violet eyes reflecting the luminescence of the moon, raking over your curves with a carnal glint. Looking back, he had all the opportunities in the world to stop that nagging desire churning within his chest.

But Wanderer was selfish. Once he got a taste of your affection, consider him a starved man.

His thoughts about you would twist and tangle his emotions until it utterly choked him of any sensibility. Love and lust are more than just a slippery slope. The puppet was free-falling in the abyss of your pheromones. The best part is you were completely clueless to these intimate escapades of his.

Could you blame such a depraved, touch-starved puppet?

The nights all seemed to blend together like this. Waiting patiently for you to snore gently before he let his fingers ghost your figure, assuring him that you wouldn’t wake up anytime soon. One hand would devote itself to exploring every bit of skin you had to offer while the other palmed the growing bulge in his shorts.

Like a moth to a flame, he became utterly entranced with the glow of your skin beneath the moon. You are like a goddess laying beautifully upon your altar of silken bedsheets, awaiting the devout worship of his soft prayers and saccharine lips.

His fingers grazed your shoulder, trailing down your arm and leaving tiny goosebumps in its wake. He let his hand mesh carefully into the dip of your waist, imperceptibly squeezing it just enough to fan the flames of his imagination. He was in another dimension entirely, wishing for the day you’d beg for his touch.

Wanderer takes his lower lip between his teeth harshly, dipping his hand beneath his shorts to tug the tip of his thick cock with growing fervor. Precum had already wet the slit of his tip, lubricating each teasing thrust of his hand over his dick. Meanwhile, he continued his journey down the round, plump curve of your hips.

Hips that were meant for childbearing.

He takes a fistful of your nightgown momentarily as his cock aches in his hand, yearning for release so soon. For fuck’s sake, why is the image of you bred full with his seed so goddamn hot?

His movements came to an abrupt halt at the lacy end of your little nightgown. He had to know what you were wearing beneath that silky dress. The idea of making a mess all over your cute panties, covering them generously in his cum, only edged him further. Or, even better, he’d love to fuck his creamy load all over your drenched folds before sliding back in for another round.

Wanderer had to make a concerted effort to reel in his filthy daydreams, struggling to keep his hands from trembling on you. He managed to slip the nightgown higher and higher up your smooth thighs, a lump quickly forming in the puppet’s throat.

He’s not sure if he could handle seeing you so vulnerable without ripping your clothes off and fucking you to his heart’s content right then and there. No, no, no... After all this endless waiting and pining for many torturous months, he couldn’t ruin this with a fleeting moment of insatiable want. He pauses, collecting himself for a brief moment.

The puppet’s pupils dilated into pools of audacious desire upon seeing the dainty black undergarments hugging your plush hip. It was lacy with a beautiful floral design, enrapturing his gaze all the way down to your cunt. Wanderer couldn’t help himself, reaching out subconsciously to brush his thumb against your clit through your panties.

“I wanna fuck you so bad… so bad,” he whispers, his voice just an octave higher with desperation as he continues to fist his throbbing cock. The friction of his hand isn’t enough. It couldn’t come close to the immaculate sensation of your slick pussy enveloping his cock, dragging the tip slowly from your clit to your fluttering, empty hole. But that would be insane, he couldn’t.

You didn’t seem to move a muscle in response to his touch. Meanwhile, Wanderer is struggling like a fool to restrain himself, it is almost comical. He could feel his impending orgasm, forcing his hand to slow down with longer, more intermittent strokes to stop from practically bursting at the seams.

Eventually, he found the courage to nudge the cloth of your black panties aside, revealing your pretty little pussy lips glistening with need. The puppet’s violet irises swirl with power, nearly drunk on the mere thought of pleasuring you in secret like this. Why else would you wear such a sexy little garment for him?

A dull, burning sensation coated his lungs as his thumb nestled into your bare clit, resolving himself to carefully lean down and relieve his parched throat with a kitten lick of your folds. It was a miracle that you hadn’t stirred in your sleep too much, yet the part of him reckless with lust wanted you to wake up while he was tongue-deep in your cunt. He dived between your labia again with his mouth, exhaling a soft, guttural moan into your hole after another good lick.

“Mm, so fucking good… I know you fucking like this, baby,” Wanderer mumbles, wrapping his arms around your hips to secure you in place as he freely drags his tongue across your folds and clit skillfully, placing an occasional kiss here and there. Your thighs subconsciously tense with pleasure.

Had he known you would taste so divine, he would’ve devoured your pussy a long time ago. Shifting slightly so that he could lay completely on his stomach, Wanderer eagerly laps at your cunt and fucks his leaking cock into the mattress. Shit, it is too easy for him to lose sight of himself and tug at your hips possessively, not hesitating to fuck you messily with his tongue.

It’s when he got a little too hasty slurping on your pussy with a particularly lascivious moan that you grumble in your sleep. Wanderer freezes, peering over your pelvis like a predator defending his prize with a piercing violet glare.

There is no way you could possibly wake up. Not now. Not when he’s so close. He deduces that the twitch in your sleep must be from that little aphrodisiac he slipped in your evening tea with him. The puppet had made a nice concoction of tasteless drugs to keep you both asleep and all sensitive just for him.

Wanderer is confident that his potion had its intended effect, but just in case—with a flick of his wrist, he ties your hands together on the headboard with a cool, pressurized ring of Anemo energy. He towers over you, a giddy smirk spreading across his lips seeing you so helpless to his desires.

He had read that cute pocket diary of yours gushing over him like he’s your high school sweetheart, don’t worry. You both know these feelings are mutual. But let’s be honest, he’d much rather you gush on his cock over and over until your pussy can’t take it anymore. And you’ve been dreaming about it too, he’s seen it with his own eyes.

Positioning himself between your legs, the puppet slaps his thick cock on your stomach, measuring it up to your belly button where his pink tip mushrooms. There’s no question that his dick would bottom out inside your walls, maybe if he’s lucky he could see his thrusts bulge in your lower stomach. He’d love to pound you deep enough to truly bury his cum inside you, plugging it with his pulsing cock until he’s sure you’re nice and bred.

No, no, he reminds himself again. He has to savor his time with you—make love to you like you rightfully deserve. There will be plenty of opportunities to fuck you senseless later, despite how badly he wants it now.

The tip of his cock trails down to your folds, tucking his length under your panties. Using one hand to guide his cock against your soaking core, the other rests on your inner thigh as he grinds against you slowly. Wanderer grits his teeth at the feeling, sucking in a sharp breath and brushing his thumb lovingly against your sensitive inner thigh. It’s everything he’s ever imagined and more.

He’s forced to bite his knuckles, nearly choking on his own pathetic whines of pleasure. His thrusts grow faster, using your lingerie to keep his cock pressed firmly between your folds.

His words are a ravenous, hoarse whisper, begging you in your sleep. “Shit, shit, shit, you’re gonna make me cum…! Can I put it in? C-Can I please put it in?”

Wanderer knows what your answer will be, grinding sloppily on your drenched cunt while he grabs your breast. He wishes he could hear you say it. But he can feel the way your sweet little hole clenches around nothing every time his tip rubs your clit just right, and that’s enough for him.

It takes no effort to snap the thin straps of your lacy panties in haste, quickly tossing the garment aside indiscriminately. It’s too much, fuck, you look too perfect. Before he knows it, Wanderer pushes his tip inside your sopping entrance, gazing with wonder at how you suck him in like a good slut. Such a good fucking slut, hugging the first inch of his hard cock like you never wanted to let go.

Your spongy walls subconsciously react to his every motion, tightening around the puppet’s cock with unprecedented strength. He hisses, materializing a blue chained choker around your neck with his Anemo abilities and yanking you forward. His girth splits you apart, sliding inside your throbbing cunt inch by every tantalizing inch, until he can meet you halfway and kiss your whimpering, tender lips.

“Goddamn you,” Wanderer growls into the kiss, harshly biting onto your lip. He doesn’t draw blood, but tends to your bruised skin thereafter with a gentler, half-apologetic kiss. “You feel so fucking good, take me so fucking good… mm…”

His hips draw back, your walls noticeably empty in his absence. Snapping forward, his huge cock plunges into your depths with a delightfully lewd smack, causing him to chuckle under his breath. The puppet carefully lays you back on the pillow, planting his arms on either side of your head so that his vision is filled with only your beautiful face.

Once Wanderer begins to establish a rhythm, there’s no stopping him. Every drag of his veiny cock against your sensitive walls is utterly addicting, he had to come back for more and more. He moans and whines your name into your delicate little neck, taking the flesh into his mouth to suck and mark you as his own.

He is panting over you like an animal in heat. “I can feel you squeezing me, angel. I know you love it. ‘M gonna use that pretty little pussy of yours.”

Your body twitches beneath him as his lips leave no crevice untouched by his kisses or hickeys, a smattering of small red and purple blotches dotting your skin from your neck to your breasts. All the while, the puppet had to throttle his pace again, almost giving in to the ecstasy. You were definitely getting close too, he could feel it in the way you clenched around him greedily.

Swirling his tongue around your cute nipple, Wanderer suckles it briefly with a pop of his mouth, admiring his work on the canvas of your gorgeous body. He leaned back, hooking his hands under your calves to press your knees to your chest. If only he had a Kamera to capture the mesmerizing image of your legs spread so good for him with a perfect shot of your cunt wrapped around his tip.

He could tell this position had your walls enveloping his length even tighter than before, angling his cock deep towards that special spot inside you that would have your toes curling. “God, (Y/N), you look so fucking sexy like this.”

It is killing him—the sensation of your hole desperately clinging to the inch of his cock sheathed within you. The puppet keeps your legs pushed back and snakes a hand down to your clit once more, which had obviously been aching for attention. He’s lost in the contours of your folds all splayed out for him, so much so that he lets a globule of his spit drip over your clit to mix with your juices.

You are squirming slightly in your sleep from all the stimulation, but he doesn’t care. The euphoric feeling of teetering on the edge of an incredible orgasm has Wanderer stripped of any sense of reason. He nudges his cock halfway inside you at a delectably slow pace, reveling in your body’s subtle reactions to his teasing.

“Yeah, baby? You wanna fucking cum?” Wanderer whispers hotly over you, circling your clit faster. There’s already a delicious ring of your essence gathering at the base of his cock.

“Cum…” you mumble in a daze, your eyelashes fluttering open slowly. Your expression is contorted into a helpless plea, licking and biting your bottom lip as you sleepily notice his cock nestled between your thighs.

Wanderer’s eyes snap to yours in disbelief. You’re lucid, but asking for more. He begins to chuckle lowly, and reaches to caress your cheek. “You want it, hm? Speak up.”

He continues to fuck you at an excruciatingly slow pace, waiting patiently for you to beg for his seed. He wanted you in tears, squirting all over him like a good girl. Your moans encourage him to go deeper.

“Please, Wanderer,” you struggle to curl your fingers in his indigo locks under the effects of the drugs. “K-keep going, feels too good. Fill me up, please…”

“Like this?” The puppet smirks, forcefully thrusting his huge cock to the brim inside of you. He relishes in your lovely cries of pleasure and pain, swallowing them in a passionate kiss as he fucks you with reckless abandon.

You could barely hiccup a response, sloppily kissing back as Wanderer abuses your tight hole. He has you pinned against the creaky mattress, holding your face with his thumb on your chin to keep your mouth open. Every noise of ecstasy is his to claim and taste on your tongue.

“Mine, baby, all mine. Say it for me,” Wanderer moans, adoring the cock-drunk glimmer in your clouded eyes.

Squeezing your eyes shut suddenly, your eyebrows furrowed together as you suddenly felt your orgasm build at a rapid speed. You whined against the Anemo cuffs restraining your wrists above your head. “Yours! Oh my god, I’m yours. I’m gonna fucking cum, please, please give it me…!”

“Mhmm, yeah c’mon baby, lemme see you cum for me, so good for me, yeah?” he praises, kissing you roughly as he snaps his hips into you. It’s impossible to deny his insatiable need for you any longer, painting your walls white with spurts of his hot seed in a series of profanity-laden grunts.

Your eyes nearly roll back as your orgasm washes over you, legs trembling around him. The continuous twitch of his cock has you arching your back, taking every last drop of his cum until your cunt can’t hold any more. It leaks out, creaming your folds and his cock nicely.

Once you both catch your breath and lock eyes, you feel your cunt ache to be filled once more. Noticing how you trap him with your legs around his hips, Wanderer realizes the aphrodisiac must have been stronger than he anticipated.

You smile sweetly. “M-maybe one more?”

thanks for reading! reblogs are appreciated. my masterlist.

[vampiretendencies]

ok but imagine instead of kie getting taken by singh’s men it’s JJ & Y/N who would do anything for each other.

like “don’t touch her!” and “let go of him!” and singh realizes their in love and ugh. been thinking about this

most definitely can imagine this and i’m gonna die on the spot so i made this little blurb to satisfy our imaginations. send me your thoughts and i’ll elaborate on them !

cw; fluff, mentions of death, guns, & s3

pairing; jj x fem!reader

The inseparable pair knew they were preeminently fucked.

No sign of parasitical nuance or help for miles, just the company of the other. Selfishly, though either of them are thanking God, that they’ve gotten captured with the other. For no one else of the Pogues would bring such infamous relief and solace— being completely infatuated tended to do that.

And at least if they die in this place, they die together.

Getting to experience a love so unheard of.

You shivered in the bed of the truck— boring your eyes with envy at the gaurd that stood tall upon arrival to Singh’s ‘operation’. If only you’d gone the same route as Kie, Pope, John B, Sarah, and Cleo, such an impact as the plane delving into water had you borderline shell shocked. But, JJ wasn’t having that either, immediately b-lining in your same opposite direction— wherever you stray, he follows.

Which explains this phenomenon before you.

