#the sulking poet

[idledearest]

wiggly: heh-heh-heh-HEH!! uh-oh, you’re a rot-ten litt-le ba-na-na. *insert more condescending baby talk*

blinky: oOooOh Blinky is sad now. You made Blinky crYyYyYyy. *also more condescending baby talk*

tinky: *goofy ahh laugh* im gonna putcha in my tOY BOX ya dumbfuck!! *still condescending baby talk*

nibbly: *drools* mMmMmm yUM-YUM *self explanatory bc he is head empty only food, but you’re obviously the prey here*

pokey: d̴̠̂́̏̚e̵̹̤̪̪̫͕̊͐́̃̉à̶̼̾̃̽̽̄t̸̪̩̬͊h̶̯̩̩̰̬͌̓͛̒͊̈́.̸̼̭̏̍̊͋̽́ ̸̧̣̄̀̔r̵̟̭̞͔̍̍̈́͌͝é̵̫͑̈̇̎͗b̸͕̘͓͔̋̀͝ȉ̷̘̀̈́͜r̴̛̲̣͚͇͎̘̈̀t̵̛͕̜̯̓̄̿̊͗h̷͉̠̲̰̼̔̈́͛̕̕͜.̸͎̙̑͛̾̑ ̷̲̭̖̺͒̈́

[kiisuuumii]

@kiisuuumii (patience is a virtue, i know)

[blurredlandscape]

bad language

im a dickless

twat

succumbing

thot

hard won

knot

submerged by your

what-nots

how sad..

to sit in

their

succulent

re;imaginings

to touch the

thick tufts

of your unispired

new beginnnings

your weed

towering

above

all

the less than

watered

wounded sprouts

[threepandas]

Bad End: For Us

My sister is the only one who actually knows me. Who looks at me and... and actually SEES me, for who I am. It's because she suffers too, I think. Is beautiful. In that way that drives men too distraction. Poets too the page, artists too a medium. They look at her like she is art, magnificence and beauty given form.

Not a person.

Living, breathing, with thoughts and feelings of her own.

She is... is just BEAUTY to them. Delicate features and graceful limbs. Refined and splendid. A lovely voice reducing all her brilliant thoughts to mere sound. Who cares? How clever and educated, how wise or dignified, she may be? She is decoration. A pretty thing to look at. A prize to be held and won.

And... and I am a cute little pet.

Eternally the toddler, to be pampered and dressed in bows. Girlish things, no matter how old I grow. Handled instead of spoken too. Because somehow I am a child. Fuckable, yet... a child. Cute, innocent, naive. Not because I AM, but because they SAY so. Because it matches their fantasy of me.

I fear what will happen if I dare break that fantasy, with how much they control my life.

My Sister, alone, is the one who SEES me.

And people try to convince me she is... what? Jealous? Bitter? Because I am somehow "stealing" the lecherous eyes of her unfaithful man? I don't want them. I don't want ANY of them. Reborn, somehow, as a Protagonist in some game amongst countless, I can predict the plot points as they come. Read the troupes.

Bah. I am no spunky little bright eyed thing.

As I lay, draped over my sister's splendid skirts, in her private writing room, she quietly sips her tea and writes return missives. Strokes my hair as I hide, curled up like a child against her legs. If the ridiculous outfit I was shoved in would allow it? I would cram myself under her desk. Hide there instead.

As it is? I sit like some sulking maiden, an exhausted pet, seeking comfort in the only refuge I HAVE.

They will not leave me ALONE.

The Knight. Some brash, meat headed, "I'll take care of you" type, crashing into every quiet moment I try to have. Loud and presumptuous. Disdainful of my academic interests.

The Playboy. All too forward "romantic" gestures and ignoring obvious discomfort. More wrapped up in HIS feelings then considering, for even a moment, my own. Selfish and dramatic.

The Duke. Cliché and terrible. "Kind" to no one but me. Endless expensive gifts, pressuring grand displays, and eyes that linger possessively. Violence at the drop of a hat.

But oh, let us not forget the ASSASSIN! Yes, the LEADER of the ASSASSIN'S Guild! That somehow, someway, decided I was a prize worth possessing. A cutesy little "interesting" doll. That? Gods only knows, what will happen when he grows bored.

Lingering and haunting me. Crawling through windows. Standing too close, to touch my hair and drop cryptic bits of information that always hint at terrible things. Having to watch my words so SO carefully. Lest someone end up DEAD.

And let's not forget the WORST offender! The most clingy of them ALL!

My sister's FIANCÉ.

The Crown PRINCE! Yes, not some average noble, but a ROYAL!! And the man can't CONTROL himself! But does anyone else care? Noooooo! It's ROMANTIC. True loooove~! Aren't we CUTE together? Surely my Sister, his FIANCÉE, is just JEALOUS. How VILE. Disgusting, they scoff!

I should start throwing chairs.

This house is a nightmare.

I curl closer to my sister. Releasing her skirts to slip an arm around her waist. Hugging her, pressing my face close. She puts her cup down with a soft clink. A second hand joining the first to stroke my head. Cup my cheeks.

"My Dearest, you can not hide against my skirts indefinitely. As much as I would love to let you." She says, voice soft and cool like swirling mist, tilting my face up so she can look me in the eyes. "You DO need to eat eventually, as do I. Unfortunately, I can not keep you here forever. Come, help me plan the wedding. We can look at cake styles."

I'd rather be planning a funeral.

"Not until I get a son out of him, I'm afraid."

Wut.

I blink, not sure I heard that right. Look up at my softly smile sister. No. No, I probably didn't. Wishful thinking maybe? Or I've just been around Stabby too much. I scramble to my feet. Fighting my own girlish abomination of a skirt. I hate it. It's cutesy to the point of mocking. I'm in my TWENTIES for God's sake! Not EARLY twenties either!

Why do I have a BOW ON MY ASS?!

Because I am the Protagonist. Baby faced and Pwecious~☆. Fucking INFANTALIZED. I could BITE.

I sigh, take the arm my sister offers me, and tuck myself into her side. Rest my head upon her shoulder. It's a little uncomfortable, with all the jewelry she must wear. But damn it! I want my cuddles!

I bask, as we walk, in the comfort it brings.

She's strong and graceful. Smells like a delicate spring morning, all rare flowers and new growth. A hint of expensive spice. I LOVE being the little sibling. When it's HER that's treating me so. Because she makes it precious. Comfortable. Like we could spend our lives, together like this. The best of friends.

Happy.

If only people would... you know... stop trying to FUCK me. I prefer my hobbies. For God's sake, I'm RICH and a second child. I HAVE basicly no responsibilities except "don't embarrass the family". Or that WOULD be the case? If our parents weren't so intent on... "pushy dating advice".

"Would you like some lovely news, Dearest?" Whispers my sister, as she sweeps us past some upset looking maids, towards the tea room. I nod. "I've made some wonderful headway with some... ambitious gentlemen, about your little cockroach problem. They are quite efficient. I'm likely to recommend them."

I stiffle a snort. Oh my god. My sister sent thugs after a few of the suitors? Holy shit! That's amazing! Is THAT why I haven't seen them around lately? They got scared?

We settle in our seats. Tea and snacks. The maid looks... nervous. Weird. My sister smiles kindly, somehow startling the poor thing, making her flinch. Oh dear. I try to smile reassuringly. No harm no foul, right? Yet the poor girl reacts like I've cast myself into a lion pit for her. Flees.

....I'm beginning to suspect someone is abusing our waitstaff.

It's probably that bastard lech of a fiance.

We need to keep him away from the maids. And me. Women in general honesty. If I had my say, he wouldn't be allowed near my SISTER either. But she insists, and- Oooh! This one's CUTE! Sis, Sis! LOOK at the little details on this one!

"Hmm? Oh that IS lovely! Do you like it? If so, we shall sample it at once. I want the day to be perfect for us, Dearest. You're my world after all. There's NOTHING I wouldn't give you. A shame though, that our parent's will likely be too sick to see me wed."

It really was. I had my differences with them, but... it was their DAUGHTER'S WEDDING you know? Whatever they had caught, during their endless string of parties, was ravaging their health. It seemed agonizing. Slow. Yet even in the midst of planning her WEDDING, all the gossip and backstabbing, my sister dutifully visited them. Brought them tea and kept them company.

I didn't know how she could bear it.

She was a better person then I, I guess.

[gojoshooter]

Sukuna bringin in a Hindu bride 💳💥💳💥 DO YOU SEE THE VISION???

wait wait wait I SEEE hold awn i got you

Ryomen Sukuna and his Hindu!Bride

a/n: beyond my idea of loving this dynamic, i think this would fit so perfectly. plus that's his damn aesthetic iyk?!

It's the moment you, his pretty pretty Hindu!Bride walks down the petal aisle, Ryomen Sukuna sees the goddess of his very own eudaimonia in your ethereal beauty of jewel covered figure. Holding a garland as if reins to his power.

Hindu!Bride who addresses him as “Swami” which means 'master of self' (master, in general) —he's enthralled. Way to fuel your husband I guess.

Husband!Sukuna learns the word “Ardhangini” is how a husband calls his wife, connoting 'the better half' of him.

“Indeed you are” Sukuna coos internally, looking at his beautiful wife who touches his feet gently as a sign of respect and humility, to seek his blessings.

His grinch little heart would flutter at the sight of his woman blushing about the smallest of his acts, or whenever he complies to your request, big tender fingers putting vermillion on her parted hairline—the very sign of her wifehood.

-

Husband!Sukuna never liked a cooked meal; he used to eat the raw flesh each day, until enters his new wife in the godforsaken scullery. It's a first that a queen enters the kitchen to serve, first time he tasted something entirely different to his taste... saporous, still ended up liking it. There are a lot of firsts he experiences with you by his side.

“Not... bad” he grumbles, his lips betraying and twitching into a slight grin. Delicious... he thinks, because Sukuna can get used to this flavour rich meal already. Just how perfect can his little Miss perfect get?

-

Husband!Sukuna who allows you to put pretty earings on him, he'd spend a little more time looking at himself in the mirror. Maybe he loves your compliments too much.

But nothing parallels his Hindu!Bride clad in golden jewelleries head to toe. Your long hair and the forehead, honey toned face, the arms and wrists, your plump waist and even your lotus like feet... that all makes him a poet whose favourite genre is your jewelled guise.

Maybe that's why he calls you a treasure. His treasure. There's a sort of pride filling his chest when he walks with you with the way you dress; you need high maintenance and lot of care that no man but he can provide.

-

And their goes a saying that a woman acts like a mom to the one in love with—that's so true with you and your Husband!Sukuna cause you literally baby him whenever the chance. Feeding him the first bite with your henna decorated pretty palm, he loves that so much. Likes the smell it adds to whatever you make him eat.

But can you blame yourself? He is a baby. A sulky big baby at that. Sulking when he finds his other side of the bed empty, sulking when you leave his chambers without permission, sulking cause you were too busy to give him kisses or just purely to get your attention.

He makes sure you see him sulk.

-

It's just you who can walk in on him when he's throwing and thrashing things around in rage—unaffected. Everyone in this palace knows that's a privilege only you get, because you're his only one.

No one dares hold his face and look him in the eyes like his Hindu!Bride. No one dares order him to “calm the fuck down” like his queen. Literally none in the three worlds would cradle the big soft-haired head of the King of Curses in their lap to tell him he's a grumpy little child.

That's how it has always been between you two, completing and fitting each other's pieces like Yin & Yang. You couldn't be happier anywhere out of this trance of love you're in for him and he couldn't even imagine to successfully manage a day without his treasure. There couldn't have been a better pair, never could have he met a woman to match his devotion for her.

PART 2 !

TAGS: @anubisisthebomb @dianagracesworld @stellagrangerreads12 @momochina-sama @xxkay15xx @whodoesthatanymore @heresan @nanamikentoseyebags @4sat0ruu

been thinking abt @xxnghtclls 's fic Permission & this ♡

[hwanchaesong]

┗🖋️ Behind the victory is a spice / Ball tagged onto the prize / Then the touch is nothing but a vice / Inhaled not once, but thrice 📖

🎧: Taylor Swift - The Alchemy

wc: 1.6k

genre & warnings: fluffff, tinier than a dust angst, college setting, football player!Riki, inaccurate game of football, cursing, mentions of beer, appearnce of other enha members, bisco and konon as special guests, etc etc

a/n: this is a part of The Tortured Poets Department series. if y'all want, you can read the other album inspired fics of other groups here.

The incessant knocking on your door made your head ache even worse, the scowl that greeted the person behind the annoying sounds disappeared when you saw who it was.

"Riki, I told you I don't want t- oh? Konon? What are you doing here?" you frowned apologetically at the girl, to which she only shrugged off.

"I'm here to give you this." she hands you a piece of clothing, a familiar one and you can't help the nose scrunch.

"Uh.. thanks. Take care on your way back." you mumbled, not believing that your boyfriend has to send his sister here in order to accomplish his mission.

"Wait!" she hurriedly says, stopping you from closing the door, "I know that my brother is an idiot for doing what he did. But he does love you, given that he's been sulking since your fight."

You laughed a bit at the snitching, imagining the tall boy pouting, "Thank you so much, Konon. Don't worry, we'll work things out."

She waves her hand, "I'm not worried in the slightest!" she giggles, "He deserves the silent treatment, but I do hope that you'll attend his game."

You nod, bidding each other goodbyes and you sigh. Looking at the item in your hand before spreading the oversized fabric out, a small piece of paper falling from it.

You raised an eyebrow, picking the paper up and examining its contents and it gave you a major facepalm moment. Still, finding it uniquely endearing.

Good day to the prettiest girl who is reading this! You have been given the honor to attend my (Nishimura Riki aka your boyfriend) game tomorrow at exactly 4 PM.

Please encircle your answer from the following options:

1. Yes

2. Yes

3. All of the above

Thank you! (ily)

You rolled your eyes at the silly content of his letter, tucking it gently on your coffee table and proceeding to your room to match the jersey with fashionable pants.

He basically wants you to come, so might as well give in. Besides, their team calls you their lucky charm. So you do have to attend either way, or else those rowdy boys will bust your ear out at uni.

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

Riki nervously looks around the stadium, eyeing for the familiar figure that he hasn't seen for days. (and it kills him deep inside but he would NEVER admit it)

"She'll come." one of his teammates, Heeseung, pats his back when the older noticed his anxious expression, "We explicitly told her to attend our matches because she brings us good luck. She'll come."

"True that." Jake butts in, giving the younger a comforting side hug, "Now stop pouting and let's do the huddle."

Riki gets hauled into the middle of the field, joining the nestle of hyping the team up, but he couldn't fucking concentrate.

Focusing was proven difficult if he hasn't seen or felt your presence before a game, and it shows.

It was clear to anyone with eyes that their japanese star player had something in his mind- you.

He is getting icky, his teammates were exasperated as well. They are 5 points behind and they are all shouting for Riki to get that touchdown.

Can he do it?

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

You took a deep breath when you heard the loud cheers inside the stadium. Wiping your clammy hands on your denim pants and boosting yourself up to go in there. 

Finally, you entered the arena, the bright lights blinding you for a second as you took some time to adjust. Moving through the plethora of watchers is a damn journey, finding the VIP spot that is always reserved for you. 

You sighed out of relief when you saw the seat was not taken because for real, you did overthink that someone might have stolen your place. 

Your eyes scanned the area, gazing at the scoreboard then towards the players. You hear their coach yelling, then you focus on the man that you had been avoiding for a while. 

Football is something that you never truly understand, sports in general, but your beloved is passionate about it. That is why amidst your studies, you put in the maximum effort to learn about it. That is why you can confidently say that you somehow understand the situation after analyzing what is happening.

Expanding your lung capacity, clutching on the metal bars that separate the bleachers from the field, you did the unexpected.

“Nishimura fucking Riki! If you don’t score a touchdown, I will not cook your favorite bungeoppang anymore!” you screamed like a madman, and it was like thunder struck the stadium as your voice echoed throughout the field. 

Who knew that L/N Y/N has the power to momentarily stop the whole crowd from cheering and the players to stop moving. 

Riki grins widely, scouting the bleachers and seeing you in the same seat that he has always saved for you during his games. 

The boy gave you a salute and even if you can’t clearly see his face due to his helmet, you know that he’s sporting a smug and victorious expression because you can’t resist him. 

Blood rushed into your cheeks and you tried to hide your embarrassment, concentrating on the game instead as the world started spinning again. 

You watched your school team defend like their life depended on it, more importantly, you stared intently at Riki’s running form, getting nearer to the end zone. 

You clasped your hands together, adrenaline coursing through your veins, praying for him to go for it. To win this and make you proud. 

And he did. 

Before the time ended, Riki successfully reaches the ball behind the plane of the opponent’s goal line. The side of your university in the arena went nuts when the broadcaster announced an overdramatic: "Number 10, Nishimura Riki, scores a touchdown! That makes Decelis University our champions for this year's league!” 

You clap your hands in celebration, beaming in happiness as you witness the chaotic scene in the field. The whole team is popping beers and splashing water, removing their shirts wildly, throwing their helmets, squawking like crazy and lifting the man who set the winning shot up in the air. 

Just then, Riki’s eyes meet yours and he immediately runs over to you, ignoring the trophy that was being handed to him by their coach. He does not give a fuck about the barrier separating you two, hoisting you above it, making you squeal around his arms. 

“Oh my god! Riki! No, let me go!” you laugh, gripping his shoulders for support as he walks back to his teammates.

“No can do, princess.” he smirks, raising you even further and declaring you as the team’s personal four-leaf clover. 

All members howl in excitement, agreeing with his statement because truly, ever since they met you, everything has been going their way. You are an amulet that blocks any ill-fated situations that might fall upon them.

“Put me down, Riki! This is embarrassing!” you covered your face with your hands and he finds it incredibly adorable how the tips of your ears turned pink. 

He follows you though, smoothly setting you on the grass field and gently removing the obstacle that interrupts him from getting a peek on your gorgeous face that he missed dearly. 

He holds your hands in his stupidly large ones, his fingers caressing your knuckles and he leans down until your noses are touching each other. 

“Thank you for coming, my princess. And wearing my jersey too.” he mumbles and you disconnect your intertwined hands, reaching to push his sweaty hair back and resting your palms on the back of his neck.

“I can’t possibly miss an important game of my MVP, right?” you chuckled and it was such a tender moment. Like no one was around you, well, in your point of view they are all blurry as the man in front of you invades all of your senses.

Riki hums, holding your waists and pressing your lips together without any further ado. 

He can’t help but smile into the kiss, the reality of having you in his arms like this outweighs any shiny prizes that he could ever dream of. 

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

You giggled when your boyfriend kept on leaving feathery smooches on the expanse of your neck, frowning when he suddenly stopped to look at you with such sassiness.

“By the way, you have to explain yourself, missy.” he says, tightly holding onto you as you two cuddle on the sofa. 

“About what?”

“About why you’re late at my game yesterday.” 

It was like a light bulb turned on in your brain, a wicked smile on your face that it somehow scared Riki despite being a menace himself.

“Well, I still haven’t forgiven you for the shit you pulled last week.” you admit and he groans, complaining that he only lent the jacket to some unknown girl to make you jealous. 

“Exactly!” you pout, grabbing his face and squishing his face, making him look like a baby duck, “So I have to do something about it.” 

Riki raised an eyebrow, suddenly curious at your story.

“What did you do?” a question that Riki regretted when you spilled the answer to it.

“I went and retrieved the jacket from the girl,” you put a finger on his lips, “don’t ask how I got her address. Then I gave the abomination to Bisco. He really loved playing with it, turning it into tiny little pieces of fabric. Very artistic.”

Riki’s movements came to a halt, his eyes slowly moving towards his pet who is currently chilling on the carpet, giving him a nasty side eye when he lightly glared at the Maltipoo. Then his gaze returned to you, gaping like a fish. 

“That jacket was expens-”

“The jacket smelled like a girl, unless you want it back?” the tight smile you gave Riki was enough sign for him to shut up.

“No, princess.” he hugs you closer to him, leaving a peck on the crown of your head, “I don’t want it. I can always buy another one.” 

taglist:

@ramenoil @shakalakaboomboo @slutforjeno

[borzoia]

Save a horse-- Ride a Cowboy!

Arthur Morgan x f!reader Includes; PIV, cowgirl position, drinking, consensually fucking under the influence. MDNI

A/N; My take on the save a horse ride a cowboy trend.

It was a summer night, the saloon was packed with loud mouthed men drinking enough liquor to kill a boar. Ladies were scattered across the bar waiting for a sober(ish) man to swoop them off. Standing beside your two friends you swayed side to side, your shoes were definitely not made to stand for this long. Ignoring the nonsensical chatter of the girls beside you, you notice a familiar face– Arthur.

Arthur and you had a short history, when your horse escaped from your family’s barn he was quick to chase her down and bring her back seemingly calmer than when she ran. He’d help with you little favors from time to time, you’d repay him with homemade sweets and some liquor. He’d never stayed long than a few hours at a time, keeping the conversation simple as he let you talk most of the time. He was a sweetheart whether he’d like to admit it or not, but you could never quite get him to crack his shell.

You push past a few drunks who have no spatial awareness and stand behind Arthur, he’s rambling about some big bust he had with him and his gang, wordlessly you pluck the cowboy hat on his head, placing it on your own. He turns around with a glare that could kill but his face softens when he recognizes it’s you, he lets out a low laugh, quickly snatching the hat back.

You hop on the bar stool next to him, “Someone’s ready for a fight.” You remark. “Always.” He says slyly, throwing back what’s left in his glass. The rowdy group next to him laughs wickedly, playfully roughing him up, “You gon’ take that cowboy?” They tease, Arthur ignores them for the most part. “C’mon Arthur! Save a horse ride-”

Arthur slams the empty glass on the bar, “Hush now!” He growls, the men erupt in laughter unphased by the man’s outburst. “Bunch o’ children..”

Eventually they sulk away, going off to harass another bystander. You and Arthur get to chatting, you bring up his horse and he happily updates you on his well-being, he’s opening up more than usual, going on about the mini adventures he has in his day to day life, the little feud’s he gets into with the gang. He swears he’s no poet and even stops himself mid sentence to reiterate that, in your opinion he has a beautiful way with his words not in the fancy way, but he keeps your attention like no one else. “Them boys earlier..”  You start,

“Awh, they ain’t worth a breath.” He says. “So you know 'em?” You reply.

“Drinkin’ buddies, that’s all.” “They got you riled up with that ‘Save a horse’ crap.” You comment, he lets out a gruff laugh. “You know what that means?” He glances at you without lifting his head. You shake your head, sipping your whiskey, He laughs again the time avoiding your gaze. “What?” He ignores you, “C’mon, I ain’t a little girl!” You say, which only eggs him on, he finishes the bottle in his hand, shaking his head as the bottle slams down. “I ain’t your teacher.” He rasps, bringing his elbows to rest up on the counter. “Please!” You beg, shaking him lightly, “Thought you wasn’t a little girl?” He snapped. You roll your eyes, a dull silence falls between you, you turn away, observing the crowd of men and women dancing, laughing and drinking, you turn back to Arthur with a smirk, plucking the hat off his head once more and wearing it, he turns to snatch back but you leap from your seat, walking backwards with a wide grin. He’s pissed, you push past the crowds of drunks, til you hit the saloon doors, drunkenly you forget about the steps and nearly tumble down them, Arthur snatches your wrist, “Watch it, girl.” He scowls, he pulls you back up to the porch dragging you away from the few onlookers outside. “Sorry,” You mumble stumbling into the wooden railing. “You’re alright.” He says. “Why won’t you just tell me already?” Arthur sighs, readjusting his posture and hanging one hand on his belt. “It’s dirty.” He says quietly. “‘Save a horse– Ride a cowboy.” He says, your eyes widen a bit, the hat now loosely on your head. “I ain’t that kinda man,” He looks to the side, maybe it was the liquor or lack of people– but you laughed, in his face. “‘What you got hidin’ under that skirt for me?’” You mock his voice, leaning into him as you laugh, “Arthur you are a filthy man don’t lie.” “Watch your mouth.” He barks.

“Or what?” You retort.

He sighs loudly, chewing the inside of his cheek, you could see the moment on his face where he thought ‘Fuck it.’ He grabs your forearm, dragging you down the saloon steps, he knew the route to your apartment, hell he had an extra key, he crashed into your living room, slamming the door behind you two.

Before you knew it his mouth was on you, rough beard scratching your face, he pulls away, “where we goin’?” He rasps, “I don’t care,” you huff, “I need you.” He laughs against your lips, “And I’m filthy,’ he says before closing the gap, he guides you to the couch, laying you down gently, he next moves were the opposite, a rough hand find your waist, the other pushing up your skirt, massaging your thighs, but not daring to go any further. Your uncoordinated hands work to unbutton your blouse, there’s unexplainable heat beneath your skin and Arthur’s hands are ice cold, “Tell me to stop and I will.” He says in between kisses, “Don’t.” You exhale. Your words are a green light for him, he moves down to your neck placing open mouthed kisses down your soft skin, your hands get entangled in his brunette hair, soft gasps leaving your mouth, he palms one breast through your bra, tugging the strap down on the other side, he places soft kisses on your bare chest while the other hand roughly gropes you, the contrast was enough to make you whimper. 

His rough touch leaves you for a moment, moving to undo your bra with one hand, he tugs the fabric off of you, sitting back to admire your bare chest, “Look at you,” He remarks, you whine, dragging his hands back to your aching body. “Easy girl, you’ll have your turn.” He chuckles, undoing his belt and discarding it somewhere in the room, he unsheathed his cock, you immediately reach for it like your greedy, “Ah-ah, hands to yerself.”  he strokes himself for a measure, fondling your chest with his free hand. He lowers himself, pushing your boobs together and slotting himself between him, he grabs your wrists, pinning them on the arm of the sofa with one hand, with every thrust he lets out a low groan, using you as he pleases. “Fuck..” He moans as you arch your back closer to him, your chaste whimpers and whines are like music to his ears bringing him closer and closer to the edge. Suddenly he pulls away leaving your chest covered in precum.

Wordlessly he hooks his fingers around the hem of your skirt, pulling the garment down in one fell swoop, again he tosses it with no regard. He wraps his hands around your waist, flipping you over so you're on top, he lets you get comfy atop his hard cock, slowly rocking your hips back and forth. “Thatta’ girl..” He praises, slowly pushing your panties to the side, “C’mere girl,” He pulls you close, your chest to his, he places kisses on your collarbone as he slides inside your dripping core, you whine at the stretch, “Sh.. shh.. That’s it..” He lets you sit up at your own pace, guiding you into a slow rhythm, “Just like that, sweetheart.” His hands leave you to rest behind his head, giving you full control.

With a hand on the couch you steady yourself, keeping the slow pace, despite your inexperience you’ve heard plenty of talk on how to please a man, you grind your hips against his before lifting up and slowly coming back down, his tip is bruising your cervix even at the turtle tempo. Arthur takes the hat from his head, placing it on yours as you continue to ride him, it gives you a new filled confidence, you speed up, boobs bouncing as your hips slam down. Your moans bounce off the walls and you’re sure your neighbors can hear but god you’re drunk on his cock, Arthur throws his head back as your speed up, clenching around him when you hear his breathy groans, “Fuck..!” He moans, his half lidded glossy eyes meet yours and he snaps, “C’mere.” he says, pulling you close once more, he grips your ass and mercilessly pounds into you, fucking every sweet sound possible out of you, you repeat his name like prayer as the thread inside you snaps, your fingers tangled in his hair as you cum. His pace doesn’t relent, “Just a little longer sweetheart..” He breathily groans in your ear, pumping in and out of your cunt slower til pulls out and finishes. For a few minutes the two of you lay in silence, breathing heavily as you recuperate, you’re the first to break the silence. “You.. are a filthy man Mister. Morgan..” You pant, “Don’t sound like a complaint to me, cowgirl.”

[minminyoonjii]

*based on an idea I saw, not my original idea*

A/B/O setting where one of the skz boys brings home the omega they have been courting to finally be part of the pack but pack traditions state that she becomes the whole packs omega instead of just the one member's. Therefore, the first time mating as a pack, all members need to be present and participate (or maybe whoever you see as an Alpha of the pack)

Maybe shy or even inexperienced reader? Like they quickly realized she doesn't know much about tradition?

Thank you ❤️

❤️Ultimate Masterlist

💜Rules and Guidelines

🕯Summary: The pack had grown closer to you throughout Jisung's courting and tonight's the night you get claimed as a pack member. The only problem was you didn't know what you were signing up for.

💛AN

This is my first A/B/O-themed fic, I hope I did well.

🌹CW

Cunnilingus|Oral Sex|Creampie|Multiple Orgasms|Oral Fixation|Bukkake|Praise Kink|Wet & Messy|Voyeurism|Knotting|Slow to Rough Sex|Virgin! Reader|Scenting|Bite Mark|Squirting|Aftercare

💌 This is a work of fiction, I by all means don't force ship anyone. They have the right to love whomever they want.

🍄Wordcount: 3.5K

There it stood, the door determining how your relationship turns out. You gulped, "Do they know we're coming?" you asked, fidgeting with your fingers. Jisung nodded, "Yup, they know," he said, watching your nervous figure. "Baby, they're going to love you," he added, rubbing your shoulders. You took in a deep breath, "I know," you whispered, staring at the pavement below. Jisung hummed, "This visit is the same as any other," he said, kissing your forehead. 

"Ji, what made you decide to court me?" you asked, knowing you were stalling. Jisung knew too, "Well, I just knew," he chuckled, holding you close. You rolled your eyes, "That's a shitty reason, Han Jisung," you grumbled, elbowing his stomach. Jisung laughed, not releasing his hold "Fine, fine. You drew me in, like a candle to a flame. I couldn't get my eyes off you, princess," he said, hooking his chin on your shoulder. 

You couldn't hold back your smile, "Alright, Mister poet. That made me feel better," you admitted, ruffling his hair. Jisung hummed, "I'm glad. Are you ready to head in?" he asked, rubbing your sides. You held your hands together, "Ready as I'll ever be," you said, walking towards the door. Jisung smiled, "That's good enough," he said, following behind you. You raised your arm, knocking on the door. It didn't take long before the front door swung open.

"Hello, little one. I hope you're hungry because Minho made dinner," Chan said, letting you in. "It smells so good in here," Jisung groaned, scampering to the kitchen. You giggled at your boyfriend's antics "Is our pup treating you well?" Chan asked, pulling out a chair. You took a seat, "Yes, more than well," you said, smiling at the loud scream coming from the kitchen. Chan chuckled, "That's good. We can talk about the pack details after dinner, there isn't a need to rush," he said, holding your hand.

You nodded, relaxing under his touch "Thank you," you whispered, feeling the anxiety in your chest subside. Jisung wrapped his arms around your neck "Princess, they're bullying me," he whined, rubbing his scent all over your face. You pursed your lips, letting yourself get smothered in rich honeysuckles. Chan held the back of Jisung's nape "Jisung, you're getting your scent everywhere," he chastised. Jisung huffed, submitting to Chan's hold. 

Your eyes widened, seeing Jisung submit so quickly "Woah," you whispered, drawing a chuckle from Chan. "Hyung, can you let me go now?" Jisung sulked, blood rushing up his neck. Chan released his grip, "Is this common for you?" he asked, looking at you with sympathy. You laughed, "Yeah, but it's fine Chan. Though I do have to say, almost every piece of clothing I own smells like him," you said, stroking Jisung's cheek. 

Minho gasped, carrying a variety of meats "Han Jisung," he said, setting the food on the table. Jisung whined, "Hyung, not you too," he said. Minho glared at him, "You scented the poor pup's closet." he said, passing the plates around the table. "With consent," Jisung mumbled, taking a seat next to you. Minho looked at you with the same sympathy "I'm so sorry about his behaviour," he said, placing the food on your plate. 

You shook your head, smiling "There's no need to be sorry, I allowed him to scent my clothes," you said, taking a bite of Minho's mashed potatoes. "You smell so much of Jisungie hyung, I can barely smell you, Noona," Jeongin said, handing you a glass of water. You gulped, "That's probably a good thing," you said, taking another bite. Chan furrowed his eyebrows, "Why's that?" he asked, placing some meats on your plate.

"My scent is a bit strong, is all," you said, tasting the meat Chan gave. Hyunjin chuckled, "All of our scents are strong," he said, sipping his water. You nodded, "That's true but my scent spikes at any emotion I give off. It's better to wear a scent blocker," you explained, trying the meat with cranberry sauce. "Scent blockers aren't good for you, little one," Chan said, putting his utensils down. "Yeah, but my side effects aren't the worst, just a little rash now and then," you said, ignoring the concerned gazes from the pack.

Warm citrus surrounded the table, like a thick syrup of comfort. You finished the last bit of your dinner, leaning against Jisung's shoulder. He kissed your hair, "They wouldn't mind your scent, princess," he whispered, taking a bite of his meal. You hummed, "I guess," you mumbled, closing your eyes. Jeongin poked Jisung's arm "What does Noona smell like?" he asked, tilting his head. Jisung chuckled, "See," he whispered, rubbing your back. 

You huffed your cheeks, blinking your eyes open. "I think it's best you ask her yourself, Innie," Jisung said, patting your arm. You gulped, "My scent smells like berry champagne," you said, answering Jeongin's question. Jeongin nodded, "That sounds sweet," he said, putting his utensils aside. You smiled, "Is it, but it can turn sour really quick," you said, sitting up. Jisung stacked your plate on his, "I'll bring these to the kitchen. Go pick out a seat in the living room and make yourself comfortable," he said, kissing your nose.

You wrinkled your nose, making your way to the living room. "Little one, could you sit here?" Chan asked, gesturing to the seat in front of him. You nodded, curling up into the seat. Chan smiled, handing you a pillow. You buried your face into the pillow, melting into the scent of tonka. 'Very suiting' you thought, taking note of Chan's scent. "Since everyone is here, this is our first official night with our new pack member," Chan said, patting your head as he spoke. 

You preened, excitement buzzing under your skin. "Congrats Noona, you're finally our pack's omega," Jeongin said, stroking your cheek. Your smile dropped, "What?" you asked, furrowing your eyebrows. Chan looked down at you, "What's wrong, pup?" he asked, tilting your chin towards him. Your lips parted, looking into his eyes "What does Jeongin mean about me being the pack's omega? Wouldn't I just be Jisung's?" you asked.

Chan furrowed his eyebrows, "Don't you know the traditions, little one?" he asked, keeping his hold under your chin. "Wh-what traditions? I wasn't raised in a pack," you explained, breath stuttering. Changbin tilted his head, "Are your parents rogue?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. You shook your head, "No, I just didn't grow up in a pack environment," you said, averting your gaze. "Are we the first pack you got involved with?" Chan asked, pumping out his scent to calm you down. 

You nodded, taking deep breaths of Chan's scent. "Poor pup probably doesn't even know what she got herself into," Minho said, brushing your hair from your face. "Am I going to die?" you whimpered, heart pounding within your chest. Chan chuckled, "Of course not, little one. The tradition isn't a sacrifice," he reassured, wiping your stray tears. "Oh," you sighed, wrinkling your nose. "Have you ever mated with anyone during your heats, angel?" Hyunjin asked, looking at you. 

Blood rushed up your neck to your ears, "No, I usually wait it out," you said, feeling your face burn up. "You didn't try to ease the pain?" Felix asked, leaning against Hyunjin's chest. You whined, "I did, but I'd always lose my rhythm," you said, fading into a mumble. Felix cooed, "Aren't you adorable," he purred, leaning forwards. You looked at Felix then back up at Chan "What does the tradition have to do with my heat?" you asked, not knowing how to feel about Felix's stare. 

Chan sighed, releasing his hold on your chin "Pup, I need you to listen to the words I'm about to say and consider them carefully after. Can you do that for me?" he asked, running his fingers through your hair. You keened, deep purrs rumbling from the touch. Chan cooed, "I need a verbal answer, little one," he whispered, stroking your cheek. You shivered, furrowing your eyebrows at the sudden mind-numbing fuzz clouding your thoughts "Yes, alpha," you whispered, nodding at his command.

"Good girl," Chan smiled, letting you rest your cheek on his palm. You nipped the pad of his hand, licking right after. Chan chuckled, "You can scent my wrists, little one," he said, gently brushing his free hand on your scent gland. You growled, raising your shoulders in defence. Chan kept his eyes on yours as he rubbed the scent blocker off. You whimpered, biting into his palm in retaliation. Chan clenched his jaw, making sure the suppressor is gone from your skin. 

