#Personalised Night Lights

[knkkrafts]

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[helen-with-an-a]

Beautiful Girl Headcanons 4

Alexia Putellas x reader

Beautiful Girl Masterlist

Amor has a Polaroid that brings on all of their dates - she keeps a scrapbook of all of their dates in order, what they did and where they were

Alexia didn’t tell Amor she was dying her hair pink she just came home from visiting Alba with it

Amor can speak German (she played at Wolfsburg) and it’s one of the few big European languages Ale really has no clue what they’re talking about (with French and Italian she can get a general understanding of the conversation because of Ale’s knowledge of Spanish and Catalan) - Amor, Ingrid, Caro, Frido and Eva like to speak on German sometimes (partly so they don’t loose the language but also because it drives the Spanish gals insane)

Amor likes the bedroom to be absolutely freezing at night time but Ale is a big cuddler

Amor starts to call Ale ‘my wife’ when she’s out in public and Alexia legitimately panics thinking that she and Amor got married but she doesn’t remember it

Amor likes to leave some rather … scandalous … Polaroids for Alexia whenever they’re apart for more than a few days

Ingrid and Ale set up play dates for Amor and Mapí without their knowledge - they sit and gossip whilst Mapí and Amor play video games and stuff (Amor and Mapí just think it’s a group hang out)

When Ale got the all clear from the doctors to play matches again after her ACL, Amor was sobbing harder than Alexia was

Every anniversary, Ale gifts Amor a scrapbook to fit their Polaroid date memories in - they’re personalised with the date and which year of the relationship it is (they usually go on at least 1 date a week so it’s quite a hefty album)

When Alexia played her first minutes back after her injury, Amor surprised her with a strip tease and lap dance when they got home

Every time they see a photo booth, Amor and Ale have to go in it - they always do the same 4 poses (one nice smiley one, their heads pressed together; one with Amor kissing Ale’s cheek; one where Ale is kissing Amor’s cheek; and one where they’re mid-make out) - the photos get pinned on a cork board they keep propped on their sex toy dresser

Ale is an early bird and Amor is just a permanently exhausted pigeon

Their periods have synched up - Ale’s appears first and 2 days later Amor’s has arrived

Amor knows Ale’s skin care routine off by heart and Ale knows Amor’s

Amor is a heavyweight when it comes to her alcohol whereas Ale gets giggly after one drink

The sex toy dresser came about after Ale asked Alba to grab something from her bedside cabinet but Alba opened the wrong drawer

Amor is a lamp kinda person - the Big Light is banned from being switched on

Ale gets really irritated when Amor doesn’t put things in the washing basket

Amor is not a fan of the yellow kits - she understands the significance and importance completely and would never say it out loud but she thinks she looks hideous in it and wishes they didn’t wear it

Ale is basically a hoarder - anything Amor has given her has been kept (down to the wrapper of a chocolate bar Amor surprised her with whilst she was on her period when they first got together)

Amor occasionally uses the Polaroid during sex because she knows this is the only way those sorts of photos won’t be hacked - they’re all stored away in a safe that she keeps in the back of the wardrobe

Amor’s favourite kit to look at was the light purple 21-22 away kit but her favourite kit to wear was the 22-23 home kit

Alex’s love language is words of affirmation; Amor’s is gift giving but they both have physical touch as their second

Before Amor proposed to Ale, she asked Eli if she could take her out for lunch, they ended up at Alexia’s father’s grave and she asked for their daughter’s hand - she said it was important that she asked both of them and she hopes Jaume would approve of her and Alexia’s decision to love Amor

The reason why Amor was once called the devil by a dad of a boy she played against was because she pushed him (the dad) really hard (essentially jelly legged him) and he fell over - she was 6 and he was bullying is child because she beat him

Ale will cry at the drop of a hat when she’s watching movies if she’s alone with Amor, if there’s anyone else in the room (even her mum and sister) she refuses to let the tears fall

[mujeans]

MY ONLY LOVE, MY ONLY ONE ✦ LCY

SYNOPSIS ✦ you and anton’s relationship through the years - because maybe not all love has to be young.

“if we’re both still single by the time we’re thirty , let’s get married.”

TAGS ✦ anton x f!reader, one-shot, angst, fluff, non-idol au, yn has mommy issues, slice of life, bffs to lovers, slow-burn

WARNINGS ✦ mentions of drinking at a bar, reader isn't really referred to as y/n or _, just "you" 😭

WC ✦ 4k

PLAYLIST ✦ only by leehi, still into you by paramore, every summertime by niki, toothbrush by dnce, bad by wavetoearth

AUTHOR'S CORNER ✦ was originally meant for heeseung, but i changed it lolz also ik i said i'd post it in a few days but i finished it early and wanted to put it out so i hope u enjoy!

13

snobby, proud, self-centered - these were the words that described anton's first impression of you.

he'd just moved to town, tagging along with his parents to the local mall when his mother stopped in her tracks, causing him to nearly walk into her. he looked at her confusedly when she suddenly gasped, and squealed someone's name, before she practically ran up to another woman, who he'd soon find out to be your own mother.

"guys, this is my old friend from college," she'd told him and his dad. "and this is her daughter," she said as she gestured to you.

you'd been few inches taller than him, so he was intimidated by you and immediately got the impression you were looking down on him. (well, you were, literally.)

"why don't you two kids go to the arcade? here, my daughter has a game card," your mother spoke as she ushered you two away whilst the adults went somewhere else to catch up. anton and you awkwardly stood next to each other as the parents left you two alone.

once they were out of sight, you seemed to deflate; the intimidating aura wiped and replaced by a more relaxed and amicable ‘you’. somehow, you felt more human, and he let out his own steady breath when you smiled and held out your hand for him to shake.

“sorry, my mother can be a lot to handle. you play DDR?”

turns out, you were way more fun when your mother wasn’t around.

16

holding hands was something you two did often.

your friends would often tease you two about it, but neither you nor anton thought much of it. it was completely platonic, right?

but nonetheless, you two were relentlessly asked if you were dating, even when one or the other was in a relationship with someone else. in fact, your closeness had led to your first and most recent boyfriend breaking up with you.

"can you believe it? everyone knows we're literally just friends," you ranted to anton later that night. "so what if we're close? he himself had his own girl best friend - several in fact!"

anton hummed to let you know he was listening, busy working on an assignment that he'd spent far too long procrastinating.

"i mean, how insecure can he be? is it really that unbelievable for a boy and a girl to have a completely platonic relationship?" you paced around his room, not caring whether or not he was listening. you just needed to get the day's frustrations out - and where better than anton's comfy and personalised room?

something about the hanging leaves, band posters, the warm lamp in the corner lighting up the room, it was your favourite place to hide when your mother would be in another one of her moods.

"i'm never going to date again. ugh."

"you sure about that?" anton half-heartedly asked.

"yes. if i have to sacrifice our friendship to kiss some guy, then no thanks."

anton turned to you with a smile playing at his lips. he didn't take you seriously at all.

"anton..." you whined. this wasn't funny to you.

"sorry, sorry," he said, but you could still hear the laugh in his voice. instead, he took your hands in his apologetically, the warmth a familiar gesture.

"if you never date again, then i won't either."

"anton, you've never dated."

"well, it's like you said. if i have to sacrifice our friendship to kiss some girl, then it's a no for me too."

he stared at you sincerely. you guys knew you both would probably still go on to date other people, but the promise felt real anyway. what with the way he was staring up at you.

"swearing yourself to celibacy for me? how sweet," you relented, sitting down on his bed, your hands still clasped in his.

suddenly, an idea popped into your head.

using your linked hands to pull him closer, his chair rolled over, knocking against your knees.

"anton, let's make a pact: if we're still both single by the time we're thirty, then let's get married."

18

graduation came faster than anton expected, and he only realises then that he's known you for five years now.

as expected, you and him had taken lots of photos together (wait, when did he get taller than you?), and eventually your families decided to dine together at some fancy restaurant after the ceremony. it a celebration of the two of you leaving high school, and moving onto the next chapter of your lives: university. something you were particularly stressed about.

"why is applying for uni so hard?? i'm just a girl - just accept me!"

anton could empathise with that sentiment - he'd been an exceptional student, yet his lack of curriculars had ended him up on three waitlists, and with one rejection. not to mention how complicated the process was, what with all the different requirements for every university. honestly, he felt like he'd been lied to by all those people telling him not to worry.

looking over at the parents busy in conversation, he noticed that the both of you had finished your meals already.

"can we go? i'm gonna take her out for a drive," he asked them, gesturing to you.

surprised by the sudden plan, you looked to your parents for approval.

"aren't you going to stay for desserts?" your dad asked.

"i'm sure we'll find something sweet on the way," anton replied simply.

"well, i'm okay with it," your dad agreed, looking at anton's parents who nodded back.

you watched him turn to your mother, a silent argument spoken through their eyes. she reluctantly sighs, a sign of surrender, and you cheered on the inside as anton pulled you away and out of the restaurant.

going for drives was something you and anton always did when either was stressed or upset. windows down and music blared as the sky turned an array of colours, it really felt like the movies in moments like this. you sighed contentedly, head propped up on your elbow as you stared outside. the wind combined with ONLY by LeeHi being the only sounds between you and anton.

"ah, i'm not sure if i can do this whole university thing," you confessed your thoughts. "if applying is already this hard, i can't imagine the real thing."

"it won't be this bad. c'mon, we'll be together, right?" anton's voice replied.

"always."

silence engulfed the two of you again.

"i want to do something crazy. something that'll make her mad."

"yeah? any ideas for this crazy plan of yours?"

"hmm... what about..." you trailed off, thinking for a while.

"what about a month-long trip around europe?"

anton's head snapped to you, eyebrows reaching his hairline.

"seriously? she'll actually lose it."

"not that she already hasn't already done so several times before," you grumbled into your elbow. "besides, i'm always sticking to her stupid rules. i just want to do something 'rebellious' before we get thrown back into classes and assignments and homeworks and blah blah blah..."

a pause. then, “let's do it. where do you want to start?"

"really? you'll do it with me?" you perk up, finally looking at him.

"duh," he rolls his eyes, as if you ever leaving him alone was such an unimaginable thought. "let's figure out those visas first though," he added as an afterthought.

19

2 Notifications yn : you free later this week? yn : feels like i haven't seen u in forever

anton sees the notifications later that night, and sighs as he pushes his hair out of his eyes. he takes a quick look at his monthly calendar.

to be truthful, the two of you had been swamped with finals and work this past semester, so you hadn’t been able to hang out as often as you used to.

seeing that the next part of his coursework wasn't due until next saturday, he decided he had just enough time.

anton: what about tmrw? 12pm at café bleu

"i was thinking..." you started. "what if we do another month-long trip this summer? like we did last year.”

anton grunted at the thought.

"honestly, i've stayed up countless nights this sem for this stupid assignment. i wanted to catch up on sleep thus summer.” i don't think i really have the time for another trip.

"oh. that's okay! we're both going back home anyway, so i'll just come over to yours like always."

"sure, if you want to watch me sleep all day."

but the way he said that - it was a clear no. he didn't have the time, not when he was going to spend all summer trying to catch up on missed sleep.

"never mind, then."

the waitress placed your orders in front of you, and the two of you began to eat in terse silence.

looking at him closely, you notice the darkened eyebags, the pale skin, the way he hadn't even bothered to wear a nice outfit. anton had been pretty cold towards you lately, and he felt guilty, but he couldn't help it. stress was a bully everyone was a victim of.

seeing the way your demeanour seemed to shrink, he was hit with a wave of shame and regret, and took hold of your hand.

"hey, remember that show we watched in senior year? it has a prequel movie coming out soon. we should watch it together."

you perked up immediately. "really? when?"

"november, i think."

he frowned when you faltered, but then you said something that completely sent his heart to the ground.

"i can’t. anton, i'm going on a study exchange programme."

19

talking to jake was easy. talking to him was nice.

in the three months since jake arrived from australia, anton and him had quickly become good friends, (although he would never be able to replace you). so of course he's sad that the exchange programme was coming to an end soon, and jake would have to leave for home.

however, that meant you'd be coming back too, and he was far more excited about that. the past three months had felt empty without you, even if you were a bit absent from his life for some time before the programme started.

so anton finds himself at café bleu in the same spot you'd told him about your plans, but this time with jake on the other side.

"we'll stay in touch though, yeah?" jake assured him. "i'll definitely come visit some time, this place is really great."

"i'll be looking forward to it."

"i think you're more looking forward to me leaving though, aye? what with your friend coming back too."

at the mention of you, anton couldn't stop the smile from spreading on his face. he really did miss you.

"yeah, she's my rock. always there for me - well, except for these past three months. hopefully you'll get to meet her when you visit."

"i'd love to meet the girl you've been talking about this whole time!"

"you'd get along well," anton nodded, imagining the three of you sharing a slice of cake at this very café. "hey, why don't i call her right now, and you can meet her? although it's just online."

jake nodded eagerly, "why not?"

pulling up his phone, anton quickly swiped to the favourites tab on his contacts app, and called you. after just two rings, you pick up.

"hey! what's up?" your voice greets him, bringing an instant smile to his face.

"nothing much, just wanted to introduce you to jake - he's the student who came in your place as part of the exchange programme," he introduced the guy, turning on his camera.

"oh, hi!" he hears you say after he turns the screen to face the other.

"hi! nice to finally meet you. hope australia treated you well,” jake starts smoothly.

"trust me, it has. everyone so nice and welcoming, i just love it here."

"sounds like you've settled in nicely, i'm almost sorry you'll have to pack up and leave again. but hey, you'll be back home and reunited with this guy, right?" jake laughed.

"well... about that."

anton knew something was up - your voice had that same tone as when you dropped the bomb that was you leaving for the next three months. just before you said your next line, anton felt his heart sink again like it did the first time.

"i've decided to transfer here.

"anton, i'm staying in australia."

22

once again, anton finds himself in a graduation gown. but for the first time, you're not at his side.

looking at the photos his mother took of him on her phone, he couldn't help but feel a little upset by the lack of you next to him. for the past nine years, he's never had much solo photos; you were always with him, sharing these moments.

but this time 'round, he's completely alone, and your friendship has devolved to instagram mutuals, reduced to liking each other's posts and reacting to stories. the thought leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

surprisingly, your mother still came to watch him graduate, even if he was only ever just her friend's son.

"oh, anton. you've grown so much since i first met you."

"thank you, auntie," he says awkwardly.

"you know, i miss the two of you. my daughter's all the way in another country, so i barely see you anymore..." she trails off in thought. in the past few years since you left, she seemed to soften up in your absence, no doubt missing you despite the strained relationship between the two of you when you left.

"oh! have you seen the photos? she just graduated herself last week," she fished for her phone in her bag, and began to swipe through her camera roll to show him.

"i wish i could've been there, but i'm not sure she would've wanted that. she's lucky her dad attended instead."

anton shakes his head. "not true, i'm sure she would've wanted you there."

but he wasn’t sure. have your feelings about your mother changed? or were you still upset with her? he doesn’t know. he hasn’t known much about you in a long time.

"i guess we'll never know, will we?"

swiping through more photos, anton's eye caught onto a few of them, where you were standing particularly close to another guy.

"auntie, who's this?"

"ah, him? why, that's her boyfriend, of course." she then turned to look at him oddly. "hasn't she told you?"

he frowned, and shook his head. he's a little off put by the fact that you didn't bother telling him, but then again. you two haven't exactly been friends in a very long time.

and just like that, memories of a pact resurface in his head. it was never going to come true, wasn't it? but if you ended up marrying this guy, anton could never bring himself to watch.

the sound of his friends' voices brought him back to reality. "hey, anton! come over here-" and he forced himself to shake off the thoughts, joining the group instead.

24

anton had been learning to live life without you for the past four or five years now. he had a new friend group, a nice job in the city, his own apartment, all without his best friend. it was hard to unlearn all the mannerisms he didn't even realise he had for you, not until he would get home from the grocery and realise he bought two boxes of sushi like you used to share, or when he'd almost bought a second, folding mattress for when you'd come over for a sleepover, or even just holding an extra hair tie or two on his wrist in case you needed one.

and that was all in the past now, he's finally began to move on from mourning the loss of your friendship. he only thinks about you once in a blue moon, and his life feels like it's no longer on pause.

but you were always cruel to him.

"wait, what?"

right when he'd begun to move on, you came back.

anton stared at you in shock; when he heard the doorbell ring that day, he'd never have expected you to be on the other side. an intelligent 'wait, what?' was all he could muster when he finally registered just what, or who he was seeing.

"hi," you say in that familiar voice of yours. and you almost sound out of breath, although its clear you hadn't run there.

he finally lets you in after a moment, and you explain how you're moving back, and starting at a local company. you tell him about life back in australia, the friends and experiences you made. you tell him about the past five years of your life as if it was just any normal day after high school.

as if you hadn't just completely left him on his own, his other half gone with you.

although the conversation is stilted and awkward, and theres a gap between you that feels wider than the distance between australia and home, anton's still glad to see you. it almost feels unreal, and he wouldn't believe any of this was real if he couldn't feel your weight pushing down on the sofa, or the very essence of you in his living room.

you and anton agree to get coffee some time after you've settled back in, and he asks if you need any help.

"yes, please! its like i brought my whole life from australia back with me, what with all the boxes i need to unpack."

and so, leaning against the door frame, anton watches you walk away again, catching himself wondering if it would be the last time he'd see you again in a while. he had to keep reminding himself that you were back for good.

"oh, and me and my boyfriend broke up."

anton sucks in a breath, and slips his hands in his pocket to hide the shaking. he wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel - angry? relieved? sorry? anton hasn't known how to feel in years.

"just wanted you to know," you spoke into the air, after you received no response from him.

so with an awkward wave, you leave him once again, with a promise to see each other soon.

27

"happy birthday!" people greet as they enter the bar, giving anton a quick hug.

"thank you," he smiles back. "wow, twenty-seven. i feel so old."

"twenty-seven isn't that old," you tell him, hugging him from behind as a surprise. he chuckles and holds onto your arms clasped around his middle for a bit before letting you go sit across him.

"think about it, we've been friends for longer than we haven't!"

"including those four or five years we barely spoke?" you raised an eyebrow at him, taking a sip from your glass.

"shh, what years? we've always been as thick as thieves," anton grins, pinching your cheek.

after you moved back, it didn't take that long to rekindle your previous relationship. somehow, you two picked up right where you left off, like there was never a period in your friendship filled with almost radio silence.

"you two," eunseok sighed with an exasperated but fond tone. "if i didn't know you guys were 'just friends', i would've thought you were dating."

"or married!" sohee shouts from somewhere.

you roll your eyes at your friends and coworkers, the guests. dating allegation were nothing new in your relationship, having suffered from them for over ten years now.

"we have been friends for a while now, huh? fourteen years is pretty crazy."

"i honestly can't remember a time when i didn't know you," anton agrees.

"being 'friends' for longer than you haven't is quite the achievement," wonbin remarks with a knowing look. "personally, i don't have toothbrushes and extra clothes at my house for my friends though."

all this talk of friends and friendship was making your head hurt.

"anton, remember the pact we made at sixteen?"

anton looked at you sharply, knowing exactly what you were referring to, but asking anyway. "no. remind me again?"

with a scoff and a smile, you said, without regard to the fact that everyone was half-listening, "when we promised we'd marry each other by thirty if we were both still single?"

clinks of glass and utensils falling around the two of you, your friends were suddenly more invested in the conversation, not even trying to hide their curiosity.

"you really want to talk about this right now? in front of everyone?" anton murmured, voice low enough just for you to hear.

you stared at him, and then continued.

"well, looks like there's three years left to our promise. three years left to run away from me." that pulled out some laughs.

anton just stared at you with a mix of surprise and uncertainty.

"well, i haven't run away for these last eleven years since, have i?"

whoops and cheers filled the bar; you yourself were surprised with anton's boldness and honesty. you always did wonder why he barely ever dated, only ever having a few flings here and there.

suddenly, you felt a little flustered by his bold declaration, and the implication that he'll wait out the remaining years.

"i..."

suddenly, anton's face morphed into a smirk as he took another sip from his own glass, eyes still on you.

"what's another three years?"

30

"ah, my mom keeps asking when i'm going to settle down," you whine to anton, sitting in his living room as you two share a late midnight snack.

something about it all feels nostalgic, whining and complaining about your mom to him, sitting in his comfy room (or this time, his apartment), with a vinyl record playing in the background. this is home, you decided.

what you don't tell him is that your mom had been more specific with her words.

(when are you and anton going to get married and settle down?? i want grandkids, you know!)

anton laughs lightly, feeding you another sushi. the whole atmosphere was quite domestic, and you wished you could spend the rest of your life like this; with him.

"some things never change, do they?" he remarks with a fond smile. and your heart melts a little.

(hopefully soon, mama.)

"isn't sushi a little heavy for a midnight snack?"

"well, it's not just any midnight, isn't it?" anton asks.

and he's right. it's actually a special one - the night before your birthday.

looking at the clock, you see that it's almost twelve, and you find yourself thinking back on the past twenty-nine years. anton's in most of the memories, something you weren't particularly bothered about. when you two spent that day at the arcade together, something about it all just felt right.

you've always loved change, always wanted more experiences. but one thing you wanted to stay the same forever, was anton being by your side. when you'd gone to australia, it was a slow realisation that some part of you was missing. only when you reunited with anton did you realise why that was.

the soft beeping noise of a clock brought you back from your thoughts, signalling that it was finally twelve o'clock. that you were finally thirty. hearing shuffling behind you, you turn to look at anton for the annual hug and cheer that made your whole birthday.

but instead, you watched in shock as anton sunk onto one knee, and pulled out a box.

"don't look so surprised, now," he chuckles awkwardly. "this was a long time coming."

"i know... i just. i didn't expect you'd do it as soon as i turned thirty," you laughed. "looks like someone couldn't wait any longer."

"can you blame a man who waited fourteen years?"

you shook your head before anton called our your name, even though he already had your full attention.

"my only love, i don't have to hide my feelings anymore. i love you."

with a deep breath, filled with years and years of longing, he finally asked.

"will you marry me?"

TAGLIST ✦ @yoursyuno @totheseok

[nytb]

Sleepover

Click here first <3

Borrowed pijamas, temperature through the roof, Y/N sleeping a few meters away, what could go wrong?

The night felt like it wouldn't end, Alexia tossed and turned not able to fall asleep.

It wasn't that the bed was uncomfortable, quite the opposite, the silk sheets and heaven like mattress made it one of the comfiest things in the world.

The temperature in the room was just perfect, but for Alexia? Her body temperature radiated and heated the room right up, at least that's what she felt like.

The borrowed pijama, a simple top and short shorts didn't add to the temperature, but Alexia sure thought otherwise.

Replaying the events of the night, imagining what was awaiting her when Y/N woke up - she simply couldn't fall asleep.

"Fuck it" Alexia mumbled, quietly leaving the guest bedroom and headed into the dark hallway.

The lack of personalisation in the space bothered her, no pictures, no books, no nicknacks were on display.

She slowly made her way to Y/N's room, quietly opening the door.

The bed was positioned in the corner of the room, looking over the two walls that consisted of floor to ceiling windows, the night sky light the room enough for Alexia to see Y/N's figure covered by bedsheets.

She took a quiet step after the next, slowly joining the boxer in bed.

Y/N didn't seem to notice Alexia's presence at first, but once the midfielder shimmied into the boxer's arms her eyes opened faster than Alexia had anticipated.

"What are you doing" Y/N's raspy morning voice decorated the room.

"I couldn't fall asleep" Alexia replied nonchalantly.

"So you thought it was a good idea to come into my room without an invitation"

"Actually, I thought it was a perfect idea" Alexia mocked as she shimmied closer to Y/N.

Both were lying on their sides, Alexia's back now fully against Y/N's chest, her ass pressed against the boxer.

Y/N rose slightly up, looking down at Alexia's face she asked "You're enjoying yourself?"

"Very much"

Y/N didn't like the answer too much, distancing herself enough to roll Alexia onto her back, granting herself a better view of her face.

"You don't like cuddling?" the midfielder's question was a clear attempt to rile Y/N up.

"Don't play coy with me" the boxer stated "What are you doing here?"

Silence rang through the room long enough before Alexia dared to reply.

"I'm here to push you into doing what we both want" she stated bluntly.

"What we both want huh" Y/N's hand traveled to Alexia's face, pulling her closer.

"Yes" the midfielder whispered, carefully nibbling on Y/N's bottom lip.

The midfielder initiated the kiss, rolling Y/N onto her back as she positioned herself on top of the boxer, straddling her hips.

Y/N's hands traveled to the midfielder's hips, playing on her short's waistband then roughly grabbing Alexia's ass as she deepened the kiss.

"Not before I drive you crazy" Alexia grinned from ear to ear, straightening her back as she forced Y/N's back to remain on the mattress.

It didn't take long before the boxer rose up and took a strong grip on Alexia's hips again.

"Aren't you feeling bold" she stated, swiftly throwing Alexia onto her back as they switched positions.

Y/N made her way off the bed.

Alexia, who was now leaning forwards to get a better view, slammed back down once Y/N pulled the bed off the windows it previously was pushed up against.

"What are you doing?" the midfielder asked, curious as to why Y/N left her lips again.

"I'm getting us some toys, you have any preferences?"

"You're joking right?"

Y/N was off, into the adjacent room. It didn't take long until she reappeared, a couple of sex toys in hand.

"What are those?" Alexia asked.

"These are enhancements" the boxer explained "This suctions" she gave the midfielder a penguin like toy "This is for your wrists" Y/N laid the soft sequins that made up hand wrists "And this is for later" she placed a harness with multiple sized dildos on the edge of the bed.

"Who are you?" Alexia asked, clearly astonished at the night's developments.

"Your best nightmare" the boxer replied as she pushed Alexia onto her back, initiating a slow kiss that quickly developed into a rough make out.

"I'll go easy on you" Y/N stated as she slowly traveled down Alexia's body, pulling the shirt she had grabbed from the guest room off her body.

"Don't" the midfielder replied, a grin instantly decorated the boxer's face.

"Have it your way"

Y/N obliged, pulling Alexia's borrowed pijama bottoms off quickly, amazed at what was underneath.

A black laced thong that the boxer made quick work of.

"You planned this didn't you?" Y/N asked.

"Maybe" a mischievous smile appeared.

The boxer instantly got down to business, settling between Alexia's thighs, nipping at the midfielder's clit.

"I missed this" Y/N stated as she reached up to Alexia's hard nipples, tightening her fingertips around one of them, roughly playing with them, one at a time.

"Oh fuck" the midfielder exclaimed as Y/N introduced a finger into her, curving ever so gently, exploring her from within.

Mere minutes passed as Alexia's first orgasm hit, making her legs tremble.

"Beautiful" Y/N rose back up, returning to Alexia's view, face to face now.

"You're great" the midfielder confessed.

"I recall you calling me authoritarian, possibly implying that I'm a douchebag?" Y/N replied, teasing the woman in front of her.

"That was before this" she waved her finger between them.

"Good, that was just the first"

Y/N's words left a shocked face on the midfielder.

"You didn't think that you would get away with last night right?" a smirk appeared on the boxer's face, it was payback time.

Roughly, Y/N brought Alexia to her knees.

"These stay here" she demanded, pressing Alexia's hands firmly against the headboard.

Y/N's graced the midfielder's back before she stepped off the bed, reaching for the toys she had previously brought out.

The midfielder's intrigue was too much to not look at what Y/N was doing.

"Eyes forward" the authoritarian voice was back and Alexia was quick to follow the command as a small moan left her lips.

The movement of the mattress indicated that Y/N was approaching, making her way behind Alexia's back.

Her ass was in full display, her pussy red and wet from her previous orgasm.

"Let's see how you hold up" as soon as the words left Y/N's lips, a thick dildo entered the midfielder roughly, making her gasp at the fit.

Her hands grabbed hard at the headboard, the boxer's eyes lit up.

"I see that you're learning" she teased "Good girl" her words were accompanied by hard thrusts, entering Alexia to the hilt.

The midfielder's moans filled the room, coming once from a sweet mixture of pain and pleasure.

"That's two" Y/N announced grabbing Alexia's hips and leading her torso upward, softly kissing her neck, the midfielder's back pressed against Y/N's torso.

"You think you will manage to fall asleep now?" Y/N asked half jokingly "Or should I keep going?"

"Yes" Alexia begged.

"Yes what?" Y/N accompanied her question with a nibble at the midfielder's ear.

"I want more" the midfielder made her request and Y/N obliged.

Turning on her back, Alexia was now on top.

"Ride it" Y/N ordered.

The midfielder positioned her bent legs on either side of Y/N, gaining leverage to follow the boxer's order.

Slowly up and down, Alexia rode the dildo gasping as her sore pussy wasn't yet accustomed to the size.

Y/N admired the midfielder from below, turned on by Alexia's power gain, her moans now loud and proud.

She couldn't hold on for much longer, Y/N pulled on Alexia's back, bringing her down to meet her lips.

Their eyes met for a split second before the boxer lost all self control, holding Alexia firmly in place as she thrusted the dildo into her wet pussy.

In and out, in and out. Y/N's groans and Alexia's now louder moans radiated through the penthouse.

Alexia came again, her legs shaking beside Y/N's body.

"That was three" Y/N stated "And not nearly enough for me to get over you"

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can you maybe do a Wednesday and Enid x reader (platonic or romantic) where basically the reader comes from a very rich family and likes to spoil Wednesday and Enid.

(I hope this makes sense)

Is this what you wanted? Idk but I thought a headcannon format would be more sufficient for this but again idk. You tell me.

You spare no expenses when it came to Wednesday and Enid. You never bothered to try in fact because it didn’t really matter, as the money spent would eventually find itself back into your parents bank account anyways so why should you fret about accidentally crossing certain thresholds?

So when Wednesday’s typewriter starts having complications, hindering her writing time, you assured her that you would be able to get it fixed by the best people there was in fixing things. However it turns out that the typewriter was irreparably damaged and you had to buy Wednesday a new one that was personalised to be coated in a matte black colour and you even had her initials engraved on the front of it in gold cursive.

Wednesday may not have looked visibly thrilled at the new typewriter but her bland words of “I’m so ecstatic that my face can not comprehend how to convey it.” Were all you needed to know that she did in fact liked her new typewriter and began working on her book as though nothing ever happened. The next day you found a dead bird in front of your dorm, this was Wednesday’s way of saying ‘thank you.’

You even went out of your way to find enid a new part for her laptop when she complains to you that she couldn’t get anything do without it. So once again you went off to find the best shops available in Jericho that could help you in finding what you needed. Unfortunately due to it being the city of Jericho there weren’t a single good shop in sight that even had the part you needed in stock nor even in the back with the rest of the recent deliveries.

Typical.

With that you resorted to plan b and reached out online to shops elsewhere and ordered it for a next day delivery as to save yourself and enid the agonising waiting game. You even got her some other parts should this happen again but all of them were expensive and of state of the art manufacturing with the added promise of longevity and efficiency.

Enid was gobsmacked when she learnt that you did this all for her. “How can I pay you back for doing this for me?” She would ask but all you told her was that you didn’t need to be paid back for as long as she was happy and that the part was doing it’s job smoothly without any hitches, then that’s all the payment you desired.

This didn’t stop at fixing and or replacing their broken stuff but it also extended to their birthdays where you got enid more squishmellows for her growing pile, top of the range designer clothing that you’d knew she would look stunning in, new sets of nail polish, moisturisers, makeup and some new fairy lights should her current ones light their final night.

For Wednesday it was a little more trickier as she hated her birthday being celebrated in the traditional sense that you and enid were brought up with and instead you bought her an actual guillotine that she had set up next to her cello outside on the balcony of Ophelia Hall, dissection kits, things to keep her cello in top condition, some dark flowers that didn’t require much caring for, pacidermy animals much to Enid’s dismay as Wednesday would always seemingly have them face her whenever she said something that Wednesday wasn’t particularly fond of.

When Wednesday and enid try to repay you on your generosity, enid worries that due to your upbringing, you would be expecting diamonds, gold and the such thrown at your feet but Wednesday told her that she was exaggerating and that yes, you were born into an extremely wealthy family but the addams noted that you have a preference for the smaller things. So out they went to Jericho and chose a couple of things that they thought you’d might like.

Enid got you some cute toys that she though would add to your dorm along with getting you a matching snood with her and Wednesday that you could all wear to class together. Wednesday got you a necklace with a dead crow with a black Dalia sprouting from it’s heart with some of it’s crystal feathers dotted here and there up the silver chain as to give off the impression that this crow was shot out of the sky. She also got you some uncouth stuff like a hand mace or an taser for self defence for when people who couldn’t get the hint.

She wouldn’t admit it but even Wednesday was a little nervous that you might not like what they got you. However she didn’t have to continue putting belief into that thought as your eyes light up at each and everything that she and Enid got you that by the end of it you looked to both of them with the widest grin they’ve ever seen. “Thank you both so much! I love everything you’ve given me! Nobody’s given me things that I actually like!”

“What do you mean by that y/n?” Enid asks, confused.

“My parents think that splashing their money on expensive stuff for me is what I want but it’s not, I could care less about having the state of the art phone, tv, clothes, none of that matters to me but it seems that to them, that’s all that matters is to not only be rich but look rich too…so when they started putting large sums of money into my bank account, I spent it on the things that I want, on the clothes that I felt good in rather then what they think I’d look good in for their reputation. So I thank you both for these,” you told them as you squeezed one of the plushies Enid bought you close to your chest, “I love them a lot.”

“Even the taser?” Enid asked as Wednesday stared at her

You chuckled, “yes, even the taser. After all you can never be too sure when a creep is nearby.” You looked to Wednesday who’s lips almost uplifted into a proper smile but came back down into it’s neutral state just seconds later.

[lace-coffin]

Hello 🤗 I was wondering what kinda rules do you think Asa would have set for one of his pets? I imagine he'd be really particular about them giving him respect and being submissive, but do you think he has a concrete set of written rules or more of a general guideline of what he expects. Idk of that made sense lol.

What rules does Asa have for his pet/SO? (NSFW)

Asa Emory x gn!Reader

Trigger warning for power/bdsm dynamics and general Asa Emory things.

Requests are open!

This is a super fun ask omg! I love love love talking abt what kind of dom Asa is so I’m so happy with this request!

Honourifics- honourifics are always to be used when addressing or replying to asa. Sir, master are used regularly. If you really want to rile him up then daddy or Mister work prefect, the perversity of it doing something animalistic to him. Calling Asa God or “my God” will draw out his more sadistic egotistical side, tell him how you’re only committed to him, your life is in his hands and you’re nothing but the ground beneath him. Lave over his heavy leather boots in worship.

Collars and marking- collars are worn daily, taken off at night so you can sleep comfortably and not risk choking (he wants to be the one doing the choking ; ) ) if you’re uncomfortable with a full collar then a daytime collar can be worn, usually a chain of some sort with your name tag and return information on it. “Cricket, property of The Collection, if lost return to Asa Emory”

Respect- disrespect will not be tolerated, talking back or lashing out will end in punishment, it depends how severe the offence was. Ignoring him or muttering a rude comment under your breath might earn you a single slap to the ass to correct you in the moment. Having a smart mouth the whole day will have worse consequences and may require a scene to be planned and negotiated prior.

Scenes - your BDSM relationship with Asa is a 24/7 dynamic, this means all the planning and communication comes with it. You use the traffic light system, green for good/continue, yellow for slow down or take a break and red for stop. Asa would never do anything you don’t want or consent to, he may be strict and domineering but your safety is key to him. If your mouth is restrained or you’re not feeling up to speaking in sub space then there are non-verbal safe words in place for you to use.

Clothing and inspections - all clothing is to be approved by asa before you get ready for the day, you can either pick out an outfit on your own and have it approved or let your master choose one and lay it out on the bed ready for you. He’s more than happy to aid you in getting dressed, loving the sense of dependancy you show him.

Bodily inspections are done once a week, Asa prides himself on keeping you in the best physical health he can, this doesn’t end at just an ordinary checkup however. Slipping on his latex gloves (unless ur allergic!) and prying your holes open, delving his fingers into you as your squirm against them under the guise of checking you’re healthy. Filthily commentating the entire time. “Look at that pretty pink hole, stretched open all for me”

Scheduled meals and bedtimes - Asa likes routine and can get antsy when running behind (totally not me projecting my autism onto him) this transfers over to your routine too. Lunch and dinner (and dessert < 3) are served at the same time every day, asa expects you to be ready and waiting at the table. A strike will be added to your chart if your late. Three strikes and a punishment will be given. Sir will decided where you dine everyday, if you’ll be joining him at the table or eating on the floor from a personalised bowl. Breakfast isn’t at a set time, he knows the amount of sleep you get/need will fluctuate so he’s happy to let you sleep in until you feel ready to get up.

Bedtime is usually also at a set time, around 1 am, he knows you’re not a child and won’t make you sleep early but still wants you in bed at a reasonable time, usually ushering you into bed at 12 and giving you an hour to read or to watch videos. Usually you either share a bed with asa or sleep in your kennel/cage, sometimes in a combination of the two you sleep at the foot of the bed.

Language- Asa discourages the use of swearing but he won’t punish you for it, he might give you a stern look but that’s the extent of it.

Chastity - your sir has a dainty key hanging on a chain around his neck at all times, your body is his as is your sexual pleasure and your genitals. Chastity devices are worn until he decides it’s time to play, attempts at touching will result in punishment, he does however like the desperate look on your face as you rut against the fabric of the sofa like a pathetic mutt in heat. He won’t let you know that though. Sometimes he’ll bring you to the edge of orgasm, panting and whining as your body shakes, only to remove his hand/cock or toy and slide the device back on. The pitiful cries and “it’s not fair”s from you after are even more beautiful than seeing you cum in his mind. Don’t lash out or act out after otherwise the time spent without release will be extended just to spite you.

Relating back to food and drink Asa expects you to drink a minimum of 500ml of water or juice a day, he knows 1-2 litres is unrealistic and doesn’t want you needing to pee constantly. He’s happy as long as your hydrated, if you have particularly bad days with fatigue or depression he’ll help you drink by bringing the straw to your mouth as he holds you. Medication needs to be taken at the correct time, both your alarm clock and Asa’s watch has an alarm set on it so you don’t miss it.

Whilst Asa can be sadistic most of his rules are for your wellbeing along side your obedience, only wanting the best for you whilst you’re under his control.

I hope u like this!! Was literally so fun to write! I love this chunky bug man and ungodly amount <3

[indie-ttrpg-of-the-week]

I'm actually not super into vampires which is wht I outsourced this write-up, so shoutouts to my wonderful partner for doing it for me :)

Genre: Post apocalypse fantasy

What is this game?:

Bloodbeam Badlands is a unique rules-lite TTRPG that seeks to tell heroic stories about magical badass sharpshooting vampires and wild desperate adventures in an over the top strange and deadly post apocalyptic wasteland that shines a new light on mythical fantasy by combining magical creatures from folklore and pop culture with the tropes of post-apocalyptic survival.

How's the gameplay?:

The gameplay is loose, basic and imposed checks are rolled during times of drama and conflict to decide outcomes, which means mechanics are usually most relevant in fights. You roll a number of d6 equal to one of your 3 stats (Guts, Guile, and Guise) and compare the lowest die result to one of your 3 sources, which are similar to stats (Blood, Bullets, and Burn), if the result is lower, you succeed.

This simple conflict resolution method is made more engaging with a few inclusions: first of all, your sources are fluctuating, you can lower or “spend” a source to automatically succeed on a roll, the sources can also be lowered as a consequence of failure, and act as a gauge for your survival. If a source goes to 0, you’ll start to face death or mutation. Sources can also be restored by a variety of unique means, such as feeding on blood or bartering for bullets. Each character also has their own unique “Vampiric Bloodline” chosen at character creation that has their own way to spend and regain sources and a set of striking supernatural powers, such as being able to manipulate the demiplane of shadows or being a vessel for phantoms.

Players also further customise their vampires with a unique, personalised gun with a set of magic ammo, like a shotgun with homing shells or a sniper rifle that injects werewolf blood into your enemies. Additionally, while exploring the wasteland, you can pick up items with unique narrative and mechanical tags and usually some sort of magic, some are even strong enough to have their own stats and sources.

What's the setting (If any) like?:

I am so biased, I am going to be honest here, I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THIS SETTING and am very excited to talk about it. The Forever Dawn is a vast, twisted post-apocalyptic wasteland with no end in sight, it gets its name from the blinding, burning, behemoth red sun that hangs omnipresently. The day never leaves and the night never comes. If the sun doesn’t burn you alive, the radiation will start to mutate and consume you. The players are vampires whose blood has been diluted and irradiated enough to leave the underground and search for blood on the outside.

The radiation and consequences of supernatural forces being mutated has left everything in The Forever Dawn, from the land to the people to the monsters, bizarre and twisted. Even the most common mortals of The Forever Dawn have strange mutations and unique features. The setting isn’t bound to just a burning desert, the book encourages GMs to set your campaigns in different environments warped by the apocalypse.

The setting does not have many established locations, the wasteland is too mysterious to be catalogued as such, and the lore usually comes in the form of sparse, unexplained plot hooks to give ideas to GMs or writers to build upon. Yet despite being largely vague and interpretive, the book still oozes with style and direction for the worldbuilding and goes in depth about not only what's in the world but about how the world feels.

What's the tone?:

Like I previously stated, the way the tone is communicated in this book is extremely effective, and lots of love was clearly put in. I feel like nearly every single piece of the text helps establish the tone, mechanical things like the stats being divided into snappy metrics of Guts, Guile, and Guise make you feel like you’re creating cunning and cool heroes, the examples of mechanics describe action packed scenes against mutant dinosaurs, and on the topic of mutant dinosaurs, my favourite example of the type of over the top style this game has is "Revolverface," a mutant t. rex with a flaming revolver cannon for a face. Which is just shamelessly cool and over the top enough to perfectly describe what you’re getting into.

But enough praising the writing, to actually describe the tone in my own words, Bloodbeam Badlands is wacky and over the top, balancing the fun of flashy action with the grimness of surviving in a world designed to waste you away.

Session length:

I’d say about 2 hours give or take, unless you're running full episodes in one session, then maybe 4 or so.

Number of Players:

The book lists around 2+ players and a GM, although it's worth considering there’s only 4 bloodlines in the base book

Malleability:

The rules are extremely malleable, the looseness gives opportunity to add and change mechanics as the GM sees fit, and the idea of sources can be changed or taken in a lot of different ways. It was designed with homebrew content in mind and has spawned a lot of cool third party and bonus content. Even if you stick by the source book you’re encouraged as a GM to create unique magic items and NPCs.