The harsh metal in the truck bed is making your ass go completely numb, knees tucked into your chest in complete and utter panic. JJ’s stomach was whirling with fear, yet he vowed not show it, pulling you into his side— even in the first moments the two of you were shoved and practically thrown back there. His arm envelops you tightly, his slightly grown out mullet catching air lightly whilst he rests his chin on your shoulder. A mesh of two soaking bodies, kneading into one another.

“Gonna’ get us out of here baby.” Is all JJ whispers into the shell of your ear, before peppering sweet domestic kisses to your temple, the contact granting him some form of grace. Now you knew JJ’s plans were elaborate and full of unnecessary schemes but sometimes they worked and sometimes they didn’t. You were choosing to trust that whatever he could weasel his way into this time, would work.

The halt of the truck was sudden, sending you and JJ to a slight jolt forward. A bright white, poled in mansion-like image is in view; bulging eyed stares are shared between the two of you and JJ is secretly shitting himself as he’s walking into this blind. Guards similar to the one towering over you in the truck bed are surrounding the home, khaki colored uniforms a compliment to the guns accompanying them. Such variety as they all held one with a differentiating aim.

No words are spoken, not even a ‘get out’. Though you are being yanked up by your arm like a rag doll— wasn’t exactly something you were prepared for. Two guards stand opposite, winnowing down the trunk flat. In one swift movement, his large tight fist is clamping down onto your much smaller arm. The form of security that rode in the truck bed with you and JJ, mimicks— doing the same to JJ as the other is doing to you.

JJ is biting down so violently on his bottom lip, that the familiar taste of metallic blood is seeping into the inside of his mouth. Putting hands like that on his girl, is nearly asking ‘do you want me to splatter your brains across this pavement?’, and he’d gladly do it with a grin on his face. His vice grip is so tight on you, that his fingernails are leaving crescent moon indentions into your untouched skin, and JJ can feel his insides boiling with pure distaste.

All it takes is maybe two steps out of the truck, toward the unpromising place and JJ elbowing the man in his best, knocking his breath away. He’s squirming to get to you, and you haven’t peered back at him yet. “Let go of her fucking arm, you piece of shit.” JJ spat, nailing your gaurd at the back of his ankle with the spiked bottom of a his combat boot. Walking separate in pairs, not even making it the doomed front door.

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be, big shot.”

Your guard turns, taking you with him to face JJ. With roaring sun causing a slight glint in your eye. Falsified nickname, is fueling the ignition to the fire that’s burning tauntingly inside of him. The gaurd that’s sustaining JJ, has his arms stuffed dislocated like behind his back, and you wanted to stomp his face in unrecognizable.

Unbeknownst to the pair, Singh had been watching— taking note that the arrival time was much too late than as planned. Gazing through the stained glass filled doors, the alluring scene unfolding before him beneath his shaded driveway was entertaining. His muscular guards, unable to withstand two teenagers.

“Don’t ever touch him like that.”

You bit back, the way his arm was twisted it could’ve passed for being broken. Just as your boyfriend was protective of you, you were protective of him. That’s just how the dynamic always worked. Consequences don’t come to mind when you cherish your lovers life over your own— there could be a gaping hole that’s causing the world to cave in, if one was to fall the other is diving in, no second thoughts.

He’d balance with bare feet on boiling hot coals.

And you’d walk into a bank, full ski mask on, to rob it.

It doesn’t matter the length, their relationship is evidence of doing anything for someone.

So tight knit that everyone back home in Kildare was typically aware of the couples unwavering deepened love. Affectionate, intimate, and everything in between.

If they were to go on living it wouldn’t be without the other.

It wasn’t dumb luck, it was fate.

It’s taking Singh seeing this moment to fully understand that. He’s taken aback by the powerful besot, does it mean he will ease up on them, no. To Singh, those lives are of no importance to him, the gold came before anything.

“Your gonna’ earn your boyfriend here a shot to the head. That what you want?”

JJ can’t help but smirk mischievously at you for rooting for him. He was quite the sight, darkened eyes through damp tresses, muscles prominent past his sleeveless tee. Definitely not something you should be paying grace attention to right now. A gun is lifted to the center of JJ’s forehead, but you don’t fault. Figuring you’ve already trampled through all this mess, what’s the worst.

“Then you’ll have to shoot me too.”

“Glady-“

“You will do nothing of the sort. They are in love y’know.”

The short man with slick hair comes into view, signaling the guards to release the two of you. Embracing eachother within milliseconds, you are colliding with JJ’s chest. A slow kiss is shared, one that is full of yearn and luminous luster. Hands roaming to assure themselves that they were there in one piece and alive. This earns a clap from Singh, more than right about the couple being instantaneously in love.

“So what? cause’ they’re in love they get a free pass?!”

The guards stood dumbfounded, faces scrunched in disgust at Singh thinking all of this under-minded work to get them their was for nothing. All Singh could do was chuckle— they really didn’t know him, did they?

“Perhaps they will hold hands in death, if they don’t get me what I want.”

[the-monkeies-girl]

Subway Systems - Five x Reader - Oneshot snippet.

No big deal whatever its just me writing stuff enjoy a snippet and if you like it idk maybe i post the whole thing lol

They were alive--- Just like you, the plants you tended to, part of a daily ritual you fell into with the Hargreeves. They were alive, breathing and… Half dead, holding on what seemed like a thread just like it felt you were doing for the past two-thousand five-hundred and fifty five days. Seven years, if your math was correct. Seven years since the soles of your feet threaded off the metallic base of the subway car, seven years since you last had seen the outside world you were so familiar with, teetering between worlds of destruction that offered no solace for either traveler once stepped off the car you were on that day.

There were some sunny days that beat against your skin, burning engraves of rays into you that reminded you of the slowness of the Summertime, the casted shift of a breeze against the trees and the subsequent rustling of the leaves. If you closed your eyes, you could see the suns shape against your eyelids, reminiscent of laying in a field of flowers as a child, face up towards the sky. If you were quiet enough now to use your imagination passed survival, you could hear it in the recesses of your mind... Crickets... Chirping out a solemn song as your fingertips brushed against grass. Bushes being shuffled through by rabbits on the hunt for succulent berries and the buzzing of insects too close to your ear, but you were too tired to move away from them so you let them be.

You wondered at times... If Five could hear it too... Or did his sound like the hustle and bustle of a city? The constant noise that is ultimately drowned up by sheer will power? The bickering of civilians in the street, the passing of a car too close to the curb and the honk of a car, angry at someone darting across the street nowhere near the cross-walk? You chose to never ask. It always sought as a bitter call towards the past. Those flickering waves of the way the world had been have not dulled out due to time like a faded newspaper and you had to recall that you were stuck in a loop, together apart, together falling inwards like a supernova with each day that was lived. Never admitting verbally to the graces of reality that escaped on the outside, but mentally accepting the way that things were playing out on the inside.

There were some gray days of rain that pounded against your skin, dull and saddened with each rain drop that casted shivers down your spine, noticed and eyes rolled at the human reaction as if he wouldn't react the same way to the elements. Five was fast to snidely comment that you needed to be more astute on your journey. 'Find yourself a goddamn jacket' was mumbled seven years ago as his envy colored irises sneered at the way that water hit against the bare skin of your arms and down to trickle off your fingertips. Like you were something special and magnetic it was being pulled to, he hated the sight and scoffed under his breath.

Those comments and jeers were aplenty the first two years together but you were quick on your feet and learned to never take offense to them. They were... Oddly reassuring now in the twisted way that Five only muttered them to give advice out of care and want to keep you alive. Least, in the last five years that since trailed by and gave way for the comments to begin their decent in bitingness and replaced with fond irritation, you convinced yourself that was the case.

And in return without giving it much thought, you gave him solace in silently bared knowledge that he wasn't traversing this alone, that he was not carrying all of this on his thinned shoulders; the overpowering burden of death that seemed to follow in his shadow. Another prolonged period of time without his family was at least bearable this round due to actual companionship even if it held notes of hostility at times from your dueling personalities that meshed only in certain frequencies.

[greedyhoneyz]

I Can’t Lose When I’m With You

.ೃ࿔*:･pairing: kylian mbappé x reader

.ೃ࿔*:･synopsis: there’s something joyous about the sounds of laughter.

.ೃ࿔*:･cw: none. fluff

.ೃ࿔*:･authors notes: this took me awhile to write. this isn’t my best works but ive been stuck with writers block. used google translate for the french. didn't proofread.

“Ćherie!” Kylian’s deep, resonant voice echoed through the dimly lit hallway of his Parisian home as the front door creaked open, and the scent of popcorn and a vanilla line candle filled his nose.

“Ćherie!” He yelled again, a hand pushed up against the hallway wall as he dug his feet out of his shoes. He kicked them aside and jeered his head to stare at the soft glare of light at the end of the hallway.

Dropping his bag at his feet, Kylian followed the light till he stood at the end of the hallway.

On the couch, bundled between a row of pillows and a throw blanket, (name) lay idly, her gaze glued to the blue light emitting from her phone whilst music boomed from her airpods. The tv played on the side of her face, Gossip Girl, a comfort show she watched countless times before.

Slowly, Kylian crept towards (name). He pressed his lips into a line and watched her eyes flutter close, her eyelashes meshing together and springing open with orbs filled with alert.

She stirred, her feet wriggling beneath the throw blanket, and turned her head to Kylian, beaming.

“Kylian,” She mouthed gently, her eyes glancing over his figure. She pulled her airpods from her ears and pressed herself against the couch, her phone tumbling aside. “You’re back.”

“Kiss.” She tilted her head back and puckered her lips as Kylian towered above her. He hung his head, a shadow casting over both their faces, and clasped her face between his hands. He leaned into her, his nose gently bristling against her cheek, and moulded his mouth around her lips.

Kylian savoured the taste of (name’s) strawberry gloss, uttering a strangled moan as he pulled away, leaving a lingering touch on her ample cheek.

He waddled around the couch, his movements slow and sluggish, and eased himself beside (name). Sinking into the cushioned seat, she placed her legs over his lap.

“How was the game?” (name) spared a peep at the television, a flash of black covered the screen indicating the episode had ended. She fixed her gaze on Kylian and smiled warmly at the touch of his hands gently scoring across her legs.

“Good,” He muttered calmly. His digits smoothed down her legs, coddling her ankles, and brushed upwards towards her thighs. He stared at her body with eyes filled with focus and fatigue, his fingers an emblem of his tenderness and care, and batted a gentle look at (name). “...I missed you.”

(name) felt her heart swell and heat flush across her face. She offered a shy grin and threw back words brimmed with solace.

“I missed you too.”

By 9 pm, nightfall had replaced the brisk, autumn evening. The house had fallen into a quiet lull, the tv had shut and faint snores filled the open air. Propped on either side of their sofa, Kylian and (name) slept blissfully– the throw blanket Kylian had once rustled aside draped across their figures and swaddled them like newborns despite the discomforting positions. The couple slept on, stirring at the occasional ding from a phone or beep from the alarm at the front door.

And when morning came, hunger had struck and Kylian had found himself awake. He blinked, baffled and dazed, and slowly slung his head upwards from his shoulder. He wiped a hand across his face, rubbed his tired eyes and shifted, drawing his eyes to the legs dangled across his lap.

He flashed a glance at (name), still content in slumber, and sluggishly dragged his legs inwards. He blinked, knocking his jaw open with a strained yawn and settled back into the couch cushions.

Kylian waded between feelings of fatigue and hunger and peeked a glance at the kitchen just metres away. Imagining a hot plate of eggs, a bagel smothered with cream cheese and a couple of slices of bacon on the side — his belly rumbled at the thought.

He wiped his mouth and carefully lifted himself from the couch, only to be weighed down by (name).

Kylian let out a breath and stared down at his girlfriend, her head hidden beneath her arm and a pillow. He watched her chest rise and deflate in a continuous motion as minute snores whistled from her nostrils.

He smiled, enamoured by the sight and carefully raised his hand. His palm curved around her leg, whisking across her skin delicately, upwards and downwards. He dragged his hand towards her ankle, smoothed the nub and trickled his digits down to her feet.

He curved his hand to the back of her feet and began to wriggle his fingers across her feet.

Kylian was tender at first, his digits barely fluttered against (name’s) feet, which induced the occasional twitch and curl of her toes. His next move was stronger, a rutted attack, as his fingers wormed across her feet in ragged lines, inducing an agitated mewl.

Kylian’s final move was subtle, yet effective. He moved his fingers diligently against her feet and applied pressure on points he had accustomed himself to, sending electric nodes which signified as jolts

across (name’s) body.

She flinched, a groan escaping her tired lips and began to stir, growing more agitated the more Kylian continued his assault before her mewls began to grow higher in pitch.

(name) sprung her eyes open, letting out the loudest giggle and threw back her head. She kicked her feet in an attempt to ward off Kylian’s attack but fell struck in a fit of laughter.

“What are you doing?” She managed a few words between her laughter as teardrops began pooling down her cheeks.

“It tickles!”

“Tes pieds sont si sensibles,” [Your feet are so sensitive,] Kylian mused softly, racing his digits up across her feet once again, tickling her. “I like it.”

“Kylian, wait-”

“Je n'arrête pas.” [I’m not stopping.] He cooed assertively, sending (name) an amused look.

“Kylian!” (name) whined, she wriggled beneath her boyfriend and laughed gleefully with a grin that reached from ear to ear.

“Don’t stop!”

No longer dazed by slumber, (name) found herself engulfed with joy and never-ending laughter as Kylian tickled her feet and laughed alongside her. She was delighted, he was amused. Her delicate laughter soothed him and his mischievous antics felt her panting for breath in their Parisian home that stood cloudless beneath the frisk, bitter early autumn air.

