Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
A sight you didn't think would ever be bestowed upon you. He wasn't a poet— or at least that was what he keeps telling you. As if his words doesn't strike a chord in your heart with his charming wit and unrhymed verses.
But he tries, and for that it didn't matter how cheesy it is. Just that it was made just for you. Like the ink was his very blood flowing through the veins of the pages, bringing words into life.
You just stared at him.
At his hands as it moved and flicked.
Your gaze lingered a moment longer upon his teeth as it sank gently against his bottom lip in concentration. At that moment, you felt it. Not the usual gentle flutter you'd feel in your belly. This time it stung. Like a bee sting or a sharp object piercing into your skin.
Because for the first time in your life, you were someone's muse. You were the words that filled the pages, the colors that painted the canvas, and the tune that completed a song.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
a/n— these hc are kind of intense bc i love this man and i would do all kinds of things to him 🤭😋
kurapika doesn’t hand over control easily. he’s calculated, private, always keeping his emotions tight behind his eyes , but with you? the more you strip him down, the more he aches for someone to just take the control away.
his submission isn’t instant , it’s earned. at first, he fights it. stiff posture, sharp eyes, resisting your commands even when his body says otherwise. but once he realizes he wants to obey you… it’s over. he’s hooked.his pride is
part of the pleasure. the way he blushes when you touch him, how he refuses to beg until he’s shaking all of that tension? it makes the moment he breaks even sweeter. because when kurapika gives in, he gives everything.
his scarlet eyes don’t just glow with anger , they flare with arousal. when you take control of him, when he feels overwhelmed, stretched, fucked open and completely yours, his irises ignite. not from rage, but from pure, unfiltered need.
sometimes, when he’s on his knees for you, his eyes are red and teary, his chest rising and falling like he’s about to collapse …. and you realize it’s not just lust. it’s emotional release. because giving in to you feels like the only place he’s ever truly safe.
he goes insane for pegging. he won’t say it, but the filthy sound that escapes his throat the first time you slide a strap-on inside him says everything.
he struggles to express what he likes, but when you ask him, “you like being fucked like this, don’t you, kurapika?” he just nods with glassy eyes and flushed cheeks.
he has a quiet spit kink. spit in his mouth, on his cock, down his hole. he shudders every time. and afterwards? completely mortified.
he loves being told what to do. your calm, commanding voice turns him pliant. like his body stops thinking and just listens.
he sometimes trembles while undressing for you. not from fear, but from the rush of giving in. vulnerability turns him on more than he admits.
he rarely says “i like this,” but his body speaks for him. back arched, thighs shaking, cock pulsing hard with need.
he hates being recorded or exposed. his submission is sacred. private. showing it to anyone else would make him shut down completely.
he’s not into pain for pain’s sake. he can handle slaps, pressure, even bites, but degradation that hits his pride? no.
being fucked while clothed drives him wild. shirt still on, pants halfway down, ass up and face buried in the sheets? perfection.
when he’s deep into it, he becomes a quiet beggar. “please,” “don’t stop,” “give me more” come out in little, broken gasps.
he loves being full. not just physically. he wants to feel owned, pressed into the bed, marked by your hands and your body.
sometimes he cums from anal play alone. no stroking. no teasing. just a toy or your fingers hitting the right spot, and he loses it.
he secretly loves it when you keep using him long after he’s done. when he’s soft, dripping, overstimulated, and you’re still riding him? his cock starts to get hard again.
he hates being called “puppy” or “baby boy.” that’s not his vibe. he wants to be your man. your fucktoy. your hole to ruin, not babied.
after a scene, he holds you. no words. just his face buried in your neck, arms wrapped around you like he never wants to let go.
when he’s on his knees and you tell him to stick his tongue out? his cock twitches instantly. whether it’s your spit or his, he’s ready to melt.
sometimes, when you dominate him just right, he cums untouched. the voice, the pace, the toy deep in his ass—it’s too much. he explodes.
he cleans your toys afterwards. not because you tell him to, but because it’s how he serves. quiet gratitude, post-orgasm devotion.