Sour champagne filled the room in waves, the tart scent of berries hitting the back of everyone's throats. Chan pumped out his own scent, hoping it would defuse the situation but it only made it worst. You gasped, eyes widening as you tried to catch your breath. Soft wheezing and stuttered breathing squeaked from your frame. "Fuck. Bin the windows, Min the ventilation," Chan instructed, airing out the scent-congested room. 

"You're safe, little one. Alpha knows it's a lot, but you're alright," he said, taking note of the subtle red spots on your neck. You whined, covering your neck in hopes that your scent would just disappear. Chan gruffed, gently removing your hands away "There's no need to feel distressed, pup," he said, kneeling in front of you. Thoughts spun through your head, "Why are you kneeling, alpha?" you asked, adding more questions than answers. 

Chan looked up at you, baring his neck. You gasped, taking in deep shallow breaths. "I know you want to scent someone, little one. Get it out of your system and scent whoever you want. The suppressions can cause your scent to build up, making it more concentrated than it's supposed to be," he explained, watching as you take in each word he said. You bit into your bottom lip "Can I?" you whispered, purrs rumbling within your chest. 

Chan nodded "Go ahead, little one," he said, not expecting your sudden weight on him. He grunted, wrapping his arms around your waist as you straddled his lap. You mewled, scuffing against Chan's neck. "That's it, good girl," he whispered, tilting his neck further. You whimpered, head spinning from the way your scent mixed with his. Deep tobacco notes from his tonka scent mingling with your refreshing berry champagne scent felt right. 

"It smells like an after-party in here," Changbin pointed out, melting into his seat. Jisung chuckled, "Intoxicated already, hyung?" he teased, wrapping his arms around Changbin's. "Definitely," he said, pressing his tongue against his inner cheek. You panted, pulling your face away from Chan's neck. "Feeling better, pup?" he asked, taking note of your dilated pupils. You nodded, catching your breath. Chan cooed, "You smell so sweet, little one," he said, scratching under your jaw.

You purred, baring your neck for him. Chan chuckled, "Such a good omega," he praised, removing his hand. You whined, squirming on Chan's lap. "Little one, you don't know what you're doing," he gritted, holding your waist still. You squinted your eyes, breath hitching when you felt something twitch beneath you. Chan sighed, "Look at me, pup," he said, redirecting your attention. You looked at him, his hair tussled and messy from your scuffs. 

"The tradition isn't anything scary, I promise. I just have to claim you," Chan said, watching you regain your bearing. "How?" you asked, tilting your head. Chan rubbed your stomach, "Have you watched anything sexual before, little one?" he asked. You nodded, "I have. Is Alpha going to have sex with me?" you asked, playing with his fingers. Chan chuckled, "That's pretty blunt but yes," he said, moving his fingers within your hold. 

You gruffed, bringing his fingers to your mouth "Is it going to hurt?" you asked, nipping his index finger. Chan frowned, pressing two fingers into your mouth "Of course not, it's never supposed to hurt unless you want that on purpose," he said. You pulled his hand away "Oh, I always thought it was supposed to hurt," you mumbled, nuzzling Chan's palm. "There's so much you have to learn, little one. Do you mind if I teach you?" he asked, stroking your cheek. You gulped, "Okay," you said, biting your bottom lip out of nervousness. 

Chan kissed your nose, "Don't worry, pup. I'll take my time with you," he said, laying on your back. You yelped at the sudden shift, feeling a pillow perfectly placed under your head. Jisung smiled, stroking your cheek "Channie hyung is going to take great care of you, princess. If you need him to stop, say red. Okay?" he said, rubbing your abdomen. You nodded, spreading apart your thighs. Jisung chuckled, "That's our sweet omega," he said, kissing your forehead.

You whined, feeling a familiar throb from your core "It hurts," you whispered, clawing into the fur carpet beneath you. Chan lifted your hips, tugging off your skirt "Alpha knows, little one," he said, removing your slicked panties. You shivered, clenching around the chilling air. The scent of boiled-down champagne filled the whole room, thick slick coated your folds. Chan groaned, positioning himself between your legs "Absolutely gorgeous," he rasped, kissing down your inner thighs.

You shuddered, wanting to close your legs but Chan held them down " Alpha, pl-please," you keened, not knowing what you were begging for. Chan hummed, placing a soft kiss on your clit. You squeaked, flinching your arms to your chest. Chan chuckled, "So sensitive," he whispered, flicking the tip of his tongue against your clit. You gasped, bringing your arms closer to your body. "Alpha," you whimpered, arching your back at the stimulation.

Chan growled, making broad strokes between your slicked folds. You moaned, arousal building in your abdomen. Chan groaned, savouring the thick globs of champagne hitting his tongue "Fucking hell, little one," he cursed, slurping up your slick without an ounce of shame. You cried, sensitivity washing over you, "Al-alpha, I'm scared," you whimpered, feeling the coil within you tighten. Chan cooed, kissing your pulsing pussy "Don't be afraid and let go, pup," he rasped, lapping up your slick with more vigour.

"H-hgh," you whined, squirming from Chan's tongue. Chan growled against your sensitive nub, drawing a silent scream from your lips. You mewled, arching your back "Alpha!" you wailed, squirting your arousal. Chan moaned, head clouding with lust "Good omega, squirting all over your alpha," he praised, pulling away from your throbbing core. You stared at Chan with half-lidded eyes. Chan smiled, brushing back his slick drenched hair. "Fuck, hyung. I think I just came in my pants," Hyunjin said, palming his hardened cock. 

You sniffled, "Alpha," you whimpered, making grabby hands towards Chan. "Aww, are you feeling alright, pup?" he asked, smothering your face in kisses. You nodded, burying your face into the crook of his neck. Chan chuckled, baring his neck "You're doing so well, little one," he praised. You purred, letting his scent envelop your senses. Chan smiled, gently removing himself from your hold. You hummed, content with the warm fuzzy feeling. Chan stood up, tugging off his sweatpants and boxers together.

Felix whistled, "A full course meal," he teased, staring at Chan's length. Seungmin sighed, "Pixie, stop disturbing Chan hyung and come here," he said, spreading his legs. Felix giggled, kneeling between Seungmin's thighs. Chan shook his head, a smile etched on his lips "I hope your libido is controllable, little one," he said, booping your nose. You giggled, biting your lower lip as Chan came closer to your core. He slicked his fingers in your arousal, "I'll go slow, pup," he said, pushing his finger to his second knuckle. 

You whimpered, rolling your hips to his thrusts. Chan hummed, "Can you take another?" he asked, rubbing your clit in tandem. You nodded, "Yes, yes, yes pl-please," you begged, clenching his finger. Chan chuckled, slipping another finger beside the first "Good girl, just relax for me," he cooed, stretching your tight walls. You mewled, digging your nails into the carpet. Chan another a third finger, working you open for his hung cock. You moaned, whimpering whenever he curled his fingers against your g-spot. 

"I think you're ready, little one. Do you need me to stretch you further?" he asked with four fingers spreading your semi-gaping hole. You shook your head, sweat beading your forehead "Need alpha n-now please," you stuttered, getting impatient from waiting. Chan shuddered, using your slick to coat his cock "Alpha's got you, pup," he said, lining up his cock head with your pussy. "Please," you whimpered, making eye contact with him through your half-lidded eyes. Chan growled, pressing his cock within your walls. 

You mewled, letting Chan push your legs closer to your body with each inch he eased in "So big," you slurred, purring at the feeling of being filled. Chan groaned, pressing his forehead against yours "You're still so fucking tight, little one," he cursed, rolling his hips. You gasped,  soft moans spilling past your lips "Fa-faster," you stuttered, cupping Chan's chest with your hands. Chan grunted, "As you wish, pup," he rasped, quickening his tempo. You keened, melting under his deep thrusts.

Chan growled, fucking into your warm walls with tender thrusts "Taking me so fucking well," he gritted. You whimpered, "Alpha, alpha, alpha" you slurred, pleasure fogging your every thought. Chan pressed his lips to yours, pulling you into a deep kiss. You moaned into the kiss, deep purrs rumbling within your body. Chan chuckled against your lips, quickening his rhythm. Your breath hitched within the kiss, accidentally clenching your walls around Chan's cock. "F-fuck," he groaned, throwing his head back. 

Your skin prickled at his raw groan, sending goosebumps down your arms. Chan shuddered, regaining his bearing "My god, little one. I don't I can hold back anymore" he said, rutting his hips. "Then don't. Please alpha, don't hold back," you pleaded, wrapping your legs around his waist. Breathy moans escaped Chan's lips. "Do as the princess says," Jisung rasped, stroking Changbin's cock in tandem with Chan's slow ruts. Chan felt himself losing composure, "Okay, if anything happens say red and I'll stop, pup," he said, hooking your legs over his shoulders.

You nodded, "Okay, alpha. Pl-please fuck me hard," you sniffled, heat spreading under your skin. Chan growled, staring at the subtle bulge appearing with each drag of his cock within your hole. "Please," you whimpered, staring up at him. With that, the remaining composure Chan held left. He pulled out slightly, drawing a loud whine from you, only to fuck you in one quick thrust. You choked on your whine, sputtering as Chan fucked you in a hungry daze. "Alpha!" you wailed, arching your back.

Chan gruffed, nosing your neck while keeping his unrelenting pace. You sobbed, tears streaming down your cheeks at the constant pleasure setting your nerves on fire. Chan grunted, feeling his knot grow with each thrust. You bared your neck for him "Chan!" you wailed, pushing against his thrusts. Chan clenched his jaw, reaching his hand down to rub your swollen clit "Are you close, little one?" he asked.

Your body tensed up, bundling parts of the carpet into your palm "So so cl-close," you choked up, quivering under Chan's mercy. Chan picked up his tempo, fucking his knot into your walls. You cried out, feeling his knot stretch your walls further. Chan grunted, "Cum for me, omega," he commanded, fucking his knot into your pussy. "F-fuck!" you cursed, cumming around Chan's cock. "Fuck," Chan groaned, nosing your neck as his knot locked itself within you. 

He kissed up your nose, "Relax omega," he whispered, sinking his teeth into your scent gland. You mewled, writhing under his hold. Chan growled against your skin as your walls flutter around his knot. He rolled his hips and with one last powerful thrust, his knot snapped. A copious amount of semen filled your pussy. Chan pulled off your scent gland, "You're ours now," he growled, licking the mark. You purred, milking every last drop of his cum. 

Chan shifted your legs off his shoulders, "There's one more thing you have to do, pup," he whispered. Jisung stroked your hair, "This will be quick, princess," he said, cumming on your torso. One by one they came on you, coating their scents on your body. You giggled, tasting the citrus scent you smelled from the dining table. Chan cooed, finding you endearing "Our little omega," he said, scooping the cum for you to taste. You parted your lips, sucking Chan's cum slicked fingers till there was nothing left. 

Minho tapped Chan's shoulder, "Wipe her down, we'll get the bath ready," he said, handing Chan a wet towel. You preened under Chan's gentle touches. "The pack's bed is ready, there are clothes from everyone if you want to nest, princess," Jisung said, wiping the cum off your hair. You nodded, barely able to open your eyes. Chan chuckled, "Such a sweet and sated little one," he said, stroking your cheek. You gave him a dopey smile, "Thank you, alpha," you slurred, exhaustion catching up to you. Chan cooed, "It's our pleasure," he said.

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

this was for an ask but it became something different from the ask but I still wanted to post it cuz cute (tm)

Rated M (im just being safe)

taglist: @ghostinvenus

The kiss is terrible, you tremble, lips just pressing on his; it's so bad. Astarion has had his share of terrible kisses, inexperienced kisses, and ones that left him out of breath (rarely). Yours easily tells him everything about you, from why your hands try to figure out what to do, to why you try angling your face, and pressing your lips on his. You retreat with heated cheeks, eyes looking everywhere but his face.

"That… Wasn't good, was it?"

He laughed, "If you have to ask, it was bad." It is cute truthfully seeing you sulk followed by throwing your hands in the air, "You are overthinking this." His hand reached and cupped the side of your face, "Look at me." Your eyes can't stay on his face, shy and nervous. "Look." When your red eyes meet his red eyes, "Build up the anticipation," His thumb traces your lips, lightly brushing your bottom lip, "You are in control." When he pushes his thumb ever so lightly past your lips, you don't know why but you welcome it parting your lips and your tongue licking flesh.

His lips form a smirk as you easily get enchanted then lead in as his thumb keeps your mouth open, "Do as I do." Like a spell, spoken and you obey.

This is a kiss.

His hand remains on your face caressing your cheek, the other around your waist supporting you. You are still confused about what to do yet where your mind lacks, your body reacts; instinctively seeking him. Your hands gripping the back of his poet blouse, your body leaning as if sculptured to fit with his, mouth meshing with his and tongue tasting him. 

Wine and blood, strange that excites you.

The kiss is still inexperienced but not as terrible as before. His eyes are half shut while yours are completely closed. Seeing the way you struggle to match him, the relief when he welcomes your tongue in his mouth.

Happy. You look happy when the kiss ends.

"So this is why there are so many love poems." The observation blurted out of your mouth, "This is inspiring."

"Oh, should I expect a flowery love song tomorrow evening?" Teasing you as he releases his hold on you, physically leaving your warmth is getting harder to do as these days pass.

"A song? Astarion, you inspire a symposium with only the way you look."

He laughs, that narcissistic laugh which given your words is deserving, "Go on."

"Kissing you or talking." Your hands didn't leave his body, they rested on his waist as if fearing him escaping into the moonlight, swept away by Selunê's glow.

"Either one is quite interesting."

You are on that high of your first kiss with him, "Can I have more?" Lowering your head with eyes looking up at him, "Kisses, I mean."

"So polite," Oh, how he enjoys you discovering the pleasures of the flesh. "Of course." Once more he moves to take charge only to stop as you copy his movements from before, though your fingers tracing the shape of his face then his ear.

A lyrical tone follows your next words, "Hot blood begets hot thoughts," Recalling words from a book your mother gave you, "And hot thoughts beget hot deeds," Your nose brushes against his. "And hot deeds is love." When the kiss happens, you are slow. Methodical.

Astarion makes adjustments along the way even as his mind is on that line you sang to him.

One could say there is nothing behind those words or one could see it as a confession. Well, another confession as you do not hide your heart from him.

When you both end up on the ground under the stars of clear night, he has you singing his name. A siren's charm ensnares him.

It is you who starts greeting him with silly flowery words. With the tune of a lute, violin, or flute at night serenading him over a meal of wine, bread, and cheese. In love, helplessly and innocently.

The only good side of this is that he isn't using the charms to hand you off to Cazador, you are his.

And that slips out.

Vampires cannot love, they are creatures of the night blessed by Kanchelsis to feed on blood and debauchery (as stated in the books from your old master's library).

Yet, he feels its grip! The way you care for him, respect him, seek him as a person and not a tool.

Things he lacked towards you— you are just another sorry spawn who will help him achieve his goal…

Clumsy.

He tries to list what he would change about you, flaws that bother him. And there are many as he makes a mental list while currently watching you from the shadows. You are providing a distraction as he steals something you need for some ridiculous quest.

Too helpful.

Maybe that is good for him when he has you in his service upon his ascension.

Nice.

Definitely too nice for your own good. It makes him want to be nice to you back, God. Even now he had to threaten someone because you froze because someone didn't feed before getting here, saw the way your eyes glowed with the hunger. Probably will kill that patron after he returns to your side with the stolen documents.

Those eyes follow you, studying the body he knows quite well, then to the way the low-cut blouse exposes your neck and from his view the hickey he left from yesterday morning.

"Thank you, Astarion." Breathing slowly to tame the beast. "Guess you were right."

"Trust the one who has been at this for two hundred years, darling." The smile you give is downright blinding. He turns his head away, "Here." The evidence you take and read over.

Nice…

“Hm?” You do not stop him when he kisses you. In this smelly, loud, and dirty tavern; you felt the world fall away with Astarion’s lips on yours, a feeling shared.

[average-joseph]

The dead poets at summer camp.

Neil: Avid participant in camp sing alongs.

Todd: Everyone who befriended him and gave him their number right before camp was over got their number immediately trashed.

Charlie: The camp horses love Charlie. Charlie; tragically, is allergic.

Knox: On the first day, Charlie kicked a soccer ball at Knox's face and broke his nose.

Meeks: During archery he almost shot someone.

Pitts: He's weirdly competitive when it comes to playing bean bag toss.

Cameron: He lost his shoes after tipping over in a canoe and spent the remainder of the day sulking.

[tragedybunny]

Absolution

༺Summary༻

Astarion and Serafina have an argument and Astarion does what he thinks is necessary to keep her with him. Set before his Act 2 confession.

༺Pairing༻ Astarion x Serafina (Female Tav/OC)

༺Warnings༻ PiV sex, oral sex, all occurring while Astarion disassociates.

༺Word Count༻ 2441

༺A/N༻ Although most of my reader fics are based my Tav, Serafina, and my experience playing the game as her, this is the first fic I've written featuring her as a named character. And it's my first BG3 fic in 3rd person. I hope you all enjoy it. Thanks to @satanicspinosaurus for the wonderful beta.

The scene from earlier plays over and over in his mind. 

“You don't know anything about me, Astarion! So just leave it be.” Sera, sweet, kind, gentle, patient Serafina, had yelled at him. Not once since they'd met on that beach had their erstwhile leader even raised her voice slightly at him. And today she shouted at him. All because she couldn't read Elvish and he'd reacted with the same humor she’d claimed to enjoy. Turning it on him as though he’d been the one in the wrong. 

They'd been seated around the fire while Wyll took his turn “cooking”, going through some papers and books they'd found in the wake of a goblin attack. They were looking for any clues into the cult's movements or plans. Sera had plucked a small, neatly bound journal from the pile and turned it over in her hands. It was a thing clearly well-made and cared for. She'd opened it gently, respectful of the fine binding holding it all together. 

Her brilliant blue eyes had scanned a few pages before she gave out a frustrated sigh. “Elvish,” she muttered, snapping it shut violently and thrusting it at Astarion. “You'll probably have better luck with that.”

He wasn't sure why he did it. The half-elf’s reaction was disproportionate to simply encountering a foreign language, that was obvious. Maybe it was because he’d become too used to teasing her since they’d started their “relationship.” Their easy back and forth banter giving him the foreign feeling of acceptance. 

 Or maybe it was his own way of trying to deny those irritatingly tender feelings that had started to creep in whenever he caught her glancing his way or their hands touched, or she laughed at one of his jokes. The need to push back against them, sharpening his tongue and drawing out ancient bias. 

Whatever caused it, he should’ve thought before opening his mouth. “Can’t read Espruar? Someone got forgotten by one parent. Is that why you threw a tantrum and ran-”

“Shut up!” Sera leapt up from the log she’d been seated on and glared at him. “You don’t know anything about me, Astarion! So just leave it be.” 

With that, she’d stormed off and left him silently stunned, as though awaiting a reprisal that didn’t come. Around him, their companions pretended to look away and he caught a few whispers on the air. “What are you all looking at? It’s not my fault she suddenly can’t take a joke.” He’d sulked off to his own tent, waiting until her tantrum had passed and everyone forgot his misstep. He’d assumed Sera would cool down and come out for dinner, but instead she’d remained stubbornly locked away. Karlach had brought her a bowl of what they were generously calling stew. 

Everyone had eaten and retired for the evening and she was still pouting. Which brought him to now, slinking his way across camp toward her tent. He had to do something, he couldn't watch his hard won protection slip away. It absolutely had nothing to do with the fact that Sera gave him a little kiss and wished him goodnight every other night lately and it had been noticeably withheld tonight. 

The way the moonlight filtered through the trees, one solid beam pointing down on her tent, a poet might say that Selune was guiding him. Poets were idiots. Parting the flap just the smallest amount, he starts to slip inside, intent on waking her to settle things if he needed to, when a sound stopped him. A strangled cry, was it directed at him? He froze, half inside, the errant moonbeam that slipped around him haloing her with soft illumination. 

Another wordless cry. Only a nightmare, nothing to be concerned with. Stepping in, he lets the tent shut, plunging them both back into darkness. With a predator’s stealth, he approaches her bedroll, kneeling down, eyes subconsciously glancing at the healing puncture wounds on her neck. 

“Let me out.” Her sudden words startle him. 

Stumbling backwards, he nearly loses his balance to go sprawling across the floor. His skin suddenly heated, as though the breath that carried those words could burn him. 

Another sob comes as she thrashes around a bit. “Please, I won't run,” unintelligible sounds follow the small plea. “Let me out.” 

Locked up. She'd been locked up too. Regaining himself, he crept toward her again, as she shook and cried. Someone had hurt her. But who would want to do that?

She was Sera, unfailingly kind; who aided refugees, saved children, fought monsters, and foolishly fed manipulative vampires.  

The sobbing becomes frantic and without thinking he reaches out to gently grasp her shoulder. “Sera,” she struggles against his touch with a whimper. Growling in frustration, he shakes her a little more roughly. “Serafina!” 

Eyes snap open to behold him with wide pupils as her chest heaves. “A-Astarion?” Sitting quickly, she pulls away from him, and he feels a sudden sting in his chest. “What are you doing here?” She hisses, apparently still angry with him. 

“You were having a nightmare.” He replies, trying to soften his voice, to be the lover she had come to expect. 

“Hmm,” her eyes focus across the tent to an empty lantern, “fiat lux.” Small little motes of light appear in the lantern, swirling gently in their prison, as Sera draws her knees up to her chest. “Well, I'm awake now, you can go.”

The forlorn gaze and empty voice were nothing like the Serafina he'd come to know and the unsettled sensation in the back of his mind grows. He cleares his throat, trying to get the words moving. “I didn’t come just to wake you up, I wanted to…apologize. For earlier. I’m sorry, the joke was in poor taste.” 

Turning her head, she glances his way from where it rested on her knees. She looks so small like this, so far from the fierce woman who’d led them from the moment of the crash. “Apology accepted, I probably took it too personally.” 

It didn’t quite ring true, but he plows on anyway, hoping maybe those blue eyes would light back up for him. “The truth is, I’m actually a bit rusty with Espruar myself. But maybe I could teach you and it would be good practice for me.” He affects the warmest smile he could, sure the gesture would win her over.

Instead, she shrugs. “Don’t worry about it. It doesn’t actually matter all that much. Thanks for the thought though. You can go, I’m not still mad at you. I’ll see you in the morning.”

That was not his Serafina. He has to do something, to fix this. To keep her on his side. Reaching out, he wraps his arms around her and pulls her into his lap, lips closing over hers. “What’s this about?” She huffs as her skin began to flush a pretty pink. 

“Pleading my apology some more,” his voice drops to the low sultry tone that made her pulse jump in a way he could hear. 

“I said you were forgiven.” Despite her protest, her arms encircle his neck, pulling him closer. 

“Your words said that, but your eyes spoke differently.” His lips trace a line of kisses from her lips to the lobe of her ear, making her sigh. 

This was what he could do for her, what he did best. It was a skill honed by two hundred years of unwilling practice, and like so many before, a skill she was willing to make use of. At least it was easy enough with Sera, she was sweet and gentle, and he knew she'd never harm him. And it wasn't as though a part of him didn't want her, she was a pretty little thing. That part was just bound up with all the other parts that hated what his body had been used for. If he had to open his pants for anyone, he supposes he was glad it was her. 

“I meant it, but- gods Astarion!” He runs his tongue along the point of her ear, less sensitive than his, but still enough to start driving her mad. 

“In that case, we'll call it making up for my behavior earlier.” Guiding her to face him, legs straddling his, her warm core settles against his hips. He kisses his way back down to her throat, already feeling his mind growing distant from his actions. 

Lips linger near the marks on her neck, and she squirms in his lap. “Do you want to?” 

He could never say no to that offer. Without hesitation, his fangs sink into her flesh, and succulent liquid pours into his throat. It adds to what little pleasure he’s able to wring from what he was about to do. Sera whimpers and writhes in his lap, grinding down on his growing erection. She hadn’t started out allowing him to feed on her as some form of pleasure, but she had given him her neck as often as the rest of her body, and the two had become inextricably tied together. 