[aemondapologistfrfr]

Table 13 & Cherry Pie 2/2

modern!mechanic!benji x stripper!fem!reader

Part One

Summary: After you find your way in life you make a return to your hometown. A lot can change in two years but some feelings will always remain the same. 

Warnings: 18+ swearing, two drinks, oral(f), p in v, unprotected, 2% angsty bc i needed them back together so fkn bad

Authors Note: pt2 of @chainsawsangel request that i thought abt everyday 🤭

Word Count: 3.4k

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Two years since Part One

I sit in front of the vanity teasing my hair before I place the jeweled mask over my face. I know a lot of people expected me to leave this part of my past behind but I never minded the dancing. I always thought of it as an extension of my art and it helps give me inspiration. 

It feels like a lifetime ago that I fled my hometown. I drove to the city that night and went to the most upscale club. I walked in the front doors and sat at the bar with a strong drink. A woman introduced herself as the owner and consoled me as I cried and she offered me a job. My old boss would’ve sobbed at what I consider a slow day. 

My new boss stumbled upon my art one day and connected me with her friend who is now my art dealer. We’ve had this vision for my exhibit for months now and the night has finally come. The lights dim around the gallery and soft lights illuminate my canvases. A couple of my coworkers from the city club step into the space and float around the room as silk and mesh drip from our body. 

This was a very exclusive event and invite was by little black numbered cards. The whole room has an energy about it that invites hooded eyes and grazes of finger tips. Once our choreographed number ends we slip into the other room and pull off our masks smiling. We pull on evening gowns and head back out into the room. 

“Congratulations.” my art dealer hands me a chute of champagne. “This turned out better than we could’ve imagined.” she looks around the room. 

“Any offers?” I nibble my lip looking around at my canvases and the body’s moving from piece to piece.

“On every one.” she whispers and I shake my head downing my glass. 

“Thank you for everything.” I hug her and go mingle. 

“Look how far you’ve come.” I turn at my mother’s voice. 

“You made it.” I smile as my eyes start to water. 

“Of course.” she kisses my cheek before we begin to walk around my exhibit. 

A year ago she was able to ring the bell beating her battle. I cried for days and helped her settle back home. She urged me to move to the city instead of commuting and to embrace my new life. Now she’s here standing in my art gallery and we’re both full of life. 

“Are you still coming back for the weekend?” she asks as I walk her to the door. 

“Yes mom.” I chuckle hugging her. “I’ll be in town tomorrow.” 

“Do you still have your key?” she squeezes my hand. 

“Yes,” I laugh as she hugs me again. “I love you.” 

“I love you too.” she smiles before slipping into her car. 

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

I sigh pulling into my old driveway and look at the house that holds so many of my memories. I get out and begin to pull my bags out of the car. I make my way to the front door. It pulls open and my mom darts out. 

“Oh sweetie! Welcome home.” she pulls me into a tight hug and I giggle at her dramatics. 

“Let me put my bags down. I have to grab some more stuff. Can you open the garage?” I hum tossing my bags in the entryway. 

I walk back to my car and start bringing some of my canvases into the garage. I only brought a couple just in case I get some inspiration to keep working on this installation I’ve had in mind for years. She watches me with a soft smile and ushers me into the kitchen. 

“I’m just so happy you’re home.” she tears up. “Even if it’s just for a little while.” I hug her again drying her tears before I head up to my room. 

I start to unload my bags and collapse to my bed. I look up at my ceiling missing my city apartment. I look through the room that used to bring me so much solace and now I can’t even stand to be in it. I huff and change out of my traveling clothes and slip into one of my favorite dresses. 

“Where are you off to young lady?” my mom smirks as I walk down the stairs. 

“I want some cherry pie.” I hum as I slip out the front door. It seems as if my body is on autopilot as I drive to the diner. This place has always been one of the muses in the back of my mind. I park outside and as I step in the familiar smell floods my nose. 

“Take a seat and I’ll be with you shortly hun.” I scold myself as my feet begin to carry me to the table that’s been haunting me for the past couple of years. I stop on approach and he looks up right as I’m about to turn around. 

“Y/n?” his voice makes my breath catch as he rises from the booth. 

“Benji.” his name falls from my mouth. 

“Do you want to sit?” he nods to the booth.

“I shouldn’t.” I nibble my lip looking him over.

“Please.” next thing I know I’m sliding into the seat across from him. 

“How have you been?” his eyes search mine. 

“I’ve been really good actually.” I smile softly nodding.

“And your mom?” his eyes look hopeful. 

“She’s been home for a year now and gets her strength back everyday.” I hum

“I’m really glad to hear that.” he smiles across at me. 

“Well, look who’s back in town.” my old coworker smiles at me. “Let me guess, cherry pie?” I nod my head laughing. “Do you want another slice as well?” she turns her head to Benji.

“Yeah, thank you.” he smiles at her and I’m wondering if he’s more than just her regular. I scold myself for even caring, I’m the one who left after all. She walks back to the kitchen and he turns his attention back to me. 

“Still getting the cherry pie?” I chuckle. 

“Of course.” his tongue glides along his lower lip. The silence between us isn’t necessarily awkward but charged as we look at each other.

“Here you two are. Let me know if you need anything else.” I notice the way her eyes linger on him before she turns and leaves. 

“So you and the waitress? Seems you still have the same type.” he throws his head back and laughs. 

“I’m still single, since you’re wondering.” he smirks and takes a bite of his pie. 

“I wasn’t.” I reply too quickly. “I just- I don’t know.” I shake my head taking a bite of my pie. 

“I’ve missed you.” his words slam into me. 

“Benji,” I sigh looking up to him. 

“I’ve heard you’re an artist now. Not that you weren’t before, I knew you painted, and you danced but-“ 

“Don’t stroke my ego too much now.” I cut off his ramblings. “Tell me, do you check up on me?” I rest my chin in my hands. 

“How could I not? The day you left has always been my biggest regret.” he looks to me sincerely. 

“Well, I should say thank you for getting me fired. You helped me get to where I am now.” I hum taking another bite of pie. I slice off another and reach across the table offering it to him. He looks up to me with a raised brow. “Open up for me.” his cheeks flush as takes the bite. 

“Who’s the shy cherry pie now?” I giggle leaning back. 

“Let me take you out on a proper date.” I try to ignore the butterflies in my stomach as he waits for my reply.

“When?” I tilt my head with a soft smile. 

“You tell me.” he nods his head. 

“Pick me up at my house at seven.” I hum fishing cash out of my purse. I toss a fifty on the table. “Leave a nice tip for your girlfriend.” I smirk before sliding out of the booth leaving him to watch after me as I leave. 

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Table 13: Is this still my cherry pie?

Cherry Pie: Yes, unless that’s what you call all of the waitresses these days.

Table 13: 🙄

Table 13: I’m omw to get you. Leave your attitude at home.

Cherry Pie: We’ll see.

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

My mom stares after me with a smile as I leave the front door again. I tell her not to wait up and I begin my way down the walkway. Benji walks to the passenger side and opens the door for me before getting back on his side. 

“You look beautiful.” he smiles before pulling onto the road. 

“Thank you, Benji.” I hum admiring him from the corner of my eye. “Your hair got a bit longer.” I reach over and run my fingers through it. 

“Do you like it?” he leans back into my hand. 

“It suits you.” I go to remove my hand and he grabs it with his own. 

“I really missed you. I can’t express how sorry I am.” he kisses my hand. 

“Why didn’t you reach out?” I squeeze his hand. 

“I wouldn’t have been able to handle it if you didn’t answer or if you wanted nothing to do with me.” he furrows his brows. “Then I never saw you around town again and next thing I hear you’ve moved to the city. I figured you wouldn’t want to hear from me and-“ 

“Benji,” I softly shush him pulling his hand to my lap. “I probably thought about you as much as you thought about me.” 

“Impossible.” he shakes his head pulling us into a restaurant parking lot. 

“How much did you think about me then?” I turn to him smirking. 

“Enough to make me go insane.” he slips out of the car and gets my door for me. We walk into the restaurant hand in hand and get seated quickly. 

“What was your favorite memory of us?” I rest my chin on my hands shamelessly admiring him. 

“Anytime you were so sleepy in the garage watching me work on your car.” he chuckles as I sip on my water with a raised brow. 

“Not what I thought it would be.” I hum nodding my head. 

“What did you think it would be?” he tilts his head. 

“I was thinking when I came around you for the-“ 

“Baby,” he shushes me with wide eyes and I feel my cheeks flush at the name. 

“You’re telling me you didn’t think about that at all?” I smirk at his tinted cheeks. 

“Yes, you’re still my fantasy.” he sighs wiping his face smiling. “I enjoyed every single second we had together.” 

“I did too.” I hum fondly. “And then you did what you did and..” I trail off shaking my head. 

“I’ll spend the rest of my life apologizing at your feet if you’ll allow me.” he holds his hands out to me. 

“I think I’ll let you grovel a bit more.” I lean back with a smile and he pouts. 

The waiter comes and takes our order and drops off our drinks. We tease each other throughout dinner and it feels as if no time has passed. I’ve been happy over the past two years but I haven’t smiled this much since I left town. As I look at the man across from me I feel my heart flutter. We stay long after our meals have been finished just talking. He picks up the bill and drives me home. 

“I��m so very thankful you came home, cherry pie.” the name causes my cheeks to heat and I’m thankful the sun has been down for some time now. 

“I am too.” I accept his hand as I step out of the car. 

“Can I walk you to your front door?” his smile bashful and I nod my head. “Can I see you again? Please.” the last word barely a whisper. 

“I thought you already see me in your dreams.” I hum teasing him. I turn back towards him as we stop at my front door. 

“Then can I take you on another date?” his pleading eyes search mine. 

“I suppose.” I sigh looking off trying to hide my smile. 

“When?” his fingers cup my chin turning my gaze back to him. 

“Maybe in another two years.” I look up to him with a smirk. 

“I’ll wait for you as long as I have to.” his words caress against me. 

“Tomorrow.” I nod. “Just text me when and where.” I realize how close we’ve gravitated towards each other. 

“Thank you.” our eyes linger on each other and neither of us move. “I’ll see you later in my dreams.” he kisses my forehead and my breath stops. “Have a goodnight, Y/n.” 

“Have a goodnight, Benji.” I fumble with the key and slip inside locking the door behind me. 

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Table 13: I had a great time with you today. I’ve missed you so much. 

Table 13: I want to pick you up at eleven. 

Cherry Pie: I guess I can be awake by then. 

Table 13: I can pick you up later if you need more sleep. 

Cherry Pie: I’ll just have to abandon the man in my dreams a little early. 

Table 13: I’m flattered you would make such a sacrifice for me. 

Cherry Pie: You should be. 

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

“Where are you taking me today?” I settle into his passenger seat. 

“A pottery painting shop.” he nibbles his lip. “If you want. If you don’t like that style of art we can do something else. Anything you want.” he shakes his head.

“Benji, that’s so thoughtful.” I turn to him with scrunched brows. “I would love to do that.” he turns to me with a smile. 

“Really?” he looks relieved. 

“Really.” I nod my head. I’ve never been taken on a date so perfectly catered to me before. Once we get to the pottery shop we make our way inside. We look through all of the different options. We pick out what we’d like to paint and grab a table. 

“I’ve never claimed to be an artist.” he warns picking up a brush. 

“Art is subjective.” I smile at him encouragingly. 

I watch him as he focuses on the details and smile to myself. I continue to steal glances at him as we paint in a comfortable silence. I fight myself everyday of to why I never came back for this man. I’m mad at what he did but I knew that his intentions were good. It was just poor timing. All of my internal battles cease when he sits back and admires his work with a proud smile. 

“I think I could give you a run for your money.” he taunts and a giggle erupts from my lips. 

“But I like you as my muse instead.” my cheeks burn as the truth falls from my lips. 

“Mm your muse?” he raises an eyebrow. 

“Let’s go to the city so I can show you something.” I chew the inside of my cheek.

“When?” he tilts his head.

“Now. Unless you have plans or-“ 

“No, let’s go.” he rises scraping the stool against the floor.

We’re on the road shortly after and I get jittery about finally showing someone the vision I’ve had for years. Some of the pieces are in my mom’s garage that I brought with but the ones that are done stay at my studio. It seems only right that he’ll be the first one to see it. 

“Turn left and park in front of the black awning.” I smile looking to my studio. I let us inside and as I’m leading him up the stairs I start to get nervous. “It’s still a work in progress.” I turn to him biting my lip. 

“That’s okay.” he nods smiling. “I’d love to see anything you’re willing to show me.” I open the door and we step inside. He stops in the center of the room taking in the scattered paintings. He walks up to each one as I trail behind him gauging his reaction. He stops at the last one and turns to me. 

“What do you think?” I feel my cheeks catch fire at his gaze. 

“Are these of us? Our time together?” he steps closer to me. 

“They are.” I nod my head. “There’s more.. I brought them home this weekend to see if I found any inspiration.” I turn and look at them all. “I’ve been working on these since I left that day.” I turn back to him and he’s on his knees looking to me.

“I’m sorry. I was stupid and arrogant. I won’t make excuses.” he shakes his head as I walk over to him. “I don’t deserve you.” he looks up to me with tears in his eyes. 

“Benji,” I cup his cheek. 

“I don’t deserve you.” he whispers again holding my hand to his cheek. “I want another chance with you. I’d do anything. I haven’t had enough time with you.” I look down at him as my own tears slip down my cheeks. 

“I’ve wanted you back since I got into my car that day.” I kneel before him so we’re face to face. “That day has also been my biggest regret.” the second the words are out of my mouth his lips are on mine. I melt into him before he pulls back. 

“I’m sorry. I should’ve asked.” he shakes his head backing up. I pull him back to me and press our lips together once more. I sigh into his mouth as his hands roam up my sides. We are a mess of lips and panting as we pull each other’s clothes off. He lays me back onto the cool concrete floor and I shiver. His hot mouth trails down my neck and stomach as I squirm. 

“I’d like to have a taste of my cherry pie, please.” I whimper at his words nodding my head. He licks through my wetness and I cry out above him. I push myself onto his face as his tongue lashes against me. He groans gripping my hips tightly. My fingers tangle into his hair and hold him against me as my pleasure starts to run through me. I arch off of the ground as I’m pushed over the edge by his tongue as his name falls off of mine. 

“I thought about that everyday.” he hums kissing his way back up my body. “I thought about the little gasps you made when I pushed into you slowly.” he chuckles as he pushes into me earning those gasps from my lips. “The way you scrunch your face when I grind into you.” I’m trembling underneath him as he repeats his actions. 

“Benji,” I grip onto his shoulders. 

“Hm?” he rolls his hips into me. “I never forgot the way you came around me.” my breath catches as he starts to pump into me. His lips crash to mine as our bodies move together slowly. My hips rock against his as I moan into his mouth. His fingers languidly swirl around my bud and my breaths start to come out quicker. 

“Fuck Benji, yes,” I gasp. He swallows down my sounds as my pleasure bursts through me. He keeps his pace slow as our tongues dance. I wrap my legs around him holding him close and we lose ourselves in each other. I’m so focused on the feel of him that my pleasure crashes through unannounced and I feel him fill me with his. 

“My memory never did you justice. You’re so much more perfect.” he slides out as he kisses me once more. We pull apart and slowly sit up and begin to dress again. 

“Don’t do anything stupid again to make me leave you.” I look to him intensely as he helps me rise. 

“I won’t.” he nods his head with a smile. “I promise.” he kisses me softly. “So what’s the name of this installation?” he kisses my forehead and looks at my paintings once more. 

“Table 13 and Cherry Pie.” he turns around and kisses me once more. 

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

masterlist 🔌 

no bc writing this two parter was so fkn cute 

taglist ✍️

@clarityisnofun @gabriella-aesthetic @callsignwidow @llynx7 @violetiss3lfish @ka1afbr @akiko-oo @papichulo120627 @lizzylovebooks280501 @thatgirl101blog @ashovertheriver @zanygot7straykidsbonk @hueanhdang @malfoycassimalfoy @april-notthemonth69 @anaviieiraaa @p45510n4f4shi0n @neocockthotology @thereaderwitch @hardkiddonut @faenyra

[simp4konig]

Nikto x Reader Angst Drabble

You love Nikto. But Nikto does not love anybody.

Word count: 829

Allusions to smut! Readers are warned for mentions of NSFW.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"I do not love you."

You're bent over, hands clutching the bedsheets, fingers bunching up the fabric in a shaky, white-knuckle grip.

Nikto, who had been thrusting into you, was still, as still as a statue, and, although you cannot see his eyes, you imagine them to be stony, the expression under the metal mesh plate of a mask stoic, unresponsive. Disgusted.

Five words. Just five single syllables, whispered in a voice that is hoarse from groaning, gravelly and rough like always. A voice which belongs to Nikto, the voice that you had hopelessly fallen in love with, despite how reckless of you it was for you to grow accustomed to it, to be comforted by it. To find solace in it.

You hadn't meant to let it slip. You really hadn't. It was in the heat of the moment, even though those feelings were anything but. Those feelings were a fire, and Nikto the fuel, a finite source that you should have known better than to extract from.

He would be gone for weeks, for nights, months at a time, deployed on missions with intel classified to you. You never knew what would happen, what was the goal, where, and why. What you would know is that Nikto survived each time.

And what you do know is that you're a toy for him to be used, abused, and reused, dumping weeks' worth of semen into you.

You enjoyed it. Nikto enjoyed it. Really, it was meant to be no strings attached — just a case of arriving at your apartment when least expected, the intensity of his gaze enough for you to realise his intentions, and you'd be bent over the nearest surface before you could do so much as blink, clothes discarded haphazardly on the floor and half-naked.

Nikto did not exert warmth. Not comfort, nor love. Stoic and stone-cold, his heart a hard rock incapable of oozing love for anything, his mind irreversibly damaged and traumatised, he was incapable of emotion, of feelings. Incapable of reciprocating your feelings.

Aftercare was nonexistent. Every careful caress of his scarred skin, every tentative touch on an area that is sensitive, even the merest of kisses that appeared too intimate, too affectionate, too full of care, were swatted, spat on, and chastised. Nikto's nose scrunched in utter disgust at the prospect of intimacy, and he positively felt sick to his stomach whenever you mistakenly kissed him, too lost in the moment for the consequences of such a mindless action to register.

You were meant to be a toy. And that's all you are. That's all you are, you repeated, was reiterated, was reinforced.

Yet, you longed for more. How fucking pathetic of you to think that Nikto could offer you more.

"I..."

Licking your dry lips, you swallow the build-up of saliva in your mouth, throat bobbing up and down as you do so. Although drool had collected at the corner of your mouth in pleasure, saliva built up from guilt, from shame, from humiliation.

You lie through the skin of your teeth, thankful that your facial expression isn't visible to Nikto from this position: "I— I-I didn't mean it in... in that way. You— you know that, Nikto."

Tears collect in your eyes. Why couldn't you have contented yourself with the sex? His presence? His existence? Why did you have to fall in love with a man who would never, ever love you?

"I meant— I meant I love what you're doing. W-what you're doing to me. J-just— it feels so, so good."

He grunts in acknowledgement, and you gulp a little too audibly for your liking, blinking profusely in the hope that you convinced him enough.

His callous fingers tangle themselves in your hair, fingertips scratching your scalp — not fingernails, because some are missing. It never warranted an explanation because you didn't deserve one.

The silence is deafening. For those seconds, you don't dare breathe. Your eyes are wide, panic-stricken, and you're mentally praying for any salvation, for any mercy — anything.

Finally, Nikto's grip on your scalp loosens, seemingly satisfied with your answer, and he resumes his thrusts, grunting into your ear again.

A quiet moan escapes your lips, and you squeeze your eyes shut, willing the tears to go away.

"Good," he laughs, laughing a cruel, callous laugh, apathetic. "And I love it when you keep that mouth shut. So keep it shut, or I'll cut that tongue out if you keep letting such shit leave that goddamn mouth."

You feel so pathetic. So ashamed. So humiliated.

And you are. You really are.

But you can savour his touch for a few moments more, lose yourself in the pleasure for a some more thrusts, orgasm some more, until Nikto decides that he is satisfied, and abandons your apartment to return to the barracks.

And who knows? Maybe this is the last time he will ever come back to you — abandon your apartment forever without a word of goodbye.

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Haven't written in a while, but this came to me as I was on c.ai, and the inspiration was so strong that I wrote this all in one sitting lolol 😝

Still obsessed w Nikto behind the scenes. I am on my KNEES 🛐, PLEASE GIVE ME MORE NIKTO CONTENT I AM IN NEED 😭🙏😭🙏😭🙏 IDC IF YOU DO NOT FOLLOW ME OR KNOW ME TAG ME IN ANYTHING I NEED IT SO BAD 😭😭😭🙏🙏🙏😭😭😭🙏🙏🙏😭😭😭🙏🙏🙏

Anyways although this isn't my headcanon, it suits Nikto's character, and as tragic it is for me to imagine this, it's pretty accurate (I would say)... 🥲💔

[endless-ineffabilities]

the aftermath

Aemond Targaryen x f!Reader

part four of the prūmia va perzys (heart on fire) series

part one: don't you love me? - part two: and what of your love? - part three: the flames that divide -- part five: never tear us apart

themes: injury, violence (choking/assault), language, dragonrider!reader (her house is not stated)

word count: 3.7k ▪︎ masterlist

The reader is left comatose after the curse inflicted by Alys Rivers. Daemon and the rest of the Blacks are determined to set things right. Aemond finally learns of what happened, and makes sure that the guilty pays the price.

The gillyflower lies on the round desk in the middle of your chambers.

It has been three days since its arrival, and devoid of the solace of its earth, it has inevitably began to wilt.

Rhaenyra had been the one to pull it from the box in which it arrived, for its intended recipient lies unconscious on the bed. She comes back to check on you each day, opening the windows to let the morning air in. The ladies-in-waiting tend to you, running warm cloth over your face and body, cleaning and replacing the healing ointment on your injuries.

It has been nearly a week since the tragic incident, which still remains unexplained by everyone. You had sustained treatable injuries, including a broken leg and wrist, but you were also left comatose, after hitting your head in the fall. Thankfully, in a desperate effort by your dragon Fyraxes, the blow was softened as she did her best to minimize the impact in her final moments. She is afflicted with a similar condition, yet to wake again, just like you.

The door to your chambers flies open, and in enters Daemon followed by the maester. He has also been a steady visitor, making sure that all measures are taken toward your recovery. He had been the one to take you back to Dragonstone on Caraxes. Jace stayed behind with Vermax in Horn Hill to watch over Fyraxes, awaiting Baela on Moondancer to help carry her back on makeshift mesh netting.

Daemon’s rough hands carry an ebony box, and he need not open it to determine its contents. It’s the usual one, sent by your lover. He sets it down on the desk. It is left adjacent to the one previously sent, the contents of which have already grown much fainter in vibrance.

Gillyflower. Yet again. In its usual shades of red and violet. A secret call, another attempt to coax you back into his arms.

He knew nothing of what happened. If he did, it would only be reasonable to assume that Alys Rivers would take the brunt of his wrath.

If Aemond only knew, then there is nothing in this world that he wouldn’t burn to reach you.

Daemon’s low spirits intensify as he observes you, lying supine and unmoving in the room. He hates not understanding your affliction. This never should have happened; something clearly isn’t right. Both you and Fyraxes showed no sign of any ailment prior to the incident, and nothing could have overtaken you that quickly. You were laughing one second, and gone to the world the next.

He is determined to see this right. Daemon needed you to be well, as he’s grown to see you as a kind of younger sister, someone he would protect at all costs. And he couldn’t. He couldn’t even fucking fly his dragon fast enough to save you from the fall.

“Well?” Daemon irately questions the maester who looks over you, yet again, “you wanted to say something? Speak it plainly, then. If you have any idea at all as to how we can help her, hold nothing back or I will make sure you regret it.”

“My prince, it is hard to say-”

“Say it.”

“It is only a matter of possibility. A mere assumption. I, myself, do not claim to have any determinate method to confirm this, but the lady y/n may have been targeted with dark magic.”

Daemon pauses, not expecting those words from the maester. Dark magic? “Do make it clear how exactly you arrived at this assumption.”

“Well, if I may show you,” the master lifts your hand, palm upwards, beckoning to Daemon, “if one has been targeted by a spell or an incantation of sorts, it tends to leave a mark.” He traces the lines on your palm, “As you can see, the creases on her palm have been tinged with a shade of maroon. It is almost hard to distinguish, unless studied closely.”

Daemon lowers his head to detect the traces of this on your palm, as the maester continues, “There are records of similar traces from victims of such witchcraft in our histories. One being a lord who was seemingly branded with a murky red contusion on his back, and another lady whose iris morphed into a similar colour. A telltale sign of the work of someone who practices the religion of R’hllor. A disgrace to the one, true religion of the Seven, if I do say so mys-”

Daemon straightens, a fit of rage starting to resurface, "This must be the work of someone from the fucking Greens. It has to be. We must question any known priest or priestess from this Red religion. Anyone who might have any idea about the doings of these bloody witches," his lips curl in distaste, "Immediately."

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Aemond sits at the edge of the bed. The very same one that you shared nearly a fortnight ago. In this familiar cabin, in your secret field, he waits. He has been waiting for several hours, as he had waited several days ago.

And yet, you are nowhere to be seen.

The gillyflower must have reached you. He made sure that it would not be intercepted on its way to Dragonstone. It must have arrived in your chambers, for your immediate notice.

So where are you? When you did not arrive several days prior, Aemond tried to let it pass. You must have been preoccupied with other pressing matters. You are a trusted ally in the Black Council, after all, with your own duties to fulfill.

But again, you have yet to make your presence known. You have yet to come home to Aemond’s arms, where you belong. He tries not to worry, not to let it get to his head. Perhaps, it’s the same case. You must be occupied, or sent on an envoy to one of your allies. There must be a reason that would justify your absence. Surely, you would not choose to simply ignore him, ignore the constant arrival of gillyflower to your chambers.

He lets his fingers drift across the sheets, going over the memory of the both of you entangled in them. It’s been too long, and he’s just gotten you back. There is no way in seven hells that he would let another separation linger between you and him.

Perhaps it’s time to leave. His entire being pulls him toward staying in the cabin, perhaps just a little while longer. Just another minute, or another hour even. Maybe then, maybe you…

Out in the hills, Vhagar huffs impatiently. She feels distraught, struggling to maintain a sense of calm, mirroring her rider’s exact sentiments. Vhagar and Aemond have always been attuned to each other in this way, which has also led to the largest dragon’s affinity for you. She watches Aemond walking back to her, stone-faced and looking downcast. He certainly did not get what he came for. Silently, he clambers up onto Vhagar, and sits back, assessing the field and the skies. Trying to catch a glimpse of your arrival. Anything at all. Even a raven that holds a letter to explain your absence.

He's not certain how much more time passes, as he sits atop Vhagar. The dragon shuffles slightly, pulling him out of his thoughts. In a huff, he makes a split decision, voice sounding agitated, “Ivestragī's jikagon. Sōvegon.” Let’s go. Fly.

The field is enveloped in a massive gust of wind, grass and gillyflower whipped about in a flourish. Gravel and dirt are spread out from where Vhagar took off. Back in the cabin, candles are left lit around the room, casting a warm glow in the emptiness. The entire place - the field, the cabin, the skies above – seems to have lost its wonder, its defining spark, without the star-crossed lovers who have made it their home.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Rhaenyra Targaryen’s sworn knights escort a woman into the great, looming hall in Dragonstone. The elderly woman walks with dignity, her head held high, her modest red dress billowing slightly as she strides. The queen and Prince Daemon finally take notice of her, as the maester walks forward to announce her arrival.

“My Queen, my Prince, might I present the Lady Cerrah. She hails from Essos, but she currently resides in the Riverlands, in the employ of our ally, House Tully.”

“They have a fucking witch in their employ?” Daemon doesn’t mince his words, as always, eager to get on with the interrogation.

“My queen,” she bows her head in obeisance, before adding in response, “I am a respected healer in House Tully, Prince Daemon, and I do not appreciate your tone.”

Rhaenyra gives her consort a sideward look, advising him to take caution, “We welcome you to Dragonstone, Lady Cerrah. I suppose you have been informed of why you have been summoned?”

“Summoned?” The lady’s voice is shrill, disbelieving, “I was plucked out of my chambers in the middle of the night and dragged out here in a pathetic carriage-”

“You should consider yourself fortunate that you weren’t put in chains, witch.” Daemon snaps, “This is a matter of urgency, so the sooner you answer our questions, the sooner we can be rid of each other’s presence.”

Lady Cerrah doesn’t recoil at Daemon’s tone, already accustomed to men approaching her in a brutish manner, without any effort made to hide their prejudice. “The maester has already informed me of the Lady Y/n’s condition, and I’m afraid he is not mistaken. This is the work of a priestess, and quite the powerful one, might I add.”

Rhaenyra proceeds in a practiced, diplomatic manner, “We have reason to suspect that this might be the work of someone from the Greens. Perhaps they too, have a priestess such as you, my lady, in their company.”

The priestess does not appreciate having to be a mere tool, her religion clearly viewed as lesser by these nobles, “And? What do you require of me? The name of everyone who might potentially be a priestess who sided with the Greens?”

“Just one name would suffice. The name of the cunt who put a curse of Lady Y/n and her dragon,” Daemon fiercely says, matching Lady Cerrah’s derision, “Whoever they are, they’re likely to be under the command of the Hightowers, or any of the traitors in King’s Landing.”

Rhaenyra interjects, “Daemon, we can’t be certain-” but her husband does not cease his tirade.

“It must be. Do you know of any priest or priestess who may currently be in King’s Landing?”

“We followers of the Lord of Light know better than to be under the direct control of any of you Targaryens,” Lady Cerrah sneers, “You only seek to bring about the downfall of the Seven Kingdoms, simply because you wage war amongst yourselves.”

Just before Daemon angrily speaks up, Rhaenyra is quick to implore, in a comparably calmer tone, “I do not wish to antagonize you, my lady, and if you felt as if you were not properly treated as you were brought here, then I offer my apology.  But the Lady Y/n is quite dear to me, and to all of us. She is more than just an ally; she is my family.” At that, Daemon can’t help but sullenly nod in agreement. Rhaenyra continues, “If you know of anyone who might be rightfully suspected of harming her, then speak their name.”

Despite Lady Cerrah’s resistance, the queen’s genuine sincerity was something she could not ignore. She speaks again, her voice softer, “In King’s Landing, you say? Well, I suppose there is someone who is close enough to the royals, that it is likely her faith is being utilized to their advantage,” she pauses, making up her mind, “You must have heard of Alys Rivers. The consort…well, former consort of Prince Aemond Targaryen. She is the daughter of a devout follower of the Lord of Light, a true priestess who devoted her life to the faith. I came across her mother several times in our youth, before she was impregnated by the late Lord Strong.”

Daemon’s blood runs cold. He mouths slowly, “Alys Rivers is a fucking witch.” If she had anything to do with this, then it must only be at the behest of his nephew, and Daemon knowingly let you go to him. I let her go to him, to that fucking traitor, and now she lies unconscious, her fate uncertain.

Rhaenyra and Daemon share a knowing look, both aware of your history with Prince Aemond.

“Thank you, my lady,” Rhaenyra says, “That will be all for now. You will be given your own chambers during your stay here. Clear the room,” she hurriedly commands her loyal knights.

Before she is ushered away, the priestess adds, moved by the queen’s grace, “My queen, I wish to express my regret for what happened to the Lady Y/n. I shall look over my texts, and see if there is anything I can do.”

The room has just been emptied, before Daemon angrily speaks, "That one-eyed cunt shall pay for what he's done to her. He clearly has not learned his lesson after-"

Rhaenyra stops him with a single look, and Daemon knows better than to bring up the subject of her second son.

"If this is all Prince Aemond's doing, then why does he persist in sending gillyflower to her, in hopes that she might meet him? It does not seem like he's aware of her condition."

"It must be a trap," Daemon asserts, "or a diversion. To make it look like he's innocent in all this-"

"Daemon, you said so yourself that you believe them to truly care for one another. This is why you let her go to him. If that is true, then Aemond would not have done this."

"Well, perhaps I thought wrong," Daemon hissed, "If Alys Rivers is a priestess, then her connection with Aemond would deem her most likely guilty of the fucking curse our Y/n was put under."

Rhaenyra reaches for Daemon's hand, attempting to ease his agitation, "She will make it through this, Daemon. She's a fighter, always has been."

"I know she will," Daemon mutters, "but Alys Rivers must be dealt with, and I know just the way to see this done."

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Aemond absentmindedly plays with the sapphire-blue stone ball in the symbolic round dish set before him. His mind is elsewhere, fixated on you. The other members of the Green Council drawl on, and his mother Alicent’s expression grows dimmer as she sits at the head of the table. The proclaimed King himself is once again absent from the council meeting, no longer a surprise to anyone, for it was always clear that the Hightowers have been the ones to maneuver the plans of war. Figureheads in the shadows who are actually running the Seven Kingdoms.

Ser Tyland Lannister drawls on about the need for more resources in some battle, which of course, Casterly Rock would be more than happy to provide. Not unusual of their House which constantly leeches off of the power of the Iron Throne, through favours and self-serving flattery. Tyland poorly hides his annoyance when  Jasper Wylde interrupts, who claims to have good news from the Greens’ network of spies.

“Word has reached us that a very important player in this game for the Blacks has suffered a grave injury. As luck would have it, her dragon is in the same condition. The Lady Y/n is rumoured to be lying unconscious, and it is uncertain whether she will ever wake.”

Aemond freezes completely. His stomach twists and a sense of nausea threatens him, his eyes widening in shock. Rage quickly follows, when he replays what Jasper has just reported, his increasingly grating voice a mere echo in the background.

… suffered a grave injury… rumoured to be lying unconscious… It is uncertain whether she will ever wake.

“Wonderful news, dare I say!” the bumbling Lannister exclaims, unaware of the inner turmoil about to be unleashed from the Targaryen prince across the table, “And she rides one of their largest dragons, doesn’t she? A true loss for the Blacks, so this should…”

Alicent grows aware of her son’s distress, of his fist turning bone-white, tightening around the blue stone ball, “Aemond,” she implores, “Aemond, don’t-”

Tyland Lannister drones on, “…be a cause for celebration. But we should also make haste in considering our next-”

Gasps erupt around the table. Silence falls. Tyland Lannister’s speech was effectively halted by the same symbolic sphere, that shining blue implement, hurled from Aemond’s fist to his mouth.

The council members look from their prince to the Lannister, who stands in shock. His quivering hand covers his mouth, but blood has already begun to seep through his fingers. He makes a gurgling noise, and keels over, spitting a heavy clod of blood and several of his teeth on the stone floor.

“Fuck!” Tyland yells, muffled by the damage done, “You…you utter cunt…”

“Careful how you address your prince, Ser,” Ser Criston threatens from the side of the room.

Aemond stands tall, dominating the room with his silent, burning wrath. Lips tightened, jaw tense, fists curled at his sides. The very image of a dragon prepared to bring about destruction with his fire. He makes no move to excuse his action, and does not offer any semblance of an apology, both in word and in his expression.

Alicent is quick to act, fearing further escalation into violence, especially due to her son. “My lords, I must declare this council meeting over. We shall discuss any proceedings on the morrow.”

“What of… of what’s been done to me?” Tyland wheezes, blood still spilling from his lips, “I demand justice!”

Aemond’s head whips to him in a fury, “Justice would warrant that I have your head mounted on a spike, for levying insults against my-” He pauses. My love? My consort? My... my life.

The air is thick with anticipation and intrigue. The intrusive thought of Prince Aemond and Lady Y/n settle uncomfortably within their minds.

“Ser Criston, see everyone out,” Alicent instructs, “and have the maester see to Ser Tyland straight away.” Everyone shuffles out of the room, apart from Alicent and her son. She takes one of his fists, squeezing it gently between her palms, beseeching him to meet her gaze.

“Speak to me, Aemond,” Alicent pleads, “Why have you acted in such a way? You swore to me that you would never let your anger take over you again. Do you still care for the Lady Y/n?”

“Mother, I-” Aemond whispers, words failing him, “I…” He sits back down, leaning forward on one arm to steady himself. His hand is still curled tight, fingernails digging into his palm. Alicent sits beside him, pulling his fist close. Prying it open, she is saddened to see familiar, bloody crescent marks on his palm, from where his nails dug too deep. A memory flashes across her eyes, a sensation from her long lost girlhood, her hands defaced in a similar way. Of her own doing. And now her son has to suffer the same, and whatever pains have led him to this, she only wishes to take it away.

“Was this our doing?” Aemond says lowly, “Was this an attack orchestrated by our allies? I must know who dared harm Y/n.”

“I am not certain of this at present, Aemond. However, I will have Ser Criston report every detail he can collect about this incident. Rest assured, you will have your answers.”

Aemond envisions you, hurt, and he feels powerless to do anything to remedy it. His chest tightens with a pain he is sure he has not felt in a long time, not since he lost you the first time. Now, he could lose you for good. He refuses to entertain that possibility; he fears the monster he will become if that ever came to be.

He forces himself to nod to his mother in acknowledgement, before striding out of the council room, every step he takes bearing heavy. He was never a devout man, only playing the part of the dutiful son who upholds his mother’s beliefs. But a prayer repeatedly races through his mind. By the old gods and the new, let her be well. Let her recover completely. Let her return to me.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Aemond walks the halls determinedly in apparent calm. His face does not betray what simmers within. After Ser Criston Cole left his chambers, having reported everything he had gathered about your condition, Aemond sat transfixed by the flames. The amber flickers drew him back to one dark-haired bastard girl. The one who worships these flames. That witch.

It had been her. She was the one whom the Blacks have apparently determined as the likely cause. Aemond can’t help but concur. You had been allegedly been afflicted with a curse, the doing of someone who practices the religion of R’hllor. And who else would have reason to target you? Who better to suspect that his scorned former consort.

The door to Alys Rivers’ meagre chambers flies open. She had been sitting in front her mirror, running a comb over her long tresses, when she felt a cold gust of air from behind. She turns, finding the object of her fixation. The one-eyed prince, the love that had been promised to her by the Lord of Light. She was sure, he was meant to be hers.

She stands, excitedly at first, until she manages to observe him entirely. His entire demeanour is dark and menacing, his regal, austere face taking on a cruel edge.

“My Aemond,” she tentatively whispers, her hands reaching out to touch him. She lightly grips the sleeves of his tunic, but he remains unmoving. A long, torturous moment passes.

Then Aemond snaps, springing into movement, too quick for Alys to comprehend. His fingers tighten around her neck, cutting off any air in her windpipe. His fingernails dig into her skin, and her eyes widen alarmingly, begging him to cease his assault.

His seemingly dead eyes look right through her, numb to her pain. For once, the witch’s heart is stricken with fear caused by her true love. She can barely recognize the man in front of her.  

“Ae..mond,” a desperate croak, her slender hands scrambling and failing to urge him to release her neck.

Aemond finally speaks, voice dripping with menace, “What the fuck have you done?”

-----------

Sorry that you did not make an appearance in this chapter, dear reader. 🙃 I wanted to emphasize the gravity of the situation, and we simply can't have you just gallivanting around right away, if you're meant to have suffered a great blow from your nemesis, now can we?

I hoped yous understand the reference to the symbolic stone balls used during council meetings. No, Aemond does not have a blue ball he just brings around and plays with. (Lol)

And that's right, no smut in this one. This is kind of a filler chapter + you're in a bloody coma so simmer down for a while 😂

What to expect in the next chapter: you'll finally wake, Aemond will attempt to come see you (risking his head because Daemon will surely be out for blood the moment his nephew sets foot on Dragonstone), you might see Aemond in a new light (you'll be more distrusting, because it was his fooling around with that witch that led to your affliction after all) ...

the taglist continues in the comments, I sincerely apologize if I missed anyone. There must be nearly 200 of you that asked to be tagged so it's been insane! (in the best way) thank you all for reading!!! 🖤

taglist: @schniiipsel @thelastcitysposts @angel6776 @huntycola @sanguinalia @just-a-harmless-potato-05 @outundertheocean @dazecrea @ladystardvsts @afro-hispwriter @dudfahsn @poohkie90 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @lilostif16 @deeeeexx @nephitis @minicikasworld @livimulati @the-orions-belt @stillinracooncity @lawlerek @missusnora @wickedbutlovely @umavvitch @claudie-080102 @abcdefghi-lmnopqrstuvwxyz @puredicks @crazylokonugget @lj127 @icarusignite @mandyki @darylandbethfanforever9 @highexpectationsgurl @whitejuliana1204 @caught-in-the-afterglow @witchmoon @meilikki @carlottalhn @xcinnamonmalfoyx @writer-lee5 @solacestyles @noneedtosearch @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @vensidia @xinyourdreamsx @mikariell95 @cryztalline @fairaardirascenarios @aemondswh0re

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Kinktober Day 25

Day Twenty-Four | 🌹Kinktober Masterlist🌹 | Day Twenty-Six

Pairing: Shiv Roy x AFAB!Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only. Any minors interacting with ANY of these Kinktober prompts will be blocked

Notes: I am, admittedly, quite nervous about this one, but here we go. Set during S1, pre-wedding.

