#let me know if you like it and that I have not butchered any character

[vigilante24ish]

🌙 Moon Phases 🌙

Agatha Harkness X Fem!Reader

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Words: 1699

Chapter 3

The sun had almost set by the time you found yourself in Westview, the paper with Agatha's adress tucked into your pants' pocket.

You walked the empty road, feeling eyes on you behind pulled curtains. The neighbours were uneasy, having chosen to lock themselves into their houses; but you could not blame them.

If what Agatha said was true and had managed to gather a coven, those poor people must have seen a few odd figures heading the same way as you.

Witches could not help it. They always had this aura, making them easier to stand out. Sometimes, their energy was enough to make someone have this uneasy feeling deep within their guts; though being as ignorant to the supernatural, they could never truly understand why.

At last, you reached the house that seemed to belong to Agatha.

The first thing you noticed was the lack of a door, but you speculated that some unfriendly visitor had found Agatha earlier that day. It would explain this sudden and urgent need to go down the Road in such short notice.

Stepping inside, you could hear voices in the background; indicating that you might be the last one to arrive. Your eyes barely glanced at the rather odd decoration of the house. None of it was screaming Agatha; you knew cause you had lived with her even for a short amount of times.

"Wait," you heard the voice of the teenage boy calling, putting a pause at the overlapping voices of the other witches. "We are one witch short," he pointed out, clearly talking about you.

You decided to make yourself present by letting your steps sound a little harder against the wooden floor, earning different pair of eyes on your form.

"No, you are not," you corrected him, one hand in your pocket.

You quickly scanned the room, sensing the different magical signatures while quickly studying them as well.

They were very different from one another, from their ages to their outfits and, of course, their magic affinity.

Yet again, it was often needed for a coven to be diverse. Though you could not help but wonder if such intense diversity would actually work, the tension between the witches and Agatha was thick enough to almost be visible.

"Sugar," Agatha greeted with a small smirk, not caring that she used your nickname in public.

She never hesitated to do it before, even though you had tried to argue a lot of times. You preferred privacy, and such nicknames, in your opinion, should exist behind close rooms and during intimate moments between two people.

Of course, Agatha never truly took into consideration your opinion and continued. There was something powerful, possessive even when she was the only one to call you such a name. Not to mention, it showed others that in a way, you were hers; some sort of invisible claim that warned others not to test their luck.

Agatha had not changed ever since, at least with that part. Despite the years you two had spent away, despite the rather unknown nature of your relationship; she still kept claiming you, often impressing even herself with ways she could find.

She studied you for a moment as your eyes connected and took notice of your outfit. While other witches chose dresses, skirts, or hippie pants; you went to the other side of the spectrum.

You had chosen a white professional shirt whose shade was bright enough to draw attention from afar. However, that was the only white thing on you.

Your buttoned up vest had white lines, but the base was black, a matching shade with your well tailored pants. Even your tie was at the colour of black, giving you a more unisex and professional look.

Needles to say you had impressed her, since for centuries you were a big fan of simple white clothing. You barely chose any other colour to wear, always having a strong connection to the bright shade.

Yet here you were now, the dark on you, almost fully covering you; the darkness of your solitude and hurt past casting a shadow to your once brighter and naive self.

It tempted Agatha, curious for a moment to test your reaction by having her hand drag across your body; testing if you would stop her when she would try unbutton your vest and take off your tie...oh, and what she could do to you with that tie.

The intense staring and sudden silence had drawn curious looks on you, some wondering what your connection to the dark Witch that had gathered them all.

The moment was interrupted by Lilia, who had been watching between the two of you until her mind and gaze trailed off.

"Two of swords!" She gasped, earning everyone's attention on her.

She did not say anything else, as if she was not conscious she had said anything or not. That alone quickly made you realize which role she played in this coven, a divination witch that was always needed in almost every mission; especially one as dangerous as the one you all had chosen to participate in.

Before any more questions or comments could be thrown, Agatha clapped her hands once.

"Well, gang's all here. Let's hit The Road." She said, trying to change the topic.

However, Jen was not done yet. "Wait," she exclaimed, and Agatha immediately knew this was not going to be good. "Where's our Green Witch?"

"Oh, do we really need one of those?"

"Of course we do." Jen argued and then looked at you. "Unless you are a Green Witch, though you definitely don't look like one," She continued, her tone judging you as did their eyes; going up and down your form.

"I am not," you corrected her, unfazed by her gaze.

You had this passive expression on your face, a cold mask that nothing could truly penetrate. Your aura was calm but hid danger behind it, like a dark peaceful sea whose waters were far deeper than they looked; dangerous creatures lurking within, waiting.

Your answer only fueled the argument between Jen and Agatha, one insisting on the importance of a Green Witch and the other arguing there was no need.

Eventually, Teen joined by referring to one member they had not invited from the list; a black heart.

This made you arch an eyebrow and look at Agatha, who at that moment did the mistake of looking at you as well.

Once again, you quickly saw right through her facade and saw both the fear and annoyance she tried so hard to hide. Whoever this black heart meant to represent was a deep scar from Agatha's past; one she did not wish to bring up.

In the end, Agatha left; excusing herself she was going to bring back the last member so they could all start the ritual and open the door to the Road.

The moment she left, the main attention fell on you; each individual in the room had different thoughts, but you were part of all of them.

In the end, it was the boy who chose to speak up. "Wait, I am confused." he even lifted his hand, like a student asking permission from the teacher to voice his question. "Jen is Potions, Lilia is Divination, Alice is Protection... what are you?"

Jen nodded her head. "The boy is right. What are you?"

That judging look once again.

It made you wonder if she looked at others the same or she felt both offended but also threatened by your presence.

It would not be the first time a witch had reacted negatively against you, especially once they realised your affiliation. Your type was not often welcomed, the duality of your nature often a wildcard that no one wished to possess.

"Backup," you explained, choosing to remain vague with your answer.

There was no need to go into detail, at least not now. You barely knew one another, and it was evident there was no trust between any of you. A common goal brought you forward, but it was not kindness or the need to find a coven.

It was selfish, and you knew that too well. Even your reasons for joining could be considered selfish.

After all, no one else chose to walk the Road unless they had a deep selfish goal in mind. Ironically, this one was what was tested the most during the trials that awaited down the Wicked Path.

You turned to the boy, realizing he was still confused by your presence. Sure, your name was on the list, but you did not seem to be part of the main four needed; according to both the Ballad and Agatha.

"To walk down the Road, you need four basic witch paths to help you and also unlock the door. Anything else is extra help, " you explained, your tone slightly softer

You could not help it. Just by seeing into his dark, innocent eyes, your defences dropped. He was a young boy, too young to choose such a path, and it made you wonder what he truly needed to take such a decision.

Jen opened her mouth to argue when Agatha walked into the room, dragging with her an older woman.

You could immediately tell she was a human woman, no drop of magic within her, and something told you the others realised that too.

Looking at Agatha, you saw her silently asking you to remain quiet on the topic, and you obeyed. Though deep down, you could not help but wonder how this would truly work.

A green witch would be needed for the trial, and only after it was passed, she would no longer be of need.

You did wonder how this would work out, but your trail of thoughts was interrupted by the faint sound of a wold howling. Your head immediately snapped to the side, eyes distantly gazing out the window as the darkness of the night covered the sky.

Agatha must have realised it, too, for she clapped her hands yet again. "No time to waste, vamos!" She said and started to walk towards the stairs leading to her basement, leaving you all no choice but to follow.

Chapter 4

[illdothehotvoice]

I think ignoring the uh. problems with Spirit of Justice, I've come to the conclusion that I think my biggest issue with it is it really just kind of went "Oh! You want more focus on Apollo Justice: Ace Attorney and it's characters? Sure, here you go! *retcons like. The entire game*"

Anyways I am about to complain a LOT about Spirit of Justice in the tags.

[obsessedwrhys]

Can we have a part 2 Deadpool reader with the boys and maybe soldier boy too❓❓ if you want to of course

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ The Boys x Deadpool!Reader

t/w: loooots of dark humour/jokes, reader's origin will be explained underneath, reader is still an asshole lol that comes with the character, mention about killing,death,gore, weed, drugs, Reader is gn!!!

ᯓ★ here's a version with the seven, kiss kiss <3

Origin:

Quick summary, when you were born, your parents had agreed with Vought to have you be pumped full of Compound V so you could grow up and be a hero working under them, but the problem was when you were around 7, they changed their mind so Vought ended up sending several people to come to your house to settle the matter.

Your whole family was massacred in the living room during thanksgiving and when they tried to capture you. You were able to run away. Homeless and living on the street, you grew up in a life of crime, depending on nobody but yourself. Make sense? No? Good! Let's start now.

BUTCHER

To him, you were like a fly that won't leave him alone.

How he knew you was through Mallory, she thought you were okay and fit for the job since you hated Vought just as much.

Obviously he didn't like you once you were introduced to him and the two (M.M and Frenchie)

"No way am I lettin' a supe join us"

":("

Though after what happened to Mallory's grandchildren, the gang pretty much dispersed but wherever Butcher went, you followed. Since he was the only person you trusted... and also enjoy annoying the shit out of.

He'd head inside a club, relieved he hadn't seen you for the past few days so he decided to grab a drink by the bar to unwind.

"Whiskey" He said with his eyes looking around, paranoia shown on his face.

Once his drink was served, he would look back to find your eyes smiling at him, you were wearing a bartender disguise over your red suit.

"Did you miss me?"

"Oh christ..."

When you heard word that he was gathering back the team, you had to be there. What kind of friend would you be if you didn't?

Undoubtedly he had to admit, there were times where he was grateful to have you on the team but there were also other times he regretted it.

For example, that time when you guys needed to sneak into a lab to get something and the goal was to stay quiet but even that simple rule was hard for you to follow.

"Room's up ahead. (Y/N) I need you to—"

"Heads up!" You said as you threw a bomb at the metal door.

The explosion causing the alarm to turn on and it had the whole lab now on high alert. You shrug innocently when Butcher glared at you like he wanted to tear you apart.

Also, you enjoy constantly pissing him off. You can't die so you don't really care if he'll kill you for it.

"Maybe, if you didn' press the fuckin' button, we wouldn't have to come bac' to save yer ass from the guards"

"OOH GOD SAVE THE QUEEEN!! Please, cry me a fucking river. I got us the target didn't I?"

"He's dead"

"Well you weren't being specific when you said to capture him"

But it's fine, all his frustration will be solved once he uses you as bait. He knows you can't die but hey, it makes him feel slightly better watching you get shot at.

Despite your ups and downs, he appreciates you. When the team would turn against him on his insane journey for revenge, he always found you the only one still standing by his side. You're loyal and he likes that.

Compatibility? 75%

HUGHIE

You treat him like a child.

No seriously you baby talk him sometimes and it annoys him

"Awwwww is little hughie angry?"

"Stop..."

"Does baby want his milky?"

Since he's pretty much the only person who isn't that exposed to crime as the others, he's terrified 100% everytime when he's paired up to do any dirty work with you.

"Now listen buddy, you better start talking or I'm gonna shoot" You said, gun raised at the man who seemed to be begging you to spare his life in a language you didn't speak.

"I don't think he speaks English"

"Ah shit... ENGLISH!! SPEAK!! ABCDEFG??!"

"How is shouting in English gonna make him understand?"

"Eh, you're right"

BANG

"WHY'D YOU SHOOT HIM??!"

"Well did you expect me to pull out Duolingo and start taking classes?!"

You had to admit, it was a pain in the ass each time he starts giving you the cold shoulder whenever he gets mad at you for doing something terrible. It was like his way of guilt tripping you so you always try to apologise in your own ways.

"Hey..." You said, handing him ice cream.

"...I uh... I don’t like Strawberry ice cream... I thought I told you that"

"God you're so ungrateful!!"

Since he was such a scaredy cat, you try to tone down your craziness a bit. For the sake of him not going into cardiac arrest.

"(Y/N) STOP!! She has nothing to do with this!! She was tricked" Hughie grabbed you by the arm to pull your gun away from the innocent woman.

You turn your head to look at him, then at the woman, then at him again, then the woman, then him again.

"Ugh finnnne... you're boring..."

However, he does appreciate you trying to be a better person. Even you had to admit, after you met him and became friends. You noticed yourself being less brutal than you used to be. The thought keeps you awake at night and it scares the shit out of you.

But oh well, how could you ever say no to those scared little puppy eyes?

Compatibility? 55%

FRENCHIE

He's like your hype man which is concerning.

Not because you're not afraid to get the job done but also because you always have his back.

"Well... I need some gunpowder but I've run out of them" Frenchie said, telling Butcher that the plan was most likely not gonna happen.

"Hold on" You said with the typical comical ☝🏻 gesture before heading into a different room. Everyone exchanging confused glances at what you could possibly be doing.

After a few minutes you'd return with a bag of gunpowder while struggling to zip up your pants with the other hand.

"Don't tell me how I got it. It almost tore me apart" You said, rubbing your ass.

On stressful nights, you guys would enjoy smoking weed together by the sofa and share stories of your traumatic childhood. It's how you guys bond and it's oddly wholesome.

Also when he needs a shoulder to cry on, you were always there for him. You two shared a type of relationship that even Romeo and Juliet couldn't compete with. To be fair they're dead so they actually can't fight.

"Hey reader!! If you're gonna keep reading then you might as well give the post a like or a repost. C'mon, pleassssseeee pleasepleaseplease"

"Ma cerise, who are you talking to?"

Although he doesn't mind your behaviour sometimes but he won't tolerate it if you ever cross the line on something. He's like the owner who sprays water at his pet cat when they don't listen.

"What are you mad at me for?!?!"

"You damn near tried to get us killed!!"

"Hey! You're the one who said it would be a suicide mission so I made sure it was a suicide mission!!"

"WHAT?"

There's no way he can deny how curious he is about where you get your guns and things. He once went in your room to find boxes of dynamite and a RPG just placed against the wall like furniture.

Like do you have a supplier or are you your own supplier?

Compatibility? 99.9%

M.M

Everybody deserves second chances.

He always tells him that to calm himself down everytime you managed to fuck up a thoroughly planned mission.

"What did I say about pressing buttons (Y/N)?"

"Honestly I stopped paying attention after you said 'Listen here'."

M.M has to be the only person you fear to the fact you try very hard to avoid him, this is because his long ass lectures are such a pain to deal with.

"How many times do I have to remind you? You can't just go around doing shit like that. You gotta consider the amount of danger you'll put everyone in..."

"(Blah blah blah... he's still going... uggggh... make it stop...!)"

Unable to handle the lecture any longer, you ended up shooting yourself in the head.

"(Y/N)!" His tone more disappointed than concern since this wasn't the first time you did this to escape his talks.

You know that russian dollhouse he tries to build in season 2? Well you'd constantly be found standing or sitting near him when he's trying to finish the set.

Since you're aware of his OCD, you like to edge him on by sometimes rearranging the parts or stealing some of it so he ends up searching high and low for the missing parts.

You had to admit it was entertaining to watch him accuse other people for touching his stuff when it was you behind all the schemes.

I'd like to think that after every mission when you happen to die, he'd be the one in charge of collecting your remains so you'd grow back.

That's why it comes naturally that his job is to make sure you don't do anything extreme.

"Where are my bombs??!?!" You'd shout, storming around the place looking for them.

"I sold them. Thought it'd do us more good knowing you won’t accidentally blow us up"

"WHAT?! GOD! It's like the writers of the show couldn't afford another explosion for this season so they had to use this DUMB of an excuse!!"

Though he does see some good in you through the messed up parts, he once saw you give his daughter a cute teddy bear when they've been burned by Vought.

She still has the bear and M.M likes to think that maybe you have a soft spot for kids since you never had a proper childhood. That's why he chooses to understand you rather than just being ignorant about your behaviour.

Compatibility? 80%

KIMIKO

She finds you a little odd but she doesn't mind once she realises how everyone is used to you being like that.

Whenever you're bored, you'd come to see what she was up to. Just imagine you sitting on the sofa like a curious kid as you watch her write alphabets on the book.

She also tries to communicate with you since she thought maybe your fucked up mind would understand her better in a way. Like how in season 2 she was repeatedly writing 'boy' to Frenchie but he didn't understand, so she came to you.

"Woow... watching you try to talk to me is like watching a baby take it's first breath..."

"😐"

"It's beautiful..."

Turns out her theory was wrong, you had a harder time understanding her compared to the rest.

Since you're the only two people in the group with powers, most of the time you two are sent on dangerous missions together. It's a nightmare for her because everybody knows communication is key but one is mute and the other doesn't listen.

"(Be quiet! There's people in the other room!)" She'd sign to you but you were busy humming a song while throwing around the enemies equipment.

"Oooh, what's this?" You held up a Homelander figurine which made you laugh as you show it to her.

"Hey look! 'I'm Homelander, I'm God's favourite. I play golf with Jesus every Sunday."

"(Can you please take this seriously?)"

"You're right, you gotta stop messing around Kimiko! We have a target to kill here" You said and you threw the figurine away which apparently clashes into a stack of boxes that came crashing down. The sound making everyone inside the building grab their weapons and began cornering you two in the room.

"😡"

"Okay that wasn't me that was gravity"

For the boys, you were plan A and she was plan B. That's because you always end up rushing into a fight first which most of the time resulted in you getting dismembered, which she later comes in to save you.

For example when Stormfront had stopped you guys, your bright ass thought it was a good idea to charge at her even though everyone was signalling you to stop. Next thing you know you were just a head being carried by M.M, you ended up watching as Kimiko fought Stormfront with the help of Starlight and Queen Maeve.

"That's my girl!! Now can anyone lend me a hand? I think I lost mine"

Compatibility? 97%

Bonus +

SOLDIER BOY

You know the scene where he walks out of his containment with the gas surrounding him? You swore when you watched him step out butt naked, you could hear angels singing and trumpets playing inside your head.

Shockingly enough, he was the only person who appreciated your humour. Could be a generation thing. He's just relieved not everyone has gone soft over the years.

In a way, you feel like you've become his babysitter. Everytime Butcher and Hughie left to do some business, you were in charge of making sure he doesn't blow up anyone. You kept him entertained so he didn't mind. That's why on the hunt for his former team members, he immediately chose you to be by his side.

"I'll take red with me"

"Red as in the american flag or the russians?" You asked which had him do the typical boomer laugh.

"I like you, you're funny" He said with a strong pat on your shoulder.

Butcher doesn't mind you with him cause he trusts that you can keep him under control. Hughie on the other hand isn't sure if you can even keep yourself under control.

"Shhh... wait... do you hear that?"

"Ah shit, did I accidentally said my dirty thoughts out loud? It's just you look breedable in that suit"

Another thing he likes about you is that you're okay with killing pretty much anyone, just try not to overstep cause that could potentially piss him off.

"I told you he's mine" He said as he had you pinned against one of the trees, apparently you had shot Mindstorm in the head when he literally made it clear to you minutes ago that was his kill.

"Quite possessive aren't you? I can recommended a therapist I know. Her names Martha—"

"You shut your mouth before I shove my shield up your ass"

"Gasp don't you DARE threaten me with a good time!!"

At the end of Season 3, you would obviously side with Butcher when everyone started to turn against Soldier Boy. He had to admit he was kinda hurt though, he expected you to be on his side.

"So what? You're crawling back to him now? After what we've been through?"

"Sorry big daddy, but Butcher has been my day one and I also happen to love him veryvery much"

Cue Butcher rolling his eyes out of disgust.

Compatibility? 100% but after the betrayal? 0% 😔

[kismetlotts]

Kinktober 🎃 day five: Rape!

cw: rape, obsessive König, coffee shop worker reader, mentions of oral sex, cumming untouched, submissive and dominant play? mentions of breast play, mentions of cumming on breasts, mentions of spitting, name calling e.g. 'whore', underwear obsessed König, mentions of killing, threatening a side character, public sex, sex at workplace, sex in the dark?, König is rough with reader e.g carrying and dragging, König’s ego is big, fingering, König finishing quickly, quick sex, pantie stealing, creampie,

König who gained an obsession with you. He would come in every Monday to Thursday at the local coffee shop you worked at, ordering the same medium cup of black coffee and sitting at the table in the corner. Big, dirtied and muddy fingers tracing the white ceramic cup, tracing over where your fingers touched.

Them gorgeous fingers that gripped onto the handle of the coffee machine, making another pumpkin spiced latte for all the boring, tasteless average women who’d come along. Waiting, paying and leaving- not appreciating the fine art of what you just created.

You’d thought he was weird, sat in the corner all day- no phone, no laptop, not doing a singlar thing other than sitting. Your coworkers had even discussed if they should kick him out from the mask he’d wear, a dark brown hood but you’d heard him speak, heard his manners and pleaded them not to.

He was mysterious of course but he wasnt intimidating in any way, he wasn’t causing chaos, simply just minding his buisness and taking sips off coffee from underneath the fabric. Taking subtle glances at him throughout your shift unaware hed be staring at you the whole time, pupils flicking away quickly before you could catch him.

Your first encounter with him, besides over the counter was when hed accidentally spilt his coffee, flooding the wooden table with the hot, steaming liquid, almost as if he wasnt looking at what he was doing or where his cup was. You quickly darted over. The sway in your hips and confidence radiating off of you as you used your rag to wipe the spillage with a cheerful smile, eyes meeting his own dark blue ones.

"Das ist meine schuld- I apologise!" He rushed to spit out, clearly caught off guard by his own actions as well. his large figure standing up and giving you room to wipe without hitting him but all you did was chuckle and pat the table, shaking your head and noting his accent. Russian? German? You werent very good at identifying accents.

His jeans tightend at the way you looked back at him, sexy body arched over the table as you cleared up the mess he made, what a naughty boy he’d been. Chest caving as he yearned to reach out and grab the back of your neck, rudely and selfishly shoving your face down to his crotch but he resisted, he couldn’t- not in such an open place.

"Its fine! Would you like another one? On me?" But all he could do was nod, face burning with embarrasment as the only thing he was focused on in that sentance was 'On me' and all the things that could mean. Oh you wanted him to cum on you instead of inside? You wanted to feel him paint you white, marking and coating you as his territory, watching as beads of his thick semen splurted onto your tits, your soft, kissable tits.

Or maybe you were talking about spitting- hed spit on you. On your face, on your chest, on your cunt because you were a whore for him and thats what whores get. Hed spit on you for sure. He looked down, seeing how the light reflects off of his black cargos, the small shine where his hard cock was confirming to him that he’d came in his boxers.

As more and more days carried on, you’d become more friendly with him. 'What would you like?' becoming 'Your usual?' and 'I’ll shout your order when its done!' turning into a 'I’ll let you know when its ready, König'. Hearing you say his name, so delicate and pristine: as if you were scared to butcher the pronunciation, was torturous and he’d have to ask you out sometime soon because fuck.

Just entering the store made him stiff, the smell of coffee making him thirsty for you- i mean he’d almost followed you home just to take a peak in your underwear draw but he didnt want to ruin the suprise of discovering what panties you wear- he was saving that for when you finally let him make love to you.

Maybe you wore big, comfy pants that covered you up well and allowed you to relax- no need to impress anyone just being cozy and warm. Or maybe they were small and pink, little bit of frill along the edges with a bow right in the middle, so innocent and sweet; like your appearance, like you’d taste. But no, it was something about the way you strut by him, the way your shoulders sit by your side. You were dripping with independence, a confident girl and maybe a bit of a brat too- a thong wearer, for sure.

Weeks of encouraging himself, days of persuading himself your answer would be yes and an hour of rehearsing what he was going to say, led to him fumbling it infront of you and asking you out for- ironically- a coffee. You’d let out a giggle and König felt pretty hopeful, but the second you lost eye contact something twisted in his stomach, your hand reached to collect his empty coffee cup from the table as you tapped your foot nervously on the floor. Stumbling over your words and coming up with some fucking fake- stupid excuse.

"I really would- but I have alot of drinks to make a serve- it’s October now- weather getting colder- drinks getting hotter and all!" A laugh falling your lips but he wasnt laughing, just staring at you. You were lying- why were you lying? Did he scare you? Was he not your type? Was this all just some friendly banter he misinterpreted this whole time? But he knew exactly what his was.

Laughing back at your words before standing up and heading in the direction of the toilets, shouting a quick and awkward 'I see' before quickly walking by the toilets and through the staff only door. Entering the office and heading for the computer because he wasnt heading to the toilet- or heading back home. He was heading to your home or dare he say, your partners? But before that, he’s got to find the address.

What a fat, lazy slob just reclining on the couch, drink in hand as he watched the television, not even realising it wasn’t you home from work but König there with a gun in his hand. Too focused on whatever show he was watching to actually turn his head and check up from you. Not even a simple, ‘How’s work?’

It wasn’t hard getting the man packed, petrified and silenced in under an hour while waving a gun in his face, brown hood on and towering over him pathetically. You were now König’s, he’d found you and claimed you- any man, no. Any boy, who wishes to go against that will have to deal with the consequences.

He wasnt going to kill him unless he had to, all he wanted, well, needed was for him out the picture. Threatening if he doesnt leave and end things with you over message later that day, that he’d track him down and kill him. And that if he even dares to hint that someone forced him into that decision to anyone, that his mother, father, little siblings and cousins would all be following behind.

He went along with it obviously, the fucking pussy. He stayed silent and left you forever, and it ruined you in the moment. You loved him so much and for so long for him just to abandon you like that? Something just didnt seem right. You slept on it or at least tried to, woke up and got ready for work, already wishing it was your day off. Slipping on a bring orange pumpkin hat because as if your day couldnt get any worse it was Halloween. Halloween where kids would run about, stealing sweeties from one another, Halloween where couples would cuddle up together and watch scary films- wearing homemade costumes with fake blood, masks store brought or made out of hoods- but your own train of thought made you freeze. Hoods?

Your stomach dropped but surely you were overthinking it. König wouldn’t know who you were dating, where to even find him- fucking hell what could he have used against him that would be bad enough to make him leave? You were overthinking big time, probably from your lack of sleep, but intuition told you that it was too big of a coincidence. The same day you reject someone your loving boyfriend leaves you without no explanation? It wasn’t adding up.

And what made it scarier was entering the building to find him already there, arms crossed at his seat with eyes staring into yours. Playful yet dark- sweet with a sprinkle of sinister.

You didnt look at him, you didnt collect his empty cup, you ignored the small laugh he let out at your pumpkin hat because he wasn’t your mysterious, polite, scary yet misunderstood customer whom you’d formed a friendship with. He was a fucking psychopath. A dirty, probably perverted psychopath that made your stomach churn and you wanted nothing more than to boot him out. You should’ve listened to your coworkers when they had a creepy feeling about him. You’d thought about asking them to kick him out now but since he’d come and gone for so many days now, he’d know something has changed with the way you saw him and he’d probably target you more.

Time ticked, people had left and all staff were now gone for the week, leaving you the only staff left and the door swinging as the last person to enter exited. The dark evening night seeping through the windows as the lights turned off, leaving the electric menus above the counter, lights from the machines and lamp posts outside illuminating the darkness of the room.

It was you and him, only you and him and if things weren’t confirmed by his eerie aura earlier, him waiting until you were both alone definitely sold you on the fact he was after you. You ripped the apron off of yourself, pretty much bolting for the pitch black staff room.

Muttering a fast, 'Put your cup on the counter before you leave' despite knowing deep down the staff room was only a room. There was no lock, no keypad- you were in a shitty old coffee shop in the middle of a quiet town, alone and at night. And ‘Before you leave’ meant nothing either. He wasn’t leaving anytime soon- and neither were you.

The squack of the wooden chair being drag out was audiable from the other room you were in, breaking the deafening silence and your loud heavy breathing. Your hands shook and trembled as you rummaged for your stuff, too weak to hurry and too focused on getting out of there to hear the door behind you open and shut.

His warm presence behind your back and pinning you- you shut your eyes tears pricking them before spinning around desperately. Pushing him off of you as he generously took a step back, allowing you to run back into the coffee shop. Past the tables, knocking a chair or two as you rushed and pushed against the door. Pushing and pushing using all your weight until you heard the sound of metal rattling behind you, the silver keys and silver loop swinging around his finger as he held them up. He’d locked the door, and now you were cornered.

"Why so scared?" He spoke softly, coming a step closer, his dark eyes mocking you with fake sympathy. He knew why you were fucking scared, he knew you feared him and you figured it turned him on from the lustful glimmer in his blue irises. Seeing the quiver in your lip, the tears threatening to spill as you swallowed your emotions like a pill you had to take. Thinking that putting on a brave face will trick your mind into believing you are brave- that you can stand up to him. He found it amusing so he gave you time, he wanted to hear your pathetic little attempt. It fed to his sick fascination- his fucking pleasure more.

"What is your problem? What the fuck did you do to my boyfriend?" The little crack in your voice: orgasmic, if he wasnt waiting for you to submit to his dominance and break the holding eye contact he was holding with you, his eyes would be so far back in his head.

It boiled him, fueled him, like spreading butter onto a fresh warm pastry and watching it melt and glide so effortlessly. Would your voice crack like that when he’s balls deep inside you?

"Now, now, why are you pointing fingers, hm? Du bist meim kleiner kurbis, why would I ever do that?" His body was so close to you, you could smell the sweat and grime of his skin and despite the situation it made your stomach heat in arousal, his touch and his manerisms, his accent- it was so fucking disgusting yet you felt yourself dampen. You didn’t even know what he said- and your body gave in slightly. His hand cupped your cheek, the cold metal of the keys hitting your soft skin as his eyes locked onto the pumpkin hat with an amused look.

You could grab the keys now, shove them in the door and sprint, shout for help maybe but would you even get time? His build was muscular and he had to crouch slightly to talk to you due to his height anyway. He would grab you and prevent you from doing anything before you could even turn around, and even if you tried it, his punishment could be worse from what he wants now.

You’d found yourself caught in a dead end with nothing to do but submit and get it over with.

His mask rubbed agaisnt your neck and clothed shoulder but you could still feel the heat of his breath, the smell of coffee making bile rise in your throat. His hands found your waist and gripped on tightly, lifting you slightly as he dragged you to the table he usually sits at, throwing you ontop as it wobbled from your weight.

Tears fell and a sob escaped your throat and he unzipped his jeans, leaning over closer and pulling down your panties from beneath the work uniform he’d spent hours dreaming of, slipping a finger agaist your folds and feeling how effortlessly you coat his fingers with slick and cum. Horny?

"Aww, you want this too?" He asked but regardless of your answer he would do what he wanted, it was his time and he was more than ready. You shook your head, fighting against the pleasure your body was feeling from his touch, he was skilled with his fingers for sure, applying just enough pressure to your clit to make your back arch and you wriggle your hips- away from his finger and subconcously back against it. He let out a groan at how wet his fingers were getting before pulling away from your juicy cunt.

Reaching under your arms to tug you closer to the edge of the table, aligning his cock with your hole and wetting himself up thanks to how damp you were, mentally promising himself he’d taste you one day, maybe next time. He looked back to your face, the frown on your lips as your covered your crying eyes with your small trembling hands, so embarrassed and ashamed you were letting yourself get used like this, get forced into sex- get raped.

"You ready?" He asked and all you did was let out another sob, with a sigh he pushed forward placing his dick against your flaps and stopped, looking down and not entering you, staying completely still as he store at your face. Watching as you continued to cry into your hands before slowly lifting the palms from your face slightly.

Looking into his eyes as he looked back down, a devilish smirk forming on his lips. What a little actress, you were enoying this. You could’ve pushed him away- could’ve kicked and fought but no, you lay still even after he paused.

Thick, hard and fast as he thrusted in harshly, no care for how it may feel for you- no remorse or guilt for if he was burning, stretching or hurting you. He’d been patient for this pussy for weeks, been waiting for it- god it was like he was a virgin again. So excited to bury himself inside he hadn’t realised how close he was already.

Taking a few more slow thrusts before leaking and pouring all his cum into you, your pussy squeezing and milking every last drop out of him. Moaning loudly and squeezing his eyes shut as he pulled out, fuck- fuck that was so good. Your body was shaking, breaths barely coming to your lungs as you trembled and lay there- broken, defeated and useless. Cum dribbling out of your hole and even he felt a little bad at the sight- you didnt even get a chance to feel a little bit good, maybe next time he will fuck you like you want it.

He picked your panties up off of the floor, smooth, white, floral and cotton- it wasnt what he was expecting from you. It wasn’t a thong, it wasn’t black and laced, not like your personality at all but everyone has a secret side to them, a side they keep stashed away and only allow a select few to see.

He fumbled with his jeans, buttoning and zipping them up before turning to you, hands fumbling with the panties, his palm hitting the fabric right where your pussy was and feeling a cold, sticky, dampness. You were wet before he began touching?

"Would you like them bac-" Earning a scream from you, telling him to get the fuck out and take whatever he wants. He’d already taken and destroyed your relationship, your work, and your own body so he might as well take everything else. He could take anything else as long as he leaves and never comes back.

He swallowed, slipping them into his pocket and placing the keys next to your body on the table- if you had the energy you’d get up and slap him, punch him, grab some scissors form behind the counter and cut his fucking dick off but from how disturbing and demented he seems he’d probably enjoy that.

"I’m sorry.” He whispered, voice seeming almost shy and hushed, tone the same as when he’d first spoken to you. Anxious: almost like a whisper.

“Next time, I’ll treat you right. I’ll make you feel so good, I promise, baby." He waited for you to speak but you just lay there now on your side, tears leaking and pouring from your eyes despite your still movement. With a deep breath he began to leave realising maybe it was best he left you alone for now. He couldn’t see what was wrong, or what he did wrong because in his own mind it was going to happen one day. His cock, his needs, how you expect him to live in a constant state of desperation and want. It’s like giving a child a lollipop and saying, just watch- you’re not allowed. Just watch how sweet and delicious it would taste, just watch at how the sugar shimmers in the light- when you get told you can’t have it you need it more.

He walked back into the staff room and out the back door, his hand pulling the door shut and once his footsteps echoes away, you were alone in the dark. He was gone, leaving you an emotional mess with a dirty mess to clean up, and you couldn’t move for a moment. His words haunting you and circling you like a carousel of derision.

Next time, meaning he wasnt done just yet.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

No Love Lost Series Masterlist

Read on A03! - Listen to the Playlist!

Rating/Warnings: 18+ for canon-typical violence, swearing, mental health issues, mentions of rape/non-con, and sexual content.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff.

Series Summary

Three years ago you were normal, the only demons you had to fight were your own, and you the most you knew of Vought and the Boys were what you saw on TV. But then you met Homelander at a stupid party, and woke up the next morning in a cell.

After almost two and a half years of you being Homelander's little project, Soldier Boy was woken up only go rouge and be put back under. Somewhere in there, you escaped. And before Queen Maeve went underground, she told William Butcher about the Anomaly, a powerful supe who recently escaped Vought captivity and may have an agenda against Homelander.

One month later, the Boys found you.

You spend the next five months helping them best you can, though your control over your powers is weak and your fear of Homelander makes you useless in combat. But you get an idea. A stupid, dangerous idea that turns you into Soldier Boy's keeper, giving him a second chance to take down Homelander, you hanging over his shoulder, a threat should he want to go nuclear again. It's exhausting and frustrating, and you might kill him and yourself as soon as this is over, but you said whatever it takes.

And this is what it takes.

Author's Note

This story is non-canon compliant, with the two main differences being;

1) Butcher doesn't have brain cancer, because I said so.

2) All of Gen V didn't take place, because I don't want to deal with the whole supe-plauge thing. Also that's too many characters to keep track of squad.

Because of this, the story will start in a similar setting as s4e5, but with different events leading up to it, and will deal with similar themes and have similar events to the rest of s4, but at an inconsistent rate. If you have any questions about other, smaller changes I have made, feel free to ask!

Navigation Key

❤️‍🔥 = Smut

🚩 = Additional Warnings

Chapter List

Chapter 1 - Where Winning Looks Like Losing Chapter 2 - A New Kind of Tension Chapter 3 - You've Torn Your Dress 🚩 Chapter 4 - You Might Be The Same As Me Chapter 5 - Popped, Cool, and Ready to Go Chapter 6 - I've Been Searching for a Fortified Defense Chapter 7 - The Blinding Ultra-Violence 🚩 Chapter 8 - I Just Find My Way Back ❤️‍🔥🚩 Chapter 9 - Can't Cover It Up ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 10 - Lead Me To The Ark ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 11 - The Wolves or The Ocean Rocks Chapter 12 - While My Blood's Still Flowing Chapter 13 - The Terror of Knowing Chapter 14 - Choke on Sun Chapter 15 - I Found A Martyr ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 16 - Let It Flood ❤️‍🔥 🚩 Chapter 17 - Make My Chest Stir Chapter 18 - Something In The Static ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 19 - Don't Look Back 🚩 Chapter 20 - Forget to Fall Down Chapter 21 - Some Things You Just Can't Speak About ❤️‍🔥 🚩 Chapter 22 - I Stayed In The Darkness With You Chapter 23 - Wherever You're Going ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 24 - You'll Never Be Alone ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 25 - All I Know ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 26 - I’ve Loved Everything About You That Hurts ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 27 - Just A Shot Away 🚩 Chapter 28 - Something That I'm Supposed to Be ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 29 - All My Bets On You Chapter 30 - Every Demon Wants His Pound of Flesh 🚩 Chapter 31 - I'd Do It All Again ❤️‍🔥

More Than You Could Ever Know - A No Love Lost Christmas Special

Part 1 - The Boys start Secret Santa, Ben pretends to do his job. ❤️‍🔥 Part 2 - Ben and Ryan go shopping, and you all try to find a tree. Part 3 - 12/24

Bonus Footage (Standalone Chapters)

Dying’s Up to Me - A Prologue. Takes place 6ish months before Chapter 1. 🚩 They're Never Gonna Find You A Home - Request! Everyone adjusts to your life with the Boys. Takes place 5ish months before Chapter 1. 🚩 Back to Here - Request! They get horny at the dining table, and Butcher takes it personally. Takes place in Chapter 14. It's So Simple - You make Ben do icebreakers. He's a little bitch about it. Takes place in Chapter 14. Just Your Time - You give Ben internet lessons. Takes place in Chapter 14. As Much As I Do - Request! Ben finds you dancing, is immediately very normal about it. Takes place after Chapter 14 and around Chapter 15. Calling Your Name - Ben's first birthday awake isn't great. Takes place in Chapter 19. ❤️‍🔥 I Skip My Pride - You share some music with Ben over text. Takes place in Chapter 22. The Only Place That I Call Home - It's team game night, and everyone is sick of you and Ben's shit. Takes place in Chapter 24. ❤️‍🔥 Can't Help Myself - Request! Ben has a breeding kink, and you're incredibly horny, so it works. Takes place in around Chapter 24 and Chapter 25. ❤️‍🔥 Anywhere Else Is Hollow - A halloween special episode! Takes place in Chapter 25. It Was Smiling Down - A Ryan pov Chapter. Takes place between Chapter 26 and Chapter 27. A Call To Motion - Request! There's a lot of things you're good at. Sex with Ben is one of them. Takes places in Chapter 28.❤️‍🔥 I Want You Only - You and Ben go shopping. Takes place in Chapter 28 ❤️‍🔥 I’ll Hold Your Hand - Request! You get your period, and Ben has to do his job and take care of that. Takes place post series.

[angrykittybarbarian]

A list of things that bother me about Dragon Age: The Veilguard Part 2

I already touched on a few things that caught my attention and personally irked me about the game. After getting through some more of it naturally a few more points have come up. Though I think they are not really new aspects but more concrete examples of what I had touched on last time.

Without further ado, let's get into it.

!Spoilers below the cut!

The dialogue is repetetive and at times contradictory

Like I already discussed last time the dialogue is bad, to express it in the simplest of terms. As I progressed through the game I stumbled upon a glaring example for what I mean.

In the questline where you infiltrate a Venatori meeting there is a part where Neve in disguise and in company of Rook and another companion gets a Venatori to admit that Elgar'nan was present but not Ghilan'nain. For some inexplicable reason Neve turns around and repeats this twice as if Rook wasn't present.

I stated in my last post that the game feels the need to state the obvious. This is what I mean. It makes the dialogue feel like a rough draft that was incorporated into the game without further polish.

As of its contradictory nature two examples come to mind.

In Harding's companion quest you meet this dwarf of Kal Sharok. His dialogue is stoic, no bullshit straight to the point and passionless. Which was fine. But after several minutes of him being that way they get to stone statue Valta who speaks in these misteryous riddles and suddenly he switches to this unserious tone of "Oh that weird statue, we never know what she's saying, ain't she funny." (I'm paraphrasing here). I was confused for half a minute because of his sudden change in attitude and left wondering what his characterization is supposed to be now: serious or quirky?

Same thing with Taash's whole story. This is especially upsetting because I feel like they could have done such great work with it.

Instead it suffers so much from several inconsistencies that I felt sorry for the VA because they actually did a great acting job.

Taash has a coming out scene with their mother where they reveal they're non-binary. Ignoring the usage of modern terms in a medieval-ish setting, the conflict about their gender makes no sense.

The writing wants you to believe Shathann is not okay with her child being non-binary but she never actually expresses such a thing. Actually Shathann sort of had an inkling that Taash was no ordinary woman ("Behaves more like a man...") and she never passed any negative judgement on it. When Taash told her this she even tried to understand by categorizing their identity into qunari vocabulary she knew (remember the term aqun-athlok?).

I get how hard it is to have an overly critical mother and the feeling of not being good enough but that was not what Shathann was about in that scene and it did Taash so dirty because they looked more like an entitled teenager than someone suffering from trauma and perfectionism.

But moving on.

Some old characters are mischaracterized

It's Scout Harding. I mean Harding.

I was really excited to have her as a companion in the new installment but they sort of butchered her character that I found myself annoyed everytime she opened her mouth.

And this is because they make her sound so immature. Really think about it. DATV somehow makes Scout Harding sound younger and more childish than she was in DAI despite the fact that she is supposed to be a whole decade older in DATV than in DAI.

I don't know what direction her VA recieved while recording but everything was pronounced so slowly and extra clear that it seemed at times that Harding was either talking to a confused elderly person or a child.

She herself uses expressions not fit for her age. The most jarring moment was when she called the Blight in D'meta's Crossing 'weird' and sounded like a teenager who has stumbled upon furry art for the first time on deviantArt. This pattern pretty much continues throughout the game. And it hurts so much.

Also Morrigan. She at least still uses her even for DA setting standards antiquated vocabulary but she is too happy and cheery and friendly.

Morrigan is not a nice person to those she does not know and like personally. But to Rook she was so nice despite having met them for the first time.

The Morrigan we have come to know love/hate should have been more snarky or at least more neutral in her demeanor.

The Venatori

I don't know why they are still a thing honestly. I was under the impression they have lost all footing after the death of Corypheus. Why would they follow the Gods of the people their country systemically abuses anyway?

Bonus: Why would the Antaam for that matter, as the qunari are so notoriously arcanophobic that they leash their mages, sew their mouths shut and literally call them "dangerous thing"?

Solas' spy network and agents

What happened to them? Where are they? Shouldn't he have a small army? Why weren't they used as the gods' agents instead of the Venatori? Surely, Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain would have an easier time simply controlling Fen'Harels elven army after imprisoning him in the fade.

The Chantry

It is just not present. Sure there are some Chantry buildings but there is no discussion of faith. In all previous DA games the Chantry has had a constant influence that could be felt everywhere. Faith was discussed and explored from various angles and perspectives, ranging from ultra conservative to progressive. But in Veilguard it's not there.

Why are we not exploring the Tevinter Chantry more? Why doesn't Emmrich discuss the nevarran Chantry, who follows the Sunburst Throne in Orlais, in regards to the Mournwatch, their necromancy practices and magic? Why was he not affected by the mage uprising that started in Kirkwall? How does he deal with faith and the Chantry? It is simply never mentioned.

By all accounts, this game avoids delving into the world like the plague.

Part 3

[kwanisms]

Kinktober 「10:21」 — l.seokmin

» seventeen menu | dokyeom menu | kinktober masterlist «

➮ gargoyle!Seokmin × fem!Reader wc: 3.7k summary: Nights are the only time Seokmin can truly live as he spends his days frozen in the glow of the sun. Night was also the time when his human girlfriend would come to pay him a visit. genres/themes/au: fluff, smut; supernatural, horror, thriller; non idol au, monster idol au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, supernatural and horror themes, slight religious themes, mentions of: physical abuse (by parents), attempted forced marriage, slut-shaming, place of religious worship; sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! taglist has been moved to reblogs join my taglists! kinktober taglist is CLOSED! Strikethrough means I cannot tag you.  MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: normally i have a very hard time writing for seokmin but this just came naturally and i’m really glad. Usually it’s so difficult for me to capture him but this time around things went well and I’m very pleased with what I’ve written. I hope you like it and thank you for reading! We have ten fics left for Kinktober after this starting week 4 with naga!Seonghwa which I’m quite excited about. as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: teratophilia (aka monsterfucking), thigh riding (f receiving), orgasm control (f receiving), use of pet names (hers: angel, sweetheart, darling, etc.; his: Minnie, baby, etc.), unprotected sex (use protection pls), and i think i got them all but if i missed any, let me know! kinks: Thigh riding + orgasm control dialogue prompt: ❛❛ Come here. I’ll show you how to make yourself feel good. ❜❜

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Your footsteps rang out as you walked across the stone streets, heels clicking with each determined step. You glanced up as you rounded the corner, taking in the imposing structure of the cathedral. It wasn’t the largest by any means but it was still large enough and stood out among the other buildings with the wide sweeping steps that led up to the massive oak front doors.

The stone work was impressive, life sized statues carved into the facade that showed various important figures in the Catholic lexicon. You didn’t really know their names or faces as you weren’t exactly a churchgoing woman. You’d only started visiting this church when you were down on your luck, running out of places to sleep having been thrown out of the house after an argument with your parents.

Since then, you lived your life on the streets at the mercy of kind strangers like the archdeacon of this cathedral. He had known your parents and condemned them for throwing you away like you were nothing but common garbage. He gave you shelter and food and even helped you get back on your feet.

You now had a small apartment on the edge of town and a steady income having finished school. Truthfully, you had no reason to keep coming back to this church, at least not one that those who attended knew of. You were the godless daughter that had been casted out of the sanctuary of your home. As far as the congregation knew, you deserved it.

Why else would your parents, apparent upstanding members of the church, kick their only child out onto the streets just before the start of winter? The whispers started soon after and despite the archdeacon’s very public condemnation of your parents actions, the rumors continued to circulate.

“They must have had a good reason.”

“No parent just throws their child out without a good reason.”

“I heard she’s been spending a lot of time with that good for nothing butcher’s son.”

“Maybe she’s pregnant.” “What are harlot.”

“Whore.”

“Slut.”

All of the accusations whispered behind hands were the furthest from the truth. You didn’t even know the butcher’s son. The argument between you and your parents had been about school. Your father didn’t want you attending university, making it plain that he wanted you to marry as soon as possible and move out of the house. He had a handful of prospects for you, all of which were his co-workers and friends. 

Men all nearly twice your age. You refused, telling him you would rather die than marry one of his old friends. He had struck you across the face and you retaliated by defending yourself with a knife taken from the kitchen knife block.

The damage, while not serious, had been done and you were cast out into the street to fend for yourself.

Your reason for continuing to visit the church, albeit when everyone else was gone, was a simple one. Well, simple to you. You were visiting a friend. Not the archdeacon, though you did visit him from time to time to update him on your progress. He had taken the role of father figure in your life and you were grateful for everything he’d done for you.

No, your friend was much more… hidden. Obscured.

You happened upon him while exploring the parts of the cathedral that were off limits to the rest of the congregation. The archdeacon allowed you to explore the cathedral as it was now your home and you took his invitation immediately, familiarizing yourself with the back hallways and rooms that no one else got to see.

The one area he asked that you not visit was the bell tower. You listened to his request for the most part until the curiosity became too much to bear and one day, you snuck up there to see why it was off limits. It was old, the wood creaked underfoot and everything was covered in dust and cobwebs.

The stone however was structurally sound and as you explored, you came across the most beautifully carved statue you’d ever laid eyes on. He had the most handsome face you’d ever seen, from his sharp jawline to his pointed nose and his eyes that seemed extremely lifelike.

He looked like he’d been carved by the gods, the lean body with rippling muscles. The clothes, also carved from the same stone, fit him loosely but clung to his torso, outlining the curve of his chest. You were in awe of the statue as you circled the pedestal it stood on. It wasn’t carved from the facade of the stone wall like the others. He looked like he’d been carved somewhere else and transported here.

As you moved around to the back of the statue, you noticed through slits cut into the shirt a pair of leathery bat-like wings protruding from the back of the statue. As you moved back around, the dying light of the setting sun cast a golden glow over the pale facade of the stone statue, deep shadows settling in the recess of the eyes.

You stepped even closer, noticing what looked like a speck of dirt on his cheek. You raised your hand, prepared to wipe it away when the sound of the door at the bottom of the tower opened and you heard a voice calling for you. 

You shied away from the statue and hurried down the steps and back to the ground floor.

The archdeacon wasn’t entirely upset that you had disobeyed his words and when you asked about the statue, he told you the story. It was said to have been a man at one point but he was cursed for some crime and as punishment for his sins, he was cursed to turn into stone every day but at night, he came alive. You asked about the wings, asking if he was a demon.

The archdeacon was amused with your question and he understood the reasoning behind your question. It was then that explained what gargoyles were. You knew what a gargoyle was but you’d never seen one so beautiful before. The archdeacon raised a brow at your choice of words but he understood. Most of the gargoyles on the outside of the cathedral were grotesque and hideous.

Now that you’d snuck up to the top of the belltower, the archdeacon didn’t forbid you from entering and instead asked that you limit your time up there and just be careful as it was a long way down should something happen.

You had taken to going up to the top of the belltower during services to avoid the judgmental gazes and whispered words of the congregation as well as to avoid seeing your parents who for whatever reason had decided to continue attending mass despite the archdeacon’s position on their actions.

You would often bring your sketchbook and pencils up with you and sketch the gargoyle for hours, studying the way the light would hit the stone and cast shadows as well as how it seemed to glow, the bits of quartz in the stone sparkling in the sunlight.

You had pages upon pages of sketches of the statue. Your draw to it was obvious to anyone who happened on your sketchbook. You had been up there for hours as evening mass dragged on until finally, as the sun was setting, the doors to the cathedral opened and the congregation spilled out onto the streets while you slept.

Until you were woken abruptly by the bell ringing. You covered your ears, cursing yourself internally for falling asleep while still up at the top of the belltower. You crawled over to the edge of the tower, peering over the railing as the bells subsided. From up here, everyone looked so small, like tiny ants running around. You let out a sigh, sitting back on your heels.

“I’ve been up here long enough,” you murmured as the sun dipped below the buildings, only a small sliver shining upon the tower. You turned to look over your shoulder at the statue. “I think it’s time I get out of your hair,” you said with a smile, turning to collect your things, placing your pencils back in the case. As you were zipping the pouch, the sound of stone cracking caught your attention.

You looked up, eyes widening in horror as the stone facade of the statue had started to break, cracks appearing along the arms and across the chest. You gasped, looking around and wondering what the hell happened. Was there an earthquake? What could have caused such destruction in the short period you were looking away.

You turned your eyes back towards the statue as the last of the sunlight faded away, the sun disappearing entirely behind the buildings of the city. The cracks appeared quickly along the statue and you cried out as the stone fell apart in an almost explosive fashion, bringing your hands up to shield your face as bits of stone and dust coughed out from the statue, clattering over the stone walkway.

Silence fell over as the dust and small pieces of stone started to settle. Lowering your hands, you turned to look at the statue, expecting the pedestal to be empty but instead, before you, stood a man. He lifted his head, his stone colored eyes meeting yours and you gasped. It was him. The statue. The gargoyle. He was… a man? You stared up at him as he stretched his arms over his head, his wings splaying out behind him like fingers with webbing between them.

He let out a sigh before his eyes fell on you again. “Oh,” he said softly. “Hello.” He gave you a warm smile and you stared back in shock, slowly raising your hand to give him a small wave. “Uh… hi?” you replied, uncertain if you were awake or asleep at the moment. He noticed the sketchbook on the ground. “How long have you been up here?” he asked as he fixed you with a curious gaze.

“Uh… a few hours,” you answered. “I’ve been avoiding Mass,” you added in an undertone. “I see,” he said, nodding. “What’s your name?” he asked, tilting his head. You glanced up at him. “Y-Y/N,” you told him, still kneeling on the floor. His smile returned, reaching his eyes. “Well,” he said, stepping down from the pedestal. “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N,” he continued as he walked over, kneeling down to your level and holding out his hand for you to take.

“I’m Seokmin.”

After that interaction, you learned that Seokmin was indeed a gargoyle and that the story the archdeacon had told you was only partly true. Seokmin had indeed been cursed to live the life of a gargoyle but he had been wrongly convicted and as you slowly got to know him, you could see that was definitely the case. No one, except for the archdeacon, had ever shown you such kindness before.

Seokmin had the face and personality of an angel. Had it not been for the leathery wings attached to his back, you might have mistaken him for an angel upon meeting him. He was kind, caring, passionate, and funny. You started to spend your nights after sundown with him, learning about his past, his likes, his dislikes, everything you could think to ask.

He asked about you a fair bit as well and slowly, a friendship formed. The nights you spent with him meant you barely got any sleep but you managed to still attend your classes and get good marks. Seokmin was your rock during that crucial time in your life. As your relationship grew, feelings beyond that of friends started to develop and after finally revealing your hidden feelings to him, he surprised you by accepting them and even reciprocating them.

It was an odd relationship, being with someone you could only kiss or touch when the sun went down but you made it work. Living in the cathedral made it easier because Seokmin was only a staircase away if you wanted to see him.

Everything changed when you graduated and landed a job. You were no longer dependent on the archdeacon or the church and soon, you would have to move on. The thought terrified you. Joining the real world, becoming a full fledged adult, and leaving Seokmin behind. When you conveyed the worries and fear to him, he reassured you that everything would be fine. 

The night that you told him you would have to leave was the first night you gave yourself to him. Seokmin proved to be a very generous and attentive lover and it was the first of many nights you would return, either to just lay with him until the sun started to break through the buildings or spend all night in the throes of passion.

Even after moving, you returned to the church, sneaking in at night using a side door you had the key for to go up to the belltower and see your lover. Seokmin welcomed you each time, letting you vent your frustrations about life, work, your neighbors and without complaint, he listened to it all. He then spent the rest of the night soothing your worries and frustrations with his words or with his hands and mouth.

As soon as he had his hands on you, it was all over and you became putty to him, easy to bend and shape the way he wanted until he could break your frustrations by driving you over the edge of ecstasy. Sometimes, you visited him just to have him spend the night making love to you. Either way, Seokmin didn’t mind. He loved having you under him, tangled in the sheets of an old bed left up in the belltower for storage. It was the very same bed where you gave yourself to him the first time.

Using the key, you unlocked the side door, opening and shutting it behind you softly before turning back to the short hallway and crossing to the doorway that led to the stairs up to the belltower. The climb up the steps was familiar as you pulled your hood down, hurrying up the rickety wooden staircase. As you reached the top, you glanced towards the pedestal. The sun had long since set and the stone pedestal was empty. You looked around the room, noticing the form in the bed.

You walked over slowly, removing your shoes and then pulling off your coat, letting it fall to the floor as you moved closer. You’d chosen to throw your coat on over your sleep clothes, a silky tank top and matching shorts with lace along the hems. The dark green color looked lovely against your skin and you knew if Seokmin had anything to do with it, you wouldn’t be wearing it for long.

You climbed onto the bed, the mattress creaking under your weight as you crawled towards Seokmin. As you reached him, he opened his eyes, smiling at you as you crawled over him, straddling his lap as his hands moved to rest against your thighs. “Hi,” he said softly as you leaned over, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Hi,” you murmured.

His hands slid up your thighs to your waist, humming as his fingers skimmed over your shorts. “Did you wear this for me?” he asked softly, fingers toying with the silky material. You shook your head slowly, reaching down to grab the bottom of your tank top, pulling it off over your head and revealing a lace bra in the same shade of green that decorated your skin, barely covering anything.

Seokmin’s eyes widened as he took it in, hands moving up to cup your chest. “So you wore this for me, then?” he asked, smile widening as you giggled, nodding. He sat up, pulling you against his bare chest as he captured your lips in a slow, tantalizing kiss, his lips moving against yours lazily.

“To what do I owe this visit?” he whispered between kisses as his hands moved down, sliding over the curve of your ass. “Do I need a reason to visit my boyfriend?” you asked, taking his face in your hands as you pressed your lips against his again. He pulled your hips against him, grinding your cloth covered core over his hardening cock. “No,” he replied. “I guess not.”

You continued to drag your clothed pussy over his cock. “Sweetheart,” he groaned, hips bucking up to meet yours. “I’d like to try something.” You pulled back, hands moving to his shoulders as you slowed your movements. “Hmm?” you asked, tilting your head curiously.

He reached up, cupping your cheek. “Have you ever thought about my thighs?” he asked, catching you off guard. “Seokmin,” you started leaning in to press your lips against his. “I always think about you. I think about every part of you.” He chuckled against your lips, pushing you back slightly. “Take your shorts off, darling. I want to try something different tonight.”

You gave him a curious look but obliged him, climbing off his lap to slide your shorts down, keeping your panties on as you discarded the silk bottoms. You started to climb over his lap but he stopped you. “No, no,” he said softly. You gave him a confused look as he started to move you. “Come here,” he said, guiding you over his thigh. “I’ll show you how to make yourself feel good.” 

You let out a gasp as he pushed your hips down, your clothed cunt coming into contact with his bare thigh. “You want me to ride your thigh?” you asked softly as he kept one hand on the small of your back, the other moving up to take your chin gently. “Can you do that for me, angel? Can you make yourself feel good using just my thigh?”

You nodded slowly, leaning in to kiss him once more as you slowly started to move, dragging your wet panties over his thigh. The friction against your clit made you gasp softly. Seokmin followed your movements with his hand on your back, urging you to move a little faster.

The more you moved, the wetter your panties and his thigh got. “That’s it baby,” he whispered, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. Your lips parted and you sucked his thumb into your mouth, tongue swirling around it as you continued to rut against him. You moaned, moving fast. “Woah, slow down there, angel,” Seokmin murmured, putting a halt to your movements and your orgasm slipping away.

“Minnie,” you whined, looking up at him. “Sorry angel,” he chuckled. “I can’t have you falling apart just yet. Here,” he said, grabbing your hips and starting to guide you again. “Keep going.” You kept your eyes on him, narrowed as you tried to work out what was going on in that beautiful head of his.

You let out a whimper as you felt him flex under you, forcing your hips down harder against his hard thigh. “Feel good?” he asked softly, watching your face as you started to move faster, taking over your own movements. You nodded wordlessly as you grinded against him harder.

“Look at me sweetheart,” he said softly, raising your chin and forcing you to look at him. “You gonna cum baby?” he asked, a gentle smile on his face as you nodded. He grabbed your hips, stopping you once more. “Minnie!” you hissed, burying your face in the crook of his neck. “Stop doing that!” you whined as your orgasm slipped from your grasp once more.

“Sorry, darling,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “I promise this is the last time,” he added. “Come on, love,” he added, grabbing your hips once more, guiding you over his thigh again, your arousal now smeared over his skin. Letting out a shaky breath, you ignored the burning in your thighs as you resumed rolling your hips, dragging your sensitive, lace clad clit over his skin.

“M-m’close,” you whimpered, walls clenching around nothing as you grinded harder, moving faster. “That’s it, baby,” Seokmin whispered in your ear. “Let go and cum for me. That’s a good girl.” Your thighs shook as you finally came with a whine in Seokmin’s neck as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you up as your orgasm shook your body. “That’s it baby,” he coaxed, letting you ride out your high until you couldn’t move anymore.

“M’sore,” you mumbled, raising your head. “Let me,” he whispered in your ear, gently lifting you off him and laying you back against the bed, his skillful fingers peeling your soaked panties from your body and tossing them aside. He kissed a path up your stomach as he pulled the sheets back, exposing his naked lower half, his hard cock ready for you to take.

“You did so well for me, angel,” he murmured, placing kisses over your lace covered chest and up the side of your neck. “Let me take care of you now,” he whispered in your ear as he kneeled between your spread thighs, guiding the head of his cock to your waiting cunt. You let out a whine as he rubbed the tip against you before pushing the head inside, your walls readily sucking him in as he slowly filled you.

“Minnie,” you gasped as he stilled, cock nestled deep inside you, the tip barely kissing your cervix. He pulled back slowly, cock dragging against your walls before he thrusted forward, filling you once more. “I know baby,” he cooed, leaning over you to place a kiss to each cheek, one to your forehead and finally one to your lips as he set a slow, steady pace, pumping into you with lazy yet calculated strokes.

Another whimper escaped you, sounding from your throat as he started to move a little faster, snapping his hips against you harshly. “I know,” he murmured again, lips ghosting over yours as he fucked into you harder, making small gasps and moans leave your lips. “Minnie, baby,” you gasped, back arching off the bed as he angled his hips, hitting that spot inside you that always had your toes curling and stars invading your vision. “I know, angel,” he cooed again, nuzzling his nose against yours.

“Just let me take care of you, baby.”

©️ kwanisms 2024 | all works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works. All graphics made by me.

[muddyorbsblr]

the brink of eternity pt1

See my full list of works here!

Summary: You arrive in New Asgard to its citizens rebuilding from the wreckage brought on by the god butcher's attack

Pairing: Loki x Sorceress!Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warning/s: language (like 2 cuss words…still not sorry, Rogers); canon-divergent up the damn wazoo; mentions of major character deaths; mention of injuries; allusions to cancer; my still rusty af writing [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: assumed unrequited love; Reader is a magic-wielding Avenger that trained in Kamar Taj after the events of Endgame

It had been a while since you went to visit the town that was once known as Tonsberg, but even when Thor in his tragedy-driven downward spiral and Val were surrounded by wood and bricks and cobblestone still waiting to be put together and turned into a new home for the thousands of now homeless Asgardians, it didn't look this…desolate.

Charred wooden planks were dumped onto the middle of the street along with other torn and shredded belongings from the affected homes. The citizens, their soot-covered faces a mix of distraught and exhausted, gave you barely a passing glance even as they clocked your clean clothes, bag slung over your shoulder.

From what stories Thor and Loki shared before, Asgardians were notorious gossips. They seemed to always find a way to whisper amongst themselves when something intrigued them even in the slightest, no matter the circumstance.

Almost always, it seemed, as today felt like the exception to that rule. Their gazes were fixed to the ground, the eerie quiet buzzing of the town comprised of sniffles and shaky breaths. Sounds you were achingly familiar with, hearing them all around you when half the world turned to dust just over half a decade ago.

Sounds of people frantically trying to get hold of their families on the phone, bracing and fearing for the worst.

"Y/N?" Val's voice pierced through the quiet, all heads turning toward her and the whispering intrigue finally starting amongst the villagers.

Our King knows this stranger, they said. You paid them no mind as you walked toward her and let the warrior king pull you into an embrace. When her wince at the contact hit your ears, you grasped at her shoulders, looking her over frantically.

"What happened?"

"You know how it is, my friend. Stab wound, kidney puncture, same old song and --"

"Stab wound?!" you raised your voice to a near shriek, even more panicked over her nonchalant delivery. "Val, what. Happened."

"God killer," she sighed. "Well, he prefers to call himself a god butcher, wields the Necrosword hellbent on making sure that the gods no longer walk this or any other realm." She motioned toward the distraught citizens. "He took the children to lure Thor to him because he needed to summon the Bifrost. Poor oaf's there now all alone trying to rescue them."

"Wait where's there?"

"Thor has gone to the Gates of Eternity. The Bifrost is the key to unlock them and if he does, well…" She sliced her finger along her throat. "Goodbye, gods. Much as I wish to be there to aid him, he's quite determined to have me and Jane rest."

"Hold on, Jane's here? Where is she?"

Val pointed towards the hospital, already walking towards it. "We've much to catch up on, little witchy." Just as she looped her arm through yours, there was a loud bang that came from the hospital, and you saw a blonde woman dressed like Thor flying up into the sky on the back of Warsong with Mjolnir in hand. "Oh no…"

"Is that--?"

"Jane? Yes." Your heart caught in your throat as you saw the tears forming in the warrior's eyes as she told you of Jane's diagnosis. How Mjolnir grants her health and vitality when she wields the hammer, but at the cost of her mortality. "She's gone to fight alongside Thor. Quite certainly to die in battle, too."

Every thought in your head screamed the same thing. "I have to stop her. I've gotta get to Eternity."

After reassuring her that you had sufficient enough means and magic to find your way, Val told you where to find the gates.

At the center of the universe, she said. But that it might be a more accurate shot for the sling ring you had on hand if you focused on Thor instead.

Right before you began to conjure the portal to bring you to your friend, the weakened warrior held your forearm firmly. Desperately. "Please don't die," she pled faintly, already misty eyed just saying the words. "Beat Gorr to Eternity, and keep him from making his wish."

Stepping through the circular glowing portal brought you to an elaborate temple made of what seemed like some celestial-grade stone. The entire place was aglow with lightning striking from multiple places at once, and in front of you was Stormbreaker summoning the Bifrost, seeming to power up a portal to what you could only guess was the Eternity that Val mentioned.

A visibly weakened Jane summoned a lightning strike that hit Gorr's weapon dead on, crumbling what remained of the sword into dust right before she began to collapse to the ground. You took the god butcher's slow triumphant walk to the gate as your cue.

"And who might you be?" he said, pausing to look you head to toe, assessing your power. "You are no god, but you're not entirely mortal, either."

"Hello, Gorr," you said with a sly grin, grabbing a hold of him and throwing him yards away from the gate with your magic. "Goodbye, Gorr."

"Y/N?" you heard Thor weakly mumble your name, relieved when he saw you walking backwards toward the blindingly glowing archway that opened up.

The last thing you heard before you all were transported to a vast white expanse was Gorr's defeated outcry of "Noooo!"

"Make your wish, sorceress," a voice spoke in your mind. When you turned to face the source, all you saw was a skyscraper of a silhouette…consisting of an endless sea of galaxies and stars. "Whatever you desire can and shall be so. Name it. And it shall be yours."

Those words brought you to your knees, the gravity of your situation weighing down on you like a cartoon anvil just dead dropped onto your shoulders. Agonizing memories of the loss and heartache you'd experienced and witnessed in the last few years alone, all the grief you kept bottled up inside, coming at you all at once.

From coming back to the Compound after the Time Heist, only to discover that you were all one Avenger short. Finding out that Nat sacrificed herself so the rest of you could have the Soul Stone.

To the loss of Tony and having to be there to hold Morgan as she cried and thrashed, calling out for her father after the defeat of Thanos and his army. And the loss of Steve shortly after that, realizing the super soldier chose to stay in the past and resume what he believed should have been his life with Peggy Carter. Then Bucky's subsequent pulling away from the team after that.

Losing Wanda, and the look on her face when you stood against her during the fight at Kamar Taj. Only hearing about it in the hours following the wreckage of the temple, and Wong's return, that your friend had perished by her own hand in Wundagore. That in her final moments, she was all alone, believing that this was the only way to ensure the safety of this and all other universes from the dark magic she held.

And then there was the loss that started it all for you, the one that had you slowly but steadily pulling away since the fight at Wakanda. Loki. Seeing his brother come in to the battlefield fueled by rage, and hearing his voice devoid of any strength as he told you about the god of mischief's fate when Thanos seized their ship to relieve them of the Tesseract.

All those words that you held back on saying for fear of having them thrown back in your face with a derisive laugh…they felt like lead in the back of your throat as soon as Thor had told you the news. And you beat yourself up for being so scared and childish to hide it all away like a schoolgirl with a crush. The loss of him, even though he wasn't yours to lose, numbed you. And you swore to never love again.

Love only ever got you hurt.

But looking back at the blond Asgardian, holding the frail body of his love in his arms…you knew that he wouldn't survive if he had to suffer another great loss. If he had to lose Jane. You knew that there were people that you cared about back on Earth that were still grieving and picking up the pieces of their lives.

And you had the opportunity to relieve them of that grief. To spare them the numbness that that same loss had dealt you.

"Look in my heart," you whispered to the entity. "You know what I want."

"It shall be yours, sorceress. Live well," were the last words you heard before Jane's sharp inhale. Like her lungs were near empty and she was gulping in air.

When you looked back at them, she'd visibly regained color, near identical smiles of wonder and relief on her and Thor's faces. Even from this far away, you could sense it. Whatever sickness plagued her body was gone. Every trace of it.

"You--?" Thor asked, pointing a finger toward you as you approached them.

"Guess so," you answered him with a little shrug. "How you feeling, Doctor Foster?"

"Like I could wrestle a horse," she told you with a big grin. "Thank you."

Before you could conjure up another portal to bring you all home, more voices emerged from behind the entity.

"Y/N?"

"Sparky?"

"Lady Y/N?"

Natasha. Tony. Heimdall.

"My friend, what did you wish for?"

You looked back at the bewildered god, grasping his best friend's shoulders and trying to adjust to the new reality that he had returned. "I honestly don't know, I just said that Eternity should know what I want and--"

"Brother?"

The air left your lungs at the sound of the new voice. The voice you'd missed hearing for the better part of the last decade. Your heart beat erratically in your chest watching Loki emerge from behind Eternity and walk toward all of you, already holding his hands up in caution upon seeing Nat and Tony. "I swear I have no intention of harming--"

"We know, Reindeer Games," Stark said, holding his hand out toward the god. "Thor told us all about what you did. You're alright by my book as long as you don't try and raise another ugly ass alien army to take over the world."

Before he could say anything in return, Thor pulled his brother into a tight embrace. "It's good to see you, too, Brother," he said in a strained voice. "But how am I here?"

"Y/N reached Eternity. And she made a wish," Jane answered him, also holding her hands up. "No slaps this time, I promise."

"Y/N?" he said your name breathlessly, nudging his brother out of the way and looking around until his eyes met yours. You did your best not to fidget or pick at your clothes as he made his way over to you, trying to swallow down the lump in your throat when he framed your face with his hands.

"Hiya, Mischief," you mumbled, seeing Tony and Nat give each other a look from the corner of your eye as they slowly backed away, choosing instead to reunite and get up to speed with the other Asgardian.

"This was your doing?" The way his thumbs stroked at your cheeks had you unable to form words, only managing a meek little nod.

"Not bad for a stupid little--" The rest of your words died in a squeak at the back of your throat, cut off by the god pressing his lips to yours.

"Sweet precious mortal," he sighed against your lips. "There are many words I could use to describe you, and 'stupid' will never be one of them."

Before he could kiss you again, you heard multiple people clear their throats, your friends looking at the two of you with knowing and teasing smirks. "Perhaps we should make our way home first, Brother?"

Loki brushed the tip of his nose against yours before threading his fingers between yours, jutting his chin at the lightning bolt in his brother's hand. "Zeus?"

"Long story," he answered simply.

"He stabbed Zeus and stole it," Jane said in a stage whisper.

"Perhaps not such a long story after all," Thor said, chuckling as he held on to his girlfriend's hand, the astrophysicist summoning Mjolnir with her other hand.

"That's a long story even I don't know yet," you told Loki when he squeezed your hand lightly and tilted his head at the couple, Jane now sporting that near-identical armor and crimson cape that the blond god wore.

"Everybody hold on," Thor called out to you all, a large ball made of yellow lightning materializing all around you and spinning at a furiously fast pace. You blinked once, and when you opened your eyes again, you were in the same ruins of New Asgard that you walked through just earlier today.

Val was already there walking toward you all with a relieved look on her face that morphed into confusion when she saw Tony…and then Loki. "I take it Y/N beat the butcher to Eternity?" You all just nodded at her. "Well then, welcome back, all of you." Then she pulled Jane into a hug, playfully pushing Thor away. "I'm so glad you're alive." The king looked up, eyes meeting yours before she mouthing the words, 'Thank you.'

"We were lucky Y/N got there when she did," Thor told her. "What did bring you to New Asgard, my friend? It has been ages since last we spoke."

"I lost Wanda," you sighed, a lump forming in your throat again just saying the words. "And losing her made me realize I've been a shit friend to--well, everyone. Ever since…" You caught yourself before the rest of that sentence came out.

Ever since you told me Loki died, you finished quietly in your mind.

"Ever since Wakanda…the snap…" you told them out loud. You tried to shrug it all off, only to realize that Loki still held your hand in his. "Speaking of that stupid purple ballsacked chin little bitch…I should be getting you two back to New York," you addressed Tony and Nat. "There's at least three people whose worlds are about to turn for the better knowing you're back."

A/N: Okay so I fully intended to lay low and take my time normalizing after the complete insanity that October dealt me on a personal level, but then I rewatched Love and Thunder because I was in need of a comfort watch and I said "I don't like that ending, not one bit…lemme fix it". And slowly but surely the writer brain started its lil awkward shuffle back into the chat 😅

RTC and 'the final Lady Sharpe' are still at the top of the todo pile, and I'm still scared to touch them but I might work at it bit by bit, we'll see. And also this will have a part 2…because yes they might have kissed and they're holding hands but dammit they need to talk 🫠

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified @tom-hlover @dryyoursaltyoceantears @herdetectivetheorist

[bhaalstemple]

i finished the game and veilguard was a disappointment lol

spoilers below

the way they butchered solas' character by just making him be led by the memory of mythal; no self-righteousness, savior complex, it was all done bc he wanted to honor mythal

why are the venatori worshipping elgar'nan and not a single elf. ????

how they made mythal far more important than lavellan to solas to the point for a moment i thought she was solas' ex (thank god it was clarified at the end she was only "solas' oldest friend")

the companions are so... lifeless. cheers to bellara for being the only one that feels like an actual human being and not an agglomeration of bad executed tropes (even if at the beginning she was)

the way mythal didn't end up being a villain, when she actively abused and groomed solas (and also morrigan btw) and it made all the sense in the world because she yearned for a reckoning and bring her revenge, a thing she has yearned for and been planning for a millennia because her anger is that strong... but no she just gave it up

the way morrigan's themes of parental abuse (breaking the cycle of abuse) go to shit after she embraced mythal's memories like.... as someone who has also an abusive mother that i broke contact with this made me want to fucking scream lol

morrigan's character also doesn't sound like her AT ALL, why is this woman smiling and being cocky, she's a scholar, a professional, a woman who carries knowledge that burdens her and trauma at the hands of a mother who should've cared for her. and how protective she was a kieran shows how private she is. what the hell. she would not be THAT friendly with strangers lol

and mythal being the only one who truly could change solas' mind at the end (just thinking abt it makes me want to punch a hole in the wall) + the anticlimactic departure of lavellan to the fade with solas is so fucking bad; because of the message it gives (this world is not worth-living for + a woman should spend the rest of her life and sacrificing herself for a man who put another random woman before her) and its joyless execution

if you get any other ending, the inquisitor doesn't even appear. lmfao. bye.

and lets not talk about the post-ending credits scene bc thats actually the thing that i hated the most. it makes all the themes and writing of bioware completely meaningless lol

the funny thing is that i have known for years where would bioware go with dragon age's story and 95% of my theories were correct, but me, someone who is not a writer, would've made a far more compelling story respecting dragon age's themes and nuance. i even predicted that mythal abused and groomed solas, but they executed it so badly that i can't believe these people get paid to write stories lmfao

i literally feel so betrayed, so hollow, so sad, i don't know what to do. i literally just uninstalled veilguard after finishing it. i spent 10 years imagining how the story would go, but id never imagine it would be THIS BAD.

the books, the content, so well-crafted, and so well-executed, just to make a stupid game that breaks all of its themes and leaves them meaningless. what the hell was happening in bioware when all the side-content has so much complexity and nuance (mostly tevinter nights), what happened lmao

[blackjackkent]

@astreamofstars suggested my next dive into the parsed dialogue files should be looking at the various Vicious Mockery lines available for player characters, and the ways the different companion character VAs speak them. This turned out to be quite challenging, as there are a LOT of them!

There are a total of 97 unique Vicious Mockery lines, each of which was recorded by all ten companion character VAs PLUS all twelve custom character VAs, for a total of 2,134 recorded lines, which is wild. (This is not including Ethel's 60 unique Vicious Mockery lines as well, which brings the total to 2,194.)

In this video, I've collected all 97 VM lines across all ten companion VAs, along with notes (where applicable) on things like

references to Shakespeare (or other pieces of media)

places where BG3 continues a time-honored tradition of the series by butchering archaic English grammar

interesting inconsistencies between the VAs or with the written dialogue

(If you notice any references I missed, please let me know and I might edit the video! :D )

In making this video, I ended up listening to all these lines a LOT, and I do love that some definite patterns emerge which are very on-brand for the characters in question.

Astarion often sounds deeply disdainful and at times almost bored. He barrels through some of the lines as if he doesn't think the recipient of his insult is even worth his time. (Also him calling someone a "parchment-pallored villain" is a bit rich, don't you think? :P )

Gale is deeply pleased with his own cleverness and laughs at his own jokes.

In my opinion, Dave Jones by far most Understood The Assignment; Halsin bellows out the lines like a Shakespearean actor playing to the back row and really relishes the language.

Jaheira is in full mother-tiger voice and clearly ready to kick ass and take names; she's not messing around. (With one exception - I have been laughing over Tracy Wiles's reading of "Mouthier than an arse, twice as full o' shite" for the entire duration of this project, because solely for that line she sounds like she's been possessed by some unknown force and is utterly baffled by the words coming out of her own mouth.)

Karlach reads most of these lines as either battle-cry or schoolyard taunt and seems utterly delighted in both cases. I enjoy that she adds a fun roll on her r's to sound all mockingly fancy.

Lae'zel generally sounds like she's about to rip someone's throat out and often seems completely oblivious to the humor involved, even on lines like the delightful pun, "As the leg, you'll end in defeat."

Minsc definitely doesn't know what most of these words mean but he makes up for it in enthusiasm. I enjoy that "Mouthier than an arse" becomes "mouthier than a butt" only for him. XD

Minthara, like Lae'zel, is mostly not coming at this from a place of amusement; she's MAD. She sounds like a judge handing down sentence in the most disdainful manner possible. (That said, she has my favorite deliveries on some of the lines with timing-related humor: "Thou art saucy... as gruel," "Thine eyes! Pools of tepid piss," "Like a summer's day... thou art sweaty," etc.)

Shadowheart just sounds deeply offended that her target is existing anywhere near her. She's practically spitting on all her plosive consonants and it's delightful.

Wyll sounds remarkably fierce given how nice a dude he is, but a lot of his lines have some righteous indignation (appropriate for a former noble and the Blade of Frontiers) - or he just sounds like he pities his opponent. His reading of "It vexes me to know of you" is my favorite of the whole cast; he just sounds so disbelieving of his target's stupidity.

Overall I think my favorite of these lines is towards the end: "Your body's a temple - to an idiot god!" All ten companions really stick the landing on that one. :D

Thanks for watching! Hope you enjoy.

(Got requests for other investigations into BG3 dialogue? Drop me an ask and let me know! )

[beefycupcakes]

I watched the Cars trilogy recently and with that came a wave of nostalgia and a strange desire to make my own designs for the cars as humans. Aka taking all the charm out of Cars but scratching the brain itch.

So, no need to drag out the intro any longer, I have some notes written out about em for those who might be interested or just bored.

Lightning McQueen:

I tried to make his suit look as professional as possible, with references pulled straight from McQueen's paint job/stickers, while also keeping in mind that I do intend to draw him more so I didn't want to go too crazy with the design. In a perfect world I would've let my maximalist cravings win, but alas let's keep it digestible for my sanity.

I feel like everyone's kinda on this unspoken agreement that McQueen as a human would pretty much look just like Owen Wilson, and that's the big picture here. I used Wilson as inspiration while tweaking and exaggerating a few things to my preference. (Okay, well not everyone, lmao.)

The chevron markings on the front cut off at the side seams not wrapping around the entire suit as to not clash with the sponsor logo on the back.

Also, he's wearing special gloves to help him grip & have control over the steering wheel. I think sometimes that looks a little weird when his sleeves are down & cuffed, but I just feel like he needs to have the gloves there— especially when he comes out of the top half of the suit. (It's also lowkey supposed to mirror his 4 tires when you consider his shoes are also black.)

So yeah, that's basically all I have to to say regarding Lightning McQueen's page. I feel like a lot of my design choices are self explanatory and, honestly probably shared universally... I mean, he's really cut & dry. (But I love him ⚡︎)

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Mater:

I'm not gonna lie, Mater was a bit challenging for me. I definitely had to step out of my comfort zone but I wanted to stay true to the character and not butcher anything.

My first thought was to give him a fishing pole to substitute for the tow hook— but then the more I was thinking about it, the more that felt so... out of place? Radiator Springs is in Arizona, which is (not entirely, but mostly depicted in the movie as) a desert. And even though there are beautiful bodies of water in Arizona, in the movie I don't recall seeing any prominent ones, at least in relation to Mater. So, scratch that, instead I gave him a lasso, which isn't supposed to entirely substitute for the tow truck— no, he still drives a tow truck, but the lasso is so he can grab people/things similarly to Tow Truck Mater (very cartoony). My explanation for this is the cattle ranch. Yeah, Mater is a tow truck driver but perhaps he has a side hustle, or hobby, if you will.

Also, I didn't want to make him... dirty(??) Like, yeah, of course, Mater would obviously get a bit filthy from time to time, it's just in his nature, but that is NOT going to be the core of my design. In regards to the rust happening on him, I felt like instead I would substitute this with being very tan. Again, Arizona is a desert. Because of this, he would take off his shirt often, and this would substitute for the missing hood like on Tow Truck Mater. The removal of the shirt also reveals just how tan Mater actually is.

It's his uniformed overalls that have his original aqua color, but from years of wear & tear they've been patched up with brown patches, this would also reference the rusting. The one strap is supposed to mimic the one headlight being broken, and I know that's a stretch, believe me, I wanted to do something with his eyes but eyes are not the headlights in the Cars universe..... think about this. Think about it really hard... if you know what the headlights are in the Cars universe then this actually makes perfect sense.

He is taller and wider than McQueen, which is a reference to the literal frame of their vehicle counterparts. (A little hard to picture with these images, but eventually I'll draw them together!)

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That's all I have to say really, but do let me know what you guys think! Gas it up and it might encourage me to make a part 2 with some of the other characters! Who would you like to see next? ♡ Thank you so much for reading & have a great day, Kachow!!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Diabolical 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, violence, extreme profanity, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Billy Butcher

Summary: your neighbours has some strange friends.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Ah, cunt!” 

The man’s voice rolls under your door. His accent adds a certain slant to his words that makes them sound even harsher. You hover your mug in front of your lips, steam curling from the freshly brewed tea, as your eyes drift over in detest. 

You lower it and carry it with you to the door. You lean in to see through the peep hole. The same dark hair, the same long black jacket with the patch on one shoulder, and the same lumbering form. He thumps again on the door across the hall. 

“Hughie, open up, ya skinny cunt.” 

He uses that word again. Your lip curls and you huff. He keeps on. 

You slide back the chain and your adrenaline pumps into your chest. You flip the lock back slowly and pull the door in an inch. You peer through the space as the man checks his watch and grumbles. 

“Where are ya, Hughie?” He grumbles and shakes his head. “Big fucking stick bug, won’t answer ya phone, won’t come to the door...” 

“It’s not very nice language, is it?” You chide. You’re just as surprised as the man as he stands straight and freezes. He turns to you stiffly as you let the door open a little more. 

“Eh? And who are you, then?” He tilts his head this way and that as he growls. 

“I live here. Who are you?” You say defiantly. You sip your tea to keep your nerves under wrap. 

“Wouldn’t you like know, sweetheart?” He snickers. “Oi, you ain’t happened see the skinny one lives over here?” He jabs his thumb behind him. 

You stare at him. You shake your head again. His eyes narrow and flick up and down. 

“Too good for the likes of us, eh? You and your fancy porcelain? What’s that? Royal Daulton Cuntware?” 

You gasp and bat your lashes. “Excuse me, I haven’t been rude. I’ve only asked you to keep it down. Other people live here besides your friend and they don’t appreciate hearing your profanity every morning.” 

“Eh,” he gives a crooked smirk, “you listenin’ for me, sweetheart?” 

“I don’t know you, sir, and I shouldn’t like to.” 

“Ain’t ya so proper? Sirs and shouldn’ts and tea.” He taunts. 

You take a breath and back up, “I would only appreciate a little consideration, but thanks. Have a lovely day.” 

“Oi, go on and hide then, darling.” He tugs on his lapels and squares his shoulders. He chuckles again. 

You stop the door before you can shut it all the way. You bristle at his laughter. “I don’t think you’re funny.” 

He chortles again. He steps closer and you go rigid. You can’t measure up to a man like him. You still the tremour in your hand before your tea can slosh towards the brim. 

“Well, I think you’re right hilarious. Why don’t you go on? Tell me, eh, are you more offended by the shit on my boots or the onion on my breath?” 

You steel yourself as you grip the door tightly. “Don’t come any closer.” 

“Ah, I don’t got that sorta time. Whatcha think a brute like me would do then?” He stops and plants his feet wide. 

“You needn’t be so impolite--” 

“Needn’t--” he mimics. Before you can stop yourself, the tea splashes across his face and chest.  

You recoil as the porcelain drips in your hand and you gape at his stunned grimace. His blue eyes flash and you kick the door shut as you retreat. You put the chain in place and twist the lock. You press your back to the door and listen, heart pounding, and wait. 

His treads scuff on the floor and he sighs. The floor groans as he moves and you watch his shadow beneath your door. Yet, no banging comes at the door. 

“Ah, bollocks, that’ll stain.” His grumble follows him down the hall. 

You have no idea what you were thinking. A man like that is dangerous. You don’t need his name or anything else. You can tell just by looking at him.  

You’re not the sort to associate with the type. You didn’t think your neighbour was either. Then again, you only know Hughie because he dropped a sock in front of your door. He didn’t stay to chat as he snatched it and chased that pretty blonde inside. 

You turn and stand on your toes to see through the peephole. He’s gone but you don’t dare go out and make sure. You’ll do best not to show your face again. Just drink your tea and hide, like you always do. 

[nyqii21]

Hear me out!

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Everyone is gushing about Jensen Ackles, Jared Padelecki, the Winchester brothers; Hugh Jackman or Logan Howlett....

BUT!

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Has anyone seen Billy Butcher/Karl Urban, I mean, that man is something special, that smirk thing he does...like...ugghhh!!! Not to mention. He is an incredible actor.

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I am fairly new to this whole thing, but if anyone sees my post, if you wish to have a Butcher fanfic (of any sort) or even one of any character you fancy, please let me know. Give me some inspiration!... please

[simpcityy]

My Little Spawn Pt.1 (Dadstarion X Child!Reader)

Summary: Astarion was finally free from Cazador after being kidnapped by a mindflayer but he was stuck with one annoying task, you.

Disclaimer: I do not own Baldur's Gate 3 or any of its characters.

Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings: Use of (Y/N), Cazador, language, spoilers for those who haven't gone far in the game....Uhhh...I think that is all.

Everything was dark and blurry in his eyes. All he remembers was stalking in the shadows looking for his next prey and suddenly he was kidnapped. He felt mixed emotions, fear but importantly joy, he was finally away from Cazador. It would be like he suddenly disappeared in thin air and Cazador will need him no more. Until he was stuck with another burden, You. “Would you keep quiet, dammit!?” He whispered rather loudly. You stopped shifting around the tall grass and peaked out of it. “I’m sorry” You whispered before going back to hiding. He looked over seeing two people walking by, “Perfect” He mutters and gets ready to put on his performance.  

  After almost getting incinerated, you and Astarion have found a group and camp for the remainder of the period till the little wiggly worm is out of your mind but of course, you wouldn’t comprehend, for you were so young. 

“Who’s the little adorable bugger?” Gale smiles letting you try to read the books he has found so far. “For the record this annoying little sp-human is not mine, they just seem to be attached to me.” Astarion watches you trying to pronounce the big words only to butcher them. “But it’s getting rather late and I hate to deal with a cranky annoying child tomorrow.” He picked you up keeping his arms outstretched and walked to his tent. Once everyone was out of earshot, he squats at your height. “Listen here, you must not tell anyone what we are understood?” His red eyes look down at your innocent (E/C) ones. “But why not?” You sat on top of the pillow looking up at Astarion seeing him take a deep breath in. Of course, Astarion knows he has to make it simple. “Because we are playing a game” He grins “ We are all hiding our identity. You and I are a team and the rest are a team. Whoever is the first one to discover their real identity, is the sore loser.” He gives a smile sitting down next to you. You pouted, your cheeks puffed up “We will win, okay! I won’t tell.” You lean back before yawning “ If they ask what do I say?” You cute little doe eyes look at him tiredly. “Hmm…we are just normal elves got it?” He looks away in deep thought, “it’s for the best for now” He mutters before leaning back “ You know for a being the youngest Spawn he created…you still need rest like a human, you are such an odd little creature” He gently plays with the ends of your hair “ Why did he even turn you?” He whispers as you slowly slip into sleep. “What use does he even have for you?” He kept asking himself all the questions ever since you were part of the “Family” 

You were the youngest spawn Cazador has ever gotten. You were only 5 soon turning 6. Astarion was first shocked to see Cazador holding you in his arms when he came back from bringing a pretty prey for his master. He never dared question, he kept all his unanswered questions to himself. Astarion felt anger towards you both. Why was Cazador more tender with you, not treating you like he does to his other spawns. Why did you get the special treatment? He was mostly angry towards Cazador as always, why did he turn you, you didn’t even reach your half way milestone of your life. You were going to stay that age and size forever.  He has been treated like shit for 200 years but you, you would never experience the things a child should be, the things teenerages and young adults go through. Once again Cazador has robbed you of your life just how Astarion was robbed of his.

Morning rolled by, You picked up a little flower near Gale’s tent, “Astarion! Look what I found!” You ran up to him as he was getting ready to set foot on finding a healer with the others. “What is it this time?” He mutters looking up before seeing a flower being gently shoved to his face. “A flower.” You smile waiting for him to take it. “ A flower…you called my attention for a flower…this is why I don’t work with little annoying monsters.” He sighs already feeling annoyed from the lack of blood. “I’m sorry…” You whisper looking down, putting the flower away from his face, small tears forming in your doe eyes. He stops putting things into his bag and sighs “ Why must you be such a crybaby” He sits down pulling your tiny form on his lap, taking the flower. “Wow, thank you. I feel the luckiest person to get a flower from you.” He says in a bored voice looking at you. You sniff and rub your eyes, “You mean it?” The tears no longer present in your eyes. He looks at you unamused. “Yes, now shoo, I have to pack. Go bother Gale, Shadowheart or even Tav but not me got it?” He makes you get off his lap before freezing feeling you give him a light peck on his cheek “Okay! I’ll collect more flowers for the others!” You giggle before running off.  He placed a hand over his cheek and watched the direction you left. “What an odd little spawn.” He whispers before continuing to pack. 

  You hummed a tune as you collected more flowers near Gale’s camp where Gale was sitting on the pillow, reading a book. He looks up hearing you hum. “Say (Y/n), that tune you must be from the upper city aren’t you?” He smiles placing the book down as your little feet shuffle over to him. “Mmhm! Papa would always sing me this lullaby at night!” You grin “It’s my favorite and he always wants me to sing! He says I’m his little singing bird!” Placing the flowers down, you sat on the ground in front of gale. Thinking back to what Astarion said last night, remembering to not give away too much information. “Judging by your clothes, I bet your father is a rather important man?” He smiles rubbing down those stubborn baby hairs that lift up from your hair. You only nodded “Papa is the best! I miss him and I want to go home…” You look around the wilderness that you and Astarion crashed in. “I want him to hold me close…I always dream of those monsters…and the little wormy” Whimpering you scoot into Gale’s arms. “I don’t want them to come back!” You tear up, “I want papa to hold me but he’s not here!” You wail. Gale quickly panics “Oh…crying child…what to do…wish Tara was here…” He mutters before rubbing your back “Hey now, you can always come to me, Shadowheart and even Tav if you ever have a nightmare. How about this, before you go to bed, I will tell you a story so you can dream of that story rather than the scary monsters. Trust me, I have read so many books, I know them by heart.” He grins as you finally stopped the water works. “Which is why he’s a walking library in this case.” Shadowheart smiles walking over “Now, we should get going, the closer we find a healer, the faster you can go to your papa” She smiles leaning to your height. “Really!” You smiled, your eyes widened at the thought of seeing your father soon. “Let’s go!” Grabbing the flowers, you ran to Astarion to share the news. 

“Astarion!”

“What now!?” 

Walking to find a healer seems like eternity to you, “I wanna rest!” You whined to Astarion tugging at his shirt. “Then complained to Tav, they are leading the damn group, not me.” He sighs, breathing in heavily to compose himself from lashing out. “Up! Up!” You lifted your arms. “The hell I won’t!” He walks faster only for you to follow him whining even more. The rest of the small group look over watching the two of you, seeing you bothering Astarion even more. “Is it me or do these two know each other very much?” Shadowheart watches you keep tugging on his shirt. “Yet he says he doesn’t know (Y/N), that they only tagged along with him.” Gale crossed his arms. Tav smiles “I don’t know, (Y/n) looks nothing like Astarion so I doubt they are related and (Y/N) always mentions a papa.” Shadowheart and Gale nodded. “What in the nine hells! Where did you go!?” Astarion looks around for you as you stop tugging on his shirt a while ago. “Where did they go?” Tav walks back to the pale elf. “ I don’t know, the moment they were annoying the hell out of me! Next thing I know, they are go- wait…” He smells it, blood. You must have run off to the smell. “ I…um…heard them, this way” He quickly follows the scent with the rest following. 

You carefully walked down the ladder, the smell of blood getting stronger. Turning around a corner, you are met with a woman with red skin, burning and importantly with a broken horn. Slowly walking over to the tiefling, you look up at her “Are you okay?” You meekly whisper seeing how tall she was according to your height. She looks up hearing the childish voice, “Hells, what is a child doing all alone?” She looks at you shocked before feeling the tadpoles connect. “Fuck” Karlach whispers holding her head “You were also in that ship…” She whispers before calming herself down and kneels down to make it seem less intimidating to you. “Hey there little soldier,  What are you doing all alone?” She smiles as you slowly take small steps towards her. “I…you’re hurt…are you okay?” You go to place your small hand on her but she backs away quickly. “Careful there, I’m not like any other tiefling, I can burn you.” She smiles “I'm Karlach, what’s your name, little soldier?” She chuckles admiring your little face as you try to say her name slowly. “Car…Ka…la…Karlach.” You finally get it right, before giving her your name, someone else beat you to it. 

“(Y/N)!?” Tav runs over, crossing the log and quickly pulls you back from Karlach, putting you behind. “Get away from them” Tav frowns weapons out. “Are you okay?” Shadowheart checks you over for any injuries as Gale also checked along with her. Astarion catches up and lets out a small sigh seeing you alive and safe. “What in the sweet hells were you thinking running off like that?! A goblin could’ve gotten you or a wild animal?!” He looks down at you but stops himself seeing you tear up. “I-I’m sorry….don’t get mad like papa!” You cried. “Like papa….” He glares down at you. “Don’t ever compare me to him you litt-” He stops himself seeing the fear in your eyes. Him, being like Cazador. He would rather kill himself than be exactly like his old master. He sighs before kneeling to you as the others were busy with Karlach. “Sorry…I was…I guess you can say I was very worried…I know it wasn’t your intention to run off…” He then whispers “You must be hungry…for blood like me…I know you are craving that sweet and yet bitter flavor but you need to hold it in like I am…tonight we’ll find some small vermin okay?” He slowly pats your head as you nod. Standing up, he walks over to the rest as you follow closely to him. “My, I feel so much better knowing we have a strong wall to protect us from any arrows” He smirks after learning Karlach was recruited. “I like her! She’s nice!” You popped out from behind walking over to Karlach. “And I like you little soldier” She smiles. 

After going back to camp for the day, Astarion watches as you listen to Gale’s stories. He sat from his tent looking at a book but his mind wandered back to what you said. Like papa…when has Cazador ever punished you? He thinks back but nothing comes to him. He turns the page to the book to make it look like he was reading. He looks back at you with that question still haunting his thoughts. It really ticked him off when you compared him to Cazador, he will never be like him…no he will be better. He wants to get back at him and back at him good. He smirks looking at you. Why not get him back with the thing he treasures the most, or rather the person he treasures the more. 

You

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Authors Notes: Thank you everyone for reading this, please like, reblog and share it with others. I will be working on Part 2 soon hopefully. I also started another series a month ago or more about Astarion and a Gur! Reader. There is only part 1 out as well but I will be working out on that. Please remember to stay hydrated and to get some rest. Love you all! You are welcome to ask to be tagged as well for the next part.

-Axie

[ikinremu]

i would kill for a cillian murphy as robert fischer fic or neil lewis from watching the detectives from you! ur stuff is amazing <3

This is literally so sweet tysm ml <3 Apologies for how long this took! I honestly really enjoyed writing this so im definitely open to writing more neil stuff! Based on the ending, i might do a follow up? (if you guys want that please let me know!) Anyway, hope you enjoy! :)

Light Entertainment

Neil Lewis x Fem!Reader

! Smut Warning !

Tags: Oral (F receiving), P in V, Riding, Tit Sucking, Praise

"God," Neil snorted, shifting beside you, "This is fucking terrible." His eyes loosely exploring your choice of film, one he had rather immediately deemed 'shitty.'

And truthfully, you were inclined to agree.

"Alright alright, bit extreme." You chastised, "I couldn't find anything I actually wanted to watch so I just picked something.. random."

You admitted as you studied the terrible old tape play out on screen, sighing as old-timey voices completely butchered their lines.

"You'd rather pick something you hadn't even heard of than let me pick?" Neil's head snapped round, face painted with severe offence.

"Absolutely." You chortled, beyond shameless. "I wasn't missing out on the rare occasion you agree to let me pick."

"Yeah well, remind me to never do that again." He exhaled heavily, grinning far more enthusiastically than you'd have liked.

You tossed a light, warning smack to his arm, his amusement only expanding, "Sorry, sorry!"

"Now," You huffed, pointedly making a gesture of crossing your arms across your chest, "If you don't mind, I'd like to watch this piece of cinema without your snarky, shithead blabbering. Thank you."

"Oh, would you?" Neil scoffed, "You're seriously enjoying this?"

"Yes, it's.." You struggled helplessly for a follow up, watching as the tv screen rolled more abhorrent dialogue between characters with void personalities. Honestly, you couldn't name a single one. "It's.. very entertaining."

He chuckled to himself, shifting ever so slightly nearer, "Right, right.." His warm, curious hands drifting under your woven blanket, getting dangerously closer to the heat between your thighs as he surpassed your skirt, "So you wouldn't.. prefer this?"

Your breath caught in your throat, words halted as a tender fingertip pressed against your clit.

You slipped a sweet, soft whimper as Neil began tracing supple circles round your clit through the dampening fabric of your underwear, filling your stomach with flutters. It was blatantly clear by the look on his face that his enjoyment was just as intense as yours.

It was a relief to be granted a new focus, your stubbornness to the film growing tiring. You couldn't help but revel in his touch, allowing your eyelids to flicker shut.

Your skin prickled at the familiar sound of his low chuckle, "No no, you keep those eyes open. I wouldn't want you to miss a single second."

Your eyes snapped open once more, and although they couldn't seem to find a place to stop, Neil's were unbudgingly glued to your face, his agile fingertips unrelenting beneath the blanket.

Exhaling, you felt yourself grow wetter and wetter with each passing, torturously light stroke to your cunt.

Without drawing eye contact, Neil raised from his seat beside you, gradually lowering himself between your legs.

Your arousal only steepened as both skilful hands crept to the blankets very edge, flinging it from your lap.

Purposefully slowly, you parted your thighs, skirt riding further up as you did so. A low, hoarse groan fled Neil's lips as your soaked panties met his eyeline. The lustful noise sent a shiver coursing down your spine, a little dose of smugness dizzying your head.

"Oh, just look at you.." He praised, lacking any hesitation in directing himself to the waistband of your underwear and bringing them to a pool around your ankles.

Hands splayed over your ass, he tugged you in one swift, greedy motion towards his face. Your stomach flipped with anticipation at the jolt, and suddenly his head was buried between your thighs.

His tongue licked torturously slow, teasing stripes up your bare cunt, as though savouring your taste was all he craved. A satisfied smirk etched across Neil's lips, the warmth radiating against your sensitivity. A desperate moan spilled from your throat as his mouth finally breached your folds, sucking your clit between his lips so softly.

"Fuck.." You exhaled, breath quavering, legs trapping his head amidst their heat, wetness coating your inner thighs.

"Just soaking my tongue, aren't you?" He grumbled, taunting the swell of your clit with the tip of his tongue, playing shamelessly with your sensitivity. 

The tv blared as Neil's hunger spiked, working at a ferocious pace between your thighs, drawing endless pleasures from your mouth as your back arched, sodden cunt pressing right to his tongue. 

"So responsive, mm?" He chuckled once more, balmy breath stroking over your sensitivity as his tongue tormented your entrance, swirling flawlessly around as you quivered against his cheeks. 

"Neil.. I can't.." You practically whined, flooded with the desperation for his teasing to end. 

Leaning back from between your legs, Neil's bright, glinting eyes flitted up to your own as he swept the pad of his thumb over the slick pillow of his lower lip, sporting a mock frown. 

Slumping back against the couch, he wasted no time in adjusting you to straddle his lap, the prominence of his bulge digging into you from beneath his dark, strained jeans. With a sense of guidance, he began rocking your bared pussy against him, length twitching as the feel of you seeped through his clothes. 

Snaking one large, kind hand to cup your jaw, he stroked with a single thumb, feeling your flushed skin melting against his palm. His lips drifted to your neck, sucking rather harshly as his vacant hand was utilised, unbuckling his jeans as his hard, aching cock sprung free. Neil's focus jumped to scouting around his pocket, almost immediately yanking out a small, flimsy packet that he tore with the ease of one tiny rip.

A sweet, breathy laugh floated from your lips, "You always have one of those?"

He shot you a playful grin, fumbling slightly as he rolled the condom down onto himself. 

He angled the unattended, begging pulse of his tip with your drenched entrance, his eyes fluttering for just a moment as he lowered you onto him with a sharp groan. Your own eyes followed suit, lids temporarily screwing together as you revelled in the feeling of him stretching you. 

"Let me see those pretty tits." Neil groaned, ridding you - impressively fast - of the vast inconvenience of your top, tossing your bra right afterward.

"Mine." He inhaled, bringing his face to the plush of your naked chest, each hand cupping your breasts, the soft flesh pressed impossibly close to his face. Upon an eager, somewhat abrupt buck of his hips, a strained breath slipping your mouth as his length hit inside you. 

His sweet, plush lips engulfed one nipple, circling his tongue around the stiff peak before releasing it with a light 'pop'. 

"Please.." You mewled as his pelvis jerked against yours, throbbing gently between your soaked, clenched folds, perfectly filling your pussy with each deeper reaching thrust. 

"Feels good, huh baby?" He chuckled, still gently cupping your exposed breasts, a single, thin strand of hair falling before his eyes, coming looser as his fix trailed over to attend to your opposing, untouched nipple. 

You began bouncing softly to the rhythmic bucking of Neil's hips, developing your own pace as Neil allowed your rhythms to merge. