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maxillness · 5 days

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FU In My Head || MV1 x Perez!twin!Reader

Warnings: 18+, age gap, Google translated Spanish, yearning, oral (m)

Wordcount: 1.4k

He knew it was wrong. He knew he had to stop, but god did it feel so good

Imagining her body while her jerks off, was the worst sin he’s done to date

Imagining it was her hands on his cock on his own

Imagining her mouth on his cock as he comes

Imagine getting fucked by her as he laid in his bed, coming down from his orgasm

It didn’t help she showed up at the garage or motorhome, he couldn’t exactly tell her to leave, he couldn’t actually tell her anything, as he would stutter rapidly every time he caught her scent in his nose

“Good job, Max” She said, coming up behind him, touching his waist softly, making him turn his head towards her

“Thank you” Even just the two words he couldn’t get out, stuttering too much

“You seen my brother?” She leaned her head closer to his ear, the talk of engineers and mechanics filling the motorhome

“He’s in his drivers room” Surprisingly he could get his words out in an understandable voice

“Thank you” She let go of his waist, walking towards Checo’s drivers room

“¿Alguna vez vas a hacer un movimiento?” Are you ever going to make a move?. She slid down the wall of the drivers room as Checo spoke to her in that loving brother tone

“No pienso” I don’t think so. She said taking a sip of the water bottle he had given her

“¿Por qué no? Obviamente le gustas” Why not? He obviously likes you. He sat down on the couch opposite to her, leaning back

“Lo sé, pero quiero ver cuánto tiempo le toma a él mismo hacer el movimiento” I know, but I want to see how long it takes for him to make the move himself. She sighed, putting her head against the wall

“Eso nunca va a pasar y lo sabes” That’s never going to happen, and you know it. He said, chuckling, almost laughing

“Si quiere meteres en mis pantalones, tiene que decirlo él mismo” If he wants to get in my pants, he has to say it himself. She said smiling, sliding her legs up to her chest

“Eres algo tuya” You’re something of yours. She didn’t listen to his comment when she heard small whines from the other side of the door

She knitted her eyebrows together as she listen “Please. Fuck, yes” Followed by a small moan

“¿Qué?” What?. He asked, seeing at her confused eyes

“Nada” Nothing. She looked back up at him, picking another subject to talk about than the previous

She tried focusing on the conversation with her brother, but she could still hear into the room behind her

“Please, fuck. Yes, just like that. Y/N…” The moan that came from his lips indicated he came with her name rolling off his tongue

“¿Quieres que te lleve de regreso al hotel?” Do you want me to take you back to the hotel?. He asked standing up from the couch

“No gracias, primero necesito hacer algo” No thank you, I need to do something first. She said, standing up as well, groaning slightly at the pain in her lower back

She waited until Checo had left before she knocked on Max’ door to his drivers room

He opened the door, his face turning all shades of pink as he saw her standing there with a slight smirk on her lips

“Can I come in?” She asked, thickening her accent purposely, watching the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he sank

“S-sure” He said, opening the door wider for her to enter

“Did you have a good wank?” She asked, sitting on the small table in the room, watching the way the blush turned deeper

“Did you hear that?” He asked, almost impossible to hear his words

“All of it, darling” She smiled, crossing her ankles, pushing her chest out, looking at him with eyes filled with filth

“All of it?” His eyes looked into his shoes, hands into his pockets of his jeans

“Get over here, amar” She said, spreading her legs, giving him space to stand in between them

She slowly walked over to her, never once looking up at her. She hooked her finger under his chin, forcing him to look up at her

“If you wanna get in my pants, tell me” His hands was placed on either sides of her thighs, too close for him to think straight

“What?” His words were stuck in his throat, hurting to get out

“Tell me. Tell what you’re thinking about when you’re alone” Her hands was placed on his waist, pulling him closer, lips almost making contact

“I won’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me what you need” She said when he didn’t speak

She leaned in, lips so close of any of them spoke, their lips would graze each other

“Please… I want you so bad. Thinking about you every time I’m alone” He almost let out a whimper when their lips touched

“Good boy” She leaned in, their lips colliding.

He kissed back immediately. Her hands went to his jaw, pulling him into a rougher kiss, his own hands coming to rest on her waist

She forced his lips apart with her tongue, making him gasp slightly. He whimpered at the feeling of her tongue against the walls of his cheeks

Her hands traveled from his jaw, down his torso and landed under his shirt, making him shiver at her cold fingers

They only parted when she pulled his shirt over his head, throwing it at the ground

She went back to kissing him, but this time at his neck, drawing on low moans from him

“I-i can’t keep- Shit… Quiet” He let out a quite louder moan when she started sucking at his skin softly, making him cover his mouth with his hand

“You fucking better” She got off the table, grabbing his wrist, taking his hand away from his mouth “I don’t know how many people are left” She smiled, guiding him back towards the couch

“Sit” She forced him down on the couch, drawing out a huff from him “Buen chico” Good boy. She said, going down on her knees in front of him

He held his breath as she unbuckled his belt, looking up at him through hooded eyes, pure lust in her eyes

He lifted his hips so she could pull down his jeans, his boxers as well, helping him step out of them, throwing them with his shirt

“Tan bonito” So pretty. She said, kissing his inner thighs, making him spread his legs apart, giving her access to scoot in between them

“Please” He pleaded as she grabbed his hips, pulled him closer to the edge, her face just in front his rock hard cock

“Patience, chico” He whined, but it was soon replaced with a moan when she softly licked the tip of his cock “Quiet” She said, voice stern

“Jus’ feels so good” He grabbed the edge of the couch, knuckles turning white from the force as she drove back to lick softly at him

Her nails was digging hardly into his skin, surly making marks for him to see tomorrow, for him to feel tomorrow

He tried keeping his hips still, but he felt the need to buck them once her tongue started swirling around his tip

“Please… Stop teasing” His eyes was shut closed, mouth hanging silently open, head thrown into the back of the couch

She gave in, hollowing her cheeks, taking all of him in, making him hit the back of her throat, gaging around him

He shivered at the vibrations, feeling the pleasure in all of his body. The moan he tried to hold in, came out as a whimper instead

“Please… Feels s’ good” His thighs shook, almost trapping her body between them

She sped up, holding her hair away from her face with one of her hands, the other still roughly around his hip

“Fuck, please… Y/N, please” His words were breathless as he started twitching in her mouth

“‘M close” He managed to keep his sounds at bay, only letting out small whines

Her tongue dragged up his vain as she went up, which pulled him over the edge, whole body shaking as he shot his cum down her throat, barely able to contain his moans

She helped him down from his orgasm before popping off him, swallowing his cum and standing up

“Are you okay, cariño?” She asked, kissing his forehead, the sweat covering her lips

“Mhm. Fine” He opened his eyes, taking her hands and kissing the back of them “Thank you”

“Anytime, bebé” She smiled, helping him getting his clothes back on

#Spotify #smut #formula one #dom!reader #Max Verstappen #max verstappen smut #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x reader smut #sub!max verstappen

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f1version · 9 months

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EL DIECIOCHO ★ CL16

pairing: charles leclerc x chilean! gf! reader ( she/her )

summary: You take Charles to Chile, your home country, and teach him a couple of things during national parties. Charles fits perfectly, or tries!

or this request

note: first of all, let’s just pretend that there’s no race week before or after september 18th. second, happy days to my chileans, i wish i was there drowning in terremotos <;/3

must know: september 18 in chile is a date of great national significance. the dates usually called “las fiestas patrias” or “el dieciocho” which translates to “the national parties” and “the eighteen”. they commemorate the beginning of the country's independence process and are celebrated with enthusiasm and joy throughout the territory !!

AMAR X100PRE series

yourusername’s insta story

*happy 18th my loves

yourusername’s insta story

charles_leclerc’s insta story

yourusername’s insta story

*llegó el momento: the moment has arrived

yourusername

Liked by charles_leclerc, joris__trouche and 23,837 others

yourusername Happy chilean 4th of July! 🇨🇱🥂

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charles_leclerc tu vu @joris__trouche? je suis un bon photographe!! (see? I’m such a good photographer!!)

joris__trouche Et pourtant tu m'utiliser comme tien 🙄 (and yet you use me as yours)

charles_leclerc Parce que je ne peux pas le faire moi-même! (because I can’t do it myself!)

joris__trouche 🙄🙄🙄

yourusername Girls girls you’re both pretty can we go now?

owardlerc not the megamind reference 😭😭

yourbestfriend Una vez al años nos volvemos yankees disfrazados 💔 (once a year we become americans in disguise)

yourusername REAL LOCO JAJAJA

yourusername’s insta story

charles_leclerc’s insta story

yourusername’s insta story

charles_leclerc

Liked by yourusername, joris__trouche and 982,736 others

charles_leclerc I understand Chile’s spanish now! 😘🇨🇱

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yourusername “chile’s spanish” sure babe

charles_leclerc la conchatumadre!

yourusername JAJAJJAJA

carlossainz55 No you don’t mate 😂

charles_leclerc I do! I’ll show you next week!

forzalecl3rc Ok but did you like terremotos???

charles_leclerc Loved it!

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sensei-venus · 9 months

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Jaime Reyes x Chubby!Reader: Thighs for Days~

(Unedited) (Thigh Fucking) ( @gemini-sensei )

Jaime doesn't really knows what takes over him as he kneels behind Reader. His calves burn a little as he sits on his hunches over her.

His breathing gets heavy as he pushes himself over her. Their naked skin rubs together so deliciously, it has him whimpering. He can't help but be loud as the soft skin of her back rubs up against her chest. Eyes rolling at the feeling of her body against his.

Just an hour ago they were having dinner with his family. Laughing and talking about their week at work and school. They joked about what they should do that weekend.

Then thirsty minutes later he was making out with Reader up against the brick wall outside her apartment. She did her best to not make a sound as they made out so publicly. The street lights were just starting to come on in the complex parking lot.

She whinned into his mouth as he ran a hand over her thick thigh. His fingers digging into the fabric that left him unable to grab at the fat of her juicy legs. His dick screamed to be let out at that point. It rubbed at her leg as he almost humped her in the door way.

Now he was trying his best not to busy right then and there.

He wondered what her fat ass would look like covred with a hot load of his cum. He wonders what it would look like in the barely lit bedroom. They were both to ocupided with each other to flip more then Reader’s bathroom light on. It was an accident, his hand reached for the bedroom light but accidentally caught the bathroom switch when reaching out. Now only a small stream of light from the cracked door lit her room.

“Let me use your thighs! Please amar please.”

His voice was strained as he tried his best not to rut against her naked ass. The thickness of it against his throbbing cock only spared him on. Urging him to keep going and milk out a nice orgasm. One he needed so badly at that very moment. That's all his poor brain could think about.

“Fuck Jamie yes!! Fuck my thighs baby!” Reader moaned into her pillow at the feeling of his dick against her. Her thighs squeeze together as she shakes her hips at him. Her ass drawing up and back to urge him on. Trying to get him to push into her soft skin. Her eyes roll back as she feels him squeeze himself tighter to her. Sucking in a sharp breath he moves against her once again.

He jerks himself in his hand before lining his dick up with her tight thighs. Leaving him no real opening she pushes into the tight crook of her thighs. He moans as he pushes through the tight little hole between her thighs. The lack of a thigh gap does amazing things to his thick cock. His hands grip at her rolls, squeezing her fat sides. She shivers at the feeling if being pushed down into her own mattress.

He's quick to pick up a fast and heavy pace. Thrusting as fast as he can between her thighs. His balls slap loudly in the silent room and echo around them. Soon enough the whole room is full of their sounds. Moans and groans fill the atmosphere of the room and send shock waves through both of them. Reader can't hold back her own sounds when her boyfriend reaches around under her. Starting to play with her folds and pinching at her clit.

Using his own wetness and his precum he made little circles. Tiny figure eights that made her start to see stars behind her eyelids. Her lids fluttered as she shoved her face into the pillows below her. It was almost as if he knew every trick in the book to make her explode.

“Oh amar your so good for me. Letting me use those pretty thighs. Letting me get off to such a simple but so pretty part of your body.” his voice was horse in her ear. Hot breath fanning over her earlobe. She squealed, trying to bite her lip to keep quiet.

Jaime’s pace didn't let up as he worked harder to get himself off. The sticky sound of his cum lubing up Reader's thighs filled his head. It was nasty and raw. So gross and lewd, he had only dreamed of making such obscure notices with his chubby little girlfriend before all this. Being in this moment was a whole new thing. He no longer had to imagine it as it was right there in front of him.

Fat little ass high in the air, his hot dick shoved between fatty thighs covered in his own cum. Warm drooling pussy leaking all over him with every little move he made.

He was in heaven.

Between his girls thighs with his dick out.

Sadly it was over faster then he wanted it to be. He just couldn't take the fact that it was all so very real.

With just a few more heavy thrusts he had no other option but to let go. His eyes teared with pleasure as his hips started to stall. Heavy balls clenched and drew up with two last hard thrusts. With only a split second to think he quickly popped out from between her thighs. Rubbing his cum covered dick over her ass cheeks. Moments later he groans as he busts.

Thick cum shoots out in thick ropes along his girlfriend's ass and back. It pools on her ass and spills down her ass crack. It starts to drip down to her back and leaves a watery trail. A second later he speeds up his fingers in hopes of finding some kind of ground. His whole body shaking as his orgasm runs though his veins.

His fingers speed up and soon Reader is screaming out. Her hips jerking and her legs shaking. He feels her thighs lock before he feels her juices coating his fingers. He brings her though the harsh aftershock. Her cum squirts out along his thin fingers. He stops messing with her clit and plays with her folds.

Their sopping wet, he knows she's put a wet spot in the sheets below them.

He smirks at the scene below him.

#blue beetle headcanons #blue beetle x reader #blue beetle movie #blue beetle #jaime reyes headcanons #jaime reyes x reader #jaime reyes x chubby reader #jaime rayes #dc comics x reader #dc universe #dca fandom #smut #blue beetle smut #chubby!reader #chubby reader

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glittering-moonlillie · 1 year

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My Beloved (Damian Wayne x Reader)

Word Count: 2740

Warnings: None

Summary: Not knowing how to express his feelings any other way, Damian resorts to calling you pet names in his mother's tongue in order to air out his pent up affection.

“Habibti, can you hand me the yellow frosting?” Damian was in deep trouble - absolutely terrible, hideous trouble.

“Of course!” You reached over to your left and handed him the buttercream, the arabic pet name flying over your head.

In his language, Habibti was a sign of endearment given to your lover, usually meaning something along the lines of My Love or Darling - but to you, he was utterly convinced that you believed it was a form of belittlement similar to Idiot.

Of course, Damian was too afraid to correct you and he was not sure if you would believe him if he tried. He would rather keep it a sweet secret to himself, even if his fragile heart was practically leaping its way out of his rib cage to expose itself to you.

“You know, if you want to call me something mean at least make it so I can understand you.” You laughed, a noise that would certainly haunt him late at night when he was alone and longed for your presence.

“But it’s much more fun seeing you like this.” You scruched your nose, your forehead creasing with the movement. Your lips were parted but no words came out. It was an adorable look he had grown to love despite how dorky you appeared.

You retaliated with a poorly placed handful of orange frosting along his cheek, your lips twisting into a pout that only served to make the fantasies of kissing you worsen.

Orange was an obnoxiously disgusting color but he would bathe in a lazarus pit full of orange frosting if you wished it.

He ran his thumb along his cheek and licked away whatever frosting was there. Alfred’s special buttercream frosting really was to die for. Damian enjoyed the way your eyes slightly widened, relishing in the fact that it wouldn’t have been noticeable to anyone else. He liked to think that the scarlet decorating your face was because of him being undoubtedly sexy, and not the fact that it was because it was a hot summer’s day.

“You’re staring, ya amar.” He smirked. “And I believe that cookie has way too much frosting, it looks like Picaso threw up all over it.”

Ya Amar had to be Damian’s second favorite pet name for you, translating to my moon. He often recalled the way his mother praised the moon for its beauty, treating it similar to a guiding life force. More than anything, Damian wanted to be the sun that illuminated your countenance - to be the man who kept you steady and loved you even if you just saw yourself as a clumpy rock. The name suited you perfectly. You were his beautiful, crated moon with star imbued eyes and a body that reflected the power of an inescapable black hole.

“Hey, are those cookies almost finished? B wants them set out within the hour-” Tim walked in, his under eye bags accentuated further with the distasteful dark blue sweater he threw on.

His brother paused, rolling his eyes at the state of the dining table. Damian hoped that the kitchen disaster was enough of a distraction for him not to notice the lovey-dovey eyes he assuredly was giving his best friend.

“We’ll clean it up, Tim. Sorry about that.” You replied quickly. “But most of the cookies are done, Damian still has a few to finish though.”

You nudged him with your elbow, grinning wildly like the Cheshire cat.

“Just don’t get distracted flirting with each other, I don’t want to deal with an irritated Bruce.”

“Shut up, Timothy. At least we aren’t aggressively making out like how you and Conner were at the last gala.” Damian shot back.

Tim frowned. “I’m too tired to deal with this. Try not to explode anything, okay?”

Damian waved off his brother and went back to decorating one of the cookies for the large event at Wayne Manor tonight. It was a charity event to raise awareness of the increase in homeless population on the streets of Gotham, and alongside the event, his family was hosting a soup kitchen for any struggling person on the streets. Along with a hearty, full course meal, they would be served one of the cookies being decorated by the two of you.

Although Damian’s father normally did not allow any friend’s to charity events, you were always an exception due to the fact that if you weren’t there, Damian would blow a gasket and murder someone if he was in a suit for too long. Your presence beside Damian was often looked over when you were both younger, but now that a few years had gone by plenty of journalists speculated the possibility of “a secret blooming relationship.”

The common theory circulating around Gotham was the idea that his father was disapproving of them being together since you were a “commoner,” therefore excusing the lack of concrete evidence of the relationship existing. Damian had found the notion completely ridiculous; even if his father disapproved of you in that context, that would not stop him from loving you the way he always dreamed, consequences be damned.

You treated the whole situation with carefree ease, giggling at the awful pictures and wack job theories concocted by 40 year old men looking to sell half-baked news. On one hand, Damian was pleased that the unwanted attention did not bother you, but deep down he also felt a pang of poison seep its way into his bloodstream. Was the idea of being his lover that much of a joke?

The clicking of a phone keyboard brought him back to reality. Damian peered over your shoulder and saw Safari pulled up.

“What ever are you doing, habibti?”

“I’m trying to decipher what you are calling me.” You said. “Can you repeat that last word for me, please?”

The youngest Wayne felt every single pour in his body drip in sweat, excess saliva pooling in his mouth. Perhaps if his blood was functioning properly, then he would have found a better response other than a simple no.

It was very rare for Damian to be properly caught off guard. He should have thought that you would have looked up the words he was repeating, should have come up with a game plan instead of looking like a strangled goose.

His first instinct was to snatch the phone away and cut it up with the plastic, buttercream decorated knife. Damian could pretend to be possessed by a ghost and buy you a better phone with specially installed programs that inhibited your ability to look up any Arabic term. Yes, that was a wonderful idea-

“How are there zero search results?!!” You exclaimed, turning to him. “Did you make up a language or something? Why are there absolutely zero results??”

Damian looked at your phone again. You certainly took some liberties with the spelling of the pet name, letting him relax into his seat. It was nowhere close to how the word was spelled. He couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Why are there two y’s in the word?”