Warnings: Infidelity; mentions of previous adolescent antics; mirror sex; oral sex; fingering; grinding; semi-public sex

“Try it on.” 

“We’re not here for me.” 

“Humor me.” Shiv tipped her head to the side, brows raising as she gave you a pretty frown, turning slightly from side to side. You knew better than to fall for what you called the Pinky Treatment—the batting eyelashes and pout that she gave her brothers and her father when she wanted something and wasn’t ready to budge on her position—but she always managed to get her way with you.

It was worse now, knowing that she was practically bare under the short pink, satin robe she was wearing. 

Your gaze drifted to the flesh-toned mesh in her hand, covered with dark straps. You reached out, taking hold of the bra and holding it up, gaze wandering the criss-cross of adjustable straps that covered the otherwise open cup. You looked at the piece still in her hand, nodding toward it. 

“What are those straps?” 

“Panties and a suspender belt.” 

You grunted in contemplation. 

“C’mon,” Shiv shuffled closer. “It’ll help me decide which ones I get for the honeymoon.” 

“Will it.” 

“Sure.” 

You glanced warily between the door leading to the lingerie shop’s private dressing suite. Shiv scoffed softly. 

“They won’t open it unless I tell them to,” She reassured. “C’mon, try it on.” 

You sighed heavily, reaching out and taking hold of the rest of lingerie, trying to ignore the little thrill you felt when she smiled victoriously. 

“Turn around,” You mumbled, waving her away. You reached down, frowning at the tags as she did as you asked. “Did you ask them to get my size?” 

“It’s more fun if we both try things on.” 

“Ugh, you weirdo.” 

“Save that for Roman.” 

“I will,” You laughed nervously. You swallowed, trying to push away your nerves as you got undressed. It took a little maneuvering, and by the time you got the bra, panties, and garters on, you felt even more nervous than you did before. 

“It looks fine,” You offered. “You don't need to look.” 

It was all Shiv needed to hear before she spun around, phone still in hand. She went still at the sight of you, her eyes raking over your body with a meticulous slowness that made you want to melt into the floor. She tossed her phone onto the thick-cushioned arm chair as she wandered closer, her arms folding over her chest. 

“Turn around?”

You scoffed, stomping a foot childishly. 

“Shiv.” 

“Turn,” She ordered, twirling her finger. You huffed, turning away from her. It was a solace, really. Your face and body went hot under her scrutiny as you felt her getting closer. God, just hold still. The sooner she looked at you, the sooner you could get out of this. 

You sucked up a sharp breath as you felt Shiv press up against your back, peering over your shoulder at the two of you in the mirror. 

“Fits well,” She commented matter-of-factly, as if you weren’t so hot you could combust. “But these seem a bit…” Her hands smoothed over your hips, tucking beneath the band of your panties. “Snug.” 

“A little,” You mumbled, “But not unlivable.” 

“Hmm,” She nodded, turning her head into your jaw. “We should get you some thigh-highs.” 

“I thought these weren’t for me.” 

“They’re not, but…” Shiv’s hands slid around to your belly, “They could be.” 

Your stomach flipped as her touch traveled up, tracing the strap that hung over the swell of your pebbling nipple. 

“You little slut.” 

“Slut?” You laughed. “If the PC police heard you saying that, you’d be out of a job.” 

“Funny. I think that attitude could make me CEO at Waystar Royco.” 

“Do you want that?” You asked, tipping your head back toward her. She didn’t answer at first, just slid her thumb over the swell of your breast. Your breath caught in your throat as her nail caught against the mesh. 

“This isn’t about what I want right now,” She finally answered. 

“Isn’t it?” You brushed your nose against her cheekbone. “You wanted me to go shopping with you; I’m here. You wanted me to try this on; I did.” 

You watched Shiv’s lips turn down in another pout, and felt her fingers skate across the straps on the bra, skimming your hardening nipple. 

“...Do you think Tom would like it?” You added, trying to turn the conversation. 

“I could turn up in a plaid flannel floor-length nightgown and he’d cum in his pants.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to quiet a laugh as you glanced up toward the mirror. You found Shiv eyeing you there, her fingers, hooking under one of the straps. She held your gaze as she tugged it out, then let it snap back against your nipple. You hissed softly, shifting in discomfort. She shushed you, turning her head and pressing her face into your neck. 

“Remember when we were in high school?” She murmured, breath brushing your skin, “And we used to pretend to date to freak out all the little shitheads in our class?”

You did remember. It was a little game that the two of you had played at—in the halls, between classes, at lunch. You’d held hands in the hall, waited for each other by your lockers—until one of your teachers threatened to report the behavior to her parents. Yours wouldn’t have cared, but there had been a wrath of Logan’s that Shiv wasn’t willing to incur. You nodded now, unable to get the words out.

“You used to get so flustered,” She laughed. “Jumped when I put my hand on your leg.” She slid one hand down, past the underwear to where the garters dangled against your thigh. You forced yourself to hold still, drawing in even breaths through your nose. Shiv let out an interested little hum. “Better at keeping still now, huh?”

“I’ve had more experience,” You mumbled. 

“I bet.” 

Her hands slid up, cupping your breasts and giving them a gentle squeeze. 

“Remember the sleepovers?” She murmured, “When we would play girlfriend-boyfriend?” 

You swallowed thickly, fighting the urge to press up into her hands. 

“That was a long time ago,” You mumbled. She hummed softly, smoothing her hand over your belly. 

“Think I’d make a better boyfriend than I used to,” She tipped her chin up, brushing her lips against the hinge of your jaw. 

“Oh really?” You shifted against her. “I mean…When we were younger, you just deepened your voice, pawed at my tits and called me babe.” 

“Mmm.” 

“So what’s changed?” 

“Well,” She trailed her fingers lower, dipping beneath the band of your panties. Your breath caught in your throat as you watched her in the mirror. Her gaze was set heavily on yours as she brushed her fingertips along the top of your pussy. “I know what I like…” 

“Oh?” 

“And I know what you like.” 

“Is that so?” 

“Mm. Your old roommate liked to talk.” 

Your body went hot at the assertion. You swallowed thickly, eyelids fluttering as Shiv’s lips smooth along the curve of your ear. Her fingers slipped lower, gently swiping her fingers over your clit. 

“Did she,” You mumbled. 

“Sure. Get a couple of tequila shots in her and she had the loosest lips. Awful kisser, that girl,” Shiv smiled. “I don’t know how you put up with her.” 

“I managed.” 

“Mm.” Shiv spread your lips with her fore and ring fingers, using the middle to swirl your clit in slow circles. You bit your lip, tipping your hips into her touch. 

“Shiv, if someone comes in—” 

“No one’s going to,” She insisted again. You felt her grind up against you, heard the slip of her satin robe against your lingerie. 

“Why, because this is Shiv’s World?” You struggled to quip, “Whatever you say goes?” 

“Right now?” She chuckled against you. “It’s pretty close. I’m the bride, after all. I get what I want.” 

“You always get what you—what you want—damnit, Shiv,” You breathed. You grasped her wrist, tugging it out of your underwear before you turned to face her. You cupped her neck, drawing her in for a kiss. Shiv shook your grip loose, curling her arms around your middle and drawing you closer. You raised your hands, sliding them into her hair as her hands greedily wandered your body. You slid your tongue along hers, whimpering softly as she flicked the tip against yours. You gasped, stumbling back as she dropped to her knees, shoving your hips back toward the wall. She tore your panties down your thighs, pushing your legs wide. Your mouth fell open with a choked moan, hinging forward slightly as she pressed her face between your thighs, tongue sliding along the seam of your sex. 

“Shit,” You hissed, reaching down and curling your hands in her hair. You used the grip to grind down against mouth, quieting your whimpers as she lapped at you, sucking your clit between her lips and lashing it with her tongue. Her nails dug into your thighs as they quake, your knees weakening at her ministrations. You tugged Shiv’s hair, guiding her back and giving her a push. She leaned away, scooching back along the floor as you joined her on the floor. You grasped the tie on her robe, yanking it open as you climbed over her. She sagged back against the floor, sighing softly as you sucked one of her nipples into your mouth. 

You swirled your tongue around the hardening peak, sighing against her soft, fair skin as you slotted your thigh between her legs. You straddled her leg, whining as the two of you ground and pushed against one another. You scraped your teeth over her nipple, pinning her hip to the floor as she cursed and arched up against you. You drew your hand from her hip to toy with her slick pussy, feeling her plant her feet and drive her hips up against your hand and thigh. 

You tipped your chin up, eyeing Shiv. You found her pink-cheeked and panting, watching you from beneath her lids. You stroked her clit more harshly, ignoring the growing cramping in your wrist and fingers as she pressed her lips together tight. She sat up a little, propping herself up with one hand before shoving her hand back between your thighs. Your gut swooped, your lips parting as she swiped her tongue across your lips. You gasped as your orgasm swelled, your hips jolting as Shiv ground up against your thigh and fingers. You lowered your head, pressing your face into her neck as you cum. 

“Fuck, fuck fuck fuck, Shiv.” 

She hums, sucking a kiss against your neck as you feel her pussy spasming beneath your touch. You pant softly, nuzzling her skin gently and drawing her against you. Shiv hums happily, rolling her hips against you, chasing the throbbing aftershocks. 

“Um—Miss Roy?” 

The shop attendant’s voice made you go still in panic. Shiv hurried off of your lap, drawing her robe back around herself and tying it tightly. You stood on unsteady legs, straightening the lingerie and meeting Shiv’s eye as she raises her brows, nodding questioningly. 

“Yeah,” You breathe, smoothing your hand over your garments. Shiv swallows, clearing her throat before she reaches out, opening the door. The attendant looks between the two of you, brows raised, an expectant smile on her face. 

“How is everything in here?” 

“Fine,” Shiv says simply, “But we’d like some more champagne. And we’ll take what she's wearing in addition to what I order,” She points to you. 

“Excellent! Can I wrap them up?” 

“No need. She’ll be wearing them out.”

Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @amneris21 ; @ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ; @lorecraft ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; @millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @phoenixhalliwell ; @wild-rose-35 ; @daisyslibrary ; @informally-liz ; @andrastesflamingtitties ; @muchacha-encabronada ; @nerdygirl0414 ; @elen-aranel ; @ohbee-whatcanyoube ; @kmc1989 ; @quietpainter ; @thedreadandthefugitivemind ; @kaletastrophes ; @nyx2021 ; @thatesqcrush ; @shanimallina87 ; @adarasforest ; @s-u-t ; @silversprings-mp3 ; @senawashere ;

[delirious-donna]

Keep Me Warm [Kakashi Hatake]

Oct. 5 - Kakashi Hatake x female reader

An intimate camping trip turns unseasonably colder than expected, it'll be up to Kakashi to keep you warm right through 'til morning.

warnings: cockwarming, teasing, outdoor sex, Kakashi being a damn teasing motherfucker, it's lucky he is hot as fuck and hung...

Masterlist

A chill wind swept through the clearing, far colder than you’d expect for this time of year. It forced you to huddle closer into the blanket that was slung around your shoulders. 

The crackle of flames from the lit campfire burned bright, logs popping merrily as if it had no reason to worry about the wind that was startling to howl between the trees. 

Kakashi turned from where he was making you hot tea on the camping stove, a frown deepening on his face. His eyes swivelled around the area, scanning for goodness knows what but clearly not finding anything.

“What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing. I’m just surprised by how cold it’s turned. Do you want my fleece?” he asked, already pulling the zipper down.

“I’d rather have you,” you purred sweetly. Patting the ground next to you and parting your blanket to invite him inside.

His saccharine smile forced the saliva in your mouth to turn runny, swallowing it down as he took the few steps to your position. His steel grey eyes twinkled in the dusky evening light, he knew your game and he was down to play.

It wasn’t long before the low temperature was forgotten, sweat clinging to your bodies as you tumbled around the clearing floor in search of the perfect way in raising your heart rates and scratching the itch that had been simmering for hours.

The hours spent on the hike to arrive here, the flirtatious banter that Kakashi was far too adept at. It was always too easy to fall into his traps, to fluster at his salacious words as he tells you his favourite parts of the latest Icha Icha book and for your cheeks to ignite when he stood just a little closer than was necessary.

All of that had led to this, the blanket spread out and Kakashi feasting on you like he hadn’t eaten in weeks. Your taste on his tongue, cheeks and chin spattered in your arousal, making you taste it. His tongue twisted around yours after gliding across the points of your teeth.

“Kashi. Kashi! I’m - oh fuck - I’m…”

~

The tent was cold, more than cold. The wind howled, an actual raging storm as you burrowed deeper into your shared sleeping bag.

You found solace and warmth in Kakashi’s form, his breathing was slow and even, and you wondered how he had managed to succumb to sleep.

Then again, the rigorous evening activities might have had something to do with it. Even now your muscles were aching, thighs burning from how long you had straddled his waist and fucked yourself up and down his cock.

A quick nudge pressed a frown upon his face, the silver hair that usually defied gravity in that stupidly attractive way fell across his forehead and his nose crinkled.

You shivered harder, and that was the cue needed to rouse your man from his slumber. Eyes heavy with drowsy sleep blinked, shuffling around and an arm pulling you further against his chest.

“Waz wrong princess?” he slurred into your hair. His nose rubbed into your locks, a leg hooking over your own and it certainly helped to abate the cold that was seizing up your joints.

“S-s-so cold.”

At your chittering words, the grip of your fingers on the thin mesh shirt he had worn to bed and your trembling body, he propped on his elbow and looked at you. Kakashi touched your cheek and hissed at how icy it felt beneath his fingers.

“Jesus, sweetheart, why didn’t you wake me sooner?” he scolded, but there was no real heat behind the words.

You shrugged, feeling foolish for trying to tough it out when you knew that Kakashi would never want to suffer like this. “You looked so peaceful and I thought I’d drift off eventually…”

“Turn over, let me be the big spoon.”

He waited until you were facing away from him, wrapping tightly behind you, an arm around your waist with his hand resting against your chest.

Kakashi’s heat quickly began to sink into your body, chasing the cold away from you with feverish intent. You thought he was going to hook his leg over your thighs as he often did back at home, but you stiffened as his knee slid between your thighs instead.

His hot breath fanned over your neck, lips smearing messy open-mouthed kisses to your pulse point and it made you jerk in his hold. Your butt found the semi he was hiding in his pants, rocking yourself against it and earning a low growl in your ear.

“I know what’ll keep you warm, princess.”

The remnants of sleep lowered his voice, it was an octave deeper and far more sultry, if that were even possible. You bit the inside of your cheek, the wind that continued to rage outside slipping from your mind as fingers dipped into the waistband of your pyjama bottoms.

Kakashi bit at your ear, rolling his hips in leisurely motions as his cock thickened against you. The ache from your muscles was forgotten in the same way as the storm, your need for the man at your back too much to be denied your full attention.

He was your personal hot water bottle and he was more than ready to ensure you were cosy and snug. The hand pressed to your chest lightly groped at your tits, teasing the peaks that stiffened beneath the cotton until he could pinch them and hear you squeal.

His other hand found its way between your legs. Stroking along your bare slit whilst he cooed softly in your ear, “Oh, sweetheart. You don’t feel cold here, should I stop?”

You whimpered at the empty threat, deep down you knew he wouldn’t stop.

Kakashi might be a tease but he was never truly mean and you needed him. Didn’t think you’d need him so soon after the evening spent fucking in every possible position, but here you were.

“No, Kashi. Need you… need you to warm me up.”

“Okay little one, but remember that you asked me for this,” he chuckled whilst pulling his pants down enough to free this heavy cock. 

You wrapped a hand around the thick base, pumping toward the crown that was searingly hot and wet from oozing precum. The sharp intake of breath puffed your chest, along with the groan from the chest that was pressed lovingly to your back.

Cool air caressed your butt as your bottoms were yanked with force down your thighs, just enough to let him sink between your folds. Kakashi rutted his length along your slit, the tip of his cock catching every forward movement against your hood and it was maddening.

The little bud of your clit throbbed, you arched your back and offered your pussy to him on a silver platter. 

It seemed impossible that the stretch to accommodate his fat tip would still ache, the dull pain far overshadowed by how fucking good you felt, but still, you assumed your cunt would be shaped to fit him and only him at this point.

“Ah… that’s it’s princess, taking me so well. Nearly - there!”

With a grunt of exaltation, Kakashi buried himself up to the hilt. Your velvet walls gripped his length, hugged it and clenched good as if begging him never to leave. His arms curled around your upper torso, face nuzzling into your neck as you panted and waited.

After a minute of not moving, you frowned and tried to draw back your hips only to be met by the steel bands of Kakashi’s arms holding you in place.

“Nuh-uh. No moving, you just let me keep you warm all night long. Get some sleep, you’ll need it for the morning.”

He sounded drowsy, feline and you knew he was smirking. You weren’t sure if he was referring to the hike back to the village or something… else.

You gripped down and he hissed through his teeth but remained perfectly still. You were drooling down the sides of his cock, could feel his steady heartbeat through the vein that ran along the underside of his shaft and you ached for the dam of pressure in your belly to be released.

A hearty fire burned in your core, kindling smouldering and stoking the fire until it was a towering inferno. Beads of sweat broke out along your brow and a tiny squeak passed your lips. It made Kakashi’s fingers spasm against your front, but he didn’t wake - lucky bastard.

It took an age to drift into any semblance of sleep, drowsy waves crashing over you and making your eyelids so heavy that you couldn’t keep them open.

One thing for sure, you were no longer cold…

[waffelz-png]

They're inlove trust I am literally team reptile themselves trust

(I also ship mesh x solace because it's silly, I'm a multi-shipper 😈)

Also since it's PRIDE MONTH

I will give some mini pride hcs 4 mesh n dot exe

Mesh - He/They [Biseuxal!!]

Dot Exe - He/it [ Agender - Also bisexual!!]

(Not mesh or dot exe but I personally hc Bel as omni - women pref)

[jinx-on-mars-19xx]

Take Me to Church

Dom x Colson (Yungblud x Machine Gun Kelly)

Warnings: new fic alert! Halloween gift for my Com loving followers 👻 priest Kells, ??? Dom (you already know but play along?), religious/priest kink, prayer, confession, extreme misuse of confession, Catholic... things? (I'm not sure how to warn for that), fear, arousal, ignoring erections, slight joke about pedophilia in the church, brief explanation of lustful thoughts and murder, spooky fic 😈 rating: mature

The rosary beads felt soothing as they slipped through Father Colson's fingers. They were warming with each bead passed and his mind was grounding. He didn't normally let the confessions of his parish bother him but certain situations of sin struck him differently. He couldn't get the boy out of his mind, something felt… off the entire time he was listening to him. At least his prayer normally helped clear his mind in a meditative way. He needed to sleep before mass in the morning. His knees ached from the wood under him but the pain brought him solace. He believed in trying to help everyone but he hoped for the first time he could remember that the child never came back. He didn't think anyone had ever made 'Father' sound so much like 'Daddy'. Fuck.

"Forgive me Favher for I 'ave sssinned." A new voice whined through the partition. For just a moment he was happy because the man sounded younger than most of his congregation and it always felt good to bring a younger soul to God.

He wasn't as hopeful as he'd once been and he'd found himself turning more and more jaded as the years passed. He'd thought finding God and serving him would clean him up and make him happy but all he felt was stress to save, save, save! He glanced through the mesh window because the voice felt… different and the other man was staring right back. Plush lips curled in a wicked grin and he swore the jade gaze watching him had not been green a moment before. "H-how long has it been since your last confession?" He stuttered after clearing his throat and looking away. He had a script for a reason. He could focus. He just hadn't been sleeping well.

The sinner laughed, almost snorting in his derision. "Sorry Favher. I… Let's jus' say it's been a while. You? You come 'ere often?"

Colson's brows furrowed and he rolled his bottom lip between his teeth, biting gently at a spot he always nibbled on. He rarely felt nervous or out of sorts but there was something about this kid. "Daily." He tried to sidestep whatever humor the boy was offering. He could be funny, in fact he was known for his humorous sermons by his followers but it was late and he didn't feel like joking. He couldn't even remember seeing the kid come in. He just remembered thinking confession was over after old Mr. Sharpe left but when he tried to step free of the booth a soft voice called him back. "What's bothering you my child?" He asked, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He had a headache but that he was used to.

"Dark fhoughts."

The accent was thick enough it felt sticky, like something that might never let go of him, sugary sweet enough to make him anxious. "Just thoughts my son?"

"Ain't nice to assume in 'is day and age, Favher." The kid huffed, pressing his fingers to the mesh between them.

"I apologize my child, are some of those thoughts… about your gender? I'm more accepting than most churches so please, feel safe with me." He tried to soothe.

"No, I like me gender jus' fine and when I don't I mess around a bit. Ain't 'ere for tha'. But you should see me in a school girl skirt." His voice went low and the priest shivered as if it had touched him. "I needed to talk because… because I fink of fucking-" He paused and giggled when Col cleared his throat and the sound of his robes shifting with his nervous movements were almost louder than their voices. "Sorry- I fink of… sleeping wiv boys as much as girls. If not more." He sighed, tracing patterns on the window between them with his nails. Colson couldn't help but watch and follow and he flushed hot under his collar when he thought the kid drew a cock. "Ain't tha' wrong?"

Colson swallowed a noise he couldn't explain and shifted in his seat. He always had trouble with these, it brought back too many old fears for him. He'd grown up with abusive and religious parents, thoughts about sexuality were the last thing he was allowed. "We are all sinners my child." He rasped, and the small space went quiet but felt far too small and hot. He couldn't even hear the kid breathing. "My child?" He asked after at least thirty seconds of silence and he finally let himself look through the partition again. The small space looked almost dark and he moved his face closer. His heart skipped a beat, he didn't know why he was so apprehensive but when he drew near the man's hand touched the mesh again and he jumped back. His heart raced and he took a deep breath, trying to right himself. His collar felt tighter than normal and he longed to finish up and get comfortable.

"Do you sin Favher? Wha' are your sins?"

Colson shuddered when the sound of nails on wood felt more like a chalkboard. Shit, who was this guy? Where had he come from? They were in a pretty small town where he thought he knew everyone, how did the kid end up there? "Of course, I'm only- only human. I s-sin." He was still almost panting trying to settle himself but something had him worked up.

That giggle sounded again and the man moved closer as if he was trying to see through the grate. "Are we? Do you fink of taking pretty young boys to bed Favher? Are you one of 'em priests? No. You don't like little one's do yas? You like 'em biiiig. You love being on your knees in service already don't you?"

Col was wasn't sure how he'd so quickly lost control of the situation but he was shaken to his core. He was shivering. Something felt wrong and it got even worse when his dick reacted to the tease. Whether it was just the thought or the slight degradation he was receiving he wasn't sure, but he needed to get away. "Anything else, my child?"

The boy moved back and the silence took over again for a moment. The quiet wasn't as comforting as it normally was for the priest, it felt electric. "I fink about taking a man to bed. I fink about stripping 'im bare and riding 'im till we screaming for each over. I fink about watching pleasure cross 'is face and I- I fink about watching every'fin turn red."

"Red?"

Silence.

"My child?"

"I like you calling me yours. I bet you'd look pretty on ya knees for me. I bet you'd be gorgeous covered in red. Ya insides-"

"M-my child, this isn't- you can't- Three hail Mary's and an hour for inner contemplation. I believe being quiet would do you some good." He didn't normally let himself get snarky with his congregation but this one had shaken him. When the boy laughed he felt it everywhere- a beautiful happy sound until suddenly it wasn't… suddenly something changed like he flipped a switch and it felt dark and heavy. Colson felt almost crushed under the weight as it got louder. It felt like it was inside his skull and touching his skin all over.

The priest realized he finished the rosary prayer twice and the beads felt almost too heated by his hand. He felt slammed back into his own mind though he wasn't trying to disappear into the memory. He was genuinely trying to think of anything else. He'd stumbled out of the box, almost screaming in pain but when he opened the other door the laughter had stopped and the room was empty. He had been alone and there was nothing left to prove the man had even been there besides an intoxicating scent. The room had felt cavernous and too dark and cold so he'd rushed to lock up and search every room before stumbling to the rectory.

It seemed praying away the feelings the other had given him weren't going to work quite yet. He just prayed sleeping would. When he finally stood to undress he felt goosebumps over his skin, he knew no one was watching but it certainly felt like there was. He set his beads and collar on his bedside table before stripping off his long sleeve black button up shirt and matching pants. He normally tried to wear sleeves to cover his old ink- some parishioners didn't like it even though he was always open about his troubled past. Once mostly bare he couldn't deny the pleasure his body had felt from what the kid had said, his cock was hard and straining behind his boxer briefs but he tried to ignore it. His earthly body wasn't what was important. He would not be so easily swayed.

Bed called to him almost as strongly as his dick was trying to and he groaned as he crawled in under his blankets. Normally he tried to read over his morning sermon before he slept but tiredness was pulling him in as his adrenaline crashed. He could wake up early enough to study. He was sure about that. As much as he was struck by his experience he was almost too exhausted to care and sleep dragged him down fast, his dreams sprinkled with jade eyes that turned black and pale hard bodies painted in red.

Author's Note/Tags: @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker @hollywoodxwhore @jaxbreaker @fenoy7 @cole-way-iero28 🖤

So I meant for it to be a small one-shot but oops! Looks like there might be more if you want it? I think this one may be a bit dark for spooky season. What do you think? 😈🖤

[laalaaliaa]

“Solace” - J.P

pt.2 of “Boys will be boys”

James potter x reader

james and you finally kiss, finally

pt.1 right here.

requested? yeah

Solace was what you could describe the winter air as it nipped at your skin. Your head was craned as you gazed at the houses of students who littered in their respectable stands. Quidditch, it wasn’t your personal favorite, but it was James, so you were willing to sacrifice the warmth of your dorm for a few hours. You tried your best to ignore the cheers and screams of students as they impatiently waited for the players to amass on the field. It was impossible, even with Sirius shouting loudly beside you.

Adorned in his Gryffindor sweater, scarf, and beanie, you couldn’t help but crack a smile as you elbowed him in the rib, a silent quip for him to tone it down for the time being. “L/N, you can’t stand with us if you’re not gonna cheer!” He spat out, waving his banner with faux distaste as he side eyed you. You rolled your eyes, burying your gloved hands in your puffer jacket as you made a sound of annoyance. How you were crammed in the stands with Sirius Black was something you never thought would happen. Ever.

Three months passed. One where you and James established a friendly relationship. Two where you grew closer, and now, you didn’t know where the two of you stood. James was a comical character, his tendencies to cause chaos not too fitting with your own, but somehow the two of you meshed. You weren’t too keen about befriending his partner in crime, but one night of fire whiskey changed your view of the brassy teen for—well likely forever. Your head lifted at the sound of the commentator tapping his wand a few times, making an unwanted feedback resound around the pitch and the stands.

