#and I needed to use this approach for my own sanity

[mother-giselles-hat]

Just wanted to drop my holy trinity of tenants that I've been trying to use to navigate a post-Veilguard fan space on our little corner of the internet. For fun and zest, I've thrown in DA lingo.

Alternate interpretations are not the blight, they will not kill you

Tag faithfully, tag thoughtfully. Tag like Chancellor Roderick is going to use these tags to determine whether or not you're worthy of showing the hidden tunnel or not.

You don't have to like your fellow Grey Wardens to share their purpose

Me delving into each one is below the cut. I know saying anything prescriptive at all is a Mistake on the internet, so this is more for people who feel themselves getting wound too tightly and wanting to take some breaths and walk through some possible steps to take. It's working for me. That doesn't mean it has to work for you.

Alternate interpretations are not the blight, they will not kill you

I'm going to start right away by saying the key word here is "alternate" and not "harmful." Most glaring example? People running around modding darker skin colors to lighter, being any other form of racist, being fucking homophobic/sexist/a generally discriminatory piece of shit is not what I'm talking about here. Protect the community from those who would harm its most vulernable, always. I am also not talking about addressing these failings in the developers. Someone very aptly critiquing Qunari culture and its potential connections to Western misconceptions about Islam and Muslims, for example, is worth reading and examining your own biases against. Finally, yeah, if a studio is treating its employees like shit or if we're talking about a greater Larian-like shift in the industry towards respecting employees more, I don't think it's too out of hand to discuss. (Although, of course, don't send fucking death threats).

What I'm instead talking about is the hills we are dying on and the extreme sides of spectrums we are being pushed to. It's the immediate aftermath of a game we've been waiting on for a near-decade, or it's the immediate aftermath of a game that may have just brought you into the fold for the first time and either way that's a very emotionally-charged place to be. I fully believe you are valid if you do not like Veilguard. I fully believe you are valid if you hate it. I fully believe you are valid if you love it. For what it's worth, I am both disappointed by and appreciative of the game, so I hope you believe me when I say I get it. It's a weird spot to be in.

But I think taking a deep breath and re-centering, re-focusing on the fact that someone else's joy does not invalidate your pain and vice versa is critical. If you are wounded by what this game ended up being, how out of line it feels compared to the other games, then you should talk about that. You should vent about that. But if someone is merely talking about how the game has inspired them or provided a space for them to feel happiness amidst a shit year, that is not a horde of darkspawn desecending on you. That is not a sign that you need to now vehemently defend your disappointment in order for it to be real. You have people here who feel that and want to feel it alongside you. Post it appropriately, and they will find you. Conversely, if someone is lamenting because they feel like they've lost something they grew up alongside and found great comfort in and now feel as though it's been distilled, it is not your duty to take up arms and convince them that actually you liked it a fair bit, and so they really ought to reconsider. When something means this much to so many different people, it's going to suck because everyone has a computer or phone screen to hide behind and the inner workings of minds are at an all time frenzied level. Assuming no one is being cruel or violent or disrespectful, it's okay to not charge into battle. It is okay to look at a post, go "that's wrong," and then drink some water and pick up another hobby for a bit. Sometimes it's even critical.

Work through how you're feeling, do so in a way that doesn't mercilessly ravage someone who may find joy/unhappiness where you do not, and then tag appropriately so that you're respectful about it. You do not have to change them. You do not have to change yourself. But if you see someone who loves the characters of Veilguard, it's probably not the place to point out all of the cool narrative plots that Bioware dropped. If you see someone frustrated because an old character didn't get the treatment they hoped would be present, it's probably not the place to talk about why the iteration of the character they loved actually sucks and massive retconning was for the best. Another player is not responsible for the game. We are only responsible for how we talk about it.

(Final side note though. I hate the idea of "I can say whatever I want to you (usually heinous rhetoric) and as long as I say it relatively politely, you have to hear whatever I want to say and in fact, you must also now consider and uplift it because of how sweetly I said it." That is again, not what I'm talking about here. I trust you to use your better judgment on if someone is terrorizing fellow fans and needs a reminder on how to not fucking suck or if they're merely using their blog for its intended purpose).

2. Tag faithfully, tag thoughtfully

I feel like a general recap of the ground rules would be nice. (I found this article that talks about tag etiquette a bit but I'm sure veterans of the site with more years in these trenches than I have could weigh in more). I have shared Veilguard critical posts on my other blog. I have tagged them within an inch of their lives to ensure that only the people who need to work through their stress with the game will see them. And then I have seen reblogs come in with tags that seem specifically designed to go to a place where they will cause the most hurt. For example. If someone tags something "rook critical" or "datv critical" and then another reblogs it with just the word "rook" or "datv", then the fear of God shoots down my spine because holy shit. I'm not trying to create content that will get spread to every corner of a fan space, especially those that enjoy the thing I'm shitting on (which, again. Both are valid, assuming we aren't talking about a critical issue that cannot and should not be ignored!) That's why I tagged so specifically in the first place.

If you're posting something, use appropriate tags. Throw in a "critical" after a character or thing's name, encourage your followers to re-use your tags. If you reblog something and see that has spoilers or analysis that should only be read by people intentionally looking for it, keep those tags or add your own! I feel like so much shit getting stirred up is because of improper tagging. There is a place for everything on this hellsite. If you make sure content is going where it's supposed to go, I truly believe we'll see less skirmishes pop up.

3. You don't have to like your fellow Grey Wardens to share their purpose

This is arguably my dumbest and sappiest point, but whether you're really upset about this game, really pumped about it, or floating adrift in the amorphous ever-greying middle area, 90% of us played or replayed this game and the series because of a deep love and respect for it/the writers/the artists/the impecacble vibes. I've written a severe critique and then turned around and seen someone talk about how much joy they get reading a recipe Lucanis shared and had no choice but to be like "yeah, I'm in a completely different place, and if we're both out here just feeling strongly then that's okay." The Grey Wardens are made up of the pure, the just, the broken, the bitter, and those seeking redemption. Every sort of scoundrel and savior makes up their ranks, and fandom is (I know I'm generalizing here) not that different at the end of the day. I appreciate reading different takes. I want people who hope to avoid certain ones to be able to filter out tags so that their experience isn't compromised at the hands of something callous. But I know none of this is easily solvable. I suppose more than anything else this is my own reflection to try and handle the aftermath of the games for myself, personally. But on the off chance that it helps anyone else, I wanted to put it out here. Happy tumblr-ing, y'all. Love, respect, and support.

[deus-ex-mona]

s. s ave me, meoto…

[nanaslutt]

Giving boyfrined!Ino Takuma a hand(y)

ʚ cont: no gender specified for reader, hand jobs, making out, dirty talk, neck kisses, crack at the end ^.^

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Ino's fingers dug into your thigh, threatening to leave a bruise as he held onto whatever drops of sanity were left inside him using your thigh that was slung over his legs. Your hand was braced on his soft chest as he kissed you like he was poisoned and inside your mouth was the antidote, small whimpers and groans leaking from his mouth and into yours, which you greedily swallowed up.

Ino couldn't stop himself from letting his head fall back for a moment, detaching your lips, his mouth open in a wide O shape as he screwed his eyes shut, groans falling freely from his lips as you focused your hand on his tip, making hard quick strokes over it. "Fffuukc baby, oh fuck that feels so good." Ino groaned, his forehead tipping against yours as he looked past your eyes and watched your hand jerk him off, going back to rotating your hand over his entire length as you jerked up and down.

"Yeah? Your tip is so sensitive, huh?" You coo, your lips hovering right over his, your chin tipping forward a bit, almost closing the distance. Ino's eyes locked on yours as he nodded, his eyes fluttering in their sockets before he pressed your lips together, his other hand slung behind your neck, gripping you tightly there. "So sensitive, feels s-so good." He whined between kisses, his hips jerking up every so often to meet your thrusts when he was unable to hold them back any longer.

"Fuck my fist ino, you're close aren't you?" You ask, feeling the telltale signs of his orgasm approaching from his cock kicking against your hand and his abs clenching rhythmically. He nodded dumbly, his lips working sloppily over your own, his fingers curling harder into the back of your neck. "God your hand feels so good, r-right there-" He groaned when you focused your attention on his sensitive tip, rubbing your thumb against the soft skin just under the head of his cock.

you slung your leg fully over his thighs, sitting on him, making sure to keep your lips collected while you did so. Ino released your thigh and the back of your neck and gripped your hips, his hands shaking with the need to finish. Reaching between his legs, you grabbed his full balls with your other hand, massaging them as you worked on his tip. Pre-cum flooded over your fingers at the contact, making you think for a moment he had finished already.

"Oh fuck meee-" Ino whined, his eyes rolling back in his head as he kissed you like a man starved, a long whine traveling from his lips to yours. "I'm cumming baby, b-baby I'm gonna cum-" Ino whined, his body jerking and twitching under yours. You felt the muscles of his thigh tense and relax as he thrust into your hand weekly, spit leaking from the corner of his mouth as he became more incapable of kissing you back properly.

"I know, I know, come all over my hand Takuma." You encouraged, massaging his balls expertly, rolling them in your fingers. You felt them tense as his cock kicked stronger this time against your hand, quick needy pants falling from his weak lips until they eventually stopped moving against your own, falling open in a wide O. Ino locked eyes with you, his face all screwed in pleasure, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, his teeth gnashing together tightly, making the muscles in his jaw strain against the skin.

When you felt the first rope of his hot cum shoot from his cock, spilling over your hands, you were unable to stop your own whine from falling from your lips. His body jerked and shook under yours as cum flooded from his cock, his eyes rolling back in his head after every rope of cum. "That's it, good fucking boy Takuma, give it to me, cum all over my hand." He groaned at your words, his hand wrapping around your neck shakily when you leaned down and sucked the skin of his sensitive neck into your mouth, only making him jerk against the sheets more.

He wrapped his other hand around your own when his cock stopped kicking, you only released him until you were sure he had nothing left to give. Takuma laid bonelessly against the sheets, his mind god knows where as you kissed and sucked on his neck, waiting for his soul to come back to his body. "Jesus Christ, that felt so good baby," Ino whined, cradling the back of your head with his weak hand, pressing you deeper against his neck.

You giggled at his breathless praise, lifting your head against his protests to sit up on his thighs and take in his disheveled look. His blonde hair strewn in every direction, his gorgeous face flushed with glossy, unfocused eyes to match. "Thought I lost you for a second there." You joked, caressing his face with the back of your fingers, making sure you don't get any of his cum on his face.

"Think I did, swear I saw an old man with a white beard at the end of the white light when I came." Ino joked back, a dumb, fucked out smile on his face as his fingers drew lazy shapes against your hipbone. "Thinking about old men when I'm the one making you cum? That's not very nice. Didn't know that was your type." You tease, poking him right on the tip of his perfect nose. Ino scrunched his nose and grabbed your wrist with whatever little strength he had left before he placed your hand back on his face, leaning into the touch like a kitten as he closed his eyes.

A content smile graced your features when he rubbed against you as you stroked his cheek with your thumb, feeling all the tension dissipate from his very tired body. He had such a long day after all, and now he was finally able to relax.

[ohtobeleah]

Hi,girlll!!

I can’t seem to find anything for Jack Abbot that is like the reader getting jealous of him interacting with Samira (bc we all saw that) and she gets angst and they end up admitting feeling for each other, so of course I’m running to you <3

This is like nothing to go off of, so I’m not asking for a fic unless you really want to, but do you have any recommendations that you know of that are maybe similar to this??

with love!

To me it’s giving chameleon!reader. You hear about it as word travels of some…not so standard of care procedures. It drives you insane because you shouldn’t be feeling this way…not when you were the one that left. It was for your own sanity, safety and self respect.

But non of that stuff seamed to matter as Jack approached his car in the parking garage. The one you stood leaning against with a fed up expression smeared across your face.

“Look, I’m sorry about that hair—it looks good, really—“ Jack started on one of his tangents, the ones he gets on when he’s nervous. “I just didn’t recognise you and that’s why it—“

“If you’re going to flirt with someone, can you make sure it’s, at the very least, with the woman you’re legally married to?” You cut Jack off. Anger was present in every word that came out of your mouth.

He doesn’t immediately respond. Jack lets your question hang heavy around the both of you as the night encapsulates you both.

“I thought you didn’t like me?” Jack questions with a frown. “You know, you can’t call dibs on someone you tossed away like some stale bread.”

“That’s not what any of this is and you know that,” You sighed heavily, love prominent in your heart for a man who constantly broke yours. “And..I don’t hate you, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Jack smirks. He’ll take what he can get as he comes to lean against his car beside you.

“For what’s its worth, yes, I did push some boundaries I maybe shouldn’t have in there.” Jack admits.

It burns your chest.

“But I only did it because she had it, she needed to know she was in charge of that situation like a pro.”

“You could have done that without looking at her like you were about to stick your tongue down her throat.” It was the eye roll that gave you away more than anything else.

Ah…You were jealous.

“You know what?” Jack knows he could push your buttons right now. He knows he could run with this and use it to keep you from falling out of love with him…But he doesn’t. “You’re right.”

“Sorry?” You nearly choke on your own saliva. “What!?”

“I could have done that better, I’m sorry, you’re right.”

“Why are you patronising me?”

“I’m not! No! No—you’re right, I should be flirting with my wife.”

Oh…oh fuck what have you done.

“No, god—Jack no, that’s not what I meant, all I said was that you can’t be flirting with residents while you’re wearing a wedding band and on the brink of—“

“Don’t say it,” Jack cuts you off with a plea. “Please, don’t say it.” It’s like he’s begging you not to say it out loud. If he heard you say it…then it was real. It was something he couldn’t ignore.

“I can’t hear about you doing things like that,” You admit softly, all the while keeping your eyes set of into the distance. “I can’t will myself to love you any less than everything, so when I hear about the way you act, the flirting, the banter, the affection I never knew you knew how to give, it all takes a-bit of me.”

Jack doesn’t speak. He listens and he processes and he lets you soak in the quiet. Until he responds.

“Why did you dye your hair?” He asks, looking at you with envy at whatever was lucky enough to have your attention. Your eyes were still off in the distance.

“To get your attention.”

[gazstations]

Lost in You

ASK REQUEST: find original post here

(Sorry it took so long @prettyfaux)

ᯓᡣ𐭩 SUMMARY

Kyle is back from a long deployment and deepens the intimacy he shares with you, unlocking a side of him he didn’t know he had.

FANDOM: Call of Duty

PAIRINGS: Kyle Garrick x female!reader

WORD COUNT: 2,327 words

WARNINGS: SMUT, breeding kink, oral (female receiving), mentions of birth control, no mention of pregnancy, sweet and possessive Kyle

◇ Notes: This is my first full smut piece, so if it’s bad, forgive me. I tried and I am very nervous, so please be nice if you judge. I went completely out of my element for this, but for Kyle I will do anything.

○●○ NAVIGATION MASTERLIST

♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡

KYLE DIDN’T KNOW WHEN HIS JAW STARTED ACHING. When his brain muddled and coagulated into a heavy need to mark his territory like some rutting mutt victim to instinct. But for the past week, he had been beyond sensitive. It must’ve been the long deployment. He was simply a pent-up bastard that would be fine when he blew one load.

Wrong.

Kyle was riddled with an intense, fiery desire. It bubbled in his core and muddled all the flighty synapses in his brain. He had some sort of brain damage, caught in an endless loop of rutting. It was exhausting, but at the same time, he never wanted it to end.

Maybe he could pinpoint the exact moment he turned into some sex crazed mammoth, humping and mounting you the second he got the chance.