Your cheeks flushed. “Well maybe if you told me the other 20 languages you spoke I’d get somewhere.”

For the next 15 minutes, you angrily punched in 17 different ways to spell Habibti, all massively incorrect and leading to nowhere. You eventually threw your phone on the ground with a huff while he cackled.

“This is so unfair. I demand restitution for the amount of time I have lost thanks to you.” Damian hummed.

“I can’t give you back those missing minutes, but I can pay you back with your favorite meal and my full attention tonight.”

You pretended to ponder over the offer, but Damian knew you could not say no to Alfred’s cooking. “Okay, fine. But only because I love Alfred’s food and nothing else.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The moon peered over the horizon, the stars twinkling like falling fairy dust on a navy blue canvas. Hundreds of Gotham’s richest filled Wayne Manor, most of which were dressed with gaudy colors and bedazzlements, with feathers and overpriced jewels.

Damian was dressed in a dark green suit, one that Alfred had picked a little while ago. He was fully aware of the lustful stares he was given by the woman (and some of the men) there but he could care less. There was only one person he cared about impressing and that said person was “discreetly” stuffing themselves with a plate full of food in the corner.

As an attendant of the Gala, you were in a stunning dress that fit every single curve of your body marvelously, all courtesy to Stephanie who helped you pick out the dress to begin with. Heat rose to his cheeks and he began fumbling with his tie.

Damian was not the only one there to notice your beauty either. As you were trying to polish off your plate of food, several men had made attempts to woo you onto the dancefloor. Thankfully you declined all of their advances - Damian was not sure what he would have felt if you did. If it weren’t for the hundreds of other people present, he would have unquestionably sliced off the suitors hands if they tried to touch you again.

“Ya Helo, you look…” His throat clogged as you stared up at him. “You look stunning…”

Damian was convinced that your smile was the brightest thing in the universe; he was also sure that it could cure any bout of irritation or sadness possible.

“About time you showed up! Are you done flirting with the 70 year old women yet or does your dad want you back in there?” You poked his chest, the touch feeling like an electrical transfer.

“You know that I would never flirt with those women back there, Habibti. My dad just wanted me to manipulate them into giving more of their money to charity.”

Before you could pull your hand away, he clasped it and brought it closer to his heartbeat. Your hands were a pebble compared to his own and yet they still managed to fit perfectly together like Incan architecture.

“I-I…” You looked away with a crooked smile. “I know that, obviously. I just wanted to tease you a bit!”

When you turned towards him once more, he noticed the way your eyes trailed down his visage, strawberry lips parting ever so slightly. Your laughter died in your throat. The scene felt like the ridiculous romcoms he analyzed from time to time while you were over. All he had to do was lean in a little bit closer and his dreams would be fulfilled-

The tight grip of someone’s hand seized his arm, effectively pulling him away from his darling. The movement caught Damian off guard (the second time that day). There was only a select handful of people who were able to sneak up on him like that…

“Mother.” Damian seethed, turning to gaze upon the woman with a cold glare. “What are you doing here?”

Fitted for the occasion in a sleek black dress, Talia crossed her arms and matched her son’s glare. “Is a mother not allowed to visit her son, especially when he has not messaged her in months?”

Damian stood in front of you, his hands slightly raised in case Talia decided to activate her mother bear mode. Talia’s eyes furrowed, her lip pursing.

“How about you and your little friend follow me upstairs. You can tell me all about how you two met.” She suggested but her voice made it sound more like a threat.

Damian hated how your smile disappeared and was replaced with an apprehensive grimace. He reached for your hand and squeezed.

“Dami…”

“It’ll be alright habib albi…” He whispered, squeezing your hand once again. As the three of them climbed up the stairs, the soft tune of the violin faded into nothing, not even background noise.

“Mother, I find this hardly necessary. Could you have interfered in my life some other day?” Damian groaned.

“Of course not, my son.” Talia shut the door of the room they entered. “If I had, I wouldn’t have been able to meet the girl who stole my beloved’s heart.”

Damian’s heart dropped. “I- what?”

“Y-you must be mistaken. Damian and I…Damian doesn’t like me like that!” You stuttered out with nervous laughter.

Talia raised a single eyebrow. “I find that extremely hard to believe considering what I heard him call you.”

Fuck. Damian mentally slapped himself. He should have known that his mother would have heard him call you that. The pet name was just so natural to him, slipping off his tongue like sweet honey, he forgot that his mother would have been able to understand.

You tilted your head towards Damian then back to Talia, reflexively playing with your hair. “I…maybe you misheard? He calls me these made up names, they really have no meaning.”

“Wait, so he has not told you what they meant?”

“No, he refused to tell me and when I looked it up, there were no search results.” You said.

“Mother, please-”

Talia raised her hand to silence him. “I can’t believe you have been lying to her, Damian! I have raised you better than that. She deserves to know that you are calling her Love of my heart and Darling in Arabic!”

You snapped your head towards Damian, who was internally screaming a colorful variety of cuss words towards his mother. He expected you to look horrified and slap him away, to run for the hills and never speak to him again.

Instead you had this beautiful awestruck look in your galaxy-filled eyes. Your face was a deep crimson.

“Dami…” You hesitated. “Is this true?”

The hopeful tone in your voice was as intoxicating as a few shots of bourbon.

Damian imagined that the day he confessed to you would be atop a starry hill with perfectly blooming jasmines and evening primroses. He would pull you into his arms and whisper his love for you when the moon was at its peak, ending it with a kiss if you let him. It would have been perfect, if fate allowed it to be.

However, there were no starry hilltops or sweetly smelling fragrances - no moon that would peer over them and give its blessing. But you were there with him, an arm's reach away. As long as you were there, wasn't that all that mattered?

Damian glared at his mother, who was in the background with a smug smile, pretending to not overhear the conversation. When she didn’t get the message, he cleared his throat as loud as he could.

“Fine. I suppose I’ll leave you to it - but I expect you to message me afterward since I did the hard work for you.” Talia sauntered her way out of the room, leaving you and Damian alone.

“You didn’t answer my question, Dami…” You glanced up at him with a shy smile. “Were you really secretly giving me pet names in Arabic?”

Reaching for your hands, Damian pulled you close to create a few inch gap. “Yeah…I wanted a way to show you how much I…how much I loved you without you figuring out.”

You giggled, the vibrations of it causing his heart to flutter. “You’re a dork, you know that? I would have reciprocated your feelings no matter what, but it would have been nice if you had told me sooner.”

Your finger trailed down his neck to his collarbone, leaving a trail of lightning in its wake. “I demand more restitution for the time lost.”

Damian hummed, pretending to think of the perfect solution despite him already having one. You edged closer to him.

“How about,” he began, “I kiss you until your lips are as blue as this night sky?”

But before you could respond, Damian already brought his lips to yours. The dreams and fantasies he had did not live up to the actual softness of your lips - the subtle taste of raspberries filling his senses.

Your hands tangled into his hair, pulling him impossibly closer. “Shouldn’t we go back to the Gala?”

Damian looked back at the door, contemplating how mad his father would be if he ditched the rest of the party. It was waning closer to midnight anyway and he could just say you were tired.

He turned back to you, his smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “He’ll be fine. Besides, I would rather be with you than flirt with 70 year old women.”

Your attempted giggle was covered with the rougher press of his lips against yours, causing you to fall backwards onto the guest bed. After years of calling you Habibti, now he could finally say it without you thinking it was an insult.

Damian is a simp with huge dimples. Fight me.

#Damian Wayne #Damian Wayne x Reader #Damian Al Ghul #Damian Al Ghul x Reader #Damian Wayne x Y/n #Romance #Damian has dimples!!#DC #Batfam #Fluff #Damian speaking Arabic #Arabic pet names #Bruce Wayne #Batman #Alfred Pennyworth #Tim Drake makes an appearance out of his tomb #Comics

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ruggiezz · 11 months

Text

— TU TANTA FALTA DE QUERER : twisted wonderland

[synopsis] them coping with breaking up with you / angst

[characters] dormleaders (except for vil)

[warnings] mentions of depression symptoms, in basically all of them. wishing to die in a phrase in malleus's part, mentions of food (kalim and idia)

[song] tu falta de querer-mon laferte (i highly recommend listening while reading)

"¿CÓMO FUE, QUE ME DEJASTE DE AMAR?"/"HOW WAS IT, THAT YOU STOPPED LOVING ME?"

Heartslabyul students are worried about RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS now that he broke up with you. You would expect him to be more irritable than usual, taking out his anger in the first years and taking every opportunity he has to collar someone, but he isn't. He looks like an empty shell of who he once was, barely acknowledging other students, only focusing on his schoolwork. He sees how you look at this new guy you surely have something with. Was he better than him? He must make you happier than he ever did, and he wonders what did he do so wrong for you to stop loving him.

He starts overworking himself; it's the only way of coping he knows. He needs to work harder. He can do better. He needs to stop thinking about you and the way you cried after this particular fight you both had before breaking up. But he can't; your choked sobs come back to haunt him every time he's alone, trying to sleep after a hard day of school. Ace and Deuce barely spend time in Heartslabyul now, only going there to sleep and spending all of their time at Ramshackle. Trey is worried about him, seeing his eyebags and the way his eyes no longer sparkle when he eats tarts. Cater tries to make jokes whenever he can to try and earn a laugh from Riddle, but he just walks away, as if no one but him was there. The only thing Riddle can't ignore, no matter how much he works and works, is the way his heart aches.

"díficil olvidarte estando aquí/hard to forget you being here."

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR barely goes out of his room anymore, having Ruggie fetch things for him whenever he needs to. His missed assignments were piling up on his desk, the curtains closed, and his phone on silent. He just lays all day and night on his bed, not even bothering to go to class anymore. He becomes snappy at Jack when he tells him that Trein told him he was going to have to repeat another year if he didn't attend classes, and he becomes irritated when Ruggie tells him that Falena called, asking to speak to him. Leona doesn't want to see anyone; he just wants to be wrapped around his covers, where no one can reach him.