“Witches and Wizards, are you ready for a well awaited match tonight?” He shouted into the mic, creating rounds of cheer and applause. He seemed please, mumbling a few words into the mic before clearing his throat. “Let’s get this match started!” Upon his final words, students began to gather onto the field, and one in particular caught your eyes. James stood confidently within the lineup, a cocky smile on his face as he exchanged a few words with the captain opposite of him. Soon after the commentator spoke into the mic once more, announcing each player and their position.

As he announced James, you couldn’t help but let out a yell, hands clasped around your mouth to make it louder. Once you finished you glanced at your friends who were all staring at you with cheeky looks, you couldn’t help but blush, grumbling towards Sirius who laughed at you like a maniac due to your behavior. You ignored him afterwards, eyes stuck on the players—James in particular—as they each mounted their brooms. The air became tense, silence surrounding the stadium as Madam Hooch stood between the players, her whistle in mouth as she stared at each of them.

When her whistle blew, so did the cheers. Each player lifted from the ground, the sounds of them zipping past disrupting your focus as you tried your hardest to focus on James, who was focused on finding the golden stitch. Throughout the duration of the match there were a few times your heart fell as James blindly followed the stitch, barely missing the bludgers that were thrown at him. You’d clap excitedly each time it missed him, and you’d purposely ignore the teasing grin Remus threw at you.

Gryffindor was behind by forty-points, and you couldn’t help but anxiously chew on your nails as the commentator spoke about Ravenclaw possibly winning the match soon. Possibly. Your ears perked up when the commentator spoke about James possibly having his eye on the stitch and you couldn’t help but lean towards the railing in anticipation. James zoomed around, diving lower and lower as he followed the stitch, the seeker for Ravenclaw trailed behind him, and due to James looking back every so often he failed to see the bludger flying at him from the side.

Upon impact, gasps fell from the stands, watching silently as James crashed towards the ground. You leaned against the rail worriedly, a hand over your mouth as you watched him lay motionlessly on the ground. Your heart slowed and as you began to pull away from the rail he lifted his hand, stitch between his fingers as it’s wings flapped slowly. Cheers began once more and you released a breath of relief. “Gryffindor wins, are we surprised I mean c—“ You cut the commentator out as you pushed through the stands, leaving the rest of your friends behind as you tried to reach James first.

For the first time in James’s life, he’d felt his heart pumping in his chest wildly, a mantra. Whether it be from adrenaline or pride he didn’t care. The only thing on his mind was you. You were the first thing on his mind as he mounted his broom, flying through the skies, as well as catching the stitch. His breathing came out labored, his broom was broken and he was sure he’d receive a few words from his mother, but that wasn’t important. He stood slowly, a hiss proceeding from his lips as he held his side, limping forward as he looked for you through the crowds of people on the pitch.

He ignored the praises and congratulations from fellow students, his eyes falling on your face as you stared at him from afar. He smiled at you, watching the way you smiled back before it fell. He was an idiot, and you had to let him know. He was already laughing as you came closer, he expected you to yell at him for his recklessness or for not focusing on potential danger, but you didn’t. Your eyes were soft, a genuine gleam of care in your irises as you engulfed him in a hug. He was stoic for a moment, before holding you tightly, releasing a soft breath as the two of you pulled away.

“You’re an idiot.” “I know.” “I really hate how reckless you are sometimes.” “Mhmm.” “James I’m ser-“ Your rant was cut of when James boldly pressed his lips to yours, his lips were chapped, likely due to the coldness. His curly stands fell onto your forehead as he kept the kiss going, a hand languidly wrapped around your waist. You were still in shock, unable to kiss him back, because—he was your enemy at one point, but now you saw him as the boy who graciously swooped in and stole your heart. He pulled away with an embarrassed groan as he dropped his head with a laugh.

“That was a very awkward kiss, well it was really one sided, I-“ This time it was you cutting him off as you finally gained the courage to kiss him back. It was bittersweet, and you couldn’t help but pull away too fast for his, and your own liking. “Can we do that one more time?” “No James.” “Please just one more.” With a sigh and a roll of your eyes, you thumped his forehead, making him laugh as he rid of his puppy-like expression, leaning closer as the two of you kissed one last time. You both pulled away, holding each other for comfort as you smiled at each other.

“You’re still an idiot.”

“I know.”

[hinagamoizaf]

That suddenly got me curious, what made you start shipping them? Funny enough, kid me shipping them not because of their compatibility, it was actually the potential drama that it could cause. I loved the thought of Taichi and Takeru just lunging at Yamato at once — Taichi, because he is protective of Hikari, and Takeru, for similar reasons (bonus points if he likes Hikari since that'd make the situation much worse). Kid me loves chaos lol.

I did eventually consider them as an actual ship, and I think their personalities mesh well together!!! Maybe it's the ship bias, but I love the the thought of the both of them being subtle when it comes to their affections to each other. The both of them crushing would also feel so awkward at an outsider's perspective, if that makes sense? God they're so fucking cute I don't know where to start lol I have too many thoughts about them. I wish I can tell you more coherently what I like about them but goodness there's so much about Yamato and Hikari that makes me go apeshit.

Apologies for the lengthy ask, I am not passing up the opportunity to finally talk about my Digimon OTP with someone else 😂 Hope you're well!

-Rose

Heyaa oh no it's all good!! We support lengthy talks about what we love under this roof-!! Hope you're well too :) Omg kid you had the vision. All your points are chef's kiss,a dozen virtual bouquets & gift baskets for youu. Yeah so Hikari's always been a childhood favourite of mine - her personality,motif,Digimon partner,aesthetic etc Then with Yamato,it was a 'right place & right time' kind of moment. But basically, I get to see Last Evolution in theatres during the pandemic & when Yamato came on screen I was like,"...this is it.Peak husbando material. How could I have been so blind." lol Then it was a barbie doll moment of 'I like this character.And I love this character. I wanna see them together & kiss' Ahahahah I know that sounds juvenile but then my brain made the connection between them. Obviously us Yakari shippers are just making stuff up cause they hardly interact in canon lol But when you take a step back & think about their personalities, yeahh like Hikari & Yamato are quite private people/incredibly empathetic/ hand on heart put their loved one's needs before themselves (albeit at a destructive level but yknow they can help each other out-!!) / (my personal HC) he plays music & she's a photographer,Your Honour they're an artsy couple. I think as well they've got their own personal demons.Yamato my poor baby boy I know he's still affected by his divorced parents & at times has his cool wolf persona. Then a recent interpretation I read about Hikari is that she's so appreciative of life & the beauty of it, when someone's life is at risk,she will stop at nothing to advocate for them. But for herself,Hikari has trouble voicing her own needs. Wow,I wonder who else is secretly holding onto heavy feelings but putting on a strong front for others? (PS this is also my own reading of their characters & been digging in some creator's interpretations too) This is an equally long response that I could go on for ages lol, But for me,Yamato & Hikari are two very beautiful & quiet souls. Then in my silly lil' head with these silly little thoughts, they found solace in each other as friends before slowly realising they've got feelings for each other & are compatible as romantic partners. But end of the day,they're still individual people who have had their own woes,and together they've better themselves because they feel comfortable opening up to the other & want to improve themselves. The tldr of it is 'I like these characters individually & make up a bunch of stuff how they could work' and that has me kicking my feet & giggling like a little girl. If you've read this far along, first of all thank youu ahaha. Wishing you a good time & hope you're taking care!!! x

[vapehk1]

Maskking Innovative Streak: Resetting the Vaping Benchmark

In the realm of vaping, Maskking consistently pushes the boundaries of vaping technology, and delivering excellence to their customers is a hallmark of their work. With each new product launch, Maskking showcases a remarkable flair for staying ahead of industry trends, maintaining an unwavering dedication to customer satisfaction. Maskking has recently introduced its latest lineup, the X series. In this new release, the 'X' doesn't just mark a spot; it signifies 'infinite' possibilities for vapers. The focus is clear: X stands for the promise of big, satisfying puffs and a flavor and texture that elevates the vaping experience to a whole new level. Now, let's explore the intricate details of Maskking two latest-launching products, Apex 8000 and Axi 12000, and celebrate the distinctive features that make them standout choices. Exploring the Similarities: A Shared Foundation At the core of both disposable vape devices are several noteworthy similarities. They lay the foundation for the best vaping experience, regardless of the product chosen. Big Volume & Big Puffs Enthusiasts of big puff e-cigs will find solace in both of the two products because Apex 8000 and Axi 12000 all belong to this category, assuring users of robust and flavored vaping hits. Upgraded Mesh Coil Both Apex 8000 and Axi 12000 feature an upgraded mesh coil, which enhances the overall user experience. The upgraded mesh coil boasts a larger heating area, resulting in more even heating, which in turn leads to improved atomization and a fresher, stronger, and pure taste. Appearance The two e-cigarettes also share a similar appearance, with both Apex 8000 and Axi 12000 having a compact, rectangular box-shaped design, which also makes them pocket-friendly. Rechargeable Both Apex 8000 and Axi 12000 are rechargeable, providing an eco-friendly and cost-effective alternative to traditional disposable e-cigarettes. Spotlight the Differences: Choices to Suit Every Vaper While these products share a foundational similarity, there are notable distinctions that set them apart. These differences allow vapers to make better choices that align precisely with their preferences. Apex 8000 With an ample 18ml e-juice capacity, Apex 8000 is tailored to meet the preferences of users who love a substantial yet manageable 8000 puffs, ensuring that the vaping experience lasts as long as possible. Moreover, Apex 8000's commitment to a rich and better vaping experience is reflected in its upgraded mesh coil. This remarkable feature is celebrated for its ability to consistently deliver pure, fresh flavors, making every puff a delight. But the excellence of Apex 8000 doesn't stop there. Apex 8000's aluminum body delivers a tactile metallic frosted texture, which elevates your vaping experience to a luxurious level. Axi 12000 With this generous 22ml e-liquid volume, Axi 12000 boasts an impressive 12000 puffs, making it the ideal companion for those moments when you want to enjoy uninterrupted vaping pleasure. Axi 12000's innovation also lies in a real-time battery power monitor and e-liquid indicator. This innovative feature significantly elevates the user experience, ensuring a clear view of both battery life and e-liquid levels. Vapers who value insights and want to avoid the inconvenience of running low on power or e-liquid are bound to appreciate the convenience. Axi 12000 takes innovation a step further with a dual mesh coil. The dual mesh coil works alternatively to promise consistent throat hits but also an exceptional taste with every puff from the very beginning to the end.   Conclusion: Catering to Every Vaper's Preferences As we conclude this exploration of Apex 8000 and Axi 12000, it's evident that Maskking has masterfully catered to the diverse tastes and preferences of the vaping community. These two disposable vapes encapsulate the essence of Maskking's unwavering commitment to excellence, innovation, and the satisfaction of their customers. As the vaping landscape continues to evolve, Apex 8000 and Axi 12000 stand as exemplars of a brand that knows how to keep pace with change while providing an ever-expanding array of choices to suit every vaper's unique preferences.   To learn more: If you are interested in the above products or other MK products, don't hesitate to contact us. Maskking Info: Link: www.maskkingvape.com E-mail: info@maskking.net Read the full article

[juicypicturesm]

Love's Embrace: A Journey of Trust and Adventure by Juicy Sexy Photo Via Flickr: In this breathtaking moment captured on camera, love takes center stage as a couple ventures to the beach, united in their affection and care for one another. Against the backdrop of majestic mountains and a cascading waterfall overlooking the vast sea, they find solace and joy in each other's presence. With his firm grip, he holds her hand, symbolizing not only their physical connection but also his commitment to protecting and guiding her through life's challenges. Together, they gaze upon the limitless horizons, filled with hope and excitement for the future. This image is a testament to the power of love, trust, and the beauty that lies within nature's embrace. #LoveBeyondBounds #AdventureOfTwo #Nature'sBeauty #Blog : Couple Blog - Store : -Belleza- / LM: -Belleza- - Product: JAKE Mesh body - Store: [MR] / LM: [MR] - Products : ODIN Hairbase for LelEvoX and ADVX - Store: ^^Swallow^^ / LM: ^^Swallow^^ - Products : Gauged S for lel Evo X Ears - Store : PUNCH / LM: PUNCH - Product : Face Set / Marsellus / CLASSIC - Store Name : **RE** / LM: **RE** - Products : Fated Necklace Male - Store Name : Mea Tenebra / LM: Mea Tenebra - Store Product Used : Lunatic - Store Name : [ ERAUQS ] / LM: [ ERAUQS ] - Store Product Used : [ ERAUQS ] - Vin Shorts , [ ERAUQS ] - Xander Shirt - Store Name : BadWolf / LM: Badwolf - Store Product Used : Horned heart Belly piecing - Store Name : CHUCK'S / LM : CHUCK'S - Store Product Used : TRAVIS BEANIE ANTI SOCIAL - Store : [ kunst ] / LM: [ kunst ] - Product : Men's Rings Collection II - Store Name : No Future / LM : No Future - Store Product Used : Tambour Watch Leather - Store Name : [Z O O M] / LM : [Z O O M] - Store Product Used : Izuku Set Earrings - Swallow Gauged Ears - Store Name : BONDI / LM : BONDI - Store Product Used : . Diplo Glasses . Female Wear : #comatosed- Shark Slippers - Ailen - Bra Belleza Curvy - Ailen - Pantie Belleza Curvy -Belleza- Gen.X Curvy Body (CUSTOMFEET UVS) -Pretty Liars- Gen.x Boobs Push Up + Cleavage LEVEL 1 lel EvoX CEYLON DOUX - Alori Hairstyle Dolphin Le Forme Bento Nails M03 Fantasy