Your honeyed moans would echo in his ears for a long time. The pitch in your voice got higher the closer you got to your orgasm. He could feel every flutter and spasm of your soppy walls around his dexterous fingers. He was determined to undo your sanity before he ever pinned your body down and had his sweet way with you.

He was always ruthless when he got back from deployment. He could’ve been the mutt that mindlessly used up its toy, but he always favored a slower approach. Ruin brought on gradually was just, if not more, rewarding. He loved watching your pupils dilating, your body tensing, and your voice wavering with desperate arousal as he explored you methodically.

There was no need to rush the reunion, not when he found such a delectable treat and made it his own.

He had you on your back as he buried two fingers in your clenching heat, long digits reaching perfectly. He curled at the knuckle and pressed along your walls until he heard the delicious hitch in your breath. He worked you there, mouth lowering to seal along your clit to aid the process.

He groaned against you, feeling the natural flutter of your body as you instinctively rocked into him. You whined as you stimulated yourself alongside his own ministrations. You both had your pleasure fine-tuned, knowing exactly which buttons to press for peak enjoyment.

He felt the way you melted into him completely, trusting him implicitly with your body. You’re so sweet for him, offering yourself to your pent-up soldier who worked so hard to rid the world of bastards who would love to destroy pretty things like you.

You’re his slice of heaven. And while he lapped at the nectar between your legs, it’s less about getting off and reaching the final peak than it was reminding himself that he had something to cherish. Had a lively mass of flesh and blood that waited for him day in and day out. Always greeted him with excitement when he lumbered home barely alive. Something that was all his, that no one else would ever taint the same way he had.

He needed to prove to himself that you’re his. He wasn't going to let you go now, even if you became a caged bird yearning to free yourself of the metal bars.

His nose rubbed along your mound as he feasted on you. He got off on your hurried breaths and felt his cock straining and angry. But he didn’t hump into the bed like an impatient mutt. Instead, he let the ache fixate on his core. Let himself feel the burn as his body begged to get the same satisfaction you were currently feeling.

He had all the time in the world.

He wasn’t sloppy as he worshipped you. Ran his tongue up your slit teasingly before he sucked on your throbbing clit again. All the while, his two fingers were still working you close to the edge.

He knew you were close. Your legs threatened to smother his head between the plush of your thighs. He had to use his free hand to grip at one of them and push slightly. A reminder.

“Can’t have my meal if you suffocate me, dove,” he said against your puffy folds. His voice rasped more than he expected. He was being undone alongside you. A man satisfied with his ability to please his lover so thoroughly.

You let out a small grunt of apology, legs opening once more and giving him full access to continue.

You’re going to go over the edge. Your walls tightened around his fingers, and the pitch in your moans changed to something more untethered and high. Your hand clutched at his short hair, pulling slightly and eliciting a groan from his mouth.

His deep brown eyes flickered to your face, nearly rolling back at the sight. Your mouth was parted, breath heavy, throat bobbing, and eyelids fluttering as you started to reach that beginning stage of climax.

But he wanted to be mean, wanted to torture you just a bit for the thrill of the hunt.

He pulled his mouth and fingers away, making you jolt in surprise as your peak washed away abruptly. You looked so ruined as your face scrunched up, and you tried to bring back that divine build-up.

“Sorry, dove,” Kyle apologized with a half-heartedness. He wasn’t sorry, and he knew you enjoyed the bitter ache as well. He wouldn’t have done it if you already hadn’t expressed a desire for it sometimes. “Want you to come on my cock first.”

His cock was solid against his defined stomach. The head was tinged a deep purple, precum beading out and dripping down his shaft. He stared between your legs for a moment, licking his tongue along his lips and smearing what slick he collected. The same arousal that coated his chin, was drooling from your cunt and providing an easy glide for when he finally sunk himself inside you.

He leaned over the bed and popped open his nightstand but frowned when the box of condoms was depressingly empty. Your eyes followed his, and your hand reached up to grasp at his cheek. You knew what he was thinking immediately.

“Don’t need condoms,” you assured. “Got an implant while you were gone.”

His eyes snapped to yours, brown irises nearly swallowed by his dilating pupils. His core tightened as he processed what you said. It brought him an excitement he didn’t expect. He always desired to feel you raw and without any stupid barriers, but he always respected you too much to risk it or demand you put yourself through unnecessary grievances just so he could.

But you went and did it yourself. Something inside him preened and celebrated its lover’s thoughtfulness.

“Good girl…” he growled as he climbed over you completely. He leaned down and nipped at your jaw before pressing a line of kisses down to your pulsating carotid. He sucked delicately at the base of your throat carefully, drawing out a mark that would stay for at least a couple of days.

“Taking care of me always,” he added as he hiked your legs up over his shoulders and settled them back towards your head. You gasped at the position, but soon become more focused on the way he grabbed at his cock and gave it a couple of desperate pumps.

His eyes hooded the moment he ran his length through your wet heat. The head of his cock rubbed against your sensitive clit and you bit your lip as your head fell back against the pillows. You tensed as soon as his tip popped into your hole. Yet, he didn't move any further right away.

“‘M gonna be a tight fit, maybe,” he declared. He could already tell, and his core burned.

He rolled his thumb over your clit, attempting to relax you a teeny bit more to help. He relished in the way you squirmed and felt the faintest clenching of your walls. He couldn't get over the way your body reacted to him, and he feared he would just combust from his overwhelming love for you before he got to reach the end of this experience.

“Relax for me, dove,” he cooed. Now he actually worked you towards an orgasm because he realized you need it. “That’s it… bloody hell. You’re gorgeous.”

You whined as you rolled your hips into his thumb desperately when you realized he wasn’t going to deprive you of an orgasm this time. Your breath was hot and rapid against the side of his face as he mouthed at your neck again.

You still as you come, and he rewarded you with a gentle kiss. He’s a mixture of controlled mutt and doting lover, knowing steady and calm won all. He had his moments where he just took and took, but tonight was not one of them.

He returned to sinking himself inside you. He did an experimental thrust and grinned when he sank a little further. Your muscles were far more relaxed, and your body invited him in. It’s a homecoming that he desired the whole time he was gone.

You’re still experiencing the vestiges of your climax, a honeyed moan escaping you as you unconsciously pulled away from the feeling of his cock opening you up. He grabbed at your chin, locking your head as he stared at you. “Don’t run from me,” he ordered. “Just take what I give you, yeah?”

The stretch of your walls to accommodate his throbbing length was a feeling he could never replace. Your cunt was so good for him as it drooled around him and allowed him to nestle inside like he’s supposed to. Only him. He’s hellbent on squashing any desire you may have to allow another close to your womb.

Your voice was soft when he’s only halfway in your clutching heat. “‘M, Ky…” you moaned.

You started to try and aid his entrance, but it was hard when he had your body completely folded on itself. You’re at his mercy and it was a power that goes straight to his cock. He could take you any way he wanted and you would have to accept it.

“I know, feels good. Doesn’t it?” He was a little more forceful with his next thrust, and he grunted the moment his balls pressed against the plush of your ass. “Bloody fucking hell… so deep, dove.”

He couldn’t control himself anymore. He’s taken his time, and now the mutt was snarling and spitting for instant gratification. He rolled his hips slowly but quickly started to rut. Your cunt sang for him, wet gush frothing around his shaft and coating it in a glistening shine as he moved.

Feeling your cunt raw was the moment his whole demeanor changed. He knew after this he was purely addicted to that sensation of feeling the raw unfiltered spasms of your cunt. The way it gripped at his pistoning length, and the knowledge that you were allowing him this new step in intimacy.

He loved you.

He could only bury his face in your neck, lazy kisses peppered across your heated skin. He couldn't process more, his brain mush as he let out soft grunts against your skin. You seemed to forgive him for the lack of extravagant gestures as your fingers gripped at his shoulders.

He craved the way he was fully draped over you. Legs locked over his shoulders, chests heaving against each other. Every inch of you both was connected. For a man that saw the deepest pits of hell, this bubble of shared connection was everything to him.

“Fuck, dove. Gonna come inside you,” he breathed.

His voice had lost its usual strength. He was almost sure he was more undone than you right now. But then again, he hadn’t lifted his head to see the state of you. Though, he knew he’s doing something because your moans were high in their pitch, and your fingernails were digging ruthlessly into his skin. He would wear your claw marks with pride.

“Please…” that single word response made him falter in his thrusting.

“Yeah? You like that?” He hissed.

You responded with the sweetest noise he’s ever heard. He’s a goner. He would never forgive you if you made him go back to condoms after this. Why bother when he knew the two of you were never going to part? He wouldn’t allow you to leave even if you wanted to. He chose you, and he’s sticking with it. No other bastard could see or feel how sweet you could be.

Kyle didn't last long. The moment he knew he was done for, he pressed himself as deep as he could go. Everything fell away as he came, warm seed filling you up. He shook against you, stomach muscles clenching as he claimed you for his own.

He was slow to come to, but you didn't seem to mind as your hand stroked up and down his back. You’re trembling as well, and he wondered if he missed your climax while in the throes of his own. A part of him mourned that. He always loved watching the way your eyes rolled. Another time. When he was more coherent and able to ruin you without unhinging himself from reality.

“You okay, dove?” He asked softly after a moment.

“Perfect,” you rasped.

Kyle grinned and finally peeled his head from your neck. He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, heart pounding when you returned the affectionate gesture.

He pulled out of you slowly, letting your legs drop onto the bed before he pried them apart. He watched the trickle of his cum leaking out of you a moment later, a possessive feeling washing over him. Your folds were puffy and glistening, and he drank in the sight. The mental picture was seared in his brain for good.

“Right where ‘m supposed to be,” he said lowly.

He leaned down and kissed your forehead before sliding off the bed to go find a washcloth to clean you up.

°•○●○•°

TAGLIST

@ladywraith @babybatreads @armycaratlover @malevolentghoul @little-mini-me-world @ash-tarte @maverickricky @all-by-myself98 @z-wantstowrite @joopg00p

If you would like to be added for future works, fill out my google form in my pinned post.

[whathorselegs]

I think one of my favourite character journeys in BSD has to be Kunikida learning to be better with kids because you'd expect it to be a fun wholesome character arc. Only, it ends up being heart breaking as it's immediately turned against Kunikida.

Despite the 'Dad status' that the fandom has given Kunikida, he was actually terrible with kids towards the start of the manga.

Take how he treated Atsushi in the first chapter. (Yes, Atsushi is not a little kid, but he was a starving and vulnerable orphan when they met.) When Kunikida and Dazai mention the 'man-eating tiger' Atsushi immediately freaks out and tries to run away.

What does Kunikida do? He grabs Atsushi, slams him to the floor and then threatens to break his arm for information.

It's Dazai of all people who has to reign Kunikida in reminding him "The boss himself warned you that the gathering of intelligence needn't be an interrogation". Dazai was the sweet talker and Kunikida was threat, even to a terrified, starving orphan.

Later with Kyouka, he's not much better. He attempts to intimidate her into giving the agency information. Whilst Atsushi now fulfils the role of the gentle approach. She's a mafia assassin after all, even if he knows she had no choice in it, Kunikida treats her as a threat before he treats her as a child.

Even with Aya, the interaction that gave Kunikida his 'dad status', he started off badly. But, it is here we start to see Kunikida trying to be better, trying to take a softer approach, even if he's clumsy with it.

When he realizes Aya was just handed a bomb, he snatches it from her and gets rid of it. That can't be helped it was a literal ticking time bomb, he then phones the authorities to deal with it. He was planning to leave, it's only because he caught sight of Aya sitting alone did he approach her. It wasn't his first instinct.

If he hadn't seen her in that moment, he might not have gone looking for her at all.

He asks her if she's alright and then she shocks him by wanting to hunt down the culprit. He rightfully tries to dissuade her, but again, he's not good with kids, he's blunt and argumentative with her.

Obviously, that's not going to convince a kid with a hero complex to not chase the bad guy.

However, his turning point, in my opinion, is when he realizes he has to choose between Aya and the people on the train. Now, he had already set off the stun grenade and is putting all his faith in Yosano finding them. He trusts her so he knows they are most likely going to be okay.

But Aya doesn't know that and he can't explain it all in the time they have. He sees a child who thinks she's about to die and is trying to be brave about it. And Kunikida comforts her. He needs her to know that she's not alone, that she's not going to suffer, that he is with her and he hugs her.

There was no need for him to step into that explosion with Aya except to comfort her. He chose to do that. Above his own life, he chose her needs.

And that's where this journey starts to get heartbreaking, because Kunikida hadn't always been like this. He was obviously always going to try and protect children, his ideals state as much, but he also didn't believe himself to be a hero. He doesn't see himself as someone capable or even worthy of that role.

So he built up a barrier around himself that made him harsher and more callous. He called it a professional detachment. He had to, it was to protect himself, to keep his sanity in those moment when they couldn't save everyone. Now it's breaking down and he's showing more and more how much he cares.

And it's immediately used against him.

The very scenario that got him to open up is placed in front of him again. A child with a bomb around their throat. Only this time Yosano isn't there, and this time Fyodor is orchestrating it.

And Kunikida does everything right. He tells Atsushi to leave and carry on the mission so he can stay and help the child. He gets on the child's level, makes himself small and none threatening. He reassures the child in gentle voice that everything will be okay.

And then, it's the line "How about a magic trick?" that really gets me, because he's trying so hard to present himself as someone trustworthy. And a magic trick is exactly what he pulled off with Aya, but it's what goes wrong here.

Because Fyodor planned it this time. He didn't just target children to get at Kunikida, he made a twisted mockery of what happened to Aya. Except she doesn't live this time and Kunikida can't bring this child any comfort or safety because Kunikida is the threat. This child dies alone and afraid because Kunikida was there, just like Fyodor planned.

Fyodor saw Kunikida bare his heart once and immediately reached in his chest and crushed it.

[bunny-1111]

Beg for it part 2 - Theodore Nott

Description: Returning to Hogwarts after ignoring Theodore all summer long, was so much worse than you imagine; Theodore was starving you of what you so desperately needed.

Word count: 0.9k

part 1 - here

...

Knocking on the door, you gently opened it, "Hey, we're out now if you guys want to go back. Sorry." You quickly apologised to the people Theodore had rudely kicked out all but ten minutes prior.

Walking back to join the others, your mind still racing, you needed to pull yourself together, but how? How long would you have to go before he put an end to this torture?

Finding your seat next to Theo, distracted by new thoughts. For the remainder of the trip, he kept his promise, he didn't even lay a head on your shoulder. As you finally arrive at Hogwarts, your friends are quick to depart, leaving you and Theodore alone again.

He let out a huff, placing a very heavy hand on your thigh, shaking it with his tight grip quickly before standing up and saying, "Come on". Leave it there a little longer, you thought.

He knew what he was doing, and he definitely knew what it was doing to you, as he smiled with contempt leading the way off the train.

This went on for three excruciatingly long weeks; teasing would be an understatement.

In class, he would pull up your skirt under the table ever so slowly, only to let go.

In the great hall, as Pansy sat between you both, he would reach over, place a hand behind your neck, and squeeze; when Pansy, oblivious to Theodore's actions, noticed a change in your expression, she asked, "Are you okay?"

"'m-fine" is all you could muster out, as he released his lingering hands

When he caught you alone, studying in the library, he watched you from afar, waiting. When you went over to the shelves to retrieve a book, perfect, he thought as he came behind you and pressed his body behind you, his head in your neck, his hands digging into your hips, his scent so strong, you could almost taste it.

You let out a dry cry, "Stop, Teddy, you're killing me," as you leaned your head back onto his shoulder

"Mhmm, he growled as he pulled your sweater off your shoulder. Access granted, he starts to kiss your now exposed skin painfully slowly.