He takes a long sip of his tea before leaning back against the rundown headboard, blonde hair falling over his shoulders, longer than it used to be. His earring dangles, clinking lightly against the wood behind him. He stares up at where the wall meets the ceiling, tracing each ridge with his grey eyes. He looks over each sign of small painted over dents and imperfections. His eyes stop on one particular crater in the wall. It’d be insignificant to anyone but him. It resembles a small scratch you got on a mission with him. It had been a year since he last saw you, since he left you to go chase the Phantom Troupe which he could begrudgingly admit he hadn’t had too much luck with. Which somewhere inside makes him feel stupid and small for ditching you, the best thing that ever happened to him, for what? A life from motel to motel, searching for a few people who seem to be even better at pushing everything away than he is.
He remembers when you got that scratch, how you hadn’t even noticed it was there because it really was negligible compared to what your peers had felt, or even by normal standards. After you cared for everyone else, he made sure to go to you. To take just as much care of something as small as a paper cut as you had for deep wounds. He knew then that he had to leave, but hadn’t told you until a few months later, on the day of. He sighs deeply.
“I miss you so much…” Kurapika whispers to the picture he grips in his right hand.
kurapika never liked the idea of sharing a bath together. He had always thought that no one will ever get to that level of intimacy with him.
— But then he met you.
Like you were the calm breeze that he has been waiting for after a raging storm, his first breathe of fresh air. In fact, you are his first everything.
The first pair of hands that cradled his face so gently.
The first set of eyes that looked at him, like really looked at him, beyond his cold vengeful exterior.
The first pair of lips that kissed him like he's art. The very lips that echoed the words 'I love you' and 'you're special to me' in the deepest hollow of his being. —
The sound of the running water that played in the background snapped him out of his thoughts. He debated the thought of getting up from his chair to follow you in the bathroom for a few minutes, before the image of your skin sparkling as water ran over your body won him over.
He stood up from his chair, leaving the piles of paper and files scattered around his desk. His hand hovered over the doorknob of the bathroom for a minute before he gathered the courage to twist it open quietly.
You glanced over your shoulders at the quiet movements behind you. Kurapika kept his head down as he began stripping his undershirt and trousers with practiced ease, as if it's the most natural thing for him, even he was surprised at the fact.
"Want me to wash you hair?" You asked quietly as you tried to hold back a smile. He nodded before standing behind you in the running water with a sheepish look on his face.
"Don't be shy, my love" you assured him as you turned to face him, holding a shampoo bottle on your hand.
A huff escaped him.
"I'm not shy... I just.. — I want to shower with you.." He murmured quietly. His voice blending in with the sound of the soft drops of water on the marbled floor.
"Then let me take care of you" you muttered back, extending your arms to pour a decent amount of the floral scented shampoo on his golden locks.
His head bowed slightly but his eyes stayed locked on your face as you massaged his scalp.
It feels so domestic.
It makes his heart ache.
A lump formed in his throat like a hard pill he can't swallow.
He remembered his mother, how she'd wash his hair just like this when he was a young child. Now that he thinks about it, you do resemble her. You've got the same mind of reason, angelic smile, and the most gentle loving hands.
Then it was almost instinct.
— his arms reached to tug you by the hips before enveloping you in a tight hug. He burrowed his head on the crook of your neck, inhaling the faint smell of your camellia-scented soap.
You didn't know how it happened but the next thing you knew, he was sobbing.
On your neck.
Under the shower.
His warm body contrasted with the cold water.
He sobbed like he's been holding everything in until now. His mask of indifference crumbling, leaving his body like dirt being washed away by this moment with you.
As you hugged him, caressing his back to soothe him. You realized that he no longer looked like the usual rough and angry man that he was.
Instead, you saw a lonely child trying to desperately cling onto what's left of its childhood. A child forced to grow up and live with these hateful emotions, like a monster under his bed trying to eat him away.
〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎💽𓍯𓂃𓏧 fade into you by mazzy star
A/N: what's a good kurapika drabble without a little angst? ;)
You didn't expect to wake up at midnight to see kurapika standing in front of your doorstep soaked in the rain from head to toe. His head was bowed and his hands were resting on the walls on either side of him. You were about to speak when he interrupted you with a soft huff of breath.
"I love you" he whispered quietly— faintly, like the words died on his tongue. You could barely even make a sound out of it because of the heavy rain. You stayed silent, processing the sight in front of you.
He finally turned his head upwards to meet your gaze. His eyes pleading, yearning, like you're the only thing that matters to him, and well, you are.