The bed no longer smells of you; it feels empty and wrong to lay there without you, but he continues to do it. He overheard a second year talking about you dating someone new, and if looks could kill, that student would be dead. It's now an unwritten rule not to mention you in the dorm.

Whenever Leona's not sleeping, he's alone with his thoughts. His mind replays your last words to him, telling him it was for the best for both of you, and he asks himself again and again,How did you stop loving him? He can come up with a lot of answers that make his head hurt and his eyes watery, but he decides to sleep, so he can no longer feel.

"ahora dormiré my profundamente para olvidar/now i will sleep very profoundly to forget."

Everybody in Diasomnia notices how MALLEUS DRACONIA is in a worse mood every day that passes. There are storms almost every day, with thunder striking aggressively at everything it can manage to touch. If nobody dared to approach him before, they certainly don't dare even more now, making him even more lonely. He can't stop thinking about you; he misses you so much it hurts. Malleus finds himself out of Ramshackle dorm, staring at your room's window, hoping to catch a glance of you, but he never does. He can only hear your laughter and other guy laughing with you, which sours his mood even more. That night, nobody could sleep because of how strong the thunder was.

Lilia tries to assure the others that Malleus will be alright if they just give him time. Silver doesn't dare enter his room when he hears Malleus breaking things after he comes back from Ramshackle, knowing he is probably going to make him feel worse. And Sebek is distraught, even resenting you for making his young master feel so miserable, cursing your name under his breath, something that was immediately stopped by Lilia because Malleus could hear him.

Malleus wonders if you have cried as much as he has and if you feel this unbearable pain in your chest too. He longs for you, for your presence to soothe him and tell him you never stopped loving him and that it was all a very cruel joke humans made. But that never comes.

"quisiera hasta la muerte para no pensar/i would even like to die to not think."

"YO AÚN PODÍA SOPORTAR, TU TANTA FALTA DE QUERER"/"I COULD STILL ENDURE IT, YOUR SO MUCH LACK OF LOVE"

AZUL ASHENGROTTO hasn't changed on the surface. He keeps his suave, businessman persona with clients, but he's noticeably quieter when alone with the twins. He works even more than before, staying until late at night in his office filling paperwork. Jade occasionally brings him tea, telling him not to stay up late. Floyd is in a sour mood now that Azul doesn't react how he would like to his antics, even missing work doesn't bother him as much as it used to.

No matter how much chaos or disaster the twins cause, Azul just looks the other way. Eventually, they just stop and continue helping him with his next business scheme, even if he doesn't seem as excited as he should be.

When alone in his room, Azul sits on his bed with his face hidden in his hands so that no one can hear his sobs. He feels so small and useless, wanting you to hold him and calm him down. But you aren't there. He is alone. He misses the way you would tell him words so sweet they were dripping with honey. He wonders if they were empty words you just told him to make him feel better. Please come back; he could endure knowing you didn't love him on the condition you wouldn't leave him.

"me siento mutilada y tan pequeña/i feel mutilated and so small."

No one notices any change in KALIM AL-ASIM, except Jamil, who hears him crying in his room at night while everyone is asleep. His smile is still bright as he greets the Scarabia students after a long day, but it no longer feels genuine. The parties in the dorm happen less and less, until they no longer happen.

Kalim feels as if he has withered inside, his heart broken in a thousand pieces. He misses you so badly, he just wants to hug you and tell you how sorry he is for not being enough. Please come back; he could even beg on his knees for you to be with him, even if you lacked the love you once felt for him.

Jamil brings him his breakfast, silently noticing the eyebags on Kalim's face. 'He must not have slept again' he thinks to himself. Kalim notices Jamil staring at him, and he wipes his face with his pajama sleeve. Neither of them say anything, and Jamil leaves him alone with his emotions and his food. He takes a bite out of it, ignoring how tired he feels after staring all night at the last text message you sent him. He wishes to write back and ask you for a second chance, saying he will do anything for you to come back, but he can't bring himself to do it.

"aún te amo y, creo, que hasta más que ayer/i still love you, and i think, even more than yesterday."

IDIA SHROUD isolates himself even more than before, hiding in his room and Ortho has to bring him food so he doesn't starve. Food no longer tastes good; it feels bland, videogames don't feel enjoyable; and no matter how many mangas and animes he watches, the feeling of wanting to cry that's stuck in his throat doesn't go away.

He barely speaks, answering Ortho with monosyllables when asked how he feels today, what he did all day, and where you were. Eventually, Ortho catches up to what happened and tries speaking with you, but Idia stops him. Even if he wants you to tell him why did you left, to yell at him what's wrong with him, to tell him that he was unloveable, to tell him something, something that explained why you didn't love him anymore, he doesn't want to see you. You left him with no explanation of why, only saying it was for the best, and that infuriated him but depressed him at the same time.

Idia wanted you to come back, to sit on his lap while he played a new game that dropped, but you aren't here with him anymore. His room feels colder than usual, with only the light from the screen accompanying him. He cries and cries, begging you in silence to come back, saying that he would cherish you and would be a better boyfriend now. But you won't come back and neither would your love for him, and he finds himself hoping you would stay here with him even if you didn't love him anymore.

"ven y cuéntame la verdad, ten piedad/come and tell me the truth, have mercy."

#riddle x reader #leona x reader #azul x reader #kalim x reader #idia x reader #malleus x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #riddle rosehearts x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #kalim al asim x reader #idia shroud x reader #malleus draconia x reader #twst angst

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matan4il · 5 months

Text

Daily update post:

Over the last couple of days, 3 independent Palestinian terrorist attacks took place. In one of them, Palestinian terrorists killed a Palestinian man that they mistook for a Jew, 33 years old Amar Mansour. A 42 years old Palestinian woman who was in the car with him was wounded. She was evacuated to a hospital in Ramallah, and then later transferred to the Hadassah medical center in Jerusalem, where she works as a pharmacist. Israeli soldiers risk their lives whenever they go after terrorists, and they are doing that for these Palestinians, just as they do for Israeli Jews and for Israeli Arabs murdered by terrorists.

Since Saleh al-Arouri was eliminated in Lebanon, the fighting between Israel and Hezbollah has escalated. The terrorist organization, which is destroying civilian communities, has struck an Israel Air Force base, nicknamed "the country's northern eyes," which is dedicated to monitoring aerial threats invading Israel's north, and monitoring aircrafts in Israel's northern sky (so they're kinda like an air force control tower, making sure aircrafts don't crash). Hezbollah released footage showing 2 of the base's 3 domes being hit. Reports say it took two hours to get the fire under control, and the base back online. It's not the only army base hit by Hezbollah (the Northern Command's base was struck today), but probably the most damaging attack so far.

Following that, a Hezbollah senior terrorist was killed yesterday in Lebanon. In the terrorist organization's announcement, he was described as 'The Commander,' a term not used for any of Hezbollah's other killed terrorists, suggesting just how important he was to their terrorist activity. There's a report on Saudi news, that Hezbollah tried to attack an Israeli natural gas rig using drones, but it's too early to know how true this is.

Here's a conversation made by a Gazan to an IDF officer, to ask for aid. The IDF officer tells the man to raise white flags as they approach Israeli soldiers for this purpose, but then the man inquires when the Israeli army will destroy Hamas. He points out that Hamas is killing Gaza's people.

youtube

As Israel is being sued by South Africa at the International Court for Justice (here), and as SA chose to appoint a judge to the case (in addition to the 15 permanent judges of the ICJ, a right given to both the suing and sued countries in that court), Israel has appointed Aharon Barak as a judge on its behalf. Barak is an 87 years old Holocaust survivor, globally renowned and respected judge and legal expert, and the former president of Israel's Supreme Court of Justice.

Since the anti-Israel crowd love quotes from Israeli officials (and to take them out of context, in a way that vilifies the Jewish state), here's another one (source in Hebrew): Moshe Arbel, an ultra orthodox member of the Knesset (Israel's parliament), and currently Minister of Interior Affairs, has said today explicitly that the status of the Arabic language in Israel must not be harmed, and that despite some populist utterances, most of the public in Israel is looking for that which unites everyone here, rather than that which divides us.

Among the things you never hear about when looking at anti-Israeli sources, is that when Jews build houses illegally, those are demolished by the state, just like when Palestinians do it. This night, Israel did exactly that in Judea and Samaria.

It's the third time, at the very least, that Israel has done so since the start of the war in Gaza.

The families of the hostages have said that today, they'll had for the border with Gaza, to block the way of aid trucks going in from Israel. They are upset that while their family members have been held hostage for over 90 days (when we know that there has been rape and abuse of the hostages in many different ways, when the mothers have started talking about the fact that their daughters might be forced to carry pregnancies from the Hamas terrorists continuously raping them in captivity, when the hostages are known not to be receiving proper medical care or even enough food and water), the aid going into Gaza is being stolen by Hamas, allowing them to continue to fight, and to refuse the release of the hostages. At the time of compiling this post, IDK yet if the families carried this out.

This is 86 years old Shlomo Mansour.

In one of my past daily update posts, I mentioned him, and that he's the oldest hostage in Gaza. He was 85 years old when he was kidnapped. He's also a Holocaust survivor. I watched a touching piece that was aired in Nov about him, interviewing his wife in light of their upcoming 60th anniversary, during which he was still held captive by terrorists. Now it's been translated into English:

youtube

This is 35 years old Idan Amedi.

If you watched Fauda, you may know him from that show as an actor.

If you're Israeli, you probably know him even before that as a singer. I got to watch a vid at a relatively early stage of the fighting in Gaza, where Idan's voice can be heard, dedicating his unit blowing up a terror tunnel, to their friends murdered on Oct 7. I believe many Israelis saw that vid, and knew he was in there, fighting for over 3 months by this point.

Idan was seriously wounded, one of at least 9 Israeli soldiers killed in Gaza yesterday, and at least 6 soldiers injured. His cousin asked everyone to pray for him (Idan ben Tova). Israeli-Serbian basketballer Deni Avdija, who plays for the Washington Wizards, took the court today with a dedication to Idan on his basketball shoes. It says, in Hebrew, "For the healing of Idan son of Tova Amedi."

Maybe Idan's biggest, most well known song is Warriors' Pain (which he wrote himself, lyrics and melody). One of its haunting lines is, "You don't understand why, I have long stopped being myself, images running from that night." I am gonna add the official YT vid of this song, and dedicate it to the memory of all of those who were injured or died fighting the terrorists from Gaza, whether on Oct 7 or since.

youtube

You know what was absolutely abhorrent? I pretty much stopped going on Twitter, because the antisemitism is beyond disgusting. But I had a moment of weakness, went there, and saw a tweet from a British journalist, who couldn't say anything yet, but implied that many Israeli soldiers were killed yesterday, and the amount of commenters basically celebrating it was despicable, but also a reminder... people who care about human rights don't celebrate the death of so many human beings. Every single one of those soldiers is fighting in a war that Israel didn't choose to start, and that Hamas could have ended a long time ago. Not a single one of them would have chosen to be in Gaza and die, if Israelis had a choice. Each one is an entire family destroyed. I was listening to an interview with the best friend of one killed soldier, and she was so clearly devastated, fighting to speak through tears, it was hard to bear so much pain, and she wasn't even a relative or spouse. Those disgusting people who celebrate the death of Israeli soldiers prove that they don't care about human rights, they just rejoice over the death of Jews.

Oh, and a part of why they do that, is because they don't want us talking about our pain. Who would talk about their pain, when it just because a weapon for haters to inflict even more emotional pain? But that's the thing. We're human beings. The antisemitic anti-Israel crowd seeks to de-humanize us in the same way the Nazis did. If we speak about our pain, if people hear us, that is way more threatening to them than any of their distorted facts being called out. So I'm not going to stop talking about our pain, we deserve to share it when we're hurting, we deserve to be seen as the human beings that we are. And people who are so morally lost, that they can try to use it, to inflict more pain? They don't deserve for their words to count.

This is 32 years old Dvir David Pima.

He was a deputy battalion commander, who identified a terror tunnel shaft as booby trapped, but without enough time to stop it from blowing up. He threw himself at it. His body took the blast, and by doing so, he saved the lives of the 3 other soldiers who were there.

May his memory be a blessing.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

#israel #antisemitism #israeli #israel news #israel under attack #israel under fire #israelunderattack #terrorism #anti terrorism #hamas #antisemitic #antisemites #jews #jew #judaism #jumblr #frumblr #jewish #Youtube

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aevallare · 5 months

Text

vow

light plot. heavy smut. mind the warnings. you can read on ao3 here

pairing: ascended astarion/f!tav

word count: 5220

warnings: menstruation kink, throne sex, oral sex, obsession, jealousy, kidnapping, power dynamics, dubious consent, light bondage, inappropriate use of mage hand

preview:

Astarion asks, “Won’t I hurt you?”

His voice. She hadn’t forgotten, really, but melancholy floods her nonetheless. “I don’t know. But I had to make him think that.”

“Devious.” He claps in a mockery of applause. “You’ve made me look a downright fool, darling. Imagine my disappointment when I showed up to that godsforsaken pity party Withers threw and you weren’t even there.”

“I was busy.” She has to keep her answers short. If she gives him an opening, she’ll be lost forever. It’s that simple.

enjoy!!

-------

Auri’s cycle has always been a fickle thing. It’s stabilized some in the months following their defeat of the Elder Brain and as her stress and anxiety have leveled out, but her cycle is still far from predictable.

The twisting pains in her stomach are far from the worst they’ve ever been, but they’re uncomfortable nonetheless, and when she wakes to them and a sealed letter in her pack, she knows today will be strange.

Auri recognizes the author of the letter instantly, though. She’d know Withers’ hand anywhere. Her lips part as she reads.

It’s an invitation. Withers has invited everyone who liberated Baldur’s Gate and, apparently, a few others besides. He’s arranged for Karlach and Wyll to come up out of Avernus and transport for Halsin and Shadowheart from their respective homes. Lae’zel, too, will be in attendance, and Gale is on holiday anyway.

And Astarion, of course, though Withers leaves his name for last. Auri imagines that he’d rankled at the slight of not being asked to host.

When her stomach twists, it isn’t just menstrual pains. She tries not to think about Astarion if she can help it, though it’s much harder when her troupe is in Baldur’s Gate and the Szarr-turned-Ancunín estate looms over her at every turn.

The invitation’s for tomorrow, and Deadwinter is one of the biggest performances of the year. No one would ask any questions if she begged off for the night, but–

“Auri, can I get your help out here?” Amar calls, and Auri blinks.

She stares for a moment longer at the invitation, and then she says, “Yeah. I’ll be right there.”

Auri throws the invitation into the fireplace. The flames lick away at it until Auri could almost forget she ever received it in the first place.

She steps towards Amar’s voice, and as she walks, the burden bears down on her.

When she’d helped Astarion ascend, it had seemed like the right choice for a multitude of reasons.

It would make him stronger, for one, in the fight against the Elder Brain. The odds were already so stacked against them; it made sense to make him the Vampire Ascendant.

He would never fear anything again. That mattered to Auri, and it mattered a lot. She’d known it would change him. She’d known it would ruin whatever love they had. She simply wanted him to feel safe.

And before every other consideration, it was what he wanted. If there was anything that she’d tried to impress on him in the weeks leading up to that moment, it was that what he wanted was important.

But she hadn’t understood. Neither had he. The Astarion she was in love with wouldn’t have wanted to become what he is now, a caricature of a vampire.

Auri doesn’t think that’s what he would have wanted, at least, but it’s been more than a year since she’s spoken to him. It’s been more than a year since she was in Baldur’s Gate at all.

She exhales. They’re here for three days. If Withers somehow comes knocking when she doesn’t attend the party, she’ll say she never saw the invitation at all.

Auri always feels silly at the Deadwinter performance. The outfits show far too much skin for what the weather should allow, but the venue is always artificially warm, so she can’t complain.

She just can’t leave the tent without nearly freezing to death. Auri pulls at the skirt, thankful that she’s at least allowed a semblance of short leggings underneath. If Amar’s to be believed, the outfit is supposed to evoke the idea of a snowflake, though her hair seems at odds with the concept.

Before she steps out on stage to take her usual place at Amar’s side, she exhales.

The others are all together by now. Karlach and Wyll have stepped out of the hells. Gale and Lae’zel have teleported in. Shadowheart and Halsin have no doubt arrived. Did Astarion arrive as a bat? They’ve surely realized that she isn’t coming.

It doesn’t matter. There’s a show to put on.

The smile Auri wears is radiant. It would glint off snow if the tent allowed it entry. When she steps into the light, the crowd is raucous.

They know her, of course. How couldn’t they? She’s the Hero of Baldur’s Gate. There’s a statue of her in the middle of the city.

Auri waves, smile never faltering, and Amar, voice magnified by a spell, says, “And you all know Aurora, I’d imagine! After all, without her, this crowd would look much different!”

He lets out a bellowing guffaw that almost turns the smile on Auri’s face real. Amar’s good at his job. He loves it and it shows.

When he gestures for Auri to take her lyre in hand, she does. This is like breathing. Her head tilts to the side and again, she exhales. Her fingers brush against the strings lightly, and she manages to play precisely one note before she sees the mist.

The lyre falls to the ground. In any other situation, she’d wince at dropping it, but there’s no time.

“You need to get out of here,” she says to Amar. “You need to get everyone out of here.”

But that’s futile. How wouldn’t it be?

Astarion’s the Vampire Ascendant, after all.

When Astarion manifests before her, all air leaves the room. He’s as stunning as ever with his marble skin and ruby eyes, perfectly manicured hair and nails.

And he doesn’t slaughter everyone in attendance, which is thoughtful of him.

Amar hasn’t moved from her side. He knows exactly who Astarion is, and he’s unwilling to leave Auri alone.

“Go,” Auri repeats. “He won’t hurt me.”

Amar swallows hard behind her. Auri herself doesn’t know if she believes that’s true. Regardless, he finally leaves, and the spectators continue filing out as Astarion asks, “Won’t I hurt you?”

His voice. She hadn’t forgotten, really, but melancholy floods her nonetheless. “I don’t know. But I had to make him think that.”

“I was busy.” She has to keep her answers short. If she gives him an opening, she’ll be lost forever. It’s that simple.

Astarion sets his mouth in a line. “Is that so?”

“Yes. Deadwinter is our biggest performance of the year.”

He casts a sarcastic glance around the now-empty room. “You wouldn’t know it from the crowd.”

Auri scowls. “Yes. I wonder why.”

“Embarrassing, really, this turnout.” Astarion sighs, shaking his head. “You’d think more people would have shown up for the Hero of Baldur’s Gate.”

“You know I never wanted that title.”

“I personally always thought that Consort of the Vampire Ascendant was much more prestigious, but what do I know?”

Auri has a million things to say to that, chief amongst them that she misses him more than words can say, but instead she stays quiet.

When she doesn’t rise to the passive aggression, Astarion exhales through his nose, unimpressed. “Well, in any event, your evening seems to have been freed up.”

Auri’s eyes narrow. “What?”

“Relax,” Astarion says, every inch of him a predator, and Auri’s always felt like prey. “I have nothing but the best intentions.”

Anxiety bubbles in her throat, but it’s not like it matters. When he steps forward and his mist swallows her, she can only be thankful that he hadn’t leveled the troupe entirely.

It’s fast, traveling this way. Auri expects to arrive at the party, where she’ll have to field a hundred questions about why she hadn’t come in the first place and why Astarion had fetched her.

But it isn't the party at all. When her eyes open, she’s standing in the halls of Cazador Szarr.

Or they used to be his halls. They’re Astarion’s, now, Auri supposes, and the decor’s changed drastically.

Auri’s breath catches. There’s finery as far as the eye can see, yes, but more than that, this isn’t the lair of a singularly self-obsessed vampire.

It’s the colors. There’s Astarion’s red and black, yes, and the Ancunín crest is present everywhere, but there’s another color threaded through the hall.

There are accents of seafoam everywhere.

Auri’s lips part. He’s laced his lair with her. It wouldn’t matter where he looked. Astarion’s designed this room so that her favorite color is intertwined with his.

“This–” Auri swallows and steels herself. “What trick is this?”

“Trick?” Astarion asks, unimpressed.

It has to be a trick. It must be.

But it’s not. The seafoam alone could have been a trick, but there’s something else.

Auri walks down the hall with Astarion as her shadow. The room is conspicuously empty; it takes an army of servants to run this estate, no doubt, but Astarion has clearly arranged for them to be nowhere near here.

And at the end of the hall, there are two thrones.

One, clearly, is his. It’s better-worn, and every throw and cushion is in his colors. The other looks almost untouched.

When they met, Auri had been wearing seafoam and gold. The throne that isn’t Astarion’s looks like a concentrated vial of ocean and sunshine. It would be altogether out of place but for the way the same blue-green color weaves through the rest of the decor.

“I have made reminders of you to never forget how the thing I crave more than anything else walked away.” Astarion stands next to her as if he’s considering the throne himself. “And then you step into my city bleeding freely and expect to simply avoid me by not attending a function I only deemed worth my time because you would be there.”

“You could not smell my cycle from here–”

“I could smell you from the moment you set foot in Baldur’s Gate. I could certainly smell you this morning when you woke.”

Auri blushes despite herself. “That’s none of your business. You have your pick of meals these days anyway. I have no doubt about that.”

Her pulse pounds in her throat. Astarion can probably see it.

“If I have my pick,” he drawls, circling behind her, “Then surely it won’t be a problem if I choose you to feast on.”

Still, his voice holds this much power over her. When Astarion speaks, Auri bites her lip. He continues, “I have craved you every moment since we parted ways. No taste has compared, and believe me when I say that I’ve searched.”

Auri doesn't know if they're talking about sex or blood. She doesn't think it matters. Still, she doesn't speak. Astarion says, “Don't you find it funny how your traveling band of misfits never meets trouble on the road? Do you think that that’s a coincidence?”

Auri swallows hard. “What are you saying?”

His voice is at her ear. “I became this for you, little love. I kill and I maim and I slaughter, and I do it all for you.”

Astarion’s right, in his way, though Auri doesn’t want to admit it. He’d made it clear that he wanted to ascend to protect himself and her, too.

“Then stop all of it for me,” she says.

He chuckles, smirking. “It doesn’t work that way, darling. We made me into this. You’re the one who decided that she didn’t like the result." He pauses. "What say you that we make a deal?” Astarion asks. His hand is cool on her cheek and Auri leans into his touch reflexively. “Whether you admit it or not, you’ve missed me. I’ve been honest about how I’ve hungered for you.”

And he’s right, of course. Here, alone with him, the year without him falls away and Auri is as weak as she ever was.

“What do you propose?” she asks. His touch is feather-light along her collarbone.

Auri tries to steel herself, but it's futile. He's already won and he knows it.

“You're attached to your pathetic excuse for freedom, I know.” His fingers inch closer to her breast. “But let's put your willpower to the test.”

This is a mistake. She knows it.

Astarion is in front of her again. His hand switches course and finds purchase on her chin, tilting her head to the side to expose Auri's neck.

“For every climax that I bring you to, you give me a month.”

His words snap Auri from her lust-drunk haze. “A month? What do you mean a month?”

“I mean a month.” The hand that had exposed her neck falls between her legs, palming her clit through her leggings. Auri exhales a shuddering gasp as he continues, “For each time you come, you'll spend a month on the throne that I've built for you. My bed will be yours. This estate will be yours. And for that month, you'll be mine properly.”

This is a mistake. She’d known it already, and the fact becomes clearer by the moment.

“I stay mortal,” she says, her voice trembling. Astarion applies pressure again between her legs, and Auri whimpers.

When her hips buck into his hand, a wicked smile spreads across Astarion’s face. “Why you're so attached to your mortality is beyond my comprehension, but yes. If that's what it takes for you to agree, then mortal is what you'll remain.”

His words are annoyed but his tone is far from it.

“You won't touch Amar. You'll leave the circus alone.”

Her resolve was never going to last. She'd given in before they'd even begun.

Astarion rolls his eyes and his hand leaves the spot between her legs. Auri gasps with loss, but it doesn't last long. He scoops her into his arms and turns, depositing her onto the throne next to his.

Her throne.

“I would make you royalty, and your concern is with that ragtag group of nobodies.”

Just as she's adjusted to sit properly, Astarion falls to one knee, pulling her legs forward so that he's between them.

“They aren't nobodies–” Auri protests, but it's futile. This was over long ago.

His knife sits at the hem of her leggings. “If they aren't nobodies, then why did you spend the entire time that that pretty little fire dancer was between your legs wishing it was my mouth on your cunt instead?”

A blush burns through her as hot as the lust she can't deny in her core. “That's not true–”

“Oh?” He tilts his head to the side. “Then tell me to stop.”

The fling with Evana had been short-lived and mediocre. This will no doubt be anything but.

When Auri doesn't protest, Astarion pushes her skirt upward and runs his knife down the seam of her leggings with ease.

“Do you accept my terms, then? Or are we going to let all this blood go to waste?”

Need throbs in Auri's stomach.

“You won't touch them,” she repeats.

Astarion stares at her with twisted devotion.

“For you, my treasure, anything.”

She can regret this tomorrow. For now, she fists a hand in his immaculately coiffed hair to help his mouth find the place it belongs.

The first swipe of his tongue is like coming home. Astarion licks her clean without shame, and Auri doesn't know how she ever thought she could replace him with another. When the flat of his tongue presses against her entrance, she squirms impatiently. Astarion looks up at her, left hand gripping her thigh–

And with his right hand, he snaps.

His eyes dance with dark delight, and something spectral pulls at her fingers.

A mage hand.

“What–” she starts, but that’s all that she manages before the apparition gathers both her wrists in its grasp and pins them behind her.

His mouth pulls away to answer her unasked question. Auri's hips try to follow, but Astarion only smirks.

“It's your throne, darling, but I'm the one who built it.”

Blood adorns his face. He seems entirely uninterested in wiping himself clean. His tongue runs along his lips, and he sighs, eyes fluttering shut.

The Vampire Ascendant kneels before her, but it's a mockery of control that the position gives her.

“You'll get what you seek, and you'll get it many times over. In fact, I plan to give it to you as many times as there are months in the year.”

Twelve times– there's not a universe where she can orgasm twelve times–

She doesn't get to finish the thought. Astarion's mouth continues what it started, and Auri can do nothing but fall prey to his expertise.

There's no learning curve for him. He knew her body perfectly before he ascended and she became the Hero of Baldur's Gate, and he hasn’t forgotten in the year that they’ve spent apart. Astarion nips at the soft flesh of her inner thigh and all Auri can do is cry out, the pain intermingling with pleasure.

When he devours her, Auri can’t remember why she ever let him leave. She can’t remember why she left him.

Since she was named the big damn hero, everything has been an exercise in trying to be good. It’s exactly like it was before the tadpole but with the pressure of everyone’s expectations piled on top.

When Astarion’s lips pull at her clit, two fingers slip inside her.

Hasn’t she earned it? Hasn’t she earned this instance of selfishness, of desire?

The mage hand is unrelenting. She wants to thrash; she wants to ride his fingers, wants to fuck herself on them to orgasm. The pace he builds instead is infuriatingly slow, the suction torturous. When his fingers curl to press at the spot that only he has ever been able to hit perfectly, she gasps out, “Please–”

His mouth leaves her clit with a pop that Auri will never forget for as long as she lives. “What’s the rush, darling? We’ve got, well, as much time as I decide we have.” When he pushes the third finger inside of her, Auri’s eyes roll back into her head. His smirk is infuriating, but all it accomplishes is making Auri even slicker. Astarion continues, “On the other hand, there’s no reason not to start all of this with a bang.”

His thumb presses into her clit, and just when Auri thinks that release is imminent, he replaces his thumb again with his mouth.

Auri shatters.

Still, the mage hand doesn’t release her. When she tries to free her hands, its grip tightens if anything. Her wrists will be purple with bruises tomorrow, but Auri doesn’t care. Her hips cant upward into Astarion’s face, but he’s gracious toward her climax. As he works her through it, his mouth slows, careful not to overstimulate her as he goes.

She’s still in love with him. He’s not the same man that he was, but as the lightning bolt of an orgasm rips through her body, it’s the only thought in her mind.

When she comes back down, he’s staring at her as if she’s some marvel of the universe.

“A month, then, that you’re mine.”

He withdraws from her cunt, and Auri exhales at the loss. Astarion never stops watching her as he stands, the mage hand dissipating. He licks at each of the fingers that were inside of her in turn.

“I’ll claim this month, I think,” he says, almost absently.

Auri’s still breathless. “This month?”

He raises an eyebrow as if she’s asked a stupid question. He should look disheveled, untethered in some way, but he doesn’t.

He just looks hungry.

“What better way to ring in every new year than by tasting your blood and cum?”

And Auri can’t really argue with that, especially not when desire makes her face flush again. She deflects instead.

“Are you going to stand there or are you going to make good on those twelve climaxes?”

Auri recognizes that the challenge is a mistake the moment that the words leave her lips.

Astarion's grin is devilish. “I was erring on the side of hyperbole when I implied twelve.”

There's blood underneath her. It stains the pillows and throws that he's taken care to decorate the throne with.

Astarion's always been fast, but now, he's supernaturally so. When Auri blinks, he's on top of her.

“How many can you handle, I wonder? How many times will your body let me unravel it?”

A lifetime ago, when they were both other people, Auri was gentle with him.

But that was a lifetime ago.

She fists her hands in the front of his shirt and pulls him to her. Her teeth clatter into his fangs when she kisses him. Auri’s never had the grace that he does.

“Let's find out,” she hisses into his mouth.

When he grins, it’s bloody. “How shall I give you my cock, then, sweet treat?”

It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters as long as it’s him.

“The Vampire Ascendant, asking my opinion–”

Auri gets the feeling that he might be annoyed were he not drunk on the vitality he’s just lapped from between her legs. Instead, he says, “A privilege, to be sure,” and when Auri throws her head back and laughs, it’s real. Astarion blinks at her, almost surprised, but it lasts only a moment. He exhales, nodding at the shirt she’s somehow still wearing as he begins to unlace his breeches. “Off.”

She complies gladly, slipping out of what little clothing remains on her body and expecting him to do the same, but he doesn’t. Auri swallows hard as Astarion’s cock slips free, but he makes no motion to further undress.

Instead, he once more lifts her into his arms effortlessly, taking the seat she’d occupied just before. He’s flush with the back of the throne, and Auri’s exposed entirely on his lap.

And again, any illusion of power that Auri had slips away. She has a knee on either side of his hips, and she grasps for equal ground when she says, “You always did like me on top,” but she’s already panting. “My cycle is going to ruin your lovely outfit.”

His cock teases her entrance. Auri’s mouth is dry.

“What better fitting metaphor for the way I’m about to ruin you?” he asks.

Fine things tainted by taboo. They’re the same that way. They always have been.

When he sheathes himself inside her, Auri thinks she might black out. Her head lolls backward as she takes him, and to any god that might be listening, she whispers, “Fuck.”

His hands are on her waist as he guides her downward, soaked as she is with blood and cum, and Auri moans as he fills her. He thrusts up into her once, softly, and one of his hands drifts to her breast. His nail flits along her nipple, a tease of a thing, and Auri’s hips roll instinctively.

Astarion exhales through his nose, his eyes half-lidded. For all his posturing, he wants her as badly as Auri wants him. She raises her hips to take him again, to fuck him until she can’t breathe, but even as she rides, he sets the pace. The hand on her waist helps her up and down as his cock turns slick with her, and with the other, he kneads the soft flesh of her breast.

When she tries to lean back and take him as deeply as her body will allow, the hand on her waist stops her.

“What–” she starts, dizzy with lust. His cock throbs inside her. When she tries to move, again, he stops her. “Let me–”

“How many were there?” he asks, voice cold.

“What?”

Obsession wars with lust in Astarion’s eyes.

“Who else tasted you, fucked you, loved you while I pined after you?”

“Are you seriously asking this right now?”

Astarion grips her face with the hand that had been preoccupied with her breast. “Yes.”

Auri’s racing heart stems from fear, adrenaline, and the cock still buried inside her.

“There were only two. You know about Evana.”

“And the other?”

Auri barely remembers the other one. She was blackout drunk in a bar in some backwater dive, looking for any way to bury the fact that she’d let Astarion slip out of her grasp.

“I don’t even know his name.”

Astarion’s eyes narrow as if he doesn’t believe her. She’d be happy to play his cock sleeve another day, but this wasn’t the deal they struck.

“Read my thoughts if you think I’m lying,” she challenges, but the intrusion of his mind into hers never comes. The intrusion between her legs, though, fucks upward, and Auri cries out.

“Did they fuck you as well as I do, darling?”

He knows the answer. Auri knows that he does. He just wants to hear her say it.

“No one fucks me like you do,” she says, and at last (at last) he gives her what she wants. Her body’s so sensitive; Astarion thrusts into her hard enough that it almost hurts, but it doesn’t matter. Every move he makes electrifies her, and again, her own pleasure’s outside her control. She’d meant to ride him, an at least symbolic display of power, but he’s stolen it from her.

And she’d let him do it forever.

The realization coincides with the hand on her waist drifting down her body. Auri doesn’t notice. She’s too busy losing herself in the heat that’s building in the pit of her stomach.

When his fingers find her clit, Auri falls forward at the stimulation, catching herself on the back of the throne. Her face is nearly touching his, and the movement has the side effect of grinding her clit into his hand.

“You’ll come for me, won’t you?” he asks, voice low.

He doesn’t have to ask. She would anyway. But when he speaks, it pushes her over the edge. Pleasure rips through her body for a second time, and Auri isn’t sure, but she thinks she actually screams. She collapses into his chest, every muscle in her body contracting as he thrusts slowly into her twice more before coming to a stop.

“A second month, then.”

He sounds so self-satisfied, as if he isn’t waiting to spend himself inside her, too.

She loves him.

Gods, but she loves him, still.

Auri can’t give him what he wants. But maybe she can meet him halfway. Her mind’s not working. She’s been fucked so thoroughly that she barely knows up from down, but she can’t afford that.

When he slides out from inside her, Auri’s confused. Surely he’s not done after all his talk of ‘an orgasm for every month of the year.’

“Since you like deals,” Auri says, undercut by the fact that she can’t catch her breath, “I have a proposition for you.”

Astarion’s tongue runs along his teeth and he raises an eyebrow.

“I won’t give up my life with the troupe, but–”

Astarion clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Disappointing, but unsurprising,” he says, and without a modicum of decorum, he turns her so that her back is flush with his chest. Auri rests comfortably in his lap, and momentarily, she thinks that this is surprisingly tender.

His hand spreads her legs.

“If you’re going to offer me some sort of consolation prize, I’d like you to see just how lovely you look with my cock stuffed inside you while you try to negotiate.”

How is it possible for her to still crave him after she’s come in his mouth and on his cock? It looks obscene between her legs, rubbing up against her clit, covered in her blood and cum both.

“Just think about how much easier it would be to keep an eye on me if you were here,” Astarion says, a hand under each of her thighs. His mouth is at her ear; he’s closer to coming apart than he wants her to think. His voice is ragged with it. Auri reaches a hand behind her to catch in his hair.

“Why can’t I have both?”

He answers by sinking himself inside her. Auri watches as his cock disappears into her, and again, there’s that inimitable feeling of fullness. This position–

She’ll never last.

“I’ll give you everything.” Astarion’s cock slams into the spot that makes her vision go white. “Gold, jewels, instruments you’ve never even heard of.” Auri can’t think. She can’t breathe. He’s the only thing there is and the only thing that matters.

Except that’s not true, no matter how much she wishes that it were.

“Three months. I’ll give you three months a year, whichever ones you want.”

Astarion nips at her neck, just enough to draw blood. “You’re going to give me that anyway, precious thing. Those were the terms.”

She’s going to break. She’s going to cry. He thrusts into her mercilessly, and the pleasure is relentless. Again, his hand finds her clit, and Auri briefly thinks that this might actually kill her.

“Three months,” she repeats, though not without scraping her nails against the back of his head.

“I think not.”

Auri cries out but steels herself. Ecstasy is just within reach, but Astarion’s close, too. She can feel it in the way his fingers dig into the flesh of her thigh. “Six, then.”

“Twelve, then, if you’re going to be stubborn.” A veritable growl bubbles from his throat, his thrusts lose their rhythm, and his fingers on his clit lose their discipline as finally, finally his unaffected veneer slips.

“Six,” Auri gasps. “Six months each year, but you can come to me and feed as often as you like.”

It’s the first time that Auri feels the balance of power shift in her favor.

“Come for me, you confounding thing,” he says, and he isn’t asking this time. The pressure on her clit is rough and she spirals into a third climax. Astarion chases her into it as her muscles spasm around his cock and in the same moment, his fangs pierce her skin.

She writhes, coming around him as he spends himself inside her. Her own blood trickles down her neck, but she has no doubt that he won’t let it go to waste. His cock pulses as he rides out his own end, and Auri doesn’t think she has ever been this deliciously full.

“Six months I'll be with you, but year round I'll be yours to feast on.” Auri’s vision swims as she speaks, the cumulative effect of three orgasms and Astarion feeding. When he finally pulls his mouth from her flesh, he’s silent.

He’s still hard inside her. When he shifts to a more comfortable sitting position, Auri’s eyes flutter shut.

“I’m not convinced,” Astarion says, and Auri bites the inside of her cheek. “But perhaps you could try to sway me in the bedroom, instead.”

He kisses the wounds he’s just inflicted on her throat. Auri smiles.

She’ll get her way. She always does. And she loves him.

Maybe that’s enough.

“You don’t want to make an appearance at the party?” Auri asks.

Astarion smirks. “I’ll drop you off there naked after I’ve had my way with you if you’re still being stubborn about letting me give you the life you deserve.”

Auri snorts. No matter what path her life takes, it always seems to lead her back to Astarion.

Auri likes Deadwinter.

thanks for reading love u bye

#astarion x tav #astarion #tavstarion #tav x astarion #bg3 fic #bg3 tav #bg3 smut #astarion ancunin #astarion smut

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duckprintspress · 25 days

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Queer Book Recs for Speak Your Language Day!

Once a year on Tumblr on May 7th, the account @spyld organizes Speak Your Language Day, a day to encourage people on such an English-centric platform to speak their native languages instead. Duck Prints Press works with creators from over the world, many of whom speak languages other than English as their native tongues (French and German are most common among our folks, but they’re far from the only mother tongues) and so we wanted to join in the celebration for the day by highlighting some of our favorite queer works originally published in languages other than English. Six people contributed to this list (half themselves not native English speakers.). Original language blurbs used when possible!

Where We Go from Here (Você Tem a Vida Inteira) by Lucas Rocha. Original language: Brazilian Portuguese

As vidas de Ian, Victor e Henrique se encontram de uma forma inesperada. Ian conhece Victor no dia em que recebe o resultado de seu teste rápido de HIV. Os dois são universitários. Victor está envolvido com Henrique. Ian está solteiro. Os três são gays.

Dois deles têm a vida atingida pela notícia de um diagnóstico positivo para o HIV. Um não tem o vírus. Um está indetectável. Dois estão apaixonados. Henrique é mais velho e, depois de Victor, pensou que poderia acreditar de novo em alguém.

Victor têm medo do que o amor pode trazer para a sua vida.

Ian sequer sabe se será capaz de amar.

Os três são, ao mesmo tempo, heróis e vilões de uma história que não é sobre culpa, mas sim sobre amor, amigos e sobre como podemos formar nossas próprias famílias.

Guardian (镇魂/Zhen Hun) by priest. Original language: Chinese

Zhao Yunlan heads up a covert division of the Ministry of Public Security that deals with the strange and unusual, blurring the line between the mortal realm and the Netherworld. His cocky, casual attitude conceals both a sharp mind and an arsenal of mystical tools and arcane knowledge.

While investigating a gruesome death at a local university, Zhao Yunlan crosses paths with the reserved Professor Shen Wei. Zhao Yunlan is immediately intrigued by Shen Wei’s good looks and intense gaze, and the attraction between them is immediate and powerful, even as Shen Wei tries to keep his distance. Shen Wei and his secrets are a puzzle Zhao Yunlan feels compelled to solve as mysterious circumstances throw them together, and their connection becomes impossible to deny.

The Center of the World (Die Mitte der Welt) by Andreas Steinhöfel. Original language: German

Was immer ein normales Leben auch sein mag – der 17-jährige Phil hat es nie kennengelernt. Denn so ungewöhnlich wie das alte Haus ist, in dem er lebt, so ungewöhnlich sind auch die Menschen, die dort ein- und ausgehen – seine chaotische Mutter Glass, seine verschlossene Zwillingsschwester Dianne und all die anderen. Und dann ist da noch Nicholas, der Unerreichbare, in den Phil sich unsterblich verliebt.

Journey Home (A Caminho de Casa) by May Barros. Original language: Brazilian Portuguese

Amara e Luiza are two witches that live in a queerplatonic relationship. When Luiza decides to embark on a journey throught the galaxy in a quest for the lost fortress of Laura, the Dragon Queen, she ends up finding more than expected, while Amara follows her footsteps, hoping it’s not too late.

Roze Brieven by Splinter Chabot. Original language: Dutch

Op zijn verjaardag op 3 maart 2020 debuteerde Splinter Chabot met CONFETTIREGEN. Het boek werd al snel omarmd door de boekhandel en media. En daar bleef het niet bij. Sinds de verschijning krijgt Splinter dagelijks reacties op zijn openhartige verhaal over zijn coming-out. Reacties van ouders, van jongeren die met dezelfde worsteling kampen, van ouderen die zichzelf herkennen in het verhaal, van mensen uit de LGBTQ+-gemeenschap, van docenten en nog vele anderen. Ontroerende, grappige, gekke, treurige en hoopvolle reacties die Splinter stuk voor stuk beantwoordt.

In Roze brieven zijn de meest bijzondere brieven verzameld door Splinter zelf met daarbij de reacties die hij heeft gestuurd. Voor alle lezers van CONFETTIREGEN en voor iedereen die worstelt met zijn of haar identiteit zal Roze brieven een waardevolle bron van herkenning zal zijn. Een intieme en ontroerende bundeling waarin een belangrijke boodschap weerklinkt: Het wordt beter.

Silent Reading (默读/Mo Du) by priest. Original language: Chinese

Childhood, upbringing, family background, social relations, traumatic experiences…We keep reviewing and seeking out the motives of criminals, exploring the subtlest emotions driving them. It’s not to put ourselves in their shoes and sympathize, or even forgive them; it’s not to find some reasons to exculpate their crimes; it’s not to kneel down before the so-called “complexity of human nature”; nor to introspect social conflicts, much less to alienate ourselves into monsters.We just want to have a fair trial – for ourselves and for those who still have hope for the world.

Favorite (Preferida) by May Barros. Original language: Brazilian Portuguese

(no blurb available)

Amatka by Karin Tidbeck. Original language: Swedish

Av ren slump har människor hamnat i en parallell värld. Det är en instabil plats, där orden hela tiden formar verkligheten. Den dagliga kampen för att överleva har skapat ett samhälle fyllt av regler, där kollektivet alltid går före individen. Vanja skickas till det avlägsna samhället Amatka. De människor hon möter där ruskar om i hennes sorg och ensamhet. Hon gör häpnadsväckande upptäckter, som förändrar inte bara henne, personligen. I en instabil värld kan en förändring spridas hur långt som helst.

Thieves (Voleuse) by Lucie Bryon. Original language: French

Arriver à l’heure en cours et étudier ? Très peu pour Ella. Ce qu’elle aime ? Regarder à la dérobée la douce et mystérieuse Madeleine et, bien sûr, faire la fête. Un peu trop, même.

Un matin, elle se réveille avec une gueule de bois carabinée : c’est le blackout. Et la panique. Chez qui a-t-elle passé la soirée ? Et pourquoi son lit est jonché d’objets luxueux qui ne lui appartiennent absolument pas ?

Here the Whole Time (Quinze Dias) by Vitor Martins. Original language: Brazilian Portuguese

Felipe está esperando esse momento desde que as aulas começaram: o início das férias de julho. Finalmente ele vai poder passar alguns dias longe da escola e dos colegas que o maltratam. Os planos envolvem se afundar nos episódios atrasados de suas séries favoritas, colocar a leitura em dia e aprender com tutoriais no YouTube coisas novas que ele nunca vai colocar em prática.

Mas as coisas fogem um pouquinho do controle quando a mãe de Felipe informa que concordou em hospedar Caio, o vizinho do 57, por longos quinze dias, enquanto os pais dele não voltam de uma viagem. Felipe entra em desespero porque a) Caio foi sua primeira paixãozinha na infância (e existe uma grande possibilidade dessa paixão não ter passado até hoje) e b) Felipe coleciona uma lista infinita de inseguranças e não tem a menor ideia de como interagir com o vizinho.

Love Me for Who I Am (不可解なぼくのすべてを/Fukakai na Boku no Subete o) by Kata Konayama. Original language: Japanese

男の子？女の子？『ぼく』らの青春にはナゾがいっぱい!

女子の制服を着て学校に通う高校生、もぐもはある日、カフェのアルバイトに誘われる。可愛い制服を着て働ける仕事に、最初は喜ぶもぐもだったが、このカフェが『男の娘カフェ』であることを知って…。

This Is Our Place (Se a Casa 8 Falasse) by Vitor Martins. Original language: Brazilian Portuguese

O terceiro romance de Vitor Martins, autor de Quinze dias e Um milhão de finais felizes Ambientado e narrado pela mesma casa em três décadas diferentes, Se a casa 8 falasse é um romance sobre jovens lidando com mudanças drásticas, conflitos familiares e primeiros amores, que mostra que, apesar das gerações mudarem, algumas experiências são capazes de atravessar a barreira do tempo. Algumas casas guardam histórias especiais. A que fica no número 8 da rua Girassol tem muito para contar. 2000: Ana recebe a notícia de que vai se mudar e será obrigada a deixar para trás tudo o que conheceu até agora, inclusive a parte mais dolorida de todas: sua namorada. 2010: Enquanto os pais de Greg passam por um divórcio complicado, ele é enviado para a casa da tia, que é dona de uma locadora em tempos de internet e odeia companhia – e muitas outras coisas. 2020: Beto sempre quis se mudar e seguir o sonho de ser fotógrafo em São Paulo. Só que uma pandemia aparece para obrigá-lo a ficar trancado em casa com a mãe protetora e a irmã aparentemente perfeita. Esta é uma história sobre uma casa e seus moradores, incluindo um vira-lata de três patas chamado Keanu Reeves

Heaven Official’s Blessing (天官赐福/Tian Guan Ci Fu) by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu. Original language: Chinese

Born the crown prince of a prosperous kingdom, Xie Lian was renowned for his beauty, strength, and purity. His years of dedicated study and noble deeds allowed him to ascend to godhood. But those who rise may also fall, and fall he does–cast from the heavens and banished to the world below.

Eight hundred years after his mortal life, Xie Lian has ascended to godhood for the third time, angering most of the gods in the process. To repay his debts, he is sent to the Mortal Realm to hunt down violent ghosts and troublemaking spirits who prey on the living. Along his travels, he meets the fascinating and brilliant San Lang, a young man with whom he feels an instant connection. Yet San Lang is clearly more than he appears… What mysteries lie behind that carefree smile?

Golden Hue (Aura Dourada) by May Barros. Original language: Brazilian Portuguese

(no blurb available)

The Way Spring Arrives and Other Stories (no Chinese title) ed. by Regina Kanyu Wang & Yu Chen. Original language: Chinese

In The Way Spring Arrives and Other Stories, you can dine at a restaurant at the end of the universe, cultivate to immortality in the high mountains, watch roses perform Shakespeare, or arrive at the island of the gods on the backs of giant fish to ensure that the world can bloom.

Written, edited, and translated by a female and nonbinary team, these stories have never before been published in English and represent both the richly complicated past and the vivid future of Chinese science fiction and fantasy.

Time travel to a winter’s day on the West Lake, explore the very boundaries of death itself, and meet old gods and new heroes in this stunning new collection.

There are so many wonderful queer books being published in languages other than English. What are some of your favorites, available in translation or not?

View this list, and other books we’ve previously recommend that were originally published in languages other than English, on this Goodreads shelf!

#duck prints press #speak your language day #book recommendations #queer books

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