Resources:

As far as I’m aware I do not believe there is a sheet made for this game yet, likely a byproduct of early access.

Bloodbeam Badlands B-Side is a collection of new and third party content curated by the developer, licensing and logo information is also included.

Bloodbeams is a game with a great setting and a good game wrapped around it, it's definitely something worth checking out even if the gameplay isn't your thing, because the setting is just that interesting. It's a fun time for all you vampire enjoyers

[gutterfuuck]

can you do sfw/nsfw headcanons for rex? i love your writings, can i be 🦊 anon?

of course! i will be naming you foxie anon!! here you go! (also this has been in my drafts since a long time, i am so sorry!! please do enjoy, this one is a little short i developed evil writing block at the end and did not finish it 😭 i am so sorry please spare me)

rex sloan x reader (anon requested fem reader/pronouns, they forgot to mention that in original ask!!)

sfw!!

just being at your place is enough for him. wether it’s an apartment, you have roommates or you live with your parents, he’s always eager to stick around wherever you are. you notice the way little things become misplaced, rearranged to his liking. it wasn’t something that made you upset, just inconvenienced you when you were trying to get out of the house in the mornings. you woke up to your keys in a little cat bowl instead of on the coat hanger, courtesy of your boyfriend.

“i just thought it’d be nicer.” rex mumbles as he rolls around in your bed, eyes closed with strands of hair falling over your pillows, the blankets shifting as he rolled over onto his stomach. you roll your eyes, having spent almost 15 minutes searching for your house keys when you could’ve just looked into the new little bowl he’d placed on the counter. you place a kiss on his forehead before leaving for work, nodding in agreement. “it did, i really like it… it’s cute, rex.” you smile, panic over as you rush to get into your car. he was such a heavy sleeper, you’d had to shake him awake five times before he’d opened his eyes.

when he first meets you, he tells you he’s a hero straight off the bat. he really liked you, okay!? he couldn’t risk messing up, especially not when he had something so perfect at the moment. he’d seen and heard what keeping secrets could do to relationships between heroes and civilians. you aren’t surprised, maybe even a little bit insulted when he’d told you, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to work out ‘rex sloan’ was ‘rex splode’.

his sense of humour is immaculate, makes you giggle with just a side eye sometimes. you have an inside joke going where you give each other a glance while talking to others, something that makes you both almost burst out laughing mid conversation. you didn’t mind if it made you both look a little bit rude. you guys only enjoyed each others company, anyway.

romance is top tier; personalised fireworks just for you, coming home to see that you wouldn’t have to worry about making dinner because he’s already bought home takeout by the time you’re home. one night, he’d placed everything like he had made it himself but you’d caught on that he hadn’t as soon as you tasted the food. (he wasn’t a good cook by any means, you had to learn that the hard way)

get ready for your home/room/whatever to be rearranged, he’s really big on home design and your space is his space. just like the cat dish, you slowly start to notice things appearing until you enter your bedroom one day and realise it would look like a whole other home compared to the way it looked last time. you really didn’t mind too much, you welcomed it. he really needed this, maybe it was his way of winding down.

“blinds or curtains?” rex asks, face buried in the magazine you’d picked up on the way home for him, his finger circling the page, “you just put curtains up last week, rex.” you roll your eyes, laying down next to him so you could rest your head in his lap, letting him balance his pages on the side of your head. almost every week you’d find him setting up a new dresser, installing lights into your ceiling, the whole nine yards. it was refreshing being with rex, it seemed like he never wanted to sit down, always doing something, you were just grateful that he’d make all the time in the world just for you. “right, yeah, but hear me out on this one: sparkling blinds this time.” he flips the page around to show you the nardo grey blinds with glitter embedded, you nod your head in agreement, “i hear you, i do… next week maybe.” you smile back, giggling when he closes the magazine to kiss you on your nose.

you liked to shower with him but rex loves to bathe with you. he loves sitting in front of you with the back of his head on your chest, loves having you wash his hair for him even if he had to bend his legs uncomfortably for you to both fit in the tub. rex flinches when he stands up to get out and your palm connects with his butt, taking him by complete surprise. he almost slips and falls which makes you laugh so hard you thought you wouldn’t be able to breathe, “ouch- hey!” he says, steadying himself before wrapping the towel around his waist quickly. “i would never do that to you- okay, maybe i do but that’s besides my point!” you can only laugh back in response, watching as he sticks his tongue out at you and grabs you your towel, wrapping it around you when you emerge from the bubbly water with suds sliding down your back.

he’s really big on pda. whether you’re in line for a movie, waiting to pick up food, shopping or out in public just be ready to have arms wrapped around your waist or his lips on yours as soon as you get to the cash register. he wants everyone to know that you’re his, he’s so proud of his relationship you’d think he’d been with you for a hundred years if you spoke to him, every sentence starting or finishing with “my girlfriend”. everyone is tired of it but not you, you knew how much it meant to him.

nsfw

his stamina is borderline evil. after you’d finish, he’s straight back to rolling over onto his back and pulling you on top of him. makes you ride it til you’re exhausted, likes to whittle you down before he’s on top of you, large hands squeezing your hips and moving them back and forth in time with his messy thrusts.

“shit, shit- squeezing down so tight-“ rex pants, collapsing forward onto you with his head right next to yours, stuttering hips making slapping sounds between you both. “r-rex..! too much-“ you whine, legs numb and pussy raw, you’d been at it for hours now, the sun was setting outside. he could hardly hear you, lost in his own pleasure as he felt your walls clamp around his dick again, cockhead twitching with sensitivity. how many times now? three, four..? five, maybe? he didn’t know, he lost count, all he could focus on was the way sweat dripped between you both and the way your face scrunched up again, mouth hanging open with hot breaths fanning his shoulder.

“y’know h-how pretty you look-“ he slurred, voice breaking as he pushed in again, a long groan escaping his lips, “cummin’ again, princess…?” rex holds your face in his hands, trying to hide his own disheveled face away from yours. your stomach knots up, eyes rolling back behind your eyelids as you let the sensation of your nth orgasm take your body by surprise, back arching up off of the bed as you clawed away at his back. you’d look them over later, he could worry about the red scratch marks when you weren’t trying to hold onto him for dear life.

be careful!! he likes to grab and change positions as fast as he’s put you in one so be prepared to wake up with finger shaped bruises in your skin. you scold him for the marks he leaves, but can’t deny the way your stomach flipped like you were on a roller coaster when your coworkers notice your hickeys and bites and they know exactly who you belong to. you’re not the only one covered in bruises and love bites; his teammates comment on them whenever they notice a new one which would be rare because of rex’s costume, though he liked to show them off on purpose. rex belonged to you just as much as you belonged to him.

[tadpolesonalgae]

Azriel x Cam-Girl!Reader: His Personal Assistant - Part 2[*]

A/N: This one’s pretty light for October, but I wanted to have a bit of fun :)

Warnings: masturbation, sex toys, exhibitionism (?)

Word Count: 3,378

-Part 1-

——————————————————————————————————————————————

Your lips part, back bowing off the bed as you tip over the edge.

The small red dot flashes, showing the camera’s still recording, and if you squint, you can see the comments rolling in. Complimenting your form, your body, your moans, everything. Occasionally a critique from a guy who probably hasn’t been within three metres of a woman, but… Well, they brought you to fame. Of course there’s going to be the occasional creep.

Your lipstick’s smudged a little from when you slapped your hand over your mouth, and you run your tongue over your teeth before sitting upright, facing the camera. “Well, that’s it for tonight guys,” you pant, your tits pressing together as you lean closer to the recorder.

“As always, exclusive content will be going up on my private channel, so if you want to see a little more of me…” You give a feline grin, as your spine arches, thighs parting a little wider to serve as a reminder of what sort of content they’ll be getting.

How much is it. why isnt it free

Exclusive contant????

Id fuc u so good bby

The usual assortment of comments roll in, and you scan for a final talking point.

You’re working a job?

Bingo.

You give a wide smile, settling back onto your knees so they have a full view of your pretty nipples and the mess decorating your thighs. “I am working a job, yes! Stuffy corporate business—lots of men who could use a little fun, if you know what I mean,” you purr, winking at the camera, shifting to be comfortable without compromising their view.

You should definitely fuck your boss

Lush shout me out!

Where u working at

The smile widens into a grin, “I should fuck my boss? I did ask you guys that, didn’t I?” You laugh, dipping your head before straightening again, feigning a little embarrassment. Human. Draw them in. “He’s a bit of a stick-in-the-mud. Could really use a night out with a woman—or two,” you grin, tongue flicking out to wet your lips.

“Would you guys watch that? If I get him to fuck me?” You ask, already knowing the answers. Sure enough, the enthusiastic encouragements come spilling up the screen in rapid succession to one another. You laugh again, looking away from the camera, “well, I’m not sure if I can promise that, buuuttt…” Eyes return to the camera, looking up through your lashes, lips lifting into a feline grin. “The office I’ve been given doesn’t have any security cameras in, so… I could accidentally slip over one day… You know, happens to the best of us, sometimes,” you say, shrugging nonchalantly. “Maybe I could record a short little video for you guys.”

More questions spill in, asking for details, but now you’ve whet their appetite, it’s time to pull away. “Well, that’s it for tonight, everyone. Tune in next week for the stream, and get on that private channel for some additional content,” you purr, reaching forward to turn off the recorder. “Maybe I’ll do some personalised videos to someone who tips well.”

And it’s off.

You flop back into your bed, the vibrator bouncing besides you, arousal already drying on the rubbery toy. Excitement sizzles in your belly—filming yourself at work.

It could go so wrong…

————

You lean over his desk, the deep V in the neck of your navy dress showing off just a little too much cleavage as you set the mug of coffee down.

To your utter irritation, he hadn’t shown any appreciation for the last one. Made by a professional! Now, you’ve taken to stopping in at different cafes, just to see if one of them can get it right. So far: nothing. Every single one has been sub-par, and it’s getting on your nerves.

It’s been nearly a full week since your first day, and you’re still no closer to cracking him. He’s almost always submerged in some sort of Matter, dealing with organising files on his computer, or stamping out email after email. Really, you don’t understand how he doesn’t bore himself to tears every day.

The only highlight has been Gabrielle who seems to be the only spark of life to exist on this miserable floor.

You’ve been on the lower ones, too, and it really is just this floor that seems to be completely devoid of any kind of life. Nobody’s talking by the water cooler, no hushed gossiping girls by the photocopier, and not even a single person waiting in the waiting room. It’s ridiculous. The only way you’re saved from insanity is the brief interactions you have with Gabe, and those are still too infrequent for you to consider yourself safe from the madness.

You sigh internally, moving onto the next stack of papers he’d made that need photocopying, swinging your hips subtly as you depart from the office. Not even the slight prickle of hairs rising at the nape of your neck to signal a sneaky peep.

Stick-in-the-mud.

Putting your bad luck aside, you begin formulating a rough outline for when you’ll have the chance to record that sweet, little video you kind of promised. Well. Technically you didn’t promise, so it’s not owed or anything, but…

It’s exciting!

Rhys had specifically told you not to—so you have to. That’s just how these things work, and he’s a fool if he doesn’t understand that appeal.

Either way, you’re looking forward to it. Fuck him if he thinks he’s going to spoil your fun.

————

You slide your phone back into your bag, hastily wiping down the chair and opening the windows. You don’t want the cleaners getting any ideas, nor do you feel it would really fair to subject them to that sort of mess.

A quick sanitisation and few short spritzes of perfume later, and the room seems pretty normal. The small remote is still on the desk, vibrator deep inside your warm, wet cunt. You should probably take it out, but… It’s fun, and you could use a little excitement. Especially working long, boring hours like you currently are.

The door to your office swings open, and you spin on your heel, taking a startled step back, nearly toppling onto the desk as you do so. Your widened eyes flit to the source of the noise, just as Azriel steps over the threshold. He halts, pausing as if he hadn’t been expecting you.

With a hand over your heart, you lean fully against the desk, legs still a little weak from the orgasm. “What are you doing in here?” You ask, too rushed and too breathless to be acceptable. You clear your throat, straightening your dress—hoping you don’t smell of sweat.

Sharp hazel eyes run over your form, and it’s the most he’s looked at you since you arrived here. You’re unaccustomed to being at the centre of his attention, and all of a sudden you find yourself flushing under his scrutinising gaze.

His brow narrows, closing the door behind him, holding up the papers in his hand. “I was going to put these on your desk,” he says, moving silently across the room, aiming for where you’re leaning. “For tomorrow,” he explains.

You stiffen, then dart away—he’ll be able to smell sex on you if he gets too close, so you shift to be the opposite side of the furniture. “I was wondering which demon was sneaking those in,” you joke, bringing your gaze to meet his. It’s so piercing and intent, it’s difficult to maintain. Suddenly struggling to function under his attention. “Looks like it was you,” you smile.

Azriel’s eyes stab into you, raking beneath your skin, and you fight the urge to fidget. Instead you straighten your back, spine curving enough to push your chest out—just a little.

Your attention flicks over his shoulder to the door, which you know you locked. “Say, how did you get in here? I know I locked it so I wouldn’t be disturbed,” you ask, peering at him from across the desk. You’re now leaning the majority of your weight on the spinning chair, legs trembling slightly.

He’s quiet for a moment, and you wonder for a dreadful second if he somehow knows. You dismiss the thought quickly. There’s no way he does. You sprayed that perfume, and it’s pretty strong. He can’t have figured it out, there’s not enough evidence to even suggest you’d been doing anything other than flicking through emails and moving files about to the correct Matter.

He pulls something from his pocket, holing it up the metal ring. “Skeleton key,” he answers, simply. You nearly blanch at the information—he could have walked in at any moment. A flicker of arousal licks between your thighs as you imagine him walking in on you like that. How would he react?

He’d probably be pissed off for potentially getting some files dirty. Typical stick-in-the-mud behaviour.

You shift on your feet uncomfortably, “so, you have access to any room in this building?”

“That is how a skeleton key works, yes.” You blink at his tone. Narrow your eyes. The dry tone…the slight tug on his lips, as if suppressing a… “Oh my god you made a— You have humour.”

You stare at him, slightly mortified the thought slipped out, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Simply raises a brow, “I’m loosely acquainted with the concept.” You stare longer, unsure how to react, lips nervously twitching up at the edges. You nod, slowly, blinking—dumbfounded.