"I love you, desperately.. I need you in my life and I'm a fool for realizing it too late but I hope it's not— .. tell me it's not too late, please. I'm sorry I waited for the rain." The rain didn't stop pouring as he poured his heart out to you like a sinner praying for forgiveness, for acceptance.
Then you were speechless, as if his words took your breathe away. A brief silence passed, your mouth opened then closed, unable to think of anything to say. Instead, you reached out tugging him closer by his arm, hugging him tightly.
He hugged you back, molding your body against him, wetting your pajamas with his drenched suit.
"Say something, Angel." He whispered, just loud enough for you to hear. You pulled back slightly to take a look at his cold wet face, wiping it gently with your hands before smiling softly at him.
"I love you too— even now that you've wet my favorite PJs" you answered, followed by a soft chuckle before pulling him in a brief kiss. You pulled away but not for too long. He chased your lips, diving in for a more passionate kiss. A kiss he thinks you deserve after all the time he kept you waiting, as if it's his way of making it up to you for his relentless arrogance and cold shoulder.
As you held each other in the rain, you thought— Maybe this un-ordinary tuesday night wasn't as bad as you thought it'd be. After all, kurapika's confession made a nice trade for the cold fever that welcomed you the next day.
(sorry if this sounds too.. delusional, I just wanted him to be happy... Sorry for my English.. I was writing this on Twitter without thinking much and decided to post it here)
✿
Kura lives alone with Woble after a sequence of problems.
Kura spoils Woble a lot, he can't say no to her, something that he learned from Mr. Nostrade... He feels too responsible and deals with things alone, even though he is stressed, he doesn't want to show it.
Kura works hard to teach her how to defend herself.
He smiles gently when she is curious about something and answers in his own way, closing his eyes and explaining patiently. She always seems attentive to what he says, because he listens to her too.
He feels melted when Woble compliments when he gets with his scarlet eyes, before he was like this because he was struggling in his head, but now it would be more because he was very happy.
Kura reads some fun adventure books with her before they go to sleep, they also watch something fun together. He likes to encourage her to dream, because he was like that too, even if he feels worried and protective.
Kurapika curls Woble's hair and she gets a little stressed about having to stand still while he does it.. and he does this while humming some song in his native language that he remembers from his childhood.
His friends sometimes show up to see them, but don't stay long because they have other plans. He feels happy and enjoys reminiscing happy memories with them and spend time with them.
He doesn't think he can live so peacefully after all, but he is determined to protect Woble... and he doesn't really like being alone after all, but Kurapika still doesn't want other people to worry.
It's like a soldier who has returned from a war, he is always alert and marked by sounds and memories of that trip and his past. Regardless, he's determined to protect Woble and keep his promise, his new goal in life is to live for his new family... and keep his family's eyes safe in his new home.
✿
No, I don't think he would be "mamapika", I just think he would be a guardian who feels very responsible... at least that's the impression I want to give.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
"You're sick" you scowled, looking at him directly in the eyes. Kurapika looked back at you just as piercingly. His face red and hot from his fever, matching the dark color of his eyes.
"I'm not sick, I need to work" he retorted weakly.
"Don't be stubborn, you need to rest" you placed your hands on his chest pushing him back gently towards his room. He could've easily fought it off if only he wasn't shivering to the bones. 'Damn this stupid fever'— he thought.
You laid him back gently on the soft mattress, pulling the covers past his chest. All while he stared at you with furrowed brows and a pout on his lips.
"You worry too much" he retorted.
"And you're as stubborn as a mule" you retorted back. He huffed quietly turning his gaze away from you before reaching a hand to tug on your arm.
"Sleep with me, angel" he pleaded quietly, not waiting for your answer as he pulled you to lay on top of him in the bed. He shifted and pulled the covers on both of you as he wrapped his arms around your waist, locking you in a tight but comfortable grip. You melted instantly, burying your face on the warm crook of his neck, placing a small kiss there to relieve him.
〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎
A/N: I'm actually sick rn and this is a draft lmao. I think I actually slept with a sick kurapika (in my dreams)
2087
turnnoffyourmind
romaincrisis
areudirty
blakekathryn
stormborns
gamechangershow
pixelskylines
snowghoul