"Please, I've learnt my lesson, I'm sorry, stop torturing me" you pleaded giving into him

His lips left your shoulder, rising higher until he reached your ear, whispering, "Two months, I didn't hear from you. I won't let you forget."

As you turn around to face him, he turns around to leave. Watching him walk out of the library doors, carrying all your sanity in his pocket, you lean back into the shelves, letting out a frustrated groan.

This is war; you were losing.

You sat in bed when you heard a knock, Theodore letting himself in.

"Hi", you pouted, mood not improved

"I need to use your shower," he says, opening your bathroom door, he doesn't close the door behind him, instead he turns the shower on, steam filling the room, he begins to undress

"No! Use your own damn shower. You're not doing this to me today I've had enough" you almost yell, watching him from your bed

"You don't have to watch me. You need to watch that attitude of yours," he replies

You can't help but blush, so flustered, throwing your body around your bed, such a fucking mess only he could fix this for you.

Approaching the bathroom, you hum, sitting on your counter, an almost bare Theodore standing so near, you open your arms out, "At least a hug?" you beg, he gives in slightly, filling your arms with his topless body.

he hugs you tight, running his hands under your shirt, pacing his hands over your skin, "I can feel your heart pounding"

"yeah, at least something is getting pounded" you hiss

"Hey! I told you to watch that attitude of yours," he says, stepping back, letting go

You drop off your seat on the counter, let out a quiet scream, and stamp your foot on the floor.

"That bad?" he says head lowering, eyes darkening.

With a very heavy, deep breath, you reply, "Yes," eyebrows unintentionally furrowed. He was depriving you of oxygen, stripping you of the ability to live to any good capacity.

He stalks closer. Good, you think, come close.

He begins to strip your clothes off; you rush to aid him; you wanted them off, now. He slaps your eager hands. "Don't move", he warns

"yes sir", you roll your eyes

"you wanna keep being a fucking smart ass?!" he says, voice rising

you nod quickly.

He kisses your body as he takes off your clothes. You didn't know if it was the steam escaping the shower or the body heat, but you thought you might pass out.

Both undressed, you look up at him, "What now?" You barely manage to get out. If this was another teasing game, you weren't going to make it out alive. If he was done playing, you didn't know if you would make it out in one piece either.

"Get in the shower," he says, eyebrows raised

"Really?' you smile

He doesn't reply; instead, picking you up, your bare legs wrapping around him, so desperate, so starved, his hand in your hair, his tongue down your throat, his strong arm holding your body up, stumbling your intertwined bodies into the piping hot water.

taglist: @hisparentsgallerryy @slyttherwn @hoeforvinniehackerrr

bro need him so bad.

Part 3?....

Comments, likes and reblogs appreciated my loves <3

[burntheedges]

shadows

Din Djarin x f!reader | 5.4k | ao3 | 18+

summary: you were pretty sure the ship was haunted.

a/n: well, I finally finished it! this is my very late entry for the Monster (S)mash from @quinnnfabrgay-writes and @hauntedhowlett! my prompt: tentacle monster!Din. 😏 thank you to @katareyoudrilling for beta-ing! 🧡

tags/warnings: spooky vibes, flirting, feelings and smut, canon-typical violence (with a bounty), this is a tentacle monster fic and there is smut, so keep that in mind, it's exactly what you think it is, kissing, grinding, fingering, but not with fingers, p-in-v sex, creampie, cuddling, manhandling, except not with hands, if you get my drift, pet names (cyar'ika, mesh'la, good girl), no mention of details for reader other than wearing clothes and being a mechanic

...

At first you thought the Razor Crest might be haunted.

It was the only thing that made any sense. 

Nothing seemed to stay where you put it. Your caf would move half a foot to the right when your back was turned. You’d put your spanner down and lose it, only to look for it and find it sitting atop a crate well out of reach. One morning you woke up and found all of your little trinkets next to your sleeping pad had been shuffled around. You’d squinted at them, suspicious, but none of them had moved again.

You started keeping a sharper eye on things, but you never caught even a glimpse of any movement.

Well. You never saw any of your stuff move, that is.

The first few times you saw… something, you brushed it off as your imagination. You’d probably just been in space too long, right? Trapped on the ship with nothing to look at. Seeing things in the shadows. 

But you would swear to it – something would move just out of the corner of your eye, but when you turned, nothing was there.

Nothing was ever there. Even though the movements sometimes seemed to happen just before you’d find that your stuff had moved around with no warning.

You were starting to question your sanity. You even asked Din if he ever had trouble finding anything on the ship, but he only shook his head. Ok, just a me-problem, then. 

It perplexed you and frustrated you. You found yourself staring at your belongings, tense, as if daring them to move. You were glaring at your ultrasound cleaner when you realized you had no idea how long you’d been doing it and maybe you needed to get out for a bit.

“Din?” you called, sticking your head out of the ‘fresher and looking around for him. 

He grunted from off to your left, but you couldn’t see him. 

“Can we stop somewhere, get some supplies? Before your next job.”

He grunted again, but you could tell he was agreeing that time. You smiled as you ducked back inside the ‘fresher, but the expression was short lived. 

Your ultrasound cleaner had moved three inches to the right. You would swear it. 

…

Din stopped on Hetzal Prime and you took advantage of the large market to stock up on everything you could think you might need, from bacta to fruit to the various bits and bobs you used to keep the Crest in good shape. Din accompanied you for a while before disappearing off into the market on his own.

The fresh air helped. You smiled as you took your time at each stall. When a light breeze rustled your clothing you almost laughed at yourself, thinking about how you’d become certain that the Crest was haunted. Outside on the warm streets of Hetzal Prime, your worries seemed distant.

As you approached the Crest, you smiled again as you walked up the ramp, excited to show Din what you’d found for him at the stall with leather goods. You could tell you were the first one back, though.

When you stepped inside, you stopped and looked around suspiciously. 

Nothing had moved. Everything was exactly where you’d left it. 

You narrowed your eyes as you looked around the ship. “Alright, you,” you said to the Crest, trailing your fingers along one of the walls of the cargo area. “What are you up to?”

The Crest didn’t answer, of course, but you found yourself suddenly on edge, anyway.

“Talking to the ship?” Din’s teasing tone announced his arrival and you turned around quickly, surprised to find him standing at the top of the ramp. 

“How do you always do that?” you said, a bit breathless.

He tilted his head at you. “Do what?”

You shook your head and laughed. “Sneak up on me! Kark, you’re so quiet.” You couldn’t see his face, of course, but something about the angle of his hip and shoulders made you certain he smirked in response. 

He pointed at himself. “Bounty hunter.”

You rolled your eyes and dug around in your bag for his gift. “Yeah, yeah. Ok, Mr. Sneaky Bounty Hunter, I got you something.”

Din took a step towards you. “You didn’t have to–”

“I know, Din,” you cut him off, “but look!” You held out the leather strapping you’d found at the market. “This would be perfect to fix your holster, right?”

He reached out to take the strapping with his left hand while his right dropped down to touch the holster in question, the one with the straps he’d had to reinforce with so much stitching it was more thread than leather, these days. It still looked like it might come apart if you so much as breathed wrong in its direction. 

But Din was still quiet, and you were starting to worry. 

“Din?” He looked up at you, finally and your eyes darted across his visor. “Is it–”

He cut you off by reaching out to grasp your upper arm with his right hand. “It’s perfect,” he murmured, squeezing your arm gently. “Thank you.”

You smiled at him. “Of course. I saw it and thought of your sad holster, I had to get it.” He snorted and squeezed your arm again before stepping around you and moving into the ship. As he did so his hand skimmed down your arm and lightly brushed over yours. You turned to follow him, but your attention was suddenly caught and you stopped. Something had just moved, over in the dark corner of the cargo area – you would swear to it.

“Did you…” you trailed off as Din turned back to look at you. “Did you see something move?”

He shook his head. “Just you.”

You rolled your eyes and brushed past him into the ship.

…

Later that night you laid out the facts in your mind as you stared at the ceiling of the cargo bay on your sleeping pad.

One: sometimes things in the Crest moved without you seeing them move.

Two: sometimes you thought – no, you knew – things would move just out of the corner of your eye, but you could never catch whatever it was in the act.

Three: nothing moved while you were off the ship.

What if the Crest isn’t haunted? you wondered as you started to drift off to sleep. What if it’s me?

…

When you woke the next morning, you were already far away from Hetzal Prime in hyperspace and on your way to Din’s next job. You realized you wouldn’t be able to test your theory that it was you that might be haunted while you were both stuck on the ship. (Not that you had any idea why – or by what – you might be haunted in the first place.)

By the time you reached Druckenwell, whatever was haunting the Crest – or you – was at it again. It seemed to follow you around the ship, just out of the corner of your eye, messing with you. In fact, you could have sworn that last night, just as you were falling asleep, you’d felt… something… brush lightly down your arm. You shivered, remembering. 

When Din came down the ladder, ready for his hunt, you were staring at the pad that had just completely flipped upside down on its own while your back was turned, lying innocently atop one of the crates. He stopped next to you and looked down.

“What are you doing?” he murmured, tilting his head to look at your face. 

You blinked. Oh, nothing, just staring at this inanimate object that I swear just moved on its own and losing my mind. “Nothing.” You turned towards him and looked him over. “How long do you think you’ll be gone?”

Din looked down and reached out to flip your pad right-side up. “No more than a few days. They track everybody's movements here, shouldn’t be too hard to find them.”

You nodded. “Alright. I’ll probably stay here.”

He reached out to grasp your forearm and you blinked again, surprised. “Please,” he murmured, turning towards you fully. “Stay on the ship. Alright? We’re not in the best part of town.”

You nodded. “I will, Din.” His shoulders lost some of their tension and you couldn’t help but smile at him. “I’ll be right here.”

Just a few moments later he was gone and you made sure to engage the ground defenses after the ramp came back up. You turned and leaned against it, surveying the cargo hold slowly. “Alright,” you said to the empty ship. “Let’s figure this out, once and for all.”

…

Nothing happened.

You moved through the ship on full alert, darting your eyes from corner to corner, shadow to shadow, looking for whatever had been haunting you for weeks now. You felt silly for carrying your spanner like a weapon as you did, but you couldn’t bring yourself to put it down, either.

But nothing moved.

It was almost too quiet, too still. Too normal. You realized, now that you were on the ship without it, that you’d gotten used to more than just your stuff moving around. Suddenly the shadows themselves seemed less dark, less deep. Too still. It took the change for you to notice but until now the shadows had seemed, well. Alive. You didn’t realize how often something aboard the ship made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up until whatever it was stopped doing it.

About 36 hours after Din left on his hunt you were lying on the floor of the cargo hold, exhausted from being so on edge, so intensely aware of your surroundings for so long. You stared at the ceiling, wondering if maybe you’d imagined all of it after all. It was possible, you supposed, that everything had moved because of… turbulence. Maybe space wind? Or something. 

Right? You glared into a shadowy corner, but nothing moved. It can’t all be in my head. You needed to sleep. Maybe this will all make more sense tomorrow. 

…

The next day, Din came back.

You were sitting in his seat, up in the cockpit, when your comm beeped. 

“It’s me,” he said, voice low. “I’m coming in. Wait.”

You leapt up, making your way over towards the ladder. When Din told you to wait, it meant he wanted you out of sight while he got the bounty into carbonite. You waited at the top of the ladder until you heard the hiss of the freezer.

“How’d it go?” you called as you slid down the ladder. You turned to look for Din and found him looking at you. You scanned him quickly but he didn’t look any worse for wear.

“Fine,” he nodded. “No trouble.”

You smiled at him. “Good. Where to next?” 

He brushed past you, moving towards the cockpit, and that’s when you saw it. Out of the corner of your eye, just there… you swore something moved in the shadows by the carbonite freezer. Something dark, darker than the shadows themselves. The hair on the back of your neck stood on end. 

But when you turned to look, nothing was there.

You shook your head, frowning, and turned to watch as Din disappeared at the top of the ladder. 

What if it wasn’t you that was haunted, or the Crest?

What if it was Din?

…

You spent the hours it took to get to your next stop, to the next bounty, studying Din. So much so that you were pretty sure he noticed, but he didn’t say anything.

It reminded you of the beginning of your partnership, when you’d first joined him on the Crest. You’d flirted with him, of course, almost from the moment you met. How could you resist? At first you’d even thought he was flirting back.

“Look,” he’d murmured, and you’d wondered if you were finally getting somewhere with this man you couldn't get out of your head. But he’d surprised you. “You don’t want this with me.”

You’d scoffed, disbelieving. “I know what I want, Mando.”

He’d sighed, and you could still remember how tired he’d sounded. How weary. “You don’t even know what you’re asking for. If you want to stay, this doesn’t happen.”

He’d sounded so certain, so firm. You didn’t know him well enough at the time to question it, and now? Now, when you were pretty sure you were actually in love with him?

Now all you wanted was to stay on the ship, and not get kicked off for flirting, of all things. Well, you also wanted to solve the mystery of whatever was haunting the ship. Or Din. 

And now you were staring at him, and even though you worried he might be getting the wrong idea, you couldn't bring yourself to stop.

…

On Socorro, Din asked you to stay on the ship again, and you agreed easily. You had some maintenance to do, after all, and you needed to see if your theory was right.

You realized almost immediately that it had to be.

Din stepped off the Crest, and the shadows… lessened. The darkness in the corners of the ship seemed lighter. Nothing moved, nothing shifted, nothing squirmed in the dark. 

It was Din, after all. 

You spent the next two days trying to figure out what to do about it.

…

You were standing in the cargo area when he came back. 

“It’s me,” he gasped over the comm, and you felt your heart start to race at the tension in his voice, at the way he was breathing so heavily. “Wait.”

You turned, ready to hide, but the cargo bay started opening before you could. You darted towards the ladder, trying to make yourself scarce, but it was too late.

“What’s this, Mando?” said a deep, snarling voice. You shuddered. “Got someone waiting at home, do you?”

You looked and saw Mando dragging a large Trandoshan up the ramp. The bounty snarled at you when you made eye contact. “She’s a pretty one, Mando.” Your back hit the ladder and you froze. 

Din growled. “Shut it,” he said, shoving the Trandoshan forward. But it seemed that’s what the other had been hoping for, because he used the momentum to fall forward, breaking Din’s hold on him. He flipped into a standing position and snarled again. 

The next few moments played out in flashes in your mind.

Din, tensing, readying himself to leap towards the bounty.

The Trandoshan, bending his knees, turning away from Din and towards you.

You, scrambling backwards as the Trandoshan launched himself through the air in your direction.

The sudden roar that ripped from Din startled you and tore your eyes from the bounty to him. 

And that’s when you saw it. Saw them. 

Faster than your eyes could register, shadows erupted around him. No, you realized, they were coming from Din. Smoky black tendrils, slithering from under his armor, snaking down his limbs and outward in every direction, so fast it was like a burst of light. In less time than it took you to fully register what was happening they covered the floor and the walls and sped inexorably towards the Trandoshan. 

He never reached you.

The shadows pulled at him, grasping, wrapping him up in a stranglehold. Your jaw dropped as the bounty’s forward motion was arrested, mid air, and you gasped as he was flung into the carbonite freezer. 

Your entire body was frozen as you watched, as you allowed your eyes to trail along the tendrils of shadows back to Din. Din, who was standing there, breathing hard, holding the bounty in place somehow, but staring directly at you.

“Din?” you whispered, but he looked away and pushed himself forward to freeze the bounty. 