His lips curve almost imperceptibly, and you stiffen, for once unsure what to do, how to react. He seems to have difficulty suppressing his smile as he takes in your reaction, “I had no idea humour would have such a profound effect on you.”

You snap back to reality, tightening your grip on the chair. “No, it’s not that,” you explain hurriedly. He raises a brow, lips still slightly quirked in a way that only magnifies his beauty. Classically complimenting his features.

He’s waiting for your explanation.

You flush, realising you don’t have one.

“I just…didn’t expect it, is all,” you try, concealing your wince. But the slight lift of his mouth doesn’t fade, and you realise you should be using the time to make a move on him. Drop a couple of hints. Maybe he’ll be different outside of working hours.

Azriel opens his mouth to respond, and you prepare yourself for whatever quip he’s going to surprise you with, but instead his eyes flick down to your desk. More specifically, the small remote that’s connected to the device inside of you.

Your heart actually stops in your chest for a moment, time slowing as his brow narrows, and—picks it up.

For the few seconds he examines it, you’re paralysed, holding your breath and praying for the love of god he doesn’t recognise it.

“What is this?” He asks, and you have to control the sigh of relief that wants to whoosh from your lungs. You’re saved. “I have no idea,” you lie, unable help the smile that’s graced your lips.

His brow narrows, eyes flicking to yours as he holds the remote in his large hand, making it look tiny. “It’s not yours?” He asks, and you mentally kick yourself for the mistake. You should have said it was some kind of charger!

But you’re stuck now, so you nod stiffly, feigning ignorance.

His brow narrows further, flipping the device over in his hand, making you tense. If he presses one of those buttons… You don’t allow yourself to consider that path. No way.

“Are they for the lights?” He asks, peering closer at the small buttons. Seven in total, all different types of vibration. Labelled with their number, nothing else. You shrug, stepping out from behind your chair, moving to walk over to him, “no idea. I’ll drop it off at reception or something and see if they—”

He presses the the third button.

You stumble but catch yourself, thankful for the whisper-quiet motor. He won’t be able to hear anything, thank god.

Teeth dig into your lip as you halt, fingers pressing onto the hard wood of the desk, a shaky breath exhaling from your lips. Your mind scrambles for an excuse to take it from him, but you come up empty. All you can think about is the high-speed buzzing, how good it feels against your sensitive walls.

“Azriel…” you manage, unsurely, becoming temporarily breathless when those hazel eyes slice into, carving your exterior clean off. “I’m not sure it’s wise to press those if we don’t know what they do,” you argue, fairly soundly considering the situation.

He weighs your point, peering at the remote again. “Maybe if it’s on a different setting we’ll see what it is,” he says instead, and you have no time to prepare as he presses the fourth button. Your thighs tremble, nails digging into your palm.

“I’m really not sure—”

Fifth button.

You stumble backward, knees hitting your chair as you collapse down. The fall pushing the toy deeper inside of you, brushing against that wonderfully delicious spot, switching to a patterned pulse. Your teeth dig into your lip as you shift in the seat, attempting to relieve the pressure, but it only leads to the toy pushing harder into that spot, abusing it continuously as you bite back any reactions that would be off.

His attention switches to you, and you nearly come apart right then and there.

“Are you okay?” He questions, concern shining in his sharp eyes. You manage a nod, fingers digging into the arms of your chair, attempting to sit upright. You need an excuse to leave, to go to the bathroom, or something. If you don’t soon, you’re going to fall apart right before his eyes, and there’ll be no way for you to conceal that.

“Absolutely luscious,” you reply out of habit, mind too preoccupied to sift through each word, switching onto autopilot. His brow quirks, and you could really moan at the sight. Thankfully, you don’t, clamping your teeth together as you dig crescent shapes into the heel of your palm.

“Luscious?” He repeats, the letters dragging appetising from his throat, coated in something dark and syrupy, something that would melt and splash over your skin. He sounds vaguely confused, but you have no time to unpack that.

“Delicious,” you correct, weakly, “I meant delicious.”

Upon seeing his confused look, your mind whirrs and spins for an explanation. A dizzy smile makes its way to your lips, hopefully just appearing a little drowsy from a long day of hard work. “I know it’s a weird phrase. My friend and I used to say it all the time because it made us laugh.” The smile becomes a little too sleepy looking, appearing closer to blissed out. “Guess it stuck.”

For a moment, you don’t think he’ll believe you. His gaze pierces into you, and you tighten around the vibrator, bringing the sensations…deeper.

“Full of kinks and quirks, aren’t you?” He drawls, attention returning to the device, looking ready to press another button. “Maybe you should stop messing around with that,” you suggest with forced lightness. “What if it’s messing with someone’s computer?” You argue, being dragged closer and closer to the edge with every second. “I can think of at least one Director who would be pissed if someone was messing around after-hours and accidentally deleted some files.”

He gives you an indecipherable look, then says, with a little too much pride, “every single file on my computer is backed up and stored elsewhere. If someone hasn’t taken precautions, that’s their own fault.” And presses the sixth button.

If you had been standing, you would have collapsed.

As it is, your spine arches ever so slightly, and you shift in the chair again, fingers digging into the arms. The pleasure hums between your legs, and for a second you’re worried he’ll be able to see arousal dripping to the floor.

“Either way,” he says, seemingly completely unaware of the hell and heaven he’s putting you through—for better or for worse. “It doesn’t seem to be doing anything.” And sets it down on your desk.

Without thought or explanation, you snatch it up, holding the power button for three second. Blissful reprieve soothes your nerves, even as a small part wishes for her release. At the odd look he’s giving you, eyes gleaming with something you can’t read, you manage to fumble out a vague explanation for your antsy behaviour, “I’m a bit anal about things like that.”

Not your best word choice, but it’ll have to suffice.

“About strange devices and stranger buttons?” He asks, and you could hiss at him. He so nearly— You don’t even bother expending energy on what would have happened if he hadn’t put it down. How you would have come apart right before his eyes. How furious Rhys would be, if it got back to him.

You’re not sure Azriel would be the type of man your usual persuasions would work on.

So you just nod, tiredly. “It’s like with plug sockets,” you manage, albeit a bit breathlessly. “I can’t stand when they’re on but not plugged in. Seems like a waste of some kind. Bothers me.”

Azriel simply hums, making your thighs squeeze together, shifting nervously as you try to relieve the intense buzzing feeling—the memory of those delicious, rapid-fire pulses.

Your breathing begins to even out, and you reach for your bag, hoping to get out of the room as soon as possible. Escape the situation. You must seem a little too out of it, though.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” Azriel asks in that usual disinterested, monotone voice. Deep and rich. You manage to nod, “slightly unaccustomed to working a nine to five,” you explain, grabbing the device. “I’ll drop this off at reception on my way out,” you mutter, silently cursing your carelessness.

He shifts, and you realise he’s checking the time, brow raising. “A seven-thirty to half-ten, is more like it,” he corrects. You nearly groan as you realise how long you’ve been in this damn building for. In fact, you do groan, covering your face with your hands.

Heat shoots straight to your cunt when he laughs—actually laughs. Deep and delicious.

Bloody hell.

He’s so…different, outside work hours.

Maybe… No. No way. It wouldn’t work.

Unless…

“How was the coffee today?” You ask, sounding a bit too casual even to your own ears. His lips quirk and that’s it. You’re done for. He’s far too attractive to be working a job like this.

Well, you’re working a job like this, so you suppose it’s not too unbelievable.

Still.

“You can do better,” he replies, a faint smirk on his mouth. Damn him. You narrow your eyes, half teasing, half entirely serious. You take pleasure very seriously, even if it’s not sexual, and it seems his coffee may be the only thing that keeps him from throttling someone in this job.

“I don’t even know what I’m aiming for, Azriel,” you point out, a genuine smile curving your lips. “How do I know you’re not just sending me on a wild goose chase to create this perfect cup, huh?”

“I suppose you’ll just have to take my word for it and keep trying,” he replies easily, amusement gleaming in his hazel eyes.

“Or,” you say, and you can’t believe you’re actually trying this. “You could give me a taste of this heavenly coffee. Firstly, to prove that it actually exists,” —you glare at him— “and secondly, to see if it’s better than the ones I’ve made.” You offer him a challenging smile, “because I’m going to be furious if I have a sip and it’s not even half-decent.”

He regards you silently, features unreadable, but you don’t retract the offer. Stand with a straightened spine, staring him down.

“Okay, then.” He relents, and you blink. Wow. Great.

Where from here?

His lips curve into a quiet smile, “I’ll show you tomorrow. Be ready to leave at five past one.”

Huh.

That settles it, then.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

General Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022

Az Taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming

His P.A. Taglist: @i-am-infinite @going-through-shit

[senqv]

HOUSE OF KINGS.

blue lock ! royal / fantasy au series featuring : michael kaiser x fem! reader

warning(s) : 1k , none this one is quite cute , lmk if there are any !!

prev. next.

TWO. THE WRATH SING, O GODDESS

the next time you see him, you are seated in the windowed alcove of the palace library, hidden behind the imposing shelves of mahogany wood. you could feel the thick knitted blankets and fox furs beneath your thighs, a fluffy cushion left of your waist.

you leaned against the window, ornate and elegant, cut in frames to let in squares of golden sun. the smooth cover of the book is familiar under your fingerpads, a beloved relic from your father. even with your gaze cast towards the window, you could envision the wine-dark cover in your hands, embossed with a deep gold; the methodical lettering forming words that you could recite like water spilling down the rumbling falls.

faintly, suddenly, like a whisper in the wind, the air changed. the soft hum of divinity, maybe, but you could not have known what that was. it only felt stronger as golden hair came into vision, reflecting off the glass planes of the windows. you blinked, straightening your back. you had thought it to be a trick of the light, but it was apparent how real he was with each languid step he took, steady and sure.

kaiser was not a god, but you can scarcely imagine anything more perfect than him. wherever he went, he drew everything to him like a great flame. and although your spitefulness refused to let you look at him, it could not be helped how your gaze traced his features reflected on the window, the brightness of his hair so lustrous it was lit from within, the steady curve of his face, and the arc of his rose-coloured lips.

you hear his feet stop before you, and his mouth opens, poised and self-assured. "this place belongs to me."

he was referring to this cosy little alcove, and you chide yourself for not noticing how personalised this place was, blanketed in wools and the highest quality of furs and goose-feathered pillows.

only then you look back at him, features screwed with slight displeasure. under his pointed stare, you swing your legs down from the wood carved into the window to face him properly, freeing up half the space. "this is a library. it doesn't belong to anyone," you say with narrowed eyes.

he looks almost like he can't believe the words coming out of your mouth. his arms move to cross over his chest. "the gods have decreed me to be emperor of kings. everything that treads the ground will belong to me one day." he does not say it boastfully, or arrogantly. it is fact to him as much as the stars circle the sky each night.

your lips twitch in search of a response, "not yet," you say weakly, and you stare into the endless blue of his eyes. your tone is stronger; "you are no emperor yet. you have no right to ask me to leave."

that surprised him. he tilts his head at you curiously, like a little sparrow. you may be the daughter of nobility, but he is the prince. he probably had all the rights in the world and more. like a tamed beast, he sits down next to you. he smells of roses and white jasmine, and you dare not to turn your head, glancing at him nervously from the corner of your eye. his gaze darts to your hand.

he shifts again, pressing his head on your shoulder as you fight down a flinch. a strand of hair falls over his eyes, and he blows it away with a huff. cerulean eyes stare up at you intently. like this, he reminds you of those sleek felines in the estate.

"read to me." it was a command, but the way he said it did not feel like one. to you, it was soft but distinct, easy as how one would utter their own name.

your mouth feels parched, but still, you crack the book open, the pages yellowed from their age. the familiar words ease you slightly, and your voice hangs in the air like the willows over a curving pond.

'the wrath sing, o goddess, of peleus' son

achilles'

his eyelashes flutter like the wings of a butterfly, fanning against his cheeks. he blinks slowly, relaxed. your gaze darts from the book to him like a school of fish in the water, but you hardly need to reference the pages, the words carved into your heart like a searing iron.

his golden hair curls around his head, the longer strands pooling at the dips of his collarbone and down the edge of your own shoulder. it drew your eye, glimmering like starlight, so bright against the sun the locks glowed white. carelessly, your fingers smooth over a strand of hair covering the side of his face, flipping the ends up to marvel at the way they lit up in the light. you had no sooner realised your mistake than when his jewelled eyes darted towards you, causing you to release his hair with a jerk of your hand. "i'm sorry, i didn't -"

he silences you with a yawn, pink tongue flashing against white teeth. his lashes flutter again, shifting his head closer to you. then, his eyes close with sleep. it's almost cute, in a way. you know that he is not actually asleep, but you also realise this is his way of permitting you to continue.

hesitantly, your fingers twitch in longing, at his unavoidable beauty, written by the poets. you wipe your hands harshly on your skirt, fearful that the beading sweat might stick to his glorious hair. with trembling hands, your fingers card through the streaming gold strands, smoothing over the top of his head. he makes a soft sound of pleasure, which makes you smile slightly.

you tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, and you can't help but think that his beauty is fine as a girl's. his lashes open again, jade white skin parting to reveal the hanging jewels of his eyes, a shifting, dazzling blue.

his eyes crinkle a secretive smile. under the light of the sun, you smile back.

[blondewhoresworld]

silent night !

saltburn fanfic

!femreader x !felixcatton

tw: talks of hookup, hugs, alcohol use

you had never liked christmas. it was something about america. made it hard to love. the ugly decorated trees, smell of plastic and tinsel. it was always too hot for it to feel jolly. plus it was just another excuse for your family to force ugly sweaters over your head.

that had been your opinion on christmas. hated it, a grinch even. but coming to england, oxford to be exact, had slowly started to warm you. something about the freezing cold cobbled streets, hot chocolate stands, woolly hats, watching how your own breath pooled out in waves of humidity.

you would never admit it but maybe it was starting to grow on you. plus with every coming christmas came a cheesy christmas party. your college was known for them. it’s where you had met felix.

he was dressed in a way too tight, way too small santa outfit. the top undone to show off his lazy but lean chest. you had watched him all night from across the room. desperately trying to get a peek of the tattoo that would flash itself every so often.

felix had approached you first, beaming, cheeks flushed with the strong liquor. he was a towering figure. made even the tallest person look insignificant.

“you alright?” he had said, double fisted with two bottles of smirnoff mixes in his hands.

“yeah… fine.” you replied, you always loved a college party, had dressed on theme. little elf outfit, your cheeks painted pink.

“dance?” it was easy for him, one word and it was the next day and you had woken up in his twin bed.

that’s where you were now, the following year. thin cigarette in hand as you sit with your back against the cool stone wall.

“what do you mean you hate christmas?” he had his face scrunched up, trying to unscrew his eyebrow piercing. he was heading home for christmas and had already lectured you on his mothers clean cut household rules.

“it’s shitty, just an excuse for people to get drunk and put up ugly decorations.” you shrugged, taking a long drag of your cigarette and trying not to laugh at him.

“that’s the best part.” felix argued, still fiddling with the tiny metal ball. “trust me y/n you have never had a good english christmas.”

he said it with such confidence and certainty that you burst out laughing, it caused him to jolt and loose hand on his piercing. he swore under his breath and shook his head, that same crooked smile on his lips.

“don’t laugh.” he said, rolling his eyes. “if you saw my house all lit up you would change your mind. mum throws a wicked christmas eve party.”

he paused and looked at you. “where are you this year? the states?”

she shook her head. “nah, i was gonna stay here or go to my meemaw’s down in kent.”

“sick!” felix exclaimed, that posh accent still brought a smile to your lips. “you can come, i’ll get a car and everything. it will be totally chill vibes.”

it was everything but chill vibes.

you arrived late on purpose, your black cab dropping you just outside the gates.

felix wasn’t wrong so far, you had been to his house before in the summer. but now it looked stunning.

every inch was covered in warm fairy lights, fountains had frozen over, the gates had little merry christmas signs dotted all over them.

huge wreaths decorated with holly and dried out oranges were on every door and as the gates opened you could hear the music already playing.

a butler dressed in a black suit and a christmas themed tie took your things and led you into the entrance hall. that was almost showstopping.

two huge trees lay at the end of each room, both had been so carefully decorated and curated it felt scary to be so close. warm colours, red, orange, yellows covered each branch. and when you looked closer you noticed that each catton had their own personalised bauble. it was so perfect. so warm. the house itself was warm.

a table lie in the middle of the room, sat on a red intricate antique rug. it had a little miniature village on top that was playing out christmas scenes. it was genuinely like spending christmas with the windsor’s.

“y/n mate!” it was felix, he came bombarding into the room, sporting no shoes (or socks) and a large piece of tinsel wrapped around his neck. “you are so late!” he leant down and picked you up like it was nothing. it was a sweet embrace, something that made your cheeks burn.

he was clearly already tipsy but you couldn’t figure out what it was. “come, come.” he led you through the rest of the house and into the ballroom.

he had your hand tugging you along as you attempted to steal glances of the rooms. his sister sat in one room, she had let the blonde fade out of her hair and it had returned to its natural brown.

she made the small room glow, sat watching the tv with a glass of red wine in her hands. the room was so stacked with fairy lights and sofas it was hard to see her at first. she didn’t see you.

the next thing you saw was the gardens. he led you through a corridor that had huge windows. you could see everything, the fog that lingered over the grounds, each tree had been dressed up in orange lights. usually saltburn was scary at night but this was almost breathtaking.

then you were finally in the ballroom.

now that was what christmas was.

a slow and jazzy version of silent night was playing lowly as earls and sirs and ladies and lords all talked it happy drunk voices.

about seven antique rugs had been placed over the floor and every stood in their socks or bare feet. candles sat on every surface and you really began to believe you were in a harry potter book.

you passed a huge nutcracker and almost fell. felix caught you by your arm and laughed, his cheeks red. you couldn’t tell if it was from the alcohol or the warmth of the room.

“totally chill, hm?” he said, handing you a glass of red wine. “maybe christmas is better in england?”

you didn’t reply, just sipped the drink and took in the smell of the happy guests and the sound of the music.

ps tysm @tinytennisskirt for inspiring me to write again <33

[perfinn]

let neptune strike ye dead

merman!din djarin x lighthouse keeper!reader

wc: 2.8k

summary: you've spent the last year in near total isolation on an island, tending to a lighthouse and slowly losing your mind. something begins leaving you gifts.

cw: nsfw, no pronouns used but reader is afab and will later be established as a woman, masturbation (not particularly explicit), paranoia, isolation, general decent into insanity, lighthouse keeping inaccuracies (i did zero research)

read on ao3, banner by cafekitsune

The stairs inside the lighthouse have no rails. They're cut from stone, winding up into the heavens as a tower of brick, beaten by decades of crashing waves and brutal storms. Unmoving, unforgiving. And you, godforsaken you, are forced to climb those winding stairs each day and night. Tending to a light that never goes out, once clinging to the stone bricks now confident in your wretched climb. You will not fall, you know, and if you do then there is little more can be done for you. You need only hope that if you do, you'll fall from the lowest steps.

Would they relieve you of your duties if you broke a bone? You doubt it. They couldn't hope to get another keeper in time, this job is as wretched and undesirable as the tower is ancient. You had been tricked into it, you came to realise after a torturous fortnight of lighting that lamp, of clinging to those cold walls along the stairway. Still, your contract was immovable. Two years tending to the lighthouse. Two years of near complete isolation. Two years to lose your mind on a tiny island with only a ship's captain to talk to twice a month.

It's not all bad, the isolation. There's nothing to waste your hard earned wages on, like sweet treats from a bakery. The food you need is delivered by that captain, a sweetener to the deal you'd signed a horrifically long twelve months ago. The wages are generous, too. Without the trappings of rent and bills and little expenses that seem more and more ridiculous the longer you rely on yourself on this island, you're saving thousands of dollars.

Your sanity seems a low price to pay for what will be plenty of financial comfort when you finally return to civilisation.

(Though the longer you spend away from it, the harder it becomes to believe you'll ever be fit for society again. You begin to wonder if you may die on this island.)

There is another hidden benefit to the isolation, you’ve found, that comes in the form of being able to make as much noise as you like. You can scream at the very top of your lungs if you like, and no one will be around to complain.

When your myriad of work is finished for the day, you retire to your measly lodgings. You can't do much to personalise it. You didn't bring any decorations with you, and you can't exactly pop out to get yourself some nice succulents to warm the place up. Succulents would probably die out here anyway. So, with little other choice in the matter, the room is impersonal. Your activities in the room are not.

There isn't a lot to do in order to fill your idle time. You tried cooking– it didn't stick. You tried knitting– the captain didn't bring enough yarn to tide you over until his next visit. The only hobby – which is no true hobby at all, really – that you’ve kept up, is masturbation.

On the mainland, you had toys. Vibrators, dildos, whatever else you desired. You didn't bring them with you, assuming you wouldn't need them.

(Which, for a time, was the case. In the beginning you’d end the day so exhausted that you fell right into your cot and passed out. As your body adjusted to the workload, this became less and less common. You were growing stronger and more durable, and so was your stamina.)

You only have enough service for perhaps one phone call a week, which you usually reserve for your family just so they’re certain you haven't drowned, so internet is out of the question. And you’re not brave enough to ask the ship’s captain about the magazines you’ve seen poking out of a drawer in the bridge of his ship. So, no porn.

You’ve, in turn, gotten incredibly creative with your fingers and your imagination. Were you perhaps deeper in the depths of your impending insanity, you might even go so far as to act out your wildest fantasies like a one woman show. You’re not quite there yet, so the fantasies remain inside your head. That doesn't stop you from making a frankly egregious amount of noise. You scream, moan, whine and yell as much as you please, more than you ever did in the apartment you lived in on the mainland.

The walls were too thin there. They’re too thin here, really, but that doesn't matter, because no one’s around. You make as much noise as is physically possible because you assume no one in the world can hear you.

(You assume wrong.)

You obviously don't notice anything strange during the act, due to all the wanton screaming, that combined with the incessant crash of waves against the rocks doesn't make for a wonderful listening environment. You have every reason to assume that there's no one out there to hear you except perhaps an unfortunate seal or two. The oddities which begin, happen outside of that time.

Seaglass.

There's an abundance of it on the beaches below your island, washing up from decades of glass litter, formed into something lovely. Generally, you leave it to the sea, figuring that if the waves can beat it into a shape they like, they’ve earned the right to keep it. But one day, after a rough storm, a few pieces of it sit on the end of the dock.

It's odd, but not enough to arouse much suspicion. You assume it’s the result of some well arranged wind and waves, and gently knock the pieces of colourful glass back into the ocean.

But then, it happens again.

It's after another storm, (of which there are many, hence the need for a lighthouse) when you’re stood at the paved stone edge of a small cliff and your boot almost crunches on three pieces of seaglass.

You yelp, stepping back to avoid shattering them and crouching down. You pick them up, brows drawing together as you arrange the treasures in the palm of your hand. Two of the pieces are a seafoam green, but the other is a pretty orange. You pluck it between your fingers, holding it up to the rising sun. A smile tugs at the corners of your lips.

You try not to make a habit of keeping seaglass. Don't take too much of the earth’s abundance and what-not. But you do have a few exceptional pieces arranged on your windowsill, and you’ve never seen one this colour before.

“Alright,” you concede in a murmur. You place the orange piece tenderly into the pocket of your overalls. “I’ll keep this one. But you can have these back.”

As you gently plop the other two pieces back into the waves, you try not to think too hard about the fact that you’re speaking to the ocean like it's listening. You briefly consider telling yourself that you’re just talking to yourself, and not the ocean. But that's probably worse.

“God,” you murmur, running a hand down your face. You make a mental note to call your mother.

The odd occurrences stop for a time. That, or your sanity has slipped too much to recognise things as odd. Reality is askew when you’re this alone. Things that are strange don't seem so out here.

Though, you know you can at least attribute your attraction to the supply ship’s captain to the simple lack of contact with anyone else. He’s not ugly, not by any means, but certainly not your type. But Christ, what you wouldn't give to rip his clothes from his body and have him until you finally felt satisfied again.

Your loud masturbation can only satisfy your libido so long. You give it another three months before you’re crossing a lot of professional lines with Captain Fett.

You’ve become friends, at least. He’s your only real connection to the outside world, other than your shoddy transistor radio and your phone calls with your mother that last thirty minutes on average. (Which she only uses to fill you in on family gossip because you generally have nothing of import to tell her.) When he comes by, you force him to sit and enjoy tea with you and tell you about life on the mainland. He’s funny, if a bit gruff. But he makes you laugh, makes you sane.

And then he leaves again, and you watch his ship disappear over the horizon, feel that horrible isolation sink back onto your shoulders and suffocate you. You picture Captain Fett when you scream-masturbate that evening.

The next morning, there's a pile of fish on the edge of the dock.

You stare at it for a long time, brain ticking over as you try desperately to make sense of it. It's a decent variety of fish, all quite massive sizes. Nothing that you generally catch off the docks on the days you try to fish. This is from much further out, in the open ocean where the fishing boats make their rounds. You crouch down, sniffing at the pile. It doesn't smell, they seem as fresh as anything.

Perhaps you have lost it entirely, because you pick up what you know to be a cod and look it over, sniffing it. It smells fishy, obviously, but not rotten. It’ll make a far better dinner than the soup you had planned. You eye the other fish, wondering if you ought to waste them, or let the waves take them back to their fishy graves.

You take the cod inside, and return to the dock with a bucket full of ice in order to collect the other fish. Even if you can't eat them all before they go bad, you’re damn well gonna try. This isn't like the seaglass, you tell yourself. These fish are already dead, it would be wasteful to just ignore them and let them rot away at the end of your dock. As you settle the last fish in the ice bucket, you hear a splash in the calm water.

A tiny thing, barely even a plip. But it makes your head snap up, makes your eyes dart around at the water around you. You curse the fact that the ocean is never completely still, so any disturbance is lost in its perpetual motion. You can't find the source of the splash, but you know it wasn't something innocuous.

(Were anyone to ask you how you knew this, you couldn't tell them. You think it may be some sort of paranoia you’ve acquired in your isolated insanity.)

You feel watched. Perhaps not by something sinister. But watched all the same, like an intent pair of eyes are trained right on you as you accept this gift of ocean’s abundance. You stand up, hoisting the bucket up into your hip as you squint out at the waves. The sun reflects off the water and hits your eyes, and you’d be upset with it if you weren't trying to cherish the rare day of warm sun. You huff, taking one last glance at the slowly lapping waves before turning and heaving back up to the lighthouse to get to work.

You know there’s another storm coming that night. Weather so forgiving is never not followed by something brutal. You’ve grown very accustomed to the mercurial weather of this godforsaken island.

(That, and you heard it on the weather report on the radio.)

Still, generally the best you can do in this weather is make sure the lamp is lit and you’re safe and warm inside. You have two of your fingers buried knuckle deep in your pussy when thunder first cracks. You barely pause, glancing toward the window as rain begins to beat down on the panes, before closing your eyes and focusing on hitting that sweet spot again.

When you’ve moved to rutting against your pillow and letting wanton moans tumble from your lips, an alarm goes off high up in the tower. Your eyes snap open and you look up– the light’s gone out.

The very most central thing that you’re expected to do in this godforsaken lighthouse is maintain the light. Now, in this kind of weather, more than ever. You barely give yourself a moment to pull on a discarded pair of overalls before you’re scrambling up the stone steps to the light. You swear to yourself as you fix the light, glancing out the windows to the dark and stormy oceans.

You pray there’s no ships out there, pray you won't suddenly hear a deafening crash as some poor fishing barge slams into the cliff face. There shouldn't be any ships out in this weather, but that's really the whole point of the lighthouse, isn't it? Just in case.

But you manage to secure the new bulb, relief flooding you as the room is illuminated and the beacon shines out over the horizon. You turn to look out the windows, thankful when you note there’s not a ship in sight. In the five or so minutes where the ancient lighthouse wasn't faithfully emitting its beacon, no one even came near. As you’re about to step away, though, the light illuminates something that catches your eye.

You’re not able to make out much from this distance, or from the brief second of illumination, but you’d swear on anything that you saw someone out there. A head and shoulders, with brown hair, just poking out of the waves.

You’re scrambling on the steps again before you even realise you’re moving. Slipping and stumbling down those wretched stairs, uncaring of your safety since instead your brain is thrumming with fear and adrenaline and a screaming need to help whatever poor soul has somehow ended up in the stormy waters. You grab a flashlight and a floatation device from by the door before you’re stepping into the unforgiving elements.

You don't even know what you’ll do when you get out there. As you rush out into the bruising wind and rain hammering down on your skin, you can't think of any sort of plan. You’re sure as hell not going to dive in to get them, that would only end up with both of you dead. You make it down to the dock, slipping several times in the mud but managing to stay upright. You’re barefoot, you don't have anything to cover you but your worn pair of overalls, so essentially your entire torso and arms are bare to the elements. One wrong move and your tits will probably spill free too.

But you don't think about that. You think this poor drowning idiot won't care that you’re sort-of-kind-of-half-naked, they probably have more important things on their mind. You make it to the end of the dock, shining your flashlight out at the waves.

“Hello?!”

You’re not sure you can be heard over the wind and the rain and the thunder clapping overhead. You can't see anyone either. Whoever it was has probably been pulled under, or out further into the waves where you can't help them. Still, you search frantically amongst the blackened water, eyes wide and breathing quick.

You catch something in the beam of your flashlight. Something, again, so quick you think you may have imagined it. A tail, flicking up before disappearing beneath the waves.

Unlike any tail you’ve seen before, large and wide, a dark colour almost as black as the water. You freeze, flashlight lingering on that spot, silently begging the universe to let you see it again, just so you can know it's a seal or something.

But a seal’s tail doesn't look like that. Nothing’s tail looks like that. You squint in the rain, desperate to prove your insanity wrong. But it doesn't appear again. You’re left only with the memory of a tailfin and the distant view of a person’s head and shoulders, and the sinking feeling of knowing your insanity has reached a point you can't be certain you’ll return from.

When you’re about to give up on the poor soul that you probably-definitely hallucinated, you glance downwards. You think of the seaglass and the fish, and wonder if those were hallucinations too when your flashlight reflects off something new. Another gift from the ocean. You reach down and pick it up, heart thrumming in your chest.

It's a cowrie shell, but that's not what sends your mind spinning into confusion. There’s a carving on its surface. You run your thumb over it, clearing it of raindrops for a brief moment before it’s covered by them once more in the unrelenting downpour. It's a symbol you recognise, Captain Fett has one hanging from the gearshift of his ship. You’d asked him about it once, and he’d recounted an old mariners tale about it.

A mythosaur.

You look back up at the waves, searching their murky depths for explanation. There's none. So, shaken, you pocket the cowrie shell and turn away to go back inside, not noticing the pair of brown eyes that watch you from just below the dock.

part ii

[ughgoaway]

the birthday party

content warnings: alludes to sex at one point, drinking, gross romantic stuff and uhhh I think that's it? word count- 2.7k ish

a/n: 2 fics in less than a week??? who am I?? anyway, I was actually lying earlier in the week and somehow managed to finish this just in time for my birthday!! sadly, this is not how I'm spending my day but I am gonna delude myself that it is!!! Unsurprisingly, I am not a fan of this fic and wrote like 2k in a night so please tell me if it's really bad... okay here it is, love youuuuu-

You slam the door of your car and let out a sigh from deep within your chest. The day's weight feels heavy as you walk up to your silent house. The party your work had thrown you for your birthday ended up being less of a celebration and more of a hell hole you couldn't escape.

Sandra, your work “best friend” (a title she had given herself), had insisted on throwing you a party after finding out your birthday was at the end of the week. You insisted it was a small party and begged her for nothing big. And it began that way, just meeting in the conference room after work with a cake from Tesco, no dressing up, no gifts, just a small gathering.

As the week developed, your small get-together began to change and grow into something entirely new. Each email that came in had something added to the invite. Somehow, by the end of the week, it had changed to a semi-formal party, presents “optional” (necessary) with decorations and a personalised cake. 

Today had been bad enough before the party, endless incompetent people seemed to find their way to you. You'd been hit on by 2 men old enough to be your father, screamed at by a 40-year-old woman for being “a stupid bitch” and dealt with 4 more insane people.

The party was just as bad as you expected. The only thing keeping you together was the compliments on your outfit. Matty had helped you pick out the dress you were wearing the night before, insisting on helping you feel just a little bit better about the party. It was nothing much, a simple forest green cowl neck. A small slit went up the side of your leg that hit mid-thigh, you were sure it was too much for a work party but after Matty's never-ending spiel of compliments, you decided to wear it anyway.

You sat through the 2 speeches from your boss and your apparent new best friend before you managed to slip away. Yes, somehow you managed to sneak out of a party that was supposedly for you, but you weren't going to take that personally. You saw the opportunity and ran.

The strappy heels that were once on your feet sat in your hands as you walked up the path to your front door. There were no lights on, which was unusual for this time. You thought Matty would be home and waiting with open arms, but he was nowhere to be seen, his car not even in the driveway. 

You tried to mask your disappointment at your boyfriend not being home for your birthday, You're sure he just got caught up in the studio with George. A new idea probably came to him suddenly that he needed to get done then and there. You almost cursed his brain, but you could never curse the thing you loved so much.

The way you existed in his mind astonished you. Song after song was written about you, each one more beautiful than the last and each one changed how you perceived yourself. You used to insist the person who he sang about wasn't real, that she couldn't be. But demo after demo was played to you with Matty insisting you are real, and you are exactly how he sings about you.

You were this unimaginable force that changed his life in a way he only thought was possible in shitty teen movies. He was enamoured by you, every waking thought was about you, and if he was honest, even his non-waking thoughts were about you. He felt higher than heaven when he was with you, not that he would ever tell you that as he's sure you would cringe and scrunch your nose up at his cheesy behaviour.

The key clicked in the lock, and your door screeched open. Your cat came running at you and began rubbing on your legs. “Hi baby,” you began, turning the entryway light on and sighing once again, “I've got to grease those door hinges, don't I nutmeg?” Your cat had been adopted long before Matty came into your life. Well, adopted was a strong word. You found him hidden under the bins outside your old flat, once a skinny kitten, but he was now a slightly too chunky house cat who loved you more than life itself. Matty always joked that his only real competition for the thing that loved you most in the world was nutmeg, but he insisted he beat him every time.

you drop your heels on the floor and shut the door behind you, wincing at the squeak it lets out. Only to jump where you stood at the sight in front of you.

“Surprise!” rang out from the lounge room, your friends and family all stood with hats and smiles as they stared at you.

Tears streamed down your face as you laughed at the sight in front of you, streamers hung from the beams and balloons coming from every where.

You briefly look around at the people in front of you before your eyes are drawn directly to him, just as they always were.

Matty came strolling up and pulled you in for a brief kiss before escorting you into the sea of people that faced you. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

After 40 minutes of pure joy and mingling, you managed to pull away to get a drink. You enter the kitchen and grab a cup off the side before moving further in to find whatever alcohol you could.

You eventually settle on a Jack and Coke, You spy them on the other side of the kitchen and walk over to make your drink. More Jack than Coke if you are honest.

You take a sip and sigh as the drink slides down your throat, the glass clinks as you place it back down on the counter to take a breath.

Quickly, a pair of hands slide over your hips and settle on your stomach, You know exactly who it is by the scent of his cologne and the feeling of his warmth.

Matty pulls you into his body, your back against his chest. He begins pressing small kisses up the side of your neck and smiles as he hears your poorly suppressed giggles slipping out.

"So what do you think beautiful?" he asked, whispering into your ear before pressing yet another kiss behind it.

You slide around in his arms, his hands cheekily slipping down to grip your ass before sliding up to rest on your waist again. You shoot him a faux disapproving look but soon break out into a large smile at the pure adoration on your boyfriend's face.

"I think it's amazing. Thank you so much, baby," you say, kissing Matty. But you quickly pull away, much to the distaste of your boyfriend who lets out an upset grumble. "It explains all your suspicious behaviour over the last few weeks…" you say teasingly, raising your eyebrows and smiling at the man in front of you before leaning in for another kiss.

This time, however, it was Matty rejecting your advances as he pulled away and looked down at you teasingly.

"Oh, I've been suspicious, have I?" he said, leaning further back of your grip, causing the pair of you to begin walking back together until the kitchen counter stopped you, and you pressed into Matty.

"Please do tell love, how was I being suspicious, huh?" he said with a mocking lilt to his voice, leaning in and teasing your lips with his own. His breath tickled your lips, and he kept evading your moves.

“Well…”  you begin smiling gleefully at your boyfriend, nervous to explain how he's been suspicious, worrying hell realise just how much time you spend lovingly watching him. Some would say creepily, you're sure, but you say lovingly.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You begin with the first thing you noticed, Matty's phone was suddenly attached to him. Usually, he had no idea where his phone was at any given time, believing everyone should be more present and leave their phones at home.

If anyone asked him about it, he would then begin to go on a long rant about the internet and his qualms with it. It was at that point you interrupted and just told whoever he was talking to to listen to “a brief inquiry” and “notes” if they wanted his thoughts on that subject.

But recently you'd noticed he hadn't been asking you 100 times a day “Babe, have you seen my phone?” like he usually did when he left it somewhere in your concrete mansion of a home. Every text and call was immediately answered, and some calls were even taken in the other room. You wrote it off as secret dirty hit business, trying not to delude yourself into thinking something more.

But it was last Sunday when you became sceptical of your boyfriend's new attachment to his phone. 

The sun was streaming through the windows to the courtyard, decorating the house in golden hues that danced over the walls. You and Matty had woken up starving (probably due to the events of the night before) and decided to make breakfast.

So you did, like a couple in a rom-com. Matty's hair was messy, and his pyjama trousers sat low on his hips. He had forgone a shirt this morning as it had been stolen by you. You danced around him in one of his many Jeff Buckley shirts with nothing but panties underneath. 

You swung around in each other's arms and stared into the other's eyes like lovesick teenagers. You put a hand up and began twisting the curls surrounding Matty's face. The other hand slid behind his neck and began to massage the curls back there. A content hum slipped out your boyfriend's mouth, and his eyes fluttered close at the feeling.

You stared in awe at the man in front of you, almost feeling sick to your stomach with affection. You traced each freckle on his face, mentally keeping count before getting distracted by his flittering eyelashes. You marvel at their length and briefly wonder why men always get such long eyelashes.

Before that thought overtakes your mind, you get distracted by another feature on your beautiful boyfriend's face, the light blush that decorates his cheeks. You stroke over the apples of his cheeks and resist the urge to pinch them like a grandmother.

The same pink that flushed his cheeks sat on his plump lips that were begging to be kissed, so you did. You pecked his lips over and over before moving to his cheeks, then his forehead and soon over his whole face. 

His laughter soon broke the pair of you up and in a smitten daze Matty suggested a shower, you nodded and told him to go get it started while you put the dishes away. He happily ran up the stairs to start the shower and you giggled at your boyfriend's teenage excitement.

His phone buzzed on the concrete counter and you fought the internal battle of whether to look, your rational side saying not too soon lost out to intense curiosity.

A message from his mum sat on the screen simply saying, “Oh love, that's perfect. y/n will adore it.”

“Huh… so maybe not dirty hit business” you spoke out quietly to yourself, You soon put the phone down and ran up to the shower where your boyfriend was waiting ready to undress you.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Okay, so maybe I was on my phone a bit more than usual but that can't be it! Surely that alone can't be suspicious” Matty said looking down at you with a grin on his face. 

“Well no… There was that message from your mum too!” You say before whispering something under your breath, “and that other thing...”

“Other thing?” Matty said, leaning back to examine your face, narrowing his eyes at your expression.

You stay silent at bite your lip at him, shaking your head at his questioning glare. 

“No, no. Come on baby, what else made you realise something was up hmm” Matty said. You kept on moving your head from side to side, avoiding his gaze, knowing you'd crumble as soon as you looked at him.

Finally, he gripped your head between his hands and pressed kisses over your face, hoping it would get you to break. 

It did.

“Fine! Fine!” You relent at your boyfriend's onslaught of pecks, “There was the sock drawer thing...” you say quietly, looking up at Matty, who wore a puzzled expression.

“Sock drawer thing?” he asked confusedly, “I'm gonna need more than that babe” he said, a smile clear in his voice.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was the Wednesday of the week of your birthday, Matty's phone had still been attached at the hip to him but you gave up questioning it, thinking he was just feeling more social lately. 

You sat up at the head of your bed, your pillows behind your back and the duvet crumpled over your legs as you read your book. The shower was running in your ensuite, Matty needed one before a meeting at the office.

Soon the shower stopped and after a groan, a voice rang out behind the door. “Babe!” Matty began, “I forgot to get pants and a pair of socks, can you grab me some?”

You smiled at your boyfriend's forgetfulness, knowing he wasn't exactly a morning person, “Of course my love” you reply softly sliding the duvet off your legs and padding across the room to his drawer.

Your hand had barely grabbed the handle before he came rushing out and shouting, “WAIT! NO, NO NO” he stared at you with wild eyes. You shot back and lifted your hands in mock surrender to your boyfriend.

You took in his look, his shirt was half-buttoned but around his waist was just his towel. His curls were sopping wet and dripping on the floor, he was panting and staring at you with unnaturally wide eyes. 

“Sorry babe... Uhh..” he struggled to finish his sentence, looking around the room as if to find an excuse for his erratic behaviour. 

“Just… didn't want you to get out of bed s’all” he said pausing briefly, a nervous smile broke out across his face, “You looked so cosy reading so just… go get settled again”

You looked suspiciously at your boyfriend before nodding and walking back to bed silently. The rest of the day went as expected, Matty kissed you goodbye before his meeting and you went to work where you were bombarded with questions from Sandra about your “big day”.

But you didn't forget his wild eyes and odd behaviour.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Oh yeah!” Matty said, laughing at himself, “All the decorations were stashed in there so I couldn't have you snooping around” he explained causally.  “But that was very odd of me. Were you expecting a party” he asked with a tilt of his head.

He watched your cheeks heat up as you stammered to explain what you expected, not wanting to make him feel pressured.

Eventually, you just spat it out, “Well… I kind of thought you might be proposing to me,” you say cautiously. You watch your boyfriend's eyes widen, and your hand shoots up to his chest to soothe him. 

“Don't freak out, okay!!” You beg him, “It was just the combination of a few things that made me think that. But PLEASE do not feel pressured. We will get married when we do. There is no rush from me, I promise”

You wait with bated breath at his reaction, hoping it wouldn't be running and screaming. Soon, he broke out in wild laughter, much to your relief.

Once his laughter died down, he pulled you in closer and squeezed you lightly, “Not yet sweetheart, but I will eventually, don't you worry.” You smiled at his words and let yourself melt into his embrace.

Little did you know, upstairs in that sock drawer was a ring, no decorations having been stashed there. Just a little velvet box and a written speech prepared for next week, your 6th anniversary.

[kxyera]

How the Ghouls spend time alone (SFW) <3

All fluff, first time i've ever wrote something like this :)

Aurora

I know for a FACT this girl can draw. She can sketch, paint, reference, shade and draw in multiple art styles. She's incredibly proud of her art (AS SHE SHOULD?!) and always draws little sketches of the other ghouls when shes bored or alone. She sometimes rips the pages out and gives it to the ghoul she drew, they always fawn over it and thank her multiple times.

Cirrus

She's a doomscroller. Enough said. She has a screen-time of over 10 hours and is not ashamed whatsoever. She also loves online shopping, she spends at least half her time scrolling to buy things she cant and will probably never afford or wear.

Cumulus

THIS. GIRL. CROCHETS. SHE IS A CROCHET QUEEN. She especially loves making stuffed animals and makes the ghouls little stuffed animals for anti-christmas and their birthdays. They're always personalised and is colour-coded to the giftee's element (EG: Fire = Red wool, Water = Blue wool, Air = White/grey wool, Earth = Green/brown wool, Quintessence = Purple). She loves the time and effort spent in making crochet projects, and absolutely adores seeing the other ghouls' face light up when they're gifted one of her projects.

Sunshine

I feel like she'd just enjoy the alone time. She'd go on walks by herself, skipping and listening to music. She just loves everything and is literally a walking ray of sun. literally.

Swiss

He definitely plays loud music and sings along to it. Other ghouls either love it or hate it, depends on what time of day/night it is. He once woke up Sodo at 2am from it. DEEPLY regretted it. Has always stopped playing music at exactly 10pm after that incident.

Sodo

Depending on his mood, he'll either practice his guitar or go on walks. He almost always practices his guitar as he thinks its the only thing that will keep him focused in on something. He plays to get his mind off of whatever happened and he'll only goes on walks when he knows he needs to properly clear his head.

Mountain

He'd be a gardening boy. His room is full of plants and he knows the exact name of every plant in his room. He'd go out to the ministry gardens and sit underneath one of the trees reading. He's a calm boy.

Rain

You bet your ass if its a rainy day he's out there running around in it. Heavy rain? He loves it. Storm? No problem. Thunder? He'll jump at the large crashes of thunder, but find it to be music to his ears. He takes daily showers and the water has to be cold. He loves cold water (especially in the mornings) and he absolutely has a rainfall shower head. His spare time is spent damp.

Phantom

This little gremlin is a walking pile of chaos. He once baked with the ghoulettes when he was bored. Its safe to say he's now officially banned from the kitchen. Everytime he has spare time alone, he instantly goes to find someone to mess about with. He also plans elaborate pranks to pull on the other ghouls in the future. Yes, he has a notebook with all these plans.

Aether

He’s the type of guy that reads a lot of old novels, always has a book on him. He *loves* H.P. Lovecraft, especially ‘Call of Cthulhu’ and could talk about it for hours by a cozy fire if he had someone to listen

[valve3nthusiast]

hi burnt ice anon here. can't say that i'm a mind reader lmao but this isn't the first time that my writing has managed to hit someone right in the kink~ so i'll take your response as the highest of compliments <3

anyways i really like yours and mold friend's merformer stuff so i'm gonna throw my hat into the ring with a bit of megamagrod (think that's their ship name) enjoy~

so rodimus and magnus are the captain and sic of the lost light, which i feel would be a research vessel investigating a series of shipwrecks caused a certain merformer out in the middle of the arctic circle

and oh boy do they find the merformer when they get there. he's massive, like half the size of their ship massive and immediately rodimus is down bad, because the intelligence of the big guy, who he soon learns is named megatron, is just so intriguing to a young intrepid researcher like himself. magnus is more concerned about his captain's/lover's new fascination with the merformer because megatron has drowned like six ships and there have been no survivors.

but after a late night conversation on an iceberg with megatron, magnus too, finds himself down bad. they actually learn that megatron was only attacking ships who were trying to hunt him down and that he has a really big interest in human literature

cue really sweet and fluffy courting between all parties involved and rodimus being a really fucking horny size queen and drooling over how massive megatron's spike is.

perhaps merformers like megatron have something to the conjunx rites and he spends his spare time making really intricate and very personalised gifts for magnus and rodimus

i feel like magnus would probably be the one to carry any eggs tho (bc rodimus is too small) but honestly i like the idea of the three of them adopting a child instead of eggpreg, maybe cause megatron's massive size (even for someone of his species) has caused some problems involving his fertility. or maybe there are eggs invovled, but bc of cross species stuff, they don't actually hatch and megatron reallys wants kids so they adopt instead

this is less horny and more gushing about sweet merformers fluff but i think those three would be so kinky, especially with how big megatron is and how much of a size queen rodimus is. but i really like your merformers stuff and i wanted to contribute in some way (hope this one's okay since it's less kinky

-burnt ice

This is simply so banger. Despite being called burnt ice, anon, you only drop fire into my inbox

Rodimus is living his best mermaidfucker life... "Ah yeah this is my wrathful sea god mermaid boyfriend <3 his spike is so big I feel it in my throat every time he fucks my valve <3"

If they do adopt a kid... I think they should go full circle, and have it be a merpup who was orphaned by mermaid hunters...

[cosmos-dot-semicolon]

(⭐fanfic writers' commentary)

@plutosoda hi

Ooh, time to reread my old writing, huh? Always a fun trip, especially given I'd totally forgotten like half of it including that repetition trick you'd mentioned…

fair warning, i only got like 3 asks for this thing so I'm gonna commentate on pretty much the entire fic here. This post never ends.

Here's an entire director's commentary on All-Nighter! Enjoy!

"The covers were warm… But at least it'd get something done before passing out again."

I'm still fond of this intro. I'm terrible with being succinct, but this is somewhere where my rambling writing style really works; this section is written from experience of many a 'stayed up too anxious now you can't sleep' nights, and someone who has read a lot of the techniques to fix that problem, then didn't (ADHD lol). That is in fact what my internal monologue tends to be like at night - a mix between recalling every single way you've ever learnt to pass out, worrying about what happens tomorrow, 'why is life like that. what did i do,' and just a pinch of 3am self loathing.

I never really thought of it until an AO3 commenter pointed it out, but it was a fairly natural way of worldbuilding/expositing/characterisation all in one go. Establish the premise of the fic, Robot only bothering to process things when it's on the brink of exhaustion, the way it's kinda obsessed with productivity and efficiency and self-improvement.

I'm proud of it!

Also I like to think Lady Luck only does the weird scheduling thing for Robot. She'd be the type of person to try and make the Dungeons a personalised hell for everybody.

“Hey, could I get a coffee, do you think? …I’ve been sleeping so badly down here.”

I'm quite happy with the intro to the next bit too. My goal going into most fanworks (still) is to emulate what drew me to the original story. In this case, that's Dicey's tone and dialogue, with a bit more direct focus on the characterisation of everyone. So this is sort of a meta plot device that signals all that to the reader. I love how efficient that is. also I just like throwbacks and references okay

"The canteen was a dense jumble of kichen counters…"

I could've been a little faster with this scene and Robot subsequently making the coffee. One of my weaknesses as a writer is that I hallucinate some of the scenes in my head, and try to write down everything in that instead of just drawing a comic (cough that one unpublished Ninjago fic). I'm a sucker for describing scenery for days on end.

That said, I'm really glad I got the vibe of 'light-blue-grey' morning over to you in your fanart. It was exactly what I was imagining as I was writing this.

"Pre-ground. …But this was just evil."

I think I'm funny. Anxiety cube can put up with a lot, but terrible coffee isn't it.

"They taste horrible compared to freshly ground beans. It’s not worth the convenience."

haha. because you see. that's its heart's desire *gets turned into a dice*

"Pouring a generous portion for its new friend, Robot masked its complaints with a long sigh." "…But thanks to the innovations of modern day life-” An overhead swig downed half the mug."

A commenter pointed out that some of my lines have really good flow in them between actions and characterisation. I didn't notice that until then, but I'm inclined to agree. Some of these drive in the point really well.

"At least its fellow patron was enjoying themselves – not even flinching at the concoction and savouring the coffee raw. It was tempted to start a commentary on how dark roasts were overrated, but soon became a little more concerned about them drinking through the 100 centigrade burns. This place had quite the collection of creatures, it seemed."

I like to think Robot's a little snobby about the things it enjoys. I like to think Lady Luck tries to throw people off as much as possible.

"So, how’s the self-improvement going?" they started. "I only want top quality minions in my dungeons."

Very fun fact is that I was worried about spoiling the twist in this fic because of this line being so blatant, but I wanted to put it in anyway because it's a good character-establishing moment, and a good… re-interpretation of the line in another context? I love recontextualising canon in a slightly different way that still works for the characters in question. it's so fun

Anyways. Turns out I didn't need to worry about that because at least one reader totally missed this too so got hit with the full twist anyways. Isn't writing great?

"So, what’s keeping you up this late?” they asked. “Nightmares? A looming sense of regret and existential dread? Unfinished essays due tomorrow morning?"

essays due tomorrow morning. haha so true. i'm glad I don't take much coursework nowadays.

"You know, as useless as it looks, sleep’s rather important for you folks. It’s how you deal with all the terrible things that happen during the day, since your brain can just wipe the slate clean and try again. But funnily enough, it’s always the first thing that’s left behind whenever someone wants to better themself." "Life’s painful enough as it is. Why not change things up if your current routines aren’t working?" "Nobody ever plays the cards they’re dealt perfectly, dear… Time always slips you by when you’re not paying attention. And nobody ever knows what’s coming next. You’ve just got to learn when to raise and fold them." "Well, part of being human is never being a hundred-and-one percent efficient. If you folks still count yourself as that. I’d apologise but I remember you were quite nonchalant about your little transformation anyways."

One of the main points of this fic was that while Lady Luck is blatantly on the offensive and absolutely insulting Robot to its core, she's not technically… wrong?

It's not bad advice. Lady Luck, in-game, seems very perceptive of the various insecurities mortals go through. And I like to think she does start this conversation just for genuine fun, to pick someone apart. See if they bounce back against it or just crumble. It's just a bonus that the recipient finds it harder to refute her offers afterwards.

"It might!" it snapped back, getting them to at least try and contain their mockery under a silent, wavering smirk. "You know what? I think it will be, I can feel it!"

Robot sort of does both. It's definitely very very anxious. But it's stubborn. I really like that about its character: how there's a contrast between its organised and disorganised sides? How robots are usually associated with hard numbers and calculations, but Robot's mechanic is blackjack. also it's SO autism/adhd coded. listen. in this

I don't know if there's a trope to call either of these, but they're my favourite things about both characters, and they're surprisingly introspective for a game so short on story. (I will write more about that in another post. lol).

It's a bit indulgent in how long it goes on in some areas, but eh. It works for the fic's pacing.

"The figure leaned forward to highlight its obvious obliviousness…" "I thought you were supposed to be the overly organisational optimist."

I love alliteration. yippee!

"A gentle chuckle filled the air, restrained from its usual projecting echo. "You wound me, Robot. Games are always more fun when your players at least get the chance to try and fight back."

I like to think Lady Luck's main motivation is entertainment. Which mostly involves watching people suffer. But I think it's in the spirit of luck to have it so that someone's downfall was their choice. Determinism versus free will and whatever.

The chance that somebody could escape makes things spicier. And makes it sting all the more for all those that didn't. Hooray!!

Also given Lady Luck's usual loud persona, I planned (plan) on giving her quite a few more subtle but equally threatening moments in this series. It's a thing that wouldn't really work well in the actual game, but it does in a slower medium like writing, and I fucking love that trope.

"Statistically unlikely, but I’ll humour it," she commented to an invisible aside."

You should picture this scene as her directly staring at you through the fourth wall. Like in a sitcom.

"But it’s not so bad, being a minion… I’ve heard that’s about as stable as a job as you can get these days." "…though surprisingly she was not the worst boss it had had to deal with."

I always thought this line, used on Thief in-game, would've been an absolute killer on Robot. The job market is pretty fucking shit these days under capitalism and you would be lying if you said there aren't at least some parts of the Dungeons that seem better work-wise. Inclusivity, stable employment, accommodation.

Yeah, you have no freedom, but that's also the goal of capitalism up here as well. At least in Dicey it's ridculous and ironic. And you'd get to use your degree in maths/statistics/acounting etc to its full extent! Can you fucking imagine the paperwork for a game-show/dungeon hybrid business.

"But then again, I think you’re plenty used to the grind."

I believe this was an unintentional-turned-intentional coffee pun. Boooooo

"Funny how they think that’ll discourage anybody. …Folks hear that the house always wins and immediately think they’ll be the exception."

She would be the one to know that. This was intended as a followup to Robot's entire argument before. I'm very happy that at least one person picked up on that :D

"So whatever you pick, it'll be a decision from Robot alone, no matter what your mind or body drags you into afterward.”

I believe this was also supposed to be a callback, but the wording got changed slightly. I think it was the "It feels like my mind and body won’t stop working against me" bit.

"Normally, Robot would’ve stayed to socialise and make new friends, and in all likelihood, skipping breakfast would leave it starving later on in the day. But right now, it needed some time to itself: to think and recover and remember where it was going with this."

This was another callback (that actually made it into the story). Robot immediately making another bad decision after the first, with the exact same words echoing it coming.

"Just another day in the dungeons. It could handle this."

I wanted the ending to be very short and open-ended, in that it was up to you to interpret whether Robot took the offer or not, and when. But regardless I wanted it to be like a regular intro to an episode, but with the hint something definitely fucking changed that the audience can only speculate on.

…oof. 80 minutes on this essay. My poor neck. I think that's it for now, though.

Overall I'm really happy with this piece - hence why it's one of the few things I actually put online. It's three years old, and I could've fixed the flow in some bits (there's one part where I think Robot answers a different question than was asked).

But I achieved pretty much everything I wanted to say in this piece of fanwork, it pushed me to think about characterisation a lot and my writing and editing techniques. There's a lot of neat little things I put into it, and it really got me to grips with what I liked about my inspiration in the first place.

I think that's an exercise worth trying for every fan-work creator. Stretches you brain. Almost lets you re-experience what you loved about a thing years later. Points you towards your possible future diagnoses. It's a fun time!