Just a sip for tonight, after everything that had happened, he couldn’t ask too much. Too soon he pulls his fangs away to lap at the remainders and kiss the wounds. Blood and a distant mind, this was good as it would be for him. “Let's get this out of the way.” Fingers grip the hem of her shirt and guide it over her head. 

She shivers as the night air caresses her skin and leans into him. It was almost enough to make him laugh, there was nothing about him that could provide any warmth. Instead he continues kissing his way down her chest, nipping lightly until her back arches into him and she makes a needy noise. 

“Patience,” he chides her, releasing his grip on her to remove his own shirt. 

Hands encircle her waist in an iron grip, holding her firmly in place while tongue and teeth tease her rosebud nipples. Fingers trace his back as she pants, trying to contain all the noises that could wake the camp. Her nails ghost along his flesh, and he senses she longs to dig them in.. She hadn’t even attempted to ask about it. Why did she afford him such gentleness, was she wary that it would be too much on his scarred flesh?

Lips leave off her hardened peaks to capture hers again, and she grinds against him even harder. No doubt her small clothes were soaked. “You drive me mad,” she whispers, lost in desire. 

Just as he’d wanted, Serafina, hurt feelings and nightmares forgotten. “You enjoy it.” He captured her lip between his teeth for a second and nibbles. “Stand up, take your pants off for me.” He awaits her on his knees, as a penitent seeking their absolution. 

She’s so occupied, she doesn’t notice as his gaze finds the dancing lights in the lantern, and watches them swirl aimlessly until she’s naked before him. Gripping her thighs, he pulls her in, holding them apart so his tongue can swipe along her sex, as soaked as he predicted. Sera’s not a bard, but she sings for him anyway. Fingers grip into his curls, not too tightly. Sometimes he wishes she wouldn’t be so damn gentle, that she'd be like everyone else, someone easy to use, instead of, whatever all this was. 

“Astarion,” she keens as he slips two fingers inside her, tongue running over her clit. 

He laps and suckles at it almost as fiercely as he does the wounds he leaves in her neck. The fingers inside her find the spot that causes her knees to buckle and another cry to leave her. She’s close, just a little more, and he could leave it for the night.  

“I want you inside me.” He stiffens, inhaling deeply. 

“Do you now, my sweet?” He nips her thigh playfully with his fangs while his stomach drops. “Then come down here.” 

As soon she hits her knees, he's positioning her on all fours, he can’t look her in the eyes right now. He tears his pants open, eyes finding the lights again, concentrating on them as he pushes inside her. She’s warm and wet as she pushes back against him, eager to have all of him. Because she chooses him. No matter how many of his rough edges and dark corners she finds, she wants him. Would she still want him if she saw it all?

Forget it, he tells himself, pushing that thought away. He clears his mind until there’s only the moment, the sensation left, hips slapping against hers, the way her body clenches around his cock, how she eagerly sucks the fingers he puts in her mouth so she has something to absorb the moans. 

It’s almost enough to completely lose himself, his cock twitches. It’s spectacular, the way she meets every thrust and takes everything he has to give. “Touch yourself,” he urges, eager for her to come undone. 

Her own fingers slide between her folds, working feverishly. It’s not long before the noises muffled by his fingers become frantic and she tightens around him. 

“That’s it, my darling, let go.” With another deep thrust, he allows himself a release. “Sera,” he gasps, knowing it will please her to hear her name on his lips. 

They collapse next to one another on the bedroll, Sera quick to snuggle up in his arms. It takes longer than it should to embrace her, his body wanting to run. “Is everything alright?” She asks, innocently, from where she lays, head on his chest. Maybe there are merciful gods, she can’t see his face. 

“Of course, love. I think I may have worn myself out after all the walking today.” Softly, he kisses her head, he can’t let her suspect. 

“Well don’t complain tomorrow, Lae’zel will blame me for sure. I don’t think I was very discreet.” She laughs, sounding like sleep is already returning to her. 

“But you are to blame. If you weren’t so irresistible.” He tries to laugh as well. This stupid, sweet girl, why does she lay in a monster’s arms and giggle? 

With a yawn, she gives him an out. “You should probably go, I’m going to fall asleep soon and don’t want to trap you here.” 

One more kiss, even as his mind insists on fleeing. “Goodnight my love, rest well, and I’m sorry again.”

“For what?”

“For earlier.” For everything. 

Tag list:

@micropoe10  @writingmysanity @mxxny-lupin @azu21

 @tallymonster  @dependsonthedream @sunfire-ancunin

@bambamwolf87 @fayeriess @lumienyx @lisrelly

@elora-the-slutty-songstress @bhaalbaaby @spacebarbarianweird

@darlingxdragon @wanderingisobel @astarionsbeloved

@vixstarria @claryvoyantfray @volotramp @misscrissfemmefatale @bg3obsessedsideblog @captainaceofspades @wickedwitchofthewilds @asterordinary

[infernal-lamb]

Howws that fic with your OC going? I’m very intrigued about that one :D

Oh!!! And if you have any new art/tidbits about her?

lmao, its going! I've made progress but now I am sulking like an 18th century poet in their giant, empty study.......Contemplating. Critiquing (just being nervous about posting fic since I havent written anything since I was like. 13. and I'm not exactly a writer, just someone who throws stuff together and goes Well, That's A Plot I Guess!) I'm glad people are intrigued about and Neves dfhjfghf. I DO have some lil doodles of her in the cult. One specific tidbit that makes me laugh: Neves is tall as hell in comparison to the cult members.

I'm not sure how to measure the inhabitants of the Lands of the Old Faith, but I imagine them at least smaller than the average human--mostly because I think its sort of funny to emphasize just *how* out of place Neves is among the Lamb and their flock. This is more like a rough estimate of how they compare LMAO. With her height, the cult members usually ask her to help with picking fruit on big trees or, for example, doing things like standing on her shoulders to clean the Temple windows that are too high up otherwise :') Here's a silly comic w/one of her experiences in the cult too!

[chiliyue-archived]

Apricate

↬fluffy morning thing

includes; tetchō

entry; 🥞 - lazy sunday morning

tags; he calls u pretty & beautiful. wrote this sleep deprived 💀

[Event Navi | M.list] | [Bsd M.List]

-

mornings can feel transient with tetchō as your lover, the causation of such found within his occupation.

his formidable position within the hunting dogs would beckon his attention amongst the inchoate hours of leaking gold and streaks of blue. for beyond the encompassing dorm grew a cacophony of the revitalizing yokohama and with it a need to weed out perils that threatened to cut the tranquility of the city.

however, despite his unwavering commitment; it was growing impossible each day for tetchō to pull himself away from bed.

the warmth of your body snuggling into him rivals the afternoon sun, and the panning of your breath became a source of comfort that reverbated along his body, exuding a form of security. whenever you nuzzle into his shoulder, he could feel the yearning to stay by your side grow tremendously.

even as silence shrouds the bedroom - save your light snores; tetchō hardly seemed perturbed by it. its evident by the roaming of his fingers along your arm, diffusing an ignition of emotion whilst his head lazily perches on his crook arm. his expression took a serene one of sorts, wrinkles etched in the corners on eyes and gaze softening the longer he basked in the warm bed. he's done it so many times before, but it renews with curiosity when the sun bounces off your figure, dappling your skin in a glow.

as he aquires more cogition with the fading of fatigue, he comes to fixate on the diminutive details, that altogether formulate the object of his affections. the cadence of your chest, fluttering of your eyes and the tousled hair captivate his attention even as the minutes ticked away at his heeding hour.

he never regarded himself as a poet. he found his art to reside with the manipulation of his sword. even so, it wasn't often he had nourished himself into the catalogs of art - especially poetic expressions. but the temptation became tantalizing and, in the moment, became enveloped by a collection of descriptors that formed like a mantra. it slips from his tongue without dubiety, it's clarity evidencing the words.

" you're so beautiful." he brushes his lips along your forehead, his murmur paired with the fearthing of his hands. the tips lazily scribed contours along your wrist - lingering against the pulse point attentively. he felt weighted down by the repeating echo, resulting in an ardent stir in his ribs.

"and breathtaking." his hand moves past your ear, mindlessly coiling the hairs. never once does the bliss-like countenance falter.

" pretty." unbeknownst to him, a fresh coat of pink would tickle his cheeks. but the growing flush was deterred by the grin that inched along his face, furthur reflected by his golden irises that shimmered in the caught light.

it was so easy to lose himself in merely committing your figure to memory. it was a habit he fell victim to even at its perceived insipid iteration. no matter the repetition, hearts would linger where his irses should be.

when you slowly stirred from your rest, you were greeted by a beaming face that watched your movement with interest.

just knowing it would be ephemeral and that he would soon depart with nothing but ebbing warmth was enough to jut a pout on his lips. the sulk doesn't last long when you reach out to cup his face, thumb grazing the marking beneath his eye. tetchō always mimicked the gesture; a larger hand cupping your cheek paired with tucking loose strands behind your ear. and once again, he was limbering to your touch - the wordless exchange nearly persuading him a couple more minutes of indulgence.

" hiro, hi." he shuffles closer as though trying to hear your voice better and just the slip of his name was enough to swarm his chest. his heart goes aflutter when you reciprocate a frazzled grin, drowsy rich voice whispering a "good morning." he's obsessed with it.

" what are you staring at?" you question, voice midly raspy. tetchō's gaze remained locked in place, even as he angled his head to capture your palm in a brevity of tenderness.

"you," he replies honestly, watching keenly at your eyes before flickering south. he blinked slowly before moving his head until it was just shy of yours. " may i?" his voice pricked your lip, laced in an affectionate tone.

when you nod, he melded a gentle kiss on your lips. he stalls for as long as possible, savoring the exchange and the sweetness that provokes the hairs on his nape to elevate. you could feel his cheek warm up from where you held him, a pink growing and prevailing.

" you're so kind to me, my love." he hums, " i only have a couple minutes." his voice contained a hint of guilt, placid grin twitching lightly with gravity. it dissipates by the reassuring smile you send him, pulse hastening momentarily.

wordlessly, he rests his palm over yours, securing it against his face. his adjacent one went to grasp the back of your head, gently tugging you close until you were huddled against his chest. you can faintly make out a thump that resonates within your ear, lightly hampered by the clothing he adorns himself in.

" you look pretty in the sun." he muses, observing as the rays steep on you like a meticulous stroke of a paintbrush.

" really?"

" mhm, but..." you can feel his lips curve against your palm, words becoming muffled and sending jolts along your spine - ornating altogether of his ceaseless rapport. " you always will be my pretty lover no matter the time."

-

I went to sleep at 9 and woke up at 12 💀 can't sleep so wrote this instead. I'll fix mistakes when I'm not drowning in sleep deprivation(praying there isn't anything overly atrocious). I hope it isn't ooc jdjdkd

anyways kicking the redflags to the curb, i am now a tecchou luvr 🫶

taglist; @eynnwwyjth @anqelically @seisitive @iheartpieck @seiiblue @averagebsdwatcher @solandiss @4nthonyyliving

be added or removed here ! :)

[tenjiiku]

get down on it / 18+

“I read a poem today.”

You laugh through a mouthful of warm noodles. The sound is pretty.

It is why Rin said what he said — he wanted to hear it. He wanted to hear you happy and content, even at his own expense. He hates how he’s been feeling this way, but he can’t stop.

He is on his fifth or fourth beer (give or take), and is a bit lightheaded (you will probably have to carry him home, he hopes he recollects none of it, sober-him would probably die of embarrassment). Nothing matters, though, because you look quite lovely under the calm yellow lighting of the quaint ramen shop, especially when you are smiling. The season is over so he has been somewhat over-indulging in all of the things prohibited to him before and has been going a little crazy at this newfound freedom.

Luckily, he now has you to keep him somewhat in check. Rin is more and more finding himself wanting to keep you impressed. He’s never wanted to really prove himself to anyone before his brother. Of course, you had to come in and ruin everything he has ever known.

But you make it so easy — he doesn’t even need to try. He’s never felt this way about anyone.

So he wants to keep it, and he wants to keep you.

“Did you?”

“Yes,” he burps, “by Mitsune.”

You giggle again, and his cheeks — already warm from the alcohol in his system — catch on fire tenfold. His eyes focus on your hands, the way they hold your chopsticks and mix your broth around. They’re smaller than his. He blushes, wondering how they’d look with a ring on.

Rin wonders if you’d let him put one on you.

“Which one?” You ask through a hearty mouthful of pork and noodles.

“Something about Spring and ageing.”

“Did you like it?”

“Not really. Made me feel something.”

“Aren’t all poems inherently created to make the reader feel something?”

You’re smart — intelligent, in a refined way. You carry this cerebral aura around you and Rin was rather intimidated by you when he was first reunited with you at the age of twenty-five, two years ago. And you were younger than him, which only made him more weary around you. You were nothing like the snot-nosed kid you were back in middle school when he was in Blue Lock. You were beautiful, mature — everything he wanted. Though it took him a while to admit this.

Sometimes it takes him a while to understand you. But you took so many procedures to appreciate him. He always felt the need to return the favour, even if that came in the form of reading a haiku he did not really fathom, by your favourite poet.

He’s trying. It feels gross. But the rewards are so sweet.

“I guess…”

You laugh. He bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling. It doesn’t work.

“How is your thesis going?”

He changes the topic.

“Hmm…, it is going well, I suppose,” you grab for his beer while he picks at a piece of your pork cutlet, “Tenma-san was quite impressed with my research on artificial intelligence usage for pharmaceutical research.”

He regrets that he has changed the topic.

“Mhm.”

He chews on your pork cutlet as you sip on his beer. You catch onto his deflated mood so quickly. You cannot be from this Earth.

“What?”

He tries to save his ass, spewing a nonchalant, regular, “Nothing. I’m glad you are getting the recognition,” but you notice his disdain all too quickly.

A hand is placed on his cheek, “Rin.”

He instantly places his own over yours, pressing the cold palm further into his warm skin, “Yes, my darling?”

Rin is drunk — that’s why he called you that, he reasons. He furrows your eyebrows at the face you make at him. He hates how his stomach twists. You look at him as one would to a stray dog. He can’t even hate you.

“You’re sulking.”

“No I’m not,” he says, frowning.

You pull the skin of his forehead up with your other free hand. He squints his eyes as you expose it to the cool air.

“You’re going to get wrinkles before you turn forty.”

His head grows hot. His hand resting on yours on his cheek, changed to hold it against his face. Rin holds it tightly, holds you tightly.

“And? So?” His tone is colder than he wanted to let off. It sounds condemnatory, “Will you not want me anymore?”

You only smile at his scowl and captious behaviour. Rin’s eyes soften.

“Mmm no,” you brush hair that’s fallen over his eyes behind his ear, “but you will complain to me about them.”

“And you won’t listen? I won’t do it for you anymore? You’ll elope with Tenma?”

He’s being mean and nonsensical, Rin knows this. He is also intoxicated and tired and helplessly in love with you — but he’ll only ever mention the former than the latter in his defence; which is inadvertently the cause of all of his security issues.

Rin knows you won’t do anything he’s mentioned. He trusts you. Though, sometimes he likes the reassurance. And he really likes it when you know he is being childish and naive.

“Rin,” you whisper. He loves it when you say his name. He can hear the smile in your voice.

“Yeah, baby?” He calls you this because he wants to. He is finished pretending after his fifth beer.

“Tenma-san is sixty years old and is living a very healthy life with his lovely wife.”

Your voice is so sweet. You’re smiling to the point your cheeks are glowing. You smell of warm soup and home. You’re so pretty. You’re only ever this pretty for him, Rin decides.

He takes your hand off from his face to kiss each of your fingers, pulling your stool closer to his with his long and agile legs. You yelp at the sudden actions but you keep your eyes on him, just how Rin likes.

“Tell me I’m your only one,” he rasps against your hand, bending his head. His hair falls over his forehead. Rin knows you like it when he is like this.

You laugh nervously, stuttering. Rin smirks.

“Rin, this is silly…” you murmur, watching intensely as he kisses your skin. He gives you back your hand, only to place it around his neck. You let him.

He wants to kiss you, Rin resolves.

“Tell me,” he demands.

Then he sees it. Rin really sees you. You don’t look at him like he’s a stray dog — a gaze full of pity — you never have. You only ever look at him like you’d rather die than take his eyes off him. Typically such intensity would make him uncomfortable, Rin does not think he deserves such attention. Yet, if he thinks too much about you looking at Tenma-san or anybody else for that matter — the same way you stare at him — his head starts feeling hot. His hands begin to feel clammy and he starts to itch.

Rin sees his reflection in your eyes when you come in closer. He realises he’s looking at you exactly how you look at him. You wrap your other arm to meet your hand already resting around his neck. Your legs find solace between his, and you look at him with an emotion he can’t describe — maybe this is what Mitsune was trying to convey.

Rin didn’t care much about Spring. People told him to worry when he turned twenty-seven. But he doesn’t care about any of that.

“You’re my only one.”

Rin buries himself in your shoulder, growing warm at the sound of your laughter and admittance.

He is only concerned about how to make this feeling last; you, in his arms — him, in yours.

.

.

The alcohol in Rin’s system has more so settled, but the heat in his body has only gotten more fervent.

Both of you are still wet from the rain that started right as you stepped out of the bar. You had to carry Rin to the taxi. He remembers you had to apologise to the driver when he had put a hand on the small of your back, trying to help you put this six foot four football player in the backseat. Rin remembers making a deranged comment of some sort — he does not recall what exactly he said, but he does recall the slap he received on his head from you for spewing such an insult at the innocent taxi driver.

He was restless, beside you. A large warm hand drawing circles up and down your thigh. You, holding his wrist to prevent him from going up any further. You, whispering for him to get himself together. Him, pressing insistent kisses at your collar and neck.

Rin feels insatiable when you finally arrive home.

You’re taking too long to unlock the door. He drapes his frame onto you, taking your scarf off from around your neck and pushing your hair to the side to kiss at the sin.

“Rin— door,” you say, breathlessly trying to slot the key into the lock.

Rin doesn’t stop. He circles his arms around your waist, biting your earlobe. His stomach twists when you yelp. “Hurry, baby.”

You laugh when his hair tickles at your neck. His grip around you tightens at the noise. You giggle even more as you fidget with the keys and Rin’s inconsolable mood.

“I’m— I’m trying.” You gasp out.

When Rin hears the telltale sound of a click, he practically shoves you inside. You squeal at the sight of his rapacious smile as he quickly closes the door and pushes you against it, locking it quickly.

“Rin!”

He likes it when you say his name. His pupils dilate. You let him take your coat, scarf and shoes off. They’re discarded somewhere on the floor of the genkan. Rin’s hands are all over you, they’re apologetic, almost — sorry that they had to be off of you for that second between getting inside the apartment. You wrap your arms around his neck.

“Sorry. Pretty,” is all Rin says before locking your lips with his. He sighs into your mouth. This is what he was missing.

When your fingers scratch at his scalp and softly tug at his dark tresses, he groans. His hand grips your ass through your skirt and plays with the hem of your top. You gasp and giggle at this, and he grins into the kiss at the sound.

He taps your arm. You lift them up and your shirt comes off. You tug at his trench coat and sweater, they’re thrown to the side.

“Up,” he rasps against your lips.

You wrap your legs around him, his large hands digging into your ass to lift you up. Your skirt falls to your waist, exposing the top of your white thigh highs. Rin grunts at the sight, carrying you to the bedroom.

He lays you down gently onto your bed, holding himself up by one elbow. He kisses you softly, swallowing your small moans. Rin kisses your neck, between the valley of your breasts, taking your bra off with one hand. He continues to kiss downwards; the mole under your rib cage until he reaches your skirt. Hooking his fingers under it and your underwear, he tugs them off your legs, standing over your awaiting frame with one knee digging into the mattress.

Rin gazes down at you, laid in the sheets he bought. You’re shy, crossing your legs and raising both your hands to your mouth, unintentionally accentuating your cleavage as your elbows push them together.

Rin feels hot — he feels the urge to do very bad things to you.

You call for him, regardless, your voice raw and unkempt — a total juxtaposition to your typical orderly conduct. “Rin— Rin.”

Rin pants. You’ll only ever look like this to him. He’ll never let anyone else have you. He starts to unbuckle his jeans, relishing in the way you look up at him.

With his pants discarded and boxers on, he comes back down to you, tense and inpatient. You willingly welcome him, bending your neck and arching your back to meet his mouth for a hot kiss. His large left hand finds solace between your legs.

You whine into his mouth when he runs a finger up your wet slit. He breaks the kiss, a string of saliva connecting you both. Rin looks out of place as he stares down at where he touches. Your pussy drenches his slender fingers, he rests himself on his right elbow, letting you burrow your face into his chest as he makes a mess of your clit. You mewl into his skin, and Rin’s pupils dilate at the way you clench around nothing.

“Pretty, you’re wet,” he sounds in pain, touching you languidly; alternating between collecting your juices at your hole to rubbing your sensitive clit. Your thigh highs are drenched at your entrance.

“Rin— feels— feels good,” you whimper, arching your back as he reaches places of you that you never could. You wrap your shaky hands around his bicep, moaning into his arm, “Don’t— Don’t stop.”

Rin feels lightheaded. You clench around his fingers like a second skin. His thumb continues to draw circles in your clit, and he groans at the way you gush around his digits. He presses a kiss on your forehead.

“Yeah? Give it to me, baby. S’mine.”

Your thighs close around his insistent hand, but Rin doesn’t stop — because he listens to you; he’ll listen to you whine, he’ll listen to you cry, he’ll listen to you mewl his name.

You come for him with his name on your tongue. Rin has won many things in his life but this reward is the sweetest, “Rin, Rin.”

Your thighs twitch against his thigh. He draws slow circles into your slit, keeping your high going. Rin whispers a quiet ‘Good Girl’ into your scalp, turning your chin with his other hand to bring you into a lazy, messy kiss.

Bringing his fingers from your pussy up to this mouth, he breaks the kiss to only lick at them. He looks at you, as he does so — and appreciates the nervous tears that fill your eyes at the sight. You’re panting — shaking, almost. It is a pitiful yet beautiful sight to see, and a dark part of Rin wants to see you like this more.

He brings his fingers to your lips, resting them. He stares at you ardently, waiting for you to do something. You open your mouth, and he pushes his digits into your mouth. Sucking them clean with your tongue, Rin takes them out then gives one final kiss to your lips.

Crawling above you, he is on his knees between your legs. Taking a spare pillow, he places it under your back. You whimper as his hard on presses against your thigh and notice how Rin’s underwear is wet at the centre.

Rin pulls his boxers down, pulling his cock out and prodding it at your slit. You sniffle at the contact his hot cockhead makes with your sensitive clit. He groans, his precum pooling together with your slick at your wanton entrance. 

“Gonna give it to me?” He grunts, wiping sweat from his forehead — clenching his stomach when your pussy quivers against his cock.

You whimper, and answer him by taking your shaky hands and opening your pussy lips, exposing your quivering hole. Rin almost passes out by your action. 

“Fuck,” He groans, sinking into your lewd hole, “Shit.”

The bed frame creaks as he buries himself inside you. You gasp and whine, arching your back as his large cock enters you with a purpose. You cry out his name when he finally bottoms out. “Rin— Rin!”

He looms over your frame, pressing his body on top of you, like a weighted blanket. You mewl when he presses kisses to your neck, moaning into the junction between your neck and shoulder when your fingernails scratch at his back. “Fuck, baby…”

“Rin,” you plead to him, whining into his ear as he falls and wraps his arms around you, only grinding deeper into you. Your legs tremble around his.

Large hands smooth out the skin in your back, hot fingers surely bruising your skin. You whimper as he lifts his head to look up at you, his chain vainly dangling at your chest. Your tits press against his chest and the proximity makes you cry his name — his name being the only thing you know. You’re pretty, you’re so pretty and you’re all his, is all Rin senses.

Rin groans, deep from his stomach as his balls hit your ass from the insistent thrusting. The bed frame creaks lewdly beneath you both, and he swallows your moans with a kiss. He breaks the kiss too soon, tenderly brushing your cheeks covered with tears as you mewl for him.

“Tell— fuck — Tell me I’m yours,” Rin begs you. He kisses you sensually once more, breaks it and asks you again, “Baby, tell me you’ll never leave.”

“Rin, Rin, Rin,” your head grows hot at the request.

You arch your back as he pounds into your abused cunt mercilessly, and you see stars when he licks two fingers that go down to tease at your clit.

“You — You’re mine,” you lament, your legs shaking, overflowing with some otherworldly pleasure, “I— I’ll never leave.”

Rin keens at your admission, grinding into you as your pussy squeezes around his insatiably hard cock. When he thrusts it just at the right spot, you lose your senses.

“Rin, Rin — I’m — love you— I love you—” you babble incoherently, “Ri—Right there!”

Rin’s eyebrows furrow at your debauched face. You’re so cute. He feels kinda bad that he broke you this soon, but when your cunt clamps around him like the most sinful vice — he doesn’t feel that bad anymore. He’ll be whatever you want him to be — but he really wants you to be like this for him right now.

“Yeah, baby? Gonna — shit — gonna come for me?” His sweat drips down onto you, and his voice sounds ruined — nothing like his usual self. You nod feverishly, wrapping your arms around his shoulders for dear life.

“I— I’m close, too.” Rin pants.

When he starts to increase the speed of his movements, you wail. You come around him with his name on your tongue for the second time, twitching from overstimulation. He comes inside you with a small curse and a bite at your neck. His cum is warm inside you, familiar. You yelp as it continues to pump his seed inside you. Rin gently brings you back down, brushing your hair and cheekbones with a calloused hand. You groan into his mouth when he kisses you.

Rin stays inside you, because he wants to. You let him, because you want to be close to him. He turns to lay on his back with a grunt, pulling you on top of him. You nuzzle yourself into his bare chest, fingers playing with the silver chain he has of your initials.

After a while, you smile up at him. He looks down at you, still in a haze.

“The driver was watching you,” you whisper shyly to him, recalling how you had made eye contact with the driver in the rear view mirror while Rin was gnawing at your neck like an insane person, “felt so embarrassing, Rin.”

He caresses your cheek with his thumb, playing with the head of your hair with his other.

“You love me,” He states, a fact.

You slap his chest gently. He only glowers at you.

You look up at him with a beautiful smile. His chest contracts. You kiss his chest. “I do,” you murmur, drawing little hearts into his skin. “I love you so much.”

Rin stares at you. He might die. Instead he gets hard. You feel him, and glare. He only laughs, and flips you back around. You yelp, and giggle into another messy kiss.

Rin doesn’t need to tell you he loves you. You just know. You know from each kiss, each bite, and each caress. It is why Rin loves you, because you know, and you love him regardless.

[desolateddreamur]

Paper Trail

Kyle x Poet!Reader

Story: Being too shy to confess face to face, you decide to give Kyle a challenge to figure it out himself.

Gender neutral reader!

Requested? No!

TW: Cartman.

Note: P2 anyone?

•

•

•

•

•

•

•

He sighed loosely, sulking off to his locker. Valentine's day was coming up and everyone had someone to celebrate it with... But not Kyle. Not poor, sweet Kyle.

Three days til... He thought glumly, opening his locker. To his surprise, a piece of paper fluttered out. He grasped it quickly, desperately, even, to read it.

Hope you don't mind,

I want to be your valentine.

Each day brings a poem,

Each day gives a hint,

Find me out early and you might earn a kiss!

Three days' all you have,

Now here comes the hint!

You know who I am,

Just as much as I know you.

Maybe ask a friend or two,

Like someone in a hat that's red and blue.

Xx,

Your secret admirer

Kyle felt his heart soar abruptly, reading the note over and over. He slammed his locker shut and leaned his back to it, note pressed to his chest.

So the hint was with Stan, huh? He thought excitedly. This was it! He would get a Valentine! He dashed off to the lunch table his clique shared to talk about it.

Quickly grabbing lunch from the line, he slid into his seat and spoke quickly, "Stan! I got a Valentine's poem in my locker and it says you have a hint on who wrote it!"

Stan, who was sipping his milk, choked on it at the statement and shot milk out of his nose. Kenny instantly burst out laughing. When the coughing fit ended and the ravenette settled back down, he glared over.

"Yeah, I do. But next time wait til I'm not drinking something?!"

"I neeeed that hint, though! I have until Valentine's day to find out who it is!" Kyle brought up, shovelling a spoonful of corn into his mouth.

"Yeah, yeah, here you go..."

Stan scoffed and recited what he was told.

"We share our pottery class."

"Pottery class?" He remained puzzled, but kept it in mind for the rest of the day.

"Hah! Some fucking sissy in a pottery class likes Kahl!" Cartman wheezed, "Probably a dumb trick to make fun of him being a lonely jew!"

"Shut up, fatboy! At least I have a valentine!" He sneers back.

"AYE!"

So lunch came and went, the poem still on his mind day in and day out. In pottery class, he eyed around at every person there. He had to weed out just who exactly wrote that poem!

He knew it couldn't be anyone he didn't know, so a majority of the class was off the table. He couldn't recognize the handwriting either so it can't be any of the guys there.

The day ended and like in school, the romantic words written just for him were locked in his brain all afternoon and far into the night.

Morning of the next day came and he rushed to his locker for the next note. Sure enough, it was there!

Two days to go,

You should find your flow,

Like the way your curls dance in the wind.

Never in my life, would I give such advice,

To a boy that's as charming as you.

So get hint number two,

That's all I ask of you!

Find what you can,

Piece by piece, that's my plan.

Ike should know the next hint.

The kid has lots of wit.

Xx,

Your secret admirer

Kyle chewed at his lip and looked over a paper where he had written the names of his pottery classmates. Who does he know that knows Ike and shares a pottery class with him? He narrowed down more people by crossing our more names.

He groaned and set his head on his desk. The others looked at him sympathetically (except for Cartman, who started laughing his ass off.)

You give a slight smile to Kyle and his struggle, shaking your head and slipping out of the doorway unnoticed...

.

.

.

.

.

.

The day came and the final poem was received...

The final day's come.

Hope you found my game fun.

I saw the frustration that was on your face...

But now it's time to show my shape.

Go to locker 3.2.5,

Place a note with my name inside.

At 4:23, head down Cherry Street,

Turn the corner and me you shall meet.

His breath shuddered as he slid the paper into the designated locker and left to start his school down, a determined smile on his face. He hoped he got it right... He spent so long trying to figure it out.

.

.

.

.

.

You paced around the corner. It was 4:18 and he was nearly there, you presumed. You gripped the paper from the locker that has your name on it. He got it right... And that was about to be proven to him.

.

.

.

.

.

Kyle took a deep breath. 4:22, and he rounded the corner.

.

.

.

.

"H-Hi, Kyle..."

[aria-ashryver]

Meet my OC - Viktor Ivanov

Name: Viktor Ivanov Book: Immortal Desires Orientation: Bisexual Pronouns: He/him Birthday: 12th October 1997 Sign: Libra Born: Dunedin, New Zealand Raised: Sydney, Australia, and Inverness, Scotland (with some short stints in both NZ and Croatia) Heritage: Croat

More under the cut! 🖤✨

Family

Henrik Ivanov (younger brother) Mother (name tbd) Father (name tbd)

Viktor’s closest family member is his younger brother Henrik (Henri, as a diminutive), who is eight. Henri attends boarding school, so they do not see each other much, but Henri idolises his big brother and Viktor would do anything to keep Henri from being hurt. He believes his parents treat Henri as the “do-over” child, and that they think Viktor “lacks ambition” and “refuses to take anything seriously”. There is a lot of pressure on Henri to perform well academically and to follow in his father’s footsteps, career-wise.

Viktor’s father’s career remains something of a mystery to him — he knows it is a somewhat high-ranking governmental position that requires him to travel a lot, so his father is only home for short stints every few months. When he was around 12 or 13, Viktor decided he would ask his dad outright what his job actually was the next time he showed an interest in one of Viktor’s hobbies or interests.

To this day, Viktor has no idea what his father does for a living.

His mother is a stay-at-home housewife. She is the family member Viktor sees the most often, and also the one he has the worst relationship with.

Skills / Hobbies

Sketching, painting, singing — frontman and founder of grunge/rock band Your Bisexual Awakening. Also plays bass

YBA cycles through names often, all of which have a story attached. They choose a new name via the following system: if a band member says something stupid or memorable in conversation, and two or more members simultaneously say "band name", they must change it to whatever was just said. I.e.

Cal: seriously, guys? again? Ava: my bad. Angel's refractory period is more like a Refractory Comma Angel, Viktor, and Luca, simultaneously: band name Ava: aw, fuck.

Random Trivia

Moved a lot as a child — growing up jumping between Scotland, Australia, New Zealand, and Croatia has left Viktor with the weirdest accent. Its mostly Scottish... ish? Kinda?

Enjoys anime — once described watching Tokyo Ghoul as the purest spiritual experience of his life (and then sulked inconsolably for a week when he found out the final season was copaganda)

Scared of dogs (was bitten when he was younger)

Loves having his photo taken, but also can’t look at photos of himself sometimes, because they often bring on depersonalisation episodes

Huge collection of slogan t-shirts he crops and alters himself.

Can do overtone / polyphonic singing (but not well)

When he shared a dorm room with Luca at Avalon, for a while his alarm was this Marc Rebillet song (until Luca threatened to beat him to death with a pair of socks unless he changed it)

Has a crush on Kylo Ren

Is deeply ashamed of his crush on Kylo Ren

Favourite movie is Sucker Punch (will rant AT LENGTH about how people completely miss the feminist read)

His fashion sense is varied and questionable. One day he’ll be in gritty, black techwear, the next he’s full flower-boy poet. Then he’ll be Grandma-chic, and the next day he might be wearing a three-piece suit patterned exclusively with cobs of corn.

He does really love garments that drape and flow, though, and is a bit of a sucker for glitter and fun textures. No matter how loud, he somehow manages to always wear the outfits, and not have them wear him.

Viktor’s goals are informed by an odd mix of wanting a sense of agency and independence, while also just wanting to be taken care of and not have to think

Pathetic Babygirl of All Time

Personal Life

cw!! for talk around mental illness, suicide, and substance abuse

Viktor’s childhood was extremely difficult in that his mother simply does not believe that mental illnesses and neurologic disorders are legitimate conditions, and denies that Viktor’s many conditions are real. She believes he is making everything up for attention. Viktor has had this rhetoric drilled into him since childhood — there is nothing wrong with him, he’s just weak, lazy, a failure, a troubled child.

As such, he has never been diagnosed with anything on record.

He is quite mistrustful of authority figures as a result of his upbringing.

The first real, healthy parental influence in his life was Terri O’Rinn. She was the one to refer Viktor to a specialist doctor — she called in a favour from a friend/colleague, who was able to confirm Viktor’s diagnosis of mild to moderate Tourette Syndrome. This diagnosis remains strictly off-record. He primarily has motor tics, but he does have some verbal ones too — many of his tics are indistinguishable from the way he carries himself and his usual, somewhat eccentric mannerisms of speaking and moving.

Viktor also suffers from depression and generalised anxiety disorder. Luca has “diagnosed” him with “ADHD by peer review.” Viktor also deals with frequent bouts of passive suicidal ideation. Luca has had to talk him down on two separate occasions when he has threatened attempts. He has attempted once, on his own, and has never told anyone about it. Viktor loves Luca like a brother, as they do him, and their bond is fundamentally unshakeable.

Viktor fell into performing initially as a means to cope with his Tourettes — music helps to help him feel in control of his symptoms, so he can often be found singing, humming, or whistling to himself as he goes about his business. Alcohol and weed incidentally dial back his premonitory urges as well, allowing him to more easily suppress his tics, so there have been patterns of substance abuse throughout Viktor’s life when he’s been in a bad place mentally.

In classes at school, he was something of the class clown — Viktor quickly realised he liked dictating the kind of attention that was on him (and that he actually really loves attention when its the kind he has sought out himself). So rather than people staring at him because of his tics, he’d rather enrapture them on purpose with beautiful and hypnotic performances. Leaning into his role as the band’s vocalist and frontman did wonders for his self-confidence and overall quality of life.

Also — he’s just really, really, good at singing 🖤🖤🖤

You can find out more about Viktor via my masterlist, or read about him in my longfic, snow in crimson, starlight in gold on AO3! 🖤(direct link, fic is rated Explicit)

tagging: @choicesficwriterscreations