You heard the hiss of the freezer and watched as the shadows started to snake backwards the way they’d come, along the walls and the floor, slithering back under his armor. You watched, transfixed, as he seemed to pull all of the shadows that had just covered the cargo area into himself. 

You stepped closer, mesmerized, and as one tendril passed you you felt it caress the back of your arm before it whipped away. 

You gasped. You knew that feeling. You’d felt it before. 

Din turned around to look at you again, and you noticed he started to reach for you but balled his hands into fists, instead. He looked away. You could see his tension in every line of his body. The last few tendrils were snaking back under his armor when you stepped forward and wrapped your hands around his.

“Din,” you said, voice full of wonder. “You don’t have to hide from me.”

He kept his head turned away as he shook it. 

“Din,” you said, insistent. “Look at me.”

He did, slowly. 

“Is this…” you took a deep breath. “Is this why—“

He nodded once, sharp. You stepped closer. 

“Din,” you murmured, reaching up to cup the side of his helmet in your hand. “I’m not afraid of you.”

He sucked in a sharp breath. “You should be. Cyar’ika—“

“Listen to me,” you said, interrupting him. “I’m not. So this is why? Because you’ve been hiding this from me?”

Din gave in, finally, and reached forward to grasp your hips in his large hands. You could feel them shaking. He nodded again. 

“Don’t,” you whispered. “Don’t hide from me.” You tried to meet his eyes through the visor and hoped, like you always did, that you were successful.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for.” Din’s voice was gravely and rough. 

“I’m asking for you, Din.” You slid your hands up his arms and behind his neck. “Just you.”

He shuddered and let his helmet gently bump against your forehead. “I want to. But–”

You shook your head. “Trust me, Din.” You stepped forward until you were pressed against him completely. “Don’t hide from me.”

For a moment he didn’t respond, and you started to worry that he would pull away from you after all. 

But then he groaned and surged forward, wrapping his arms around you before spinning you and pinning you to the wall of the Crest.

“You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this,” he said, voice deep and dark. You shivered. His hands found your hips again and squeezed. “Wanted you, cyar’ika.”

“Din–” you cut yourself off on a gasp when you felt it. Felt him.

First, the gentlest touch to your wrists. They snaked up your arm and you closed your eyes, lost to the feeling of what you now knew was Din touching you in a way you’d never been touched before.

“Hey,” he said, voice soft. “Look at me. Are you–”

You opened your eyes, and you knew what Din must have seen in them when he growled. 

“Din,” you breathed, feeling hot all over. “More.”

He loomed forward, pinning you harder against the wall of the ship. You felt light touches start to brush against your legs and then your neck. You sighed.

Din’s hand came up to cup your cheek and he tilted your face towards the light. You felt him watching you as you panted. “You like this?” he asked. He sounded stunned.

You nodded. He tightened the grip of the tendril around the back of your neck and you gasped. 

“You like this,” he growled, and then the ship was suddenly plunged into darkness when the lights went out. 

You opened your mouth to protest, but stopped when you heard the unmistakable hiss of his helmet seal releasing. 

“Din?” You breathed, and when he spoke you actually moaned at the sound of his unmodulated voice. 

“I’ll make it so good for you, cyar’ika.” Without warning you felt his lips touch your throat and you gasped. “Let me touch you.”

“Please.”

His hands didn’t move but you suddenly felt him everywhere. Soft touches trailed up your thighs and down to your ankles, wrapped around your back and caressed your neck. You felt one trace your cheekbone and sighed. 

“So soft,” he murmured, face buried in your neck. You felt what had to be a mustache tickle you and smiled. “Everywhere. Just like I knew you would be.”

“Can you—“ you gasped when you felt a tendril snake under your shirt and up your spine. “Can you feel? With them?”

Din nodded into your neck. “Not as much as— it’s not the same. Just… textures. And temperature.”

You marveled at that for a moment. “Din,” you said, and he lifted his head. You couldn’t see him in the dark but you imagined he was looking at you. “I want to feel you everywhere.”

He surged forward and captured your mouth in a searing kiss that took your breath away. 

You’d never been kissed like this. You felt his lips and his hands but then you felt them everywhere else, too. Head spinning, you sank into the feeling of being so firmly held in so many new ways. 

Din broke away and started pressing soft kisses along your jaw that made you sigh. You realized your hands were clutching his cape and let it go, sliding your hands upwards. 

“Your armor,” you murmured. But you stilled when your hands didn’t find anything but flightsuit. “Did you–”

“Yes,” he said, and you could hear his smile. “Faster with a little help.”

You smiled, too. You hadn’t even noticed him taking it off. Your hands continued their slide upwards until you reached his neck. “Can I…”

“You can touch me wherever you want,” Din said, voice low. “I want you to.”

Permission granted, you slid your hands into his hair, marveling at the feeling of touching something you’d never seen. 

“I want you to touch me, too, Din,” you said, and smiled when running your fingers through his hair made him shiver. You felt more tendrils start to snake under your shirt and obligingly lifted your arms. Soon, so quickly it took your breath away, you were standing in the dark in nothing but your underwear with a tall, strong, naked Mandalorian backing you into the wall of the ship.

Din kissed you again, and your mind floated away as he touched you. His hands were on your hips but soft touches, soft but firm, held you everywhere. They snaked across your back, tangled around your legs, twisted between your fingers until you didn’t know where you stopped and he began.

A sudden firm touch broke through the overwhelming onslaught of Din as one lone tendril snaked around your torso and teased at your underwear. You broke away from the kiss and gasped. 

“I’ll make you feel so good, cyar’ika,” he murmured, pressing kisses along your jaw.

“Please,” you breathed, and he smiled against your cheek. Your head was spinning at the knowledge that he was touching you there, slipping closer, while his hands hadn't moved. “Din–” It started with a gentle touch over your underwear, nothing like anything you’d ever felt before. It teased at you, stroking so lightly it made you start to tremble. 

You felt your heart race even faster as you tried to split your attention between all the ways he was touching you. His hands held you firmly by your hip and neck while the tendril slipped inside the band of your underwear and downwards, making you gasp. You threw your head backwards as it started to tease at your slit and only the firm grip of Din’s hand on the back of your neck kept you from hitting it against the wall of the ship. 

The tendril slipped inwards and you whined.

Din began to worry a mark into your shoulder as a soft, unfamiliar touch began to circle your clit. Just as you began to catch your breath, a second one slipped inside of your underwear and began to tease around your entrance.

“Din,” you breathed, and he smiled against your neck. “Please.”

“Mmm,” he replied, and you could hear the amusement in it. “Please what, cyar’ika?” He slid his hand from your hip to ass and gripped it firmly, tugging your hips forward to meet his own. 

“In–” your breath hitched as the tendril that had not let up on your clit, not even for a second, pressed down a bit more firmly. “Inside.” 

Din nipped at your neck as he began to push your underwear down. “My hands are a little busy.” He squeezed the back of your neck and let your underwear fall around your feet.

Your cheeks and neck and chest began to burn with the knowledge of what you were about to say. “Not with your fingers.” Your voice was so tentative, so breathy, it was a wonder it came out at all. 

Din stilled, just for a moment, and then surged forward to claim your mouth in a fierce kiss. When he spoke, his voice was almost a growl. “Good girl.” 

You felt some of the tendrils that had been lightly teasing your thighs suddenly surge upwards and you gasped. Gently but firmly they parted your folds and held you open as a few more tendrils joined the one teasing at your entrance. You shivered.

“Right here?” Din murmured into your ear. “Is this what you want?” One of the tendrils pushed inside, just a bit, and you clutched at his shoulders. He used his free hand to lift your leg around his waist. “Tell me.”

You nodded. “Din, yes, please. Inside.” 

He started with one. It pushed its way inside you slowly and sent your mind spinning. It moved so differently than anything you’d ever felt before, so agile, so soft. A second one quickly followed and they began twisting together inside of you in a way that took your breath away.

It took you a moment to realize Din was still murmuring in your ear. “You feel so good, mesh’la. So warm. So soft.” He pressed soft kisses behind your ear as a third tendril joined the others and you moaned at the stretch. “So good for me.”

You lost track of time as he toyed with your clit and filled you in a way you’d never been filled before. You had no idea how much of him was inside of you, only that it felt perfect and delicious, particularly when he began to massage the spot inside of you that made you see stars.

“Din,” you said, thrusting your hips forward. You could feel it building inside of you. There wasn’t a single inch of your skin he hadn’t touched yet and it was filling you in a way you never knew you needed. 

You whined as you felt it nearing and Din nipped at your ear in response. “Let go for me, cyar’ika. Let go.”

You did, and the pleasure rushed through you like an avalanche, building from the base of your spine, spiraling upwards until it overflowed from you in a gasp. He worked you through it, praising you, until you began to relax in his arms.

Din released his grip on your neck suddenly, but before you could even begin to make a sound mourning its loss, he used it to grab your other leg and wrap it around his waist, pinning you to the wall. His cock was suddenly pressed against you, right where his tendrils still held you open, and you moaned. 

You felt him start to pull out, his tendrils dragging lightly inside of you, and whined in protest. 

“Shh,” he said, kissing you quickly. The tendrils held you open once more and he thrust forward until his cock was sliding against your open, wet pussy. “I’ve got you.”

On his next thrust, the head of his cock notched against your entrance and you sucked in a sharp breath. You could feel his tendrils guiding him in as he slid forwards, pressing onwards until he was fully inside of you. Even after the way he’d just opened you up the stretch was amazing.

He paused for a moment, and you realized you were both breathing heavily and quickly. “Can I–”

“Move,” you interrupted him, and with a full-body shudder, he did.

Starting slow and building to a rhythm that took your breath away, Din began to move his hips. As he thrust forward again, the tendrils caressed you, all over your body. A few of them left cool, wet marks across your skin and you shivered with the knowledge of where they had been.

You yanked his head up by his hair and even though you couldn’t see him, you pulled him forward into a kiss.

Din groaned into your mouth and you clutched at him, thrusting your hips forward to meet his. The tendril that had again started circling your clit began to move just right, and you almost sighed into his mouth, jaw falling slack.

“Din, I–” you were building towards your peak again, somehow, and like he could tell, his hips began to move faster.

He nipped at your bottom lip. “Yes, cyar’ika,” he breathed. “Come for me.”

Once more, you couldn’t help but do as he said. It felt like being pulled over a cliff, floating through the air with him supporting you everywhere, tendrils gliding along your skin and holding you up. You’d never felt anything like it, this full-body caress that held you firmly as you fell. You cried out his name and his hips stuttered once, twice, before he followed you over.

…

In the time it took for your breath to come back, Din maneuvered you both onto your cot and replaced his helmet, so he could turn the lights back on. You let yourself drift as you cuddled into his side, but as comfortable and sated as you were, you couldn’t turn off your curiosity.

“Can I–”

He laughed, and you smiled into his chest. “Ask.”

You weren’t sure where to start, so you went with the basics. “Do they… come from somewhere?”

Din hummed. “Not… physically.” He tugged you closer and you went easily. “I sort of think of them as shadows. Part of my shadow.”

“Have you always had them?”

He nodded as two tendrils started to stroke along your arm. “My parents – my actual parents – taught me to hide them. So I did, even from the Mandalorians. I could tell, even there, that there was no one else like me.”

You tightened your arm around his middle. You had the sudden urge to go back in time and hug little Din. 

“You know, you said no flirting, but I don’t think they got the message.” You looked down at where two shadowy tendrils were lightly tracing shapes along your naked thigh, the one you had thrown over his hip that Din held in a firm grip with his left hand. You could feel a tendril wrapping itself around your ankle while another wound around your waist. Each one left goosebumps in its wake and you shivered at the delicious feeling of all the ways he was touching you. 

He sighed. “I know,” he said, tone wry. “I was trying to stay away, but I’m too used to being alone on the ship. Not worrying about hiding it here. I know where everything is. And then every time I thought about you…” he ran his right hand up your spine and squeezed your thigh with the other. “I was trying so hard not to flirt or catch your attention that I ended up doing… all of that. I had no idea what to do, I was so afraid of you figuring it out. I’m pretty sure I even moved some of your stuff in my sleep.”

You laughed and propped your chin on your hand, leaning on his chest to look at his visor. “Wait,” you said, suddenly realizing what he’d said. “So you can be sitting up in the cockpit and move something down here?”

He nodded, rubbing his hand up and down your back. “I know this ship too well. It’s easier here.”

You bit your lip. You wanted… your next thought felt illicit, even after everything you’d just done together. You wanted to squeeze your thighs together and squirmed against him instead. 

He noticed, of course. “What?” He sounded amused.

“I just… if you can reach me, from all the way up there…” you knew he could see what you wanted. It had to be written all over your face. 

His grip on your thigh tightened. You grinned when he growled. Suddenly the lights flicked off, and you knew he must have done it without you noticing. You heard the hiss of his helmet release and realized neither of his hands had moved from your body. 

You shivered at the desire in his voice, once you could hear it unfiltered. “Oh, cyar’ika,” he murmured, and you felt hundreds of soft, barely there touches ease you into position straddling his hips. “Let me show you."

...

a/n: 👀

[bunnybuunn]

Little puppet.

Summary: Agatha finds out that little!reader is Wanda’s weakness and decides to steal her from the witch.

Warnings: Age regression, slight Mommy!Wanda, manipulations, force regression, Dark!Agatha.

Agatha knew, that she just has to wait. It won’t take too long until she finds something, that might be Wanda’s weakness, and when she would find it, she won’t hesitate to use it against the redhead. Agatha spend days, watching closely as Wanda was living her little perfect dream life, and honestly, the witch was getting bored out of her mind. Until one day when she saw someone, who might’ve helped her with her little mission.

You were sitting on the front yard of Wanda’s house, reading some children’s book. At first your unusual mannerism and childlike behavior confused Agatha, but then she looked closer and saw you as the perfect opportunity to get more control in the whole situation with Wanda.

Her sly smile grew bigger, when the witch came out of the house to check on you with an anxious look on her face. Just like that Agatha realized, that taking you away from Wanda would make her lose her stability and the last crumbs of her sanity.

The next couple of days Agatha spend waiting for a perfect opportunity to show up at Wanda’s house. And when that opportunity finally came, the witch was there to use it.

Wanda was already losing control of everything, and she felt extremely bad because she couldn’t be a nice caregiver to you today and give you enough attention. When her neighbor entered her house, she almost sighed with relief.

She actually needed help today, even if that meant letting Agnes take care of you for a couple of hours.

„But Mama, I can’t leave you!”

You protested, not wanting to leave your mama’s side. Wanda smiled softly at you. She didn’t want you to see her struggle so much and she definitely didn’t want you to worry about her. It was her job to take care of you, and now she was failing at it badly.

„I’ll be fine, baby. Just go with Agnes!”

You glanced at her once again and nodded. You wanted to help her feel better, but maybe she just wanted some alone time or some peace and quiet. You got up from the floor and grabbed your stuffie, excepting Agatha’s hands. The woman leads you out of the house and then brought you back to her place, not letting you out of her sight not even for one second.

Something strange was in her eyes, her look wasn’t caring like Wanda’s, it was more of the possessive one. You tried to hide your obvious anxiety, but Agatha could’ve still feel it.

The woman approached you from the back when you were putting your teddy bear down on the couch, and you almost flinched when you notice how close she was to you right now.

„Why are you so scared, my dear? I won’t bite.”

You haven’t notice when and how her eyes started to shine with a purple glimpses, you were too busy worrying about your mama. Your body and mind only reacted when her fingertips touched your forehead, making your brain blow up with the sudden tones of reappeared memories.

Your life flushed before your eyes, as you finally got free from Wanda’s spell.

„See? I just wanted to help you."

Agatha voice was the first thing you heard when you finally got back to your usual mindset. You shook your head before taking a long glance at your own body just to see yourself wearing some stupid pink clothes. It wasn’t your style at all, but it was what Wanda wanted to see on you.

„So, I am free now, right?”

You asked Agatha, hoping that you finally found a way out of the Hex and soon you’ll be able to return to your usual life without someone playing with you like if you were a puppet.

However, Agatha haven’t given you an immediate response.She just winked at you slyly and then put her hand on your back, gently caressing it.

Somehow her touch made you more relaxed and you were almost close to slip into the littlespace once again, even though it was the last thing you needed right now, giving the whole situation.

„You are free, darling, there’s just something I have to show you, so you won’t get fooled by that witch again.”

Agatha slowly lead you to the basement door. In any other situation you wouldn’t go in the strangers basement, but since the woman had just freed you from your kidnapper you couldn’t say „no” to her simple request.

You went along, not pushing her away or fighting her touches. You needed some comfort right now, after you just got your mind back.

As both of you got downstairs you felt the familiar anxious feeling that made your stomach twitch. The basement were empty and cold, and it didn’t take you long to realize that it was just another trap. You were ready to turn around and run, but Agatha soft whispers prevent you from doing that. Her words were soft and even though your mind couldn’t understand what she was saying exactly, it felt like your whole body understood her just well.

The next moment you felt how your mind went empty again.You weren’t feeling pressured that time like you had before. There were no struggles or fear, it was just pure peace and emptiness. Your body became much lighter, and you almost lost your balance, but Agatha’s hands quickly caught you before you could’ve fell to the cold floor.

„Feeling better now, my dear?”

You immediately nodded, giving in to her powers. You were not only regressed, but completely folded under the pressure of her magic and her soft whispers.

Agatha chuckled, titling your head up a little bit so she could see your little face and your beautiful empty eyes.

Now she knew what exactly Wanda had found interesting about you.

„Use your big girl words, doll. Mommy can’t understand you.”

You frowned, trying to say something, but failing to complete a whole sentence even in your thoughts. Agatha smirked, knowing that she had you exactly where she wanted too. Too weak and empty minded to argue or talk back. Or talk at all.

„Yeah, Mama.”

When the words had finally escaped your mouth, she smiled, leaning down to give you a kiss on the forehead. It was strange for her to feel some kind of affection towards someone, but she wasn’t resisting. It was nice to have someone by her side, even if it was against their will.

„Good.”

Agatha murmured, her low voice send chills down your spine, but somehow still kept you calm. It was almost like you were depended on the sound of it now, but you weren’t complaining.

You couldn’t complain.

Agatha gave looked you up and down, before gently pulling the bow out of your hair. She got used to Wanda’s awful fashion choices, but now when you were in her care, she wanted you to look exactly like she wanted you too.

„I know that you got used to red and pink, but I hope you don’t have anything against purple, doll.”

Taglist: @tinylilacbun @aew-regression-cove

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

I Want It All: Part 1

Part 2, Part 3; AO3 Link

Astarion x AsexaulBard!Tav Masterlist

Astarion x Reader, Astarion x Tav, Astarion x Asexual!Reader, Astarion x Bard!Reader

Flirting, Light Angst, Longing

Summary: You and Astarion had been playing this little game of yours for a while; he pretends to care, you pretend not to fall for it. It's easy, even fun at times. The trouble is, what happens the moment you can't pretend anymore?

A/N: This turned into a monstrosity. For my own sanity I need to break it up into three parts. I also apologize in advanced, the stuff in the preview won’t pop up until part 2. And please, REBLOG AND COMMENT IF YOU LIKE THIS! I NEED VALIDATION TO LIVE!!!

Word Count: 4.8K

The day really couldn’t decide whether it was going to be terrible or tolerable. 

On the one hand, it had been pouring rain for hours, leaving you and your party drenched as you searched for some place dry to sleep. On the other hand, you were able to find an inn with more than enough rooms to accommodate all of you. On the other, other hand, rooms cost money, something that was in short supply. 

“How much does that make?” Karlach asked, placing her share into the pile. 

Gale counted out the coins. “Enough for our own rooms, but not much in the way of food.” His brow furrowed slightly. “Hold on, this can’t be right. Who forgot to pitch in?”

All eyes turned suspiciously to Astarion. 

He raised his hands in surrender. “I put down enough for the room. Food is something…you all have to deal with.”

Lae’zel gave him a hard look, the threat obvious on her features. 

“We could always share a room or two,” Shadowheart cut in. “That will at least hold us over until we can find a way to make more coin.”

A devilish smirk formed on the vampire’s lips as his eyes turned to you. “I’m not opposed to the idea. Certainly would make it easier for me to get a little midnight snack.” 

You gave a theatrical sigh. “Not tonight dear. I have a headache.” 

“Teasing minx.” 

“Can the pair of you not for ten seconds?” Wyll complained. 

You bit back a laugh, turning your gaze to the dining area of the tavern. Gods you could smell something delicious cooking over the fireplace. When was the last time you had a proper hot meal? 

It was then you turned your eyes to one of the empty corners. The solution to the issue of food suddenly became obvious. 

“Not to worry everyone,” you announced, swiping the coins from Gale’s hand. “Dinner is on me.” 

Before anyone could speak, you stepped towards the bar, making a point to put on your best smile. 

A elderly halfling woman regarded you as you approached. “What can I get you deary?”

“Actually it’s a matter of what I can do for you,” you said. “I see you have some instruments sitting much too idly.”

The old lady shrugged. “Not really. Night like this you don’t need music to bring people in.”

Your smile faltered a moment, but you pushed on. “That may be, but nothing keeps people drinking longer and deeper than a good song.”

She gave you a disparaging look. “Don’t tell me, bard right?”

“Guilty.”

“If you don’t have money for the rooms, we don’t comp that.”

You waved the comment away. “The rooms aren’t the issue. However, if you’re willing to part with a cauldron of stew, I’ll consider it payment enough.” 

Her eyes remained wary, but you knew you had her as a twitch came to her lips. “That’ll do.  Thirty minute set. You eat after.” 

She held out a hand which you took, striking the bargain. 

It didn’t take long after to secure the rooms. They were nothing fancy, but a mattress was a mattress and with the guarantee of true privacy for the first time in weeks, none of you were complaining. 

“How’s this about food then?” Karlach asked, taking a seat at one of the few tables large enough to accommodate all seven of you. 

“All taken care of,” you assured. “Just need to pluck out a quick set and we can eat.” 

“Are you sure that’s wise?” Astarion said. “I don’t mind it myself, but your songs have a tendency to be a bit, well…destructive. Frankly I’m surprised you didn’t use that cutting mouth of yours to simply insult the woman into feeding you.” 

“As it turns out, I have a little thing called restraint. Unlike some people,” you countered. 

“Oh trust me my dear, I’m well aware of that.” 

You rolled your eyes, deciding to ignore the slight twist of guilt in your stomach. 

He couldn’t seem to help making those kinds of jabs ever since you had declined his offer for a midnight tryst; always alluding to the theme of “untapped passions” or “delayed gratification”. It was starting to wear on you. 

Gods knew you liked him. He had so many qualities you admired; insight, intelligence, charm, the way he could make you laugh. The more you learned, the more you wanted to know and the more you were willing to give for answers. The trouble was his idea of a night of passion and yours were so very, very different.

A part of you knew the honest thing to do would be to spell it out for him.  You understood him well enough to know he’d respect those boundaries. At the same time, you didn’t want to lose this, whatever this was, between you. If suddenly that night of passion was off the table, all those moments, all his attentions would be lost. He’d be a friend, certainly, but nothing more. 

It was selfish. You knew it was. You couldn’t imagine finding the words to explain it to him. It would leave you too exposed, too vulnerable to that insistent burning want that had a way of tearing you apart from the inside out. It was better to leave him to his assumptions of suppression and prudishness. You’d keep your dignity at least. 

Pushing those thoughts away, you took your place in the unobtrusive corner and the spare violin waiting for you. 

A smile spread across your face as you tucked the familiar instrument under your chin. Since this whole adventure of yours began, you had little opportunity to apply your skills. Music had always been a source of comfort to you. It felt right to indulge in it now, some place safe and filled with warm firelight. 

With a flick of your wrist you began, the resonating tone of the strings filling the room. 

You allowed your eyes to close as you slipped into the melody. The sounds of conversation and laughter fell to an idle murmur. It was a simple tune, something easy to match the atmosphere, but one you loved all the same. You always found it best to start with something familiar. If the patrons could see you get lost in the music, they inevitably followed. 

As the first song came to an end, you chanced a quick glance at your audience. 

Most of the patrons still prattled on, but enough turned your direction to encourage you to try something a little more daring. 

Your fingers flew, igniting a livelier rhythm. More eyes found their way to you. A pleasant bubbling sensation filled you. They were falling right into your hands.  

Rising to your feet, you glided across the floor, moving with the music towards the center of the room. 

Patrons shuffled out of the way, transfixed by your performance. Even your companions had stopped their chatter. 

Karlach and Shadowheart’s faces lit up in delight. A smile touched the corner of Gale’s mouth. Even Lae’zel and Wyll looked on with admiration at your skills. As for Astarion…Astarion just stared. 

You couldn’t quite read what was going on behind those scarlet eyes. It was a look you had caught him wearing more than once, always blinked away before you could fully comprehend its meaning. All you knew was how it made that dangerous hope spark in your chest. 

He caught you looking and quickly morphed his expression to its familiar smirk. The bastard even had the audacity to wink. 

You rolled your eyes pretending not to have seen. It was all part of the game after all. He pretended to care, you pretended not to fall for it. 

A lute suddenly joined you from one of the corners, strumming its way into a new song. 

You turned as a cheer rose, encouraging the intrusive lutist forward. He was human by the look of him and certainly skilled in his own right. He took a moment to embellish your solo before taking over with one of his own. Soon enough you joined the conversation again with a counter melody. It wasn’t as clean as you would have liked it. The lad clearly had meant to upstage you, but you made sure to put him in line, allowing the impromptu duet to end in some kind of harmony. 

You transitioned easily to a new song as he took a seat, bowing to you as he did.

Remembering your showmanship, you made a point to bow in return, schooling your expression into a flirtatious grin before pulling away. That earned the man a round of cheers from his friends and a few obvious oohs from the crowd; exactly as you intended. 

You continued on with the remainder of your set. Requests were shouted from the audience, all the pieces of music moving to and from your fingers with practiced grace.  By the end of it, your arms were exhausted, but your face hurt from smiling. Gods you had missed this. 

As you took your bow, applause followed you back to your table as well as a handful of extra coin. 

“That was amazing!” Karlach said, beaming at you. “How’d you learn to play like that?”

“Years of practice,” you said, with pride. “Had to find an honest living somehow.”

“Well, it was beautifully done,” Gale added. “Maybe next time we make camp you could grace us with another performance. Provided we’re not all about to die of course.”

You shot him a grin. “I could be persuaded.” 

The wizard turned his gaze away, his lips turning into a knowing smirk. “You’ve been unnaturally quiet Astarion. Been bewitched have you?”

The vampire blinked as if coming out of deep thought. It was only in those last moments did you realize just how intently he had been looking in your direction.

“Yes,” he said, a little stiffly, “you were quite…good.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Be careful there. You wouldn’t want to overwhelm me with praise.”

He regarded you a moment before a sly smile turned at his lips. 

You were almost relieved. That look you understood at least. 

“If it’s praise you crave, you need only ask,” he purred. “You, my dear, are an unparalleled talent. Your beauty and grace alone should have brought you into the presence of kings. A true diamond in the rough.”

You snorted out a laugh.

“No good?” he continued. “How about this one; if I die tomorrow and the gods grant me mercy it will be your song that brings me into the beyond.”

You gave him a slow clap. “Brava.” 

He inclined his head in a little bow. “But seriously, you were good and you didn’t even destroy the furniture. Admittedly though, I wouldn’t have minded if he had met with a little accident.” 

You followed Astarion’s eye line to the lute player chatting with his friends. He perked up as he felt eyes on him. Without the distraction of playing, you could easily tell he was handsome in that sun kissed farmer’s son kind of way. Probably had most of the girls in the village swooning. 

He raised a tankard to you in toast.

You met the gesture in acknowledgment. 

“He wasn’t that bad,” you said, taking a sip of your drink.

“He was the worst part of your performance,” Astarion insisted. 

You knew he wasn’t wrong, but you couldn’t help but have your fun. 

“Oh my darling, don’t tell me you’re jealous,” you said, placing a hand over your heart.

“Certainly I am,” he said, clutching his own chest in turn. “He’s the only person I’ve seen you willing to make sweet music with. And judging from his looks, he would have much preferred it to be a private performance.” 

You didn’t bother looking over to the other table to see if he was telling the truth. It didn’t matter either way. It never did. Your answer was always the same. 

“He’ll have to keep waiting.” You shrugged. “Not my type.”

Astarion’s eyes narrowed slightly, leaning in closer. “And what exactly is?”

You didn’t answer, deciding instead to take a long sip of your ale.

He continued to eye you, his lips pursed as if trying to solve a puzzle. After a few moments he let out an exasperated sigh. 

“Fine, keep your secrets, but I will figure it out eventually.”

Your lip twitched up into a half smile. “You may certainly try.” 

It was then one of the staff brought out a truly enormous cauldron of the most delicious smelling stew you had smelled in your life. 

You didn’t think to wait as you greedily poured a ladle full into your empty bowl. Two full days on the road with nothing but a handful of nuts and berries to sustain you had taken its toll. The rest of the group soon followed, each taking their share. You ate yours so quickly that by the time the ladle had made the circle, you were grabbing for seconds.  

“Hungry are we?” Astarion observed. 

You paused mid bite, heat rising in your cheeks. You took a quick look at everyone else. Nobody seemed to have noticed how you inhaled your food. They were content enough in their own bowls and conversation. Carefully you swallowed before self consciously setting down the spoon in your hand.  

           “I am the one who worked for this,” you said, more defensively than you intended. 

Astarion regarded you with a raised eyebrow. “Even so, it’s not going to disappear the second you look away.” 

“Says you.” 

“Clever,” he said, dryly. “Devastating really. What’s next? Are you going to hit me with an “oh yeah” or Gods forbid a “your mother”?”

“I was actually leaning towards, “leave me to eat in peace you pompous jackass”.”

“Oh yes, that’s much better.”

You breathed out a frustrated sigh. Hopefully it would distract from your obvious embarrassment. You had thought you’d tucked those bad habits away. 

Years of living on your own had left you going to bed hungry more times than you cared to remember. There was a time food had disappeared from your plate if you didn’t eat it fast enough. Of course, things got better. You found music and people willing to listen. It gave you fire and shelter and a contented stomach on good nights. Still, there were the bad ones and old instincts took over. It took practice not to be as ravenous as you knew your nature to be. 

“Do I need to worry about your hunger?” you asked, deciding to change the subject. 

“Oh you of all people should know by now. I’m insatiable,” he crooned. 

Your eyes narrowed, unamused. “I’m being serious, when’s the last time you ate?”

He shrugged. “Few days. Last time I fed on you I imagine.” 

Your stomach gave a sudden guilt ridden twist. If that were the case, it had to have been at least three days ago. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because as much as the image of you swooning in my arms is appealing, I’d rather it be over my charms rather than blood loss.” He nodded his head towards the bowl. “From my own experience hunger and restraint don’t mix.” 

You tried to fight it. You really did. Years of instinct and reason told you not to fall for the softness in his eyes and voice. He simply didn’t want to explain a dead body to the rest of the party. It wasn’t out of some concern for your well being. And you absolutely could not allow yourself to believe he recognized the desperation in your actions and not pass judgment. If you believed that, you’d be in much more danger than you already were. 

“Excuse me deary,” an elderly voice asked. “I was wondering if I could have another moment of your time.”

You turned to see the barkeeper at your shoulder. 

“Oh,” you said, surprised. “Of course.” 

You moved to stand, but she gestured you down. It was then you noticed she was carrying a case. It was worn with age, but clearly lovingly maintained as the edges shone with intricate gold inlay. 

“I know you already paid for your meal,” she said. “But I was hoping I could ask for one more performance tonight.”

She opened the case to reveal the most beautiful violin you’d ever laid eyes on. The wood was a carefully polished chestnut interrupted with carvings which matched those on the case. The strings shone like gold and the pegs carved marble. You may not be a trained wizard, but could feel the magic pulsing from every square inch of it. 

“What is this?”

“It was my father’s,” the woman explained. “He was a bard you see, best in these parts from what people told. He had so many stories and songs. Built it himself to help tell them. Try as I might though, I could never get it to play as sweetly. I was hoping you might.”

You looked to your companions. The obvious curiosity played on all their faces. 

With a cautious hand, you plucked one of the strings. 

It was perfectly in tune. The sound echoed, rich and vibrant even with so light a touch. The instrument itself seemed to glow as if happy to be played once again.

Slowly, you lifted it from the case, taking the bow in hand. You placed it on the strings and with an exhale drew the first notes. 

It was the loveliest sound you’d ever heard.  

The vibrations resinated in your fingers, moving through your arm and into your chest. 

You decided to start simple, a handful of scales to get the intonations just right. 

Color danced across the strings, rippling from your fingers like raindrops in a pond. 

“Woah,” Karlach said, her eyes widening in awe. “Are you doing that?”

“No,” you said, pausing your motions, as you let it fall slack in your hands. 

The elderly halfing smiled. “My father always said an artist puts their truth into every stroke of the bow. This here helps one’s heart shine. I saw the way you performed earlier, you’re not afraid to play what’s true.”

Color rose in your cheeks, unsure how to take such praise. “Thank you.”

She just smiled, nodding towards the instrument. “Keep playing. See what happens.”

You were suddenly aware of the rest of the party’s eyes turning expectantly towards you. Some with caution, some with anticipation, and one pair of red eyes with unreadable intentions. 

Knowing there was no way you were getting out of this now, you rose from your seat, placing the violin securely beneath your chin. 

You started slow, picking a tune every beginner memorized in their first lessons. 

The music sparkled in front of your eyes, twirling outward in melodic waves.

The hum of conversation began to die down as you spotted the barkeeper beckon for silence. 

You continued on, moving to something a little more complex, allowing yourself to let the rest of the room blur in the peripheries. 

The sound of boots on cobblestones met your ears. Glancing down you saw stone where hardwood floors had been. 

You took another step. 

The stones followed. 

Around you the room fluctuated between firelight and the brightness of morning. Looking up you could see a clear sky had replaced the hatched ceiling. 

A smile spread across your face as you stepped away from your bench. 

As if waiting for your queue the rest of the bar quickly moved tables and chairs out of the way, clearing the center floor. 

The sun followed as the cobblestones spread out in front of you like a stream. With every flourish, finer details were added. You changed the direction allowing a building to form beside you, then another and another. Images of people faded in and out like memories, coming and going with the flow of the music. 

You never felt anything like this before. The strings sang inside you, drawing out a melody you knew was there, but had always managed to slip from your grasp. 

You surrendered to its current, following it deeper and deeper until all you could see, all you could touch was the music. 

Behind your eyes the streets began to turn and change. Buildings loomed large overhead. You could hardly see the stars. A cold swept through your clothes, the chords of the melody vibrating with the shivers in your hands. The world was so much bigger and you were so much smaller. 

No instrument laid in your hands, but still the music played on as if you had slipped into a dream. 

You continued to walk unsure of where your feet were carrying you until something warm pressed against your back. Light reflected behind you, casting long shadows on the ground. A melody played, soft and soothing against your own. You turned towards it as the voices of long forgotten conversation and laughter accompanied the strings of a quartet.

Your chords and theirs brushed up against each other, a new light shining in the darkness, but just as soon as it began, it moved away, leaving you on your own once again. 

You continued on, brushing against others. Sparks would fly, fire would ignite only for them it fade in front of your eyes. 

Your own melody grew more desperate, moving and shaping itself to match whoever you found next only just able to cling onto the barest sense of itself. 

An ache grew in your chest as you wandered, always searching, never finding. Something warm trailed down your cheeks. You let it flow, unable to stop. You wouldn’t end the story here, even as swirls of blues and blacks surrounded you. They wrapped around your body, filling your vision and squeezing tight around you until you felt the air being pushed out of your lungs. There was nothing else.  Even the music had gone dead. 

For what felt like a moment and eternity you sat there, alone in the dark. 

A voice came to you then, but it didn’t come from the instrument tucked somewhere under your chin.  No melody accompanied it. It was so far away. Something about it was so familiar. It spoke your name like a desperate prayer. You reached out for it.

The air itself moved around you as if you had plucked the very strings of the universe. 

A low hum came next bringing with it two pin pricks of light. A red fire glowed in the darkened space, growing until they sat as two eyes burning in the air. 

You cocked your head to the side. Your own song started again, cautious as it curled around the eyes, examining them from different angles. 

The eyes crinkled at the edges, amused by your persistence. 

With a blur of motion, it turned to the side allowing a profile to form and beginning an enticing melody of its own. 

You and the face took turns, calling and answering in playful antagonism. 

The lines of light continued downward as its counter melody grew in strength against your own, forming the outline of a man.

He stepped towards you, his own head turning to the side as yours had done before, examining you from every angle. 

After a moment, he bowed. You curtseyed. And then you did what only felt natural. You danced.

The heat of his touch burned your skin, but you didn’t dare pull away. You had been cold for so long you hadn’t even known you were cold. Even when it became too much, the fear of the darkness kept you in his light. 

The man in turn held you close, his song teasing against your own. So unlike the duet from before, this was a true conversation, the pair of you giving and taking in equal measure. You didn’t want it to stop, holding the feeling tighter and tighter until you felt the pulse of his fire inside you. 

You looked up to find the embers of his eyes pouring into you.  He moved your hand to his chest. A heart pumped beneath and you knew then it wasn’t his own. Just as you had taken from him, he had taken from you in equal measure. 

His face came into focus, forming a familiar knowing smirk and playful scarlet eyes.

He stepped back from you, his hand holding yours as he bowed, placing a kiss on the back of your hand. 

The song faded away and you were once again in your own body, a violin tucked carefully beneath your chin. 

You blinked your eyes open to find the tavern standing as it had been moments ago.  Patrons surrounded you, their eyes wide and mouths open. You glanced around the room, quickly finding your companions. Horror struck you as you read their expression. 

They’d seen it. All of it. 

Before you could register what was happening a wave of applause erupted from the crowd. People began to cheer. You heard awed whoops and hollers. The adoration was overwhelming and completely miss timed. You needed to lie down. You needed to think. 

Numbly you bowed before making your way to the side of the room where the barkeeper stood. 

You held the instrument out to her, unable to look her directly in the eye. 

“Thank you for letting me play this,” you said. 

To your surprise she didn’t take it, instead pushing your hands away with a shake of her head. 

“Keep it love,” she said. “After seeing all that, feels wrong to take it away from you. You’ve more than earned the right to it.”

You wanted to argue. You wanted to scream. You wanted to curse her for ever asking you to touch the damned thing. Somehow you managed to swallow all of that down, mumbling another thank you before slowly turning towards your party. 

There was still a chance to salvage this. Astarion hadn’t seen his own reflection in centuries. He didn’t know what he looked like. You could play this whole thing up to artistic license. You just carried a general feeling of desperate longing. No need for you to clarify its direction. 

Making a point to keep your head down, you put the violin away and slid it over to Gale. 

“Feel free to eat this one if you want,” you said. It was meant to be a joke, but even you could feel it fall flat. 

“I don’t think I can do that,” Gale said, his tone holding nothing but sympathy. 

“It really was lovely,” Wyll said, gently. 

“Beautiful really,” Shadowheart added. 

Your jaw tightened, caught between the urge to scream or weep. Why couldn’t everybody do you the favor of the lifetime and forget they saw anything. 

“Personally I don’t understand your choice in the spawn, but–” Lae’zel started only to be hit hard in the arm by Karlach.

“What?” she snapped. 

Your whole body cringed, knowing exactly what was coming next. 

“That was…me?” 

You were in hell. This was hell. You didn’t have to look up to see Astarion’s self satisfied expression. His tone made it clear enough.

In a flash you stepped back from the table, putting as much distance between you and the party as possible. 

“I need to go,” you managed. “Goodnight.” 

You sprinted out of the tavern, taking two steps of the time to the upper rooms. You didn’t stop until your door was firmly slapped behind you. 

Your breaths came hard as your heart pounded in your chest. Honestly you didn’t know how you locked the door. Your hands were shaking so badly as tears blurred your vision. All the emotions the violin had pulled from you returned, overwhelming you in their intensity. 

The instrument had done as advertised. It had shown the truth of your heart, putting it on display for the whole world to see. Gods you were an idiot. Why did you even pick up that damned thing? 

You kept your ears open, listening as everyone made their way to their rooms. Their murmurs never made it past the walls, but the way they paused as they passed your door made it clear enough they were discussing you. Thankfully they were kind enough to leave you be. 

Counting, you waited until all six doors shut before rising to your feet. 

As you did, you felt a small pull at the back of your mind. A vision of a door number and the feeling of anticipation sat on your tongue. The invitation was clear enough; Astarion was waiting for you. 

You wanted to ignore it, but you knew you couldn’t. There was no use in pretending any longer. The game was over and you would have to face the consequences.

With a steeling breath, you walked out the door. You could only hope Astarion wouldn’t hate you when it was all over.

[mk-wizard]

What Elita-One Taught Me About Femininity and its Importance to Feminism

Hi. Since there are so many articles and videos that talk about what Optimus Prime taught young boys about masculinity and being a real man, I wanted to do an article about my favourite lady Transformer who is none other than the better half of Optimus: Elita-One. And when I mean Elita-One, I mean the definitive version not the TF One version who is an immature teenager who still has growing up to do and not the Skybound version who is an angry broken shell of what she used to be (the real Elita-One is unbreakable but more on that later).

Specifically, I want to talk about what she taught me about femininity and how important it is to true feminism and yes, a character who only appeared once can have a profound effect. Think of female characters who appear in one off films or mini series. Anyway, I grew with the TFs, but rewatched the episodes in my very late teenage years which is when I could really understand what was going on. I should also mention that during this time, I was the weird girl who went through a phase where I kind of hated my own femininity. I thought that I had to choose between being a girl and liking action comics instead of fashion magazines. I started resent girl stuff, I started to believe I hated pink and I even began to believe the propaganda that Barbie was "problematic" and it was all her fault I had a weight problem.

But then... Enter Elita-One. When I first saw her and heard about her, I thought she was another female character who played love interest, but she wasn't. In fact, she very much was independent from Optimus yet was not separate from him (more on that later). I saw grown mature adult woman who was shamelessly girly, clad in pink, was very beautiful and was still taken seriously as a leader. Elita-One also doesn't put down, act sarcastic, shout, threaten, hate on men or act mean to be taken seriously. She is polite, speaks with grace and is calm helps her be a better leader. By keeping her feminine side intact, she kept her "humanity" intact as well as her sanity, her spirit and her hopes. She doesn't have this "I don't need a man!" obsession nor does she let the jabs of Shockwave or any Decepticon over her being so openly girly get to her. Elita is happily married to Optimus and uses her love for him and the future they could have as a motive to keep fighting and be so brave hence her famous quote "Elita-One knows no fear."

Moreover, she doesn't live to show up men or be better than them. She and Optimus are a team. She has bigger fish to fry like saving Cybertron. In her debut episode, she did get captured and only after putting up one hell of a fight. Although Optimus did come to save her, she did not take this as a blow to her ego. Elita-One was grateful, but also worried about his well being because he too got caught. Might I also add, she did not reprimand him or humiliate him in front of everyone for winding up getting caught himself in attempt to save her. Instead, she used her secret power to save him knowing it would likely kill her because she loves him and wanted at least one of them to get away alive not be martyred. In return, he saved her with the help of another man she loves dearly as a father and is not above turning to him for help either: Alpha Trion. Afterwards, Optimus and Elita fought alongside each other like a team. In other words, Elita sees Optimus as her partner not her rival nor does she feel a need to be perpetually dominant in the relationship because she loves him, respects him and in return, he treats her the same way. She also accepts that they each have a job to do and that he is Prime. Such a fact doesn't make her feel insecure. Elita-One is proud of him and loves being married to him.

Because Elita-One acted in such a way while preserving her femininity, her gentleness and taking up this protective, loving, wise mother figure approach to leading her team, those positive and wholesome habits rubbed off on them. Her female team mates are also openly proud of their femininity, they are confident, they are likeable and most notably, they don't hate men, they don't blame men for their problems and don't mimic the worst of the men just to appear strong. In fact, they had husbands and boyfriends themselves who they act very lovingly towards. The only people they hold accountable for the suffering in their lives are the actual antagonists being Decepticons who might I remind people aren't all men either.

When I saw all this, it was eye opening. It made me realize that while feminism is indeed about choice, it's not about choosing between nor is it about treating your feminine side like something you have be ashamed of. Even the biggest tomboys or androgynous people have feminine sides that they make peace with and even tap into from to time.

In the case of Elita-One, she taught me that femininity can be the source of a woman's strength, it can give her a lot of confidence and it makes her happy much like how wearing plaid shirts and jeans, growing a beard and other masculine habits give men a lot of confidence. Plus, a lot of these very masculine men are nurses, teachers, gardeners, florists, artists and even cake artists. The right to be feminine without shame is a huge part of feminism because a woman should be able to express herself and present herself without shame. Elita-One also made me realize that if I wanted to make it in the world, I had to stop seeing men as enemies all around me. This wisdom especially helped me when I began writing comics professionally and as you know, the comic community is male dominated. I built bridges instead of walls which helped me a lot and to add to that, it was my HUSBAND who encouraged me to do comics full time. And later, it was my dear son who inspired me to write a comic that got me nominated for an award.

Bottom line is that Elita-One taught me that femininity is not a weakness or outdated. Femininity is beautiful and can make you feel confident, mature and happy. Most importantly, it can help you let go of the false notion that you must act like a man (specifically, a toxic man) to be accepted or get ahead. You can be a pink lady who is married with kids AND still land your dream job. Moreover, when I at least stopped resenting womanhood, I stopped seeing enemies in men, enemies in other women especially successful ones or enemies in fictional women like Barbie. I learned to be happy for other people when they succeeded while still focusing on myself. And I can tell you all from now that being a feminine woman NEVER held me back socially or in my work. Yes, I still sometimes deal pigs out there, but they were not the norm. Even now in the comic world, nobody judges me for being an openly girly woman or for my lifestyle. And anyone who does is not someone I want in my life anyway.

That is what Elita-One taught me about femininity. She taught me what real confidence and what real strength in a woman looks like. You don't have be loud, rude or pretend you're a man. You just have to be yourself, and do your job. One does not hold back the other. Plus, if you really aren't girly, that's ok too. Just don't be a she-jerk.

With that all said, I have hope that feminine lady loving wife Elita-One will make a come back.

She never needed fixing just as Optimus never did. She is perfect.

[joyswonderland1108]

Breaking News: Voting for a Member Without Causing a Civil War? Groundbreaking.

Imagine this: I like Jimin. I like Jungkook. Both are my biases. My own two biases are in the same voting poll. I have 10 emails. I split the votes, 5 emails each. Then, as the deadline approaches, i use all 10 emails on whichever one has a chance of actually winning. Boom. Strategy. Sanity. A functional brain.

Now let’s compare that to the actual state of this fandom: Someone votes for Jimin and suddenly they’re branded a “Jimin solo” like it’s a federal offense. Someone chooses to vote for Joon and suddenly it’s a“Joon solo.” Like??? Be serious. You sound like kids fighting over crayons in kindergarten.

It’s voting, not a blood oath. No one’s asking you to renounce your biases and pledge eternal loyalty to one man. It’s not that deep. You can support more than one person without needing to justify your entire voting history like you’re testifying in court.

And to the grown adults bullying others because they voted for their bias: Congrats on your regression to middle school. Your honorary 12-year-old badge is in the mail. 📬

Let people vote however the hell they want. Split votes, change direction near the deadline, or even, and this may shock you, vote for just one person without being a traitor to the group.

You can strategize without infantilizing the fandom. You can support your bias without turning it into a Hunger Games spinoff. And you can recognize that ARMY is diverse, global, and... full of people who aren’t trying to join a cult over a poll on the internet.

Use your votes. Use your brain. And for the love of all that is logical, stop acting like voting for Jimin or Joon means one of them will disown you.

[jaylaxies]

HARD THOUGHT !

PAIRING: gamer!hee x fem!reader

WC: 0.6k words

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni

Gamer!Heeseung takes his live streams very seriously, and it’s one of those days where he couldn’t even bother to get up from his gaming chair, playing with his friend the whole day, completing one of the quests thrown his way and the viewer count was higher than the usual, keeping him motivated and on his tippy toes. All of this meant that Heeseung hadn’t paid a sliver of attention to you, despite you trying your best to garner it still, yet he didn’t bat an eyelash at you when you gave him food, even though you were clad in his favourite dress, still standing far away so you don’t show yourself on the camera he had on.

You had enough of it, not having his attention for two days straight wasn’t tolerable by any means, which left you no other option than to forcefully capture his attention in a way that he couldn’t help but get up from his chair.

After taking a shower, you wrapped a towel around your torso, wearing nothing underneath as you approached Heeseung, his attention solely on the screen still as he talked to Jake, who was playing with him, through his headset.

A sudden gasp from Jake and your hand on Heeseung’s shoulder made him turn back to look at you, his eyes widening to see you devoid of clothes in simply a towel. He was quick to cover the webcam and mute the mic, not focusing on whatever Jake was saying anymore.

“What are you doing—” he asked, but you stopped him midway, getting rid of the towel and crawling up his lap, making him cuss out when your cunt was directly on top of his clothed cock.

“You won’t give me attention, so I decided to take it my own way,” you whispered with a teasing smirk, clenching around nothing when you observed his eyes getting darker, a scoff leaving his lips as he paid attention to finally switching off the PC.

“Yeah? So you decided to be a bad fucking girl, huh?” He mocks your desperation, his thumb playing with your bottom lip, making your lips part as you sucked on it, “can’t think without my cock being stuffed inside your pussy, isn’t that right, angel?” He chuckles when you nod.

A gasp leaves your mouth when he thrusts up, the rough material of his jeans brushing against your cunt, providing you with the friction you so desperately needed, “I’ll have to teach you a lesson for ruining my quest, baby,” he speaks it as a warning, as if he doesn’t enjoy how needy you get for him, how your body shivers with every single touch, every single word he speaks, as if you’re not a doll for him to use.

Soon, you find yourself on the bed, fully naked while Heeseung still had his T-shirt on when he was balls deep inside your pussy, loving the way you squeezed his length, and the way you lost your sense of sanity, not being able to form sentences when he fucked you from behind, pushing your head down the pillow, spanking your ass which was up and groaning when you fell apart around his cock, courtesy of his brutal backshots, which felt like the best punishment to you, the room a mixture of your lewd activities and a slight mist.

That’s when you knew you had to bother him more often, if it means he’d fuck you this way, making sure your pussy would be full of his cum, your tits marked and your lips swollen with how he let his carnal desires take over.

After all, acting out is the way to get fucked.

© jaylaxies | tumblr

[becausegraf]

Everything You Put Me Through - what is this ‘everything’ really?

Featuring: 

1) Interpreting the actual meaning of Blitz’ angry rant

2) A look into how Stolas misheard him just like most of us did, and 

3) A side-track into how they both gave the wrong signals about what they actually wanted from each other right from the start.

So, idk if this is a new-ish idea or not but

I've been pondering that moment where Blitz goes 'After *everything you've put me through*!!' during their one-sided argument, because it just didn't make a whole lotta sense to me.

The *obvious* reading would be that he means everything as in 'the sex arrangement [that I didn't like but didn't object to]' and I get the impression that's what most people read it as, taking it at face-value. 

It makes no sense though, as we see all kinds of evidence for Blitz actually *wanting* the arrangement to stay exactly as it is. Both before the Full Moon and after he shows his motivation to stick with their deal, and ‘it makes sense’ to him. He's at least physically into Stolas and Stolas is into him, for as far as he knows/hopes, what could possibly be wrong about continuing to have regular sex dates they both enjoy?

Throwing out that accusation of Stolas putting him through something upsetting, I personally felt like he was talking out of his ass spouting something aggressive just to channel his anger *somewhere*, including the whole tangent he went on with the whole 'not taking the lower class seriously' thing. 

Sure, it's an angle you can definitely consider, but it just seemed to have so little to do with their actual interactions around their agreement, and with what was happening right there and then?? The dismissive ‘bye Blitz I'm done talking please leave’ attitude, sure, but something about his rant doesn't seem on-topic enough to be about JUST that.

-

All that said, I think I finally figured something out:

He's talking about explicitly everything *other than the sex part*

‘The sex part’ is specifically what he WAS okay with, but it's the whole 'ugh wtf is he trying to do here, playing at us being actual friends and him caring about me' that was NOT part of the agreement that caused by far the most emotional distress to Blitz, and what I think he had in mind when thinking of 'stuff Stolas put him through' that he'd *actually* have struggled with.

Like.... this might sound kinda backwards but I can see Blitz legitimately struggling with 'how dare he put me in this situation where he gets hurt and I feel like it's my fault, and somehow I'm supposed to care and I DO care but what the fuck am I supposed to *do with that*.'

- because that'd be the sort of emotional challenge that'd really throw him off and make him feel absolutely terrible.

'If he'd just kept this business-only, I wouldn't be this conflicted.’

If it was ‘just business’ and nothing more, there would be neither the expectation nor the justification to approach Stolas and everything about him like a friend. Blitz *needs* it to be unambiguously ‘just business’ for his own comfort and sanity, because if it isn't… 

Example:

A prissy rich boy just looking to get giggity living out his fantasy couldn't possibly give a fuck if his ‘plaything’ to be ignored outside of fun times didn't come see him at the hospital, right? If that's what this is (and to Blitz that was the only believable option), to go visit him would be an enormous risk, and a huge emotionally messy one at that, given what happened the last time he tried to see someone he cared about who got hurt because of him. 

Yeah hahah, no. It's way easier to tell himself Stolas doesn't care, than to open THAT whole can of worms and push himself into the purgatory of being rejected in anger or be made fun of for being so stupid as to think Stolas might have wanted him there for real.

It's that internal emotional turmoil that really messes him up, and that he resents Stolas for. 

‘Why can't he just play by the obvious rules and keep it simple and clean, why does he have to do this pretend-bullshit making me almost think he actually values me, and make it so hard to keep my distance and stay detached, damnit!’

Because if that's what Stolas was actually doing, that would 1000% count as ‘playing with someone's feelings’, wouldn't it?

The annoying nicknames and the 'having sex appointments' stuff is not remotely the sort of thing that actually bothers someone like Blitz that much. It's maybe a nuisance or inconvenience, but there's no way he actually has deep-seated emotional pain about that. 

Stolas trying harder and harder to invite him closer and get to know him, THAT would be what would piss Blitz off, because he could only see it as this owl dragging him into some dumb roleplay. And that is what would actually, genuinely hurt to be a part of, because he wishes it *could* be real.

When Stolas ‘plays at being his friend in earnest’, Blitz thoroughly hates how it makes him feel.

Stolas is NOT pretending, but that's 100% inconceivable to Blitz. It being genuine is the one possible interpretation he can't risk taking seriously because if he's *wrong* oh my lord…

‘This hurts and I wished he'd stop doing what's causing me to feel this way.’

At this point in time, Blitz can't process his own feelings well enough to comprehend that that's what's causing him this pain, so all he feels is agitation over something vague. 

He feels anger, some resentment towards Stolas, and the only proper explanation he can give to himself is that Stolas is being thoughtless and disrespectful towards him - of course he'd be bothered and annoyed. That makes sense in his mental framework.

‘This whole thing he does, pretending to give a shit for real makes me feel like garbage, and he just keeps doing it like it's nothing, because he's just a total braindead douche when it comes to that specific stuff. He doesn't get why he needs to stop at *all*.’’

Blitz is walled off from his own vulnerable yearning and desires by fifteen layers of deflection and ignoring and irony. 

He tells himself he hates Stolas’ disrespectful, patronizing attitude, when the core of it is *disappointment* and self-doubts, and how it triggers his sense of unworthiness and hopelessness about never being able to have anything ‘real’.

He *genuinely* didn't get it, as obvious as it seems from an external POV, and other than Fizz nobody had any reason to challenge him on that. Other parties either didn't care, saw it just like Blitz did, or had no idea Blitz could be *that* freaking blind. 

Example:

Millie goofily referring to Stolas as Blitz's ‘boyfriend’ to her parents. Blitz responds as if she's disrespectfully joining in with Stolas’ thoughtless making a mockery of his feelings just to tease him, rather than being affectionately cheeky about this odd but kind of cute situationship he has going on and ‘pretends’ to be in denial about.

-

ALL OF THIS makes what he said when he blew up at Stolas make perfect sense.

... and it also means Stolas misheard it as 'he thinks I'm just some shallow sex fiend using him for pleasure' instead of 'he's mad at me because to him it sounded like all my attempts to be nice to him were just a messed up powerplay, despite me meaning every word of it'.

To Stolas, Blitz thinking he'd be that shallow is easy to believe because it's the most obviously logical possibility, AND it's also kind of his worst fear at that point. 

The notion of his genuine interest and tenderness being consistently misread, by comparison, is a pretty strange mental twist. It *almost* makes no sense at all that someone could only half-intentionally misconstrue regular kind messages as some contrived fucked up performance.

'When did I ever play with his feelings, it can't be all the times I tried to be nice to him with no strings attached because I really meant that in earnest... so it's gotta be the sex arrangement he's mad over??'

No wonder he took it the way he did.

-

Now, for my third section - it's quite the tragicomedy that their first reunion as adults was a whole pile-up of giving each other inaccurate impressions of what the other one actually wanted.

'Are you here to ravish me' = oh okay, owl do be randy??? thinketh a Blitz

'Oh hey there buddy, want me to ravish you then~?' = oh uh wow uh um ok he's here because he's actually for real into me????? wondereth a Stolas

and then they just kept that little 'roleplay' of trying to give the other what they thought they wanted from each other going, assuming that was the actual primary motivation of the other (when really Blitz was there for the book and Stolas had no idea what he was getting himself into and he was just making shit up on the fly half sloshed).

They pretty much *showed* each other that yes, they do in fact want-a-da-sex from each other, pretty explicitly,

and the deal they struck was just a convenient excuse to keep seeing each other.

It's not that hard to see how Stolas' thinking went there... 

‘Hey so, that was the most amazing thing ever and oh my goodness me, if Blitz actually likes me that way and as an aside he can use the grimoire too, um, well, tee hee hee? maybe we can make it a regular thing officially~?’

He called it favours for favours, but really it's sex for sex, and the grimoire's kind of a bonus tossed in because it makes a neat story, for as far as he's concerned. He clearly didn't have any intentions of withholding it if Blitz wanted a different arrangment.

'Let's keep having dates under this little fun guise of borrowing my book, because hee hee hoo hoo that's a neat dramatic plot device just like in my novels.'

He only way later clues into the implications of it as 'wait shit he does actually really need that book for real, this is kinda messed up despite never intending to lord it over him like this'.

Stolas *would* be the kind of dork to think of it like some romance story where the fated lovers come up with some cover story to continue their passionate forbidden tryst

... and it also makes scheduling really simple, HAH. 

(I mean scheduling can be *such* a pain in the ass, anyone who's ever played DnD would know that well enough, right~? Consistency is key ehehehehe.)

[amongemeraldclouds]

Things I’ll Never Say

Why say things out loud when you can write them all down in a journal? No need to inconvenience everyone else with silly declarations of love that’s only guaranteed to break your heart. So what happens when your enemy - of all people - finds it?

Lorenzo Berkshire x Reader

“Is it that, or is it because you’re in love with me?”

Thanks to @thatdammchickennugget for the prompt. Here's my official entry for the Hogmarch challenge, prompt one. 1k words.

Author’s note: The way I screamed when this idea came to mind! Journaling is such a big part of my life, I’ll take any and every chance I can to incorporate it to my stories.

Indented text are journal entries.

Warning: Cursing, no use of y/n, slight angst but it’s kinda cute. Fluff express coming through!

✿ Masterlist

“Stop copying my notes!” I hiss at Lorenzo, moving my arm to cover my parchment.

“Come on, I missed class today. I need to catch up,” he says, tugging at the arm of my sweater.

“Go ask your friends,” I retort, moving my arm away from his grasp.

“You know they’re not in that class, just you,” he insists.

“Oh we’re not friends,” I deadpan.

“It won’t take long,” he tries again.

“If you weren’t busy sleeping around with everyone, Berkshire. You would have made it to class this morning.”

 He leans in to my ear and whispers, “I’ll make it worth your while.”

I grab the nearest hardbound book and swing it in his direction. Thwack! It strikes his shoulder.

The librarian looks at us sternly. “Your final warning was just given five minutes ago. No noise in the library!” She points her finger to the exit, “You two, out!”

“Great. Thanks for that, Berkshire. Good luck with your notes.” My face gets hot with embarrassment as I gather my things and rush off to the exit.

Enzo spots a black leather bound journal in the area you just vacated. He takes it with him as he exits the library. She’s always writing in this notebook. I’m sure she won’t mind if I take a peek, I’ll give it back to her anyway.

He damn well knew you would mind. When he reaches a quiet corner of the hallway, he proceeds to turn the cover anyway.

I know, I know. I’m not supposed to like Lorenzo Berkshire. Why the fuck did I just draw a heart over the “i”! That’s it. I’m losing my mind! I can’t be caught liking the boy who spewed the word mudblood in my direction our first year. Like it’s my fault I was born into my family. And screw him okay, muggles are awesome. I can break my own heart with my misguided affections, but I’d rather die before I ever let him break my heart. So before I check myself into a mental asylum, I need to just say this somewhere. Anywhere. A last ditch effort to save my sanity.

He’s the intrusive thought I love to entertain in my head.

As a dare, he took off his shirt at the party. My toes curled. I pretended not to notice him.

I heard him laughing with his friends. I love the way it lit up his face.

I saw him enter his dorm hand in hand with a girl. I never wish to be her, another one night stand. Once would never be enough. 

I nearly kissed him again.

He helped me pick up the pile of books I dropped at the library. He seemed kind and concerned. Ha! Who am I kidding?

I count down the hours until I see him again.

Maybe in another lifetime it wouldn’t matter: bloodlines, social status, and hierarchies. So unnecessary.

I noticed the veins in his arm at quidditch practice. I tried not to bite my lip. What must it be like to be wrapped in those arms?

And there he was again with his stupid hair breaking my stupid heart.

Enzo hears determined footsteps approaching and he shuts the journal, hiding it behind him.

“Fine, Berkshire,” I sigh when I reach him. “Here, take my notes,” I say, handing it out to him.

He quirks an eyebrow.

“Weren’t you so desperate to get them earlier?” I fold my arms. “I will not be part of the reason you fail in class.” I point at him, “you and your dumb ass can very well do it yourself. I have more important things to worry about.”

“Is it that, or is it because you’re in love with me?”

My brain short circuits, the fire freezing in my veins. How the hell does he know?

He smirks, pulling out a familiar black journal. My eyes widen.

“On second thought,” I say, stepping back. “It doesn’t matter,” I turn around and walk away. “Fail class for all I care.”

I’m yanked back when I feel Enzo’s grip on my wrist. “Wait.”

My heart thumps in my chest. Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit. He knows!

“I’m sorry,” he says. What? I turn back, my confused expression directed at him.

“That I called you a mudblood,” he explains. “I was a dumb ass when we were younger.”

“Finally, we agree on something,” I state, trying to mask the tremble in my voice.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you back then and I was prejudiced. Over the years, I enjoyed watching your passion for magic and studying. How you light up when you talk to your friends about a book you just read. And how you’re always the first to volunteer when someone needs help. You have this fire and warmth in you and I just need to be around it all the time. I’m reduced to being a moth to your flame and I don’t mind it at all.”

I blink, speechless.

He takes a step forward, voice softening. “Why do you think I tease you all the time?”

“Well how the fuck was I supposed to know?” The anger not quite there in my voice.

“I just wanted a chance to talk to you and I thought you hated me.” He brushes the hair from my face and cups my face. “Clearly, I was wrong.”

I roll my eyes, “Oh no, I do hate you.” I falter, “but maybe I kind of, just sort of, like you too.”

He grins. “It seems there are things we need to talk about. Will you go on a date with me?”

My heart stutters. “You already know my answer.”

He laughs, “stubborn as always. I’ll take that as a yes.” He pulls me in for a hug. 

Oh. Being wrapped in his strong arms is even better than I imagined. I rest my head on his shoulder when a thought occurs to me.

“You’re sure this is not just some elaborate ploy for me to keep giving you my notes?”

He sighs, “of course not, just enjoy this moment."

He moves his mouth to my ear, "But if you do, I solemnly swear I will make it worth your while.”

I don't hit him this time.

✿ Masterlist

A/N: For those who get the Avril Lavigne title reference, here's a tight hug for you! ♡

I may or may not have also had a place where I wrote down love confessions for someone I couldn’t have. Some of those may or may not have been included in the journal entries.

Two fics published in one day? Who is she?

[bobbyseyesmile]

Attitude | Part 3

Summary: Y/N has to think about what she wants: a rather safe life with Shane but she‘ll lose her sanity and might explore parts of her own mind she must sacrifice or will she put a bullet, between his perfect brown eyes, as the rational side of her brain tries to advise her.

A/N: soo uhm, i‘m sorry (no i‘m not lol) this is filth. HAVE FUN also thanks to my lovely @angel-litter who inspired me to write a third part

Characters: Dark!ShaneWalsh x Reader

WARNINGS: age gap (reader is 18+) / explicit sexual content, swearing - I can’t stress enough that this is a dark fic: Shane is a mean motherfucker and just takes what he wants. Don’t like, don’t read. You’ve been warned.

Trigger warning: dub-con | 18+

🔞 MINORS DNI below the cut! 🔞

➻ Part 2 [M]

The sun was setting over the horizon, casting long shadows over the prison walls. The world was quiet, save for the distant groans of walkers and the occasional rustle of leaves.

The group had settled for the evening, a small fire crackling in the front yard, warming the people who stood guard for the night. Shane Walsh sat on the outskirts, cleaning his gun with practiced ease. He glanced up, his eyes narrowing as you approached.

"Something you need, princess?" Shane drawled, his voice tinged with mockery.

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. "Just checking to make sure you’re not planning to run off again. Wouldn’t want the group’s supposed protector to abandon us."

Shane smirked, his eyes glinting with mischief. He knew exactly what you were getting at: On last week’s supply run he disappeared for hours, nobody knew where he went and Rick got nervous as the hours passed by. When the sun began to set Shane casually walked towards the prison, not even batting an eye that almost everyone was looking for him.

Everyone but you. You kept telling yourself to stay away from him, not getting pulled into the dark abyss that surrounded Shane Walsh. He was a hothead and dangerous as he preferred to work alone instead of teams.

Your father worried a lot about the future; your mom’s pregnancy wasn’t helping at all. Thankfully you found the prison and its large protective walls that kept you save; as long as everyone was willing to do their part.

Except Shane fucking Walsh.

Shane’s eyes shamelessly wandered over your body, relishing the memories when you were a whimpering hot mess. His whimpering and hot mess. The older man knew exactly what chokehold he had over you and he so wished to make that chokehold a reality.

“Don’t worry about grown men business, little girl. Get your sexy ass back to the others, I’m sure your daddy needs you to count all the peas in the kitchen.”

Rage boiled inside your stomach and you stepped closer, heart pounding in your chest as its been months since you’ve been this close to him. “You know, Shane, it’s a wonder you keep others and yourself safe with that big ego of yours. Must be hard to fit through the doorways.”

It wasn’t your best comeback but something in his eyes flickered; a tiny hint of anger that washed over his face, giving you a feeling of satisfaction.

Shane chuckled, leaning back and taking in the sight in front of him. "My ego ain’t the only thing big but you already know that, don’t you baby?”

Heat rose to your cheeks, but you refused to back down. "Don't flatter yourself. You're just a big fish in a small pond."

"Oh, is that so?" Shane stood up, his towering presence making your heart race even more. He stepped closer, bodies almost touching. "You seem pretty interested in this big fish even though you try so hard to stay away from me."

You gulped and put a hand on his chest to keep some distance between, afraid someone might be watching you. “Sh-shut up, Shane.” His large hand wrapped around your wrist, giving it a harsh tug to close the distance between your bodies. You let out a small whimper; music to his ears and it made him contemplate the idea of fucking you right here right now.

“Careful, lamb, or I might need to remind you of your past lessons… but you’re not entirely hating the idea of that, do you?”

Your pulse quickened at his words, a mixture of anger and desire swirling within you. You turned your face to escape his intense stare, but Shane was relentless. His grip on your chin was firm, forcing you to face him again.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you. You wan’t me on your side, ya listen? Don’t push me away or ya won’t like the outcome.”

His voice was low and dangerous, each word sending shivers down your spine. Your breath hitched as you met his gaze, the raw power and emotion in his eyes both thrilling and terrifying.

“Shane-“ you whimpered “You’re hurting me.”

His dark eyes glistening with excitement. “Good. I know you like it.”

You swallowed hard, heart pounding in your chest. You hated how he made you feel, how he could so easily break through your defenses. But beneath the anger, there was something else—something that scared you even more than Shane’s crazy look. You were falling for him. Falling hard.

Shane's hand moved from your chin to your neck, his thumb brushing against your pulse point. "You feel that?" he asked, his voice softer now, almost tender. "That's your heart racing because of me.” His thumb continued to caress the soft skin until he positioned it under your chin, chocking you in a harsh grip.

“And I bet that’s your sweet lil' pussy, all flustered and dripping, begging for my cock. Ain’t that right, girl?”

As fast as his grip appeared on your neck it also disappeared as your father turned around the corner.

“There you are, sweetheart!” he spoke, voice soft and filled with love as he laid eyes on you. “Your mom needs you in the infirmary. Hershel’s already with her.”

Rick’s eyes wandered between you. “Everything alright here?”

“Well, I found Y/N wandering all alone out here. She should be inside after curfew.” Shane clicked his tongue as you threw him a spiteful glance. A smirk played around his lips as your father agreed.

“He’s right, Y/N. You know the rules; only the designated guards are allowed outside after 10 pm.”

“But, dad-“

“Zip it, honey. Go help your mother, she’s having another nauseous episode.”

“Great…” you whispered under your breath but softened your gaze when you noticed your father’s look. He was tired. “Okay, I’ll look after her.”

“That’s my baby girl.” he gave you a kiss on your forehead before starting to walk away. Shane waited for him to disappear around the corner before giving your ass a harsh slap.

“Ouch! What the fu-“

“Think of me when you bury your fingers in that sweet cunt tonight. As you do every night.” He whispered in your ear before giving you a slight push. “Now go.”

Almost two weeks passed and you managed to stay out of Shanes way, he was more impulsive than ever. Running around, barking commands and undermining your father as the leader of the group. You despised it, truly hated him and his behaviour but still you lied awake at night, thinking about his fingers and the way they would feel inside y-

“Y/N? Are you listening?”

You teared your mind away from the sinful fantasies it fabricated and turned your head towards your father. The group was sitting around a big table, eating dinner and discussing plans for the oncoming days.

“Huh?” you raised your eyebrows and saw as Shane frowned at you.

“Hell naw, she’s not even listening. Damn, Rick! She’s not fucking ready!” Your father sighed, rubbing his forehead in annoyment.

“No! I listened, I’m ready!” you quickly lied and Shanes eye twitched. He knew you were lying but of course Rick didn’t notice it.

“Really?” he asked and you quickly nodded, a tad to enthusiastic.

“Fine. Then it’s settled; you and Shane go on the supply run for this week.” You nodded once again, way less excited now and looked at Shane who had his arms crossed in front of his broad chest. “You listen to everything he says, is that clear, Y/N?”

Shane smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Oh, she will, Rick. She will.”

The next day the afternoon sun was setting, casting a dim, ominous light over the abandoned neighborhood. You and Shane moved cautiously through the empty streets, listening for any signs of movement.

"Stay close," Shane ordered, his voice gruff.

"I can take care of myself," you shot back but he ignored your sassiness as leaves rustled in distance.

As you approached an old, dilapidated house, the distant groans of walkers grew louder.

"Great," you muttered. "Just what we needed."

"Inside," Shane barked, grabbing your arm and pulling you towards the house.

Shane pushed you through the door, slamming it shut behind you. He quickly pushed a heavy piece of furniture against it, barricading you in. The walkers outside pounded against the walls, their growls echoing through the house.

You anxiously paced the room, nerves on edge. "This is just perfect. We’re trapped."

Shane ignored you, his focus on securing the surroundings. "We’ll be fine. Just stay quiet."

You stopped and glared at him. "You always think you know best, don’t you?"

Shane turned to face you, his eyes cold and hard. "Someone has to keep their head on straight. You’re too busy playing daddies little girl."

"Playing what?!" your voice rose. "I'm trying to survive, just like you!"

Shane stepped closer, his presence intimidating. "You think you can survive without me? You’d be dead if it wasn’t for me."

Your heart pounded, a mix of fear and anger flooding your veins. "I don’t need you, Shane. I can handle myself." He laughed, a harsh, mocking sound. "You keep telling yourself that, princess. But we both know the truth: your little crush isn’t that little anymore. You’re pathetic trying to deny it.”

You took a step back, but Shane followed, his eyes dark with a dangerous intensity. "Why are you doing this?" you demanded but your voice gave away. "Why do you have to be so… mean?"

"Mean?" Shane’s voice was low and menacing. "You think this is mean? You haven’t seen anything yet. I’ve been holding back, but maybe it’s time you learned just how serious I am."

Your breath hitched as Shane backed you against the wall, his body towering over you. "Shane, stop," you said, voice trembling.

"Stop? Why would I stop? You need to understand something, Y/N. You’re mine. You belong to me. And I’m not letting anyone, or anything, take you away."

Shane studied your eyes; they were filled with a mix of fear and defiance. "You don’t own me, Shane. I’m not yours to control."

He leaned in, his face inches from yours, his breath hot against your skin. "You think you have a choice? You think you can just walk away? You can’t, I won’t let you, ever.”

His lips crashed onto your own, fierce and demanding, his hands roaming possessively over your body. You tried to push him away, your brain telling you to get away from him but the wetness between your legs mocked you. Your own body betrayed you.

Shane’s hands gripping your waist, pulling you against his hard chest, his touch a mixture of possessiveness and arousal. You let out a moan as his knee pushed against your clothed sex, roughly rubbing you through your jeans. You needed more, more of him.

“Shane-“

“Shut up.” He spit back, his fingers ripping the button off your pants. “All I want to hear are those pretty moans, you understand?” You wanted to protest but the look in his eyes made you change your mind so you just nodded. “Good girl.”

You sighed when his fingers finally touched you, he stroked them over the drenched material of your panties. “Of course.” he mocked and shoved a finger inside your entrance.

He set a fast and rough rhythm but you didn’t mind, all that mattered was the pure bliss that slowly spread through your system. “M-more.” you begged and it made him snort.

“Needy little whore. You can’t handle more but I’ll give it to you anyways.” A second finger entered you, spreading the tight walls to his liking.

Shane watched your face, your hooded eyes and slightly parted lips with a small whimper escaping here and there. But he needed you to understand that you were his, there was no escape from him. He needed you to scream his name.

“Fuck, darling, your little cunt is tight. This I will enjoy-“ You opened your eyes and glanced at his hardened cock, his tip red and angry and glistening with precum. Shane knew you were a virgin and it almost made him lose his mind as he imagined taking your innocence away for the first time. He saw the fear in your eyes and he loved it.

He lifted you up, slowly pushing inside you, watching all the emotions washing over your face and you never looked more beautiful to him.

“I c-can’t-“ you whimpered and he came to a stop, waiting for your eyes to open. When you did you saw his eyes soften, almost tenderly. But just a moment later you noticed the smirk around his lips. “You will.”

His cock suddenly entered you with such a force it squeezed all air out of your lungs, leaving you gasping between his chest and the wall he had caged you in. The sharp pain made your brain panic but your body, oh your body welcomed him with such ease it was almost embarrassing.

“Shit, you’re so fucking tight-“ he groaned and his fingers dug into the soft skin at your hips. It would leave marks, you were sure, but couldn’t care less.

The pain slowly faded into a completely unique and new feeling, a feeling deep inside you. Something your fingers never managed to even scratch the surface of it. You bit your lips till you tasted blood, his length filling you up at a relentlessly pace. Shanes hand circled around your delicate neck, the grip of his fingers began to tighten leaving you chocking around them. The lack of air left your brain in a hazy state.

You weren’t even sure how it was possible for him to be this deep inside you; his length made it seem impossible but your body proved you wrong as your hungry cunt swallowed him whole. Shane felt his release approaching the more he watched your face and listening to your sloppy moans.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your mouth hung open for a silent cry but nothing came out as your orgasm washed over you in intense waves; your blood rushing in your ears as you came all over his dick.

Shane roughly claimed your lips once again, dominating the kiss as it left you literally breathless. His grip on your waist increased, threatening to break you in half as he fucked you through both of your highs. He gave one final thrust before he came hot and heavy, painting your insides white.

The euphoria from your first time quickly vanished as you felt the warm liquid dripping down your legs. Shane noticed the panic in your eyes and let out a hoarse chuckle.

“Thought I was joking when I said I’ll never let ya go, huh? You’re fucking mine forever, princess.”

The rational part inside you was ready to run, to grab the nearest object and bash it over his head but the other part, the part that was hopelessly in love with this psychopath of a man, stayed still.

Accepting your new fate as you felt his lips on your ear:

“And I’ll kill everyone that comes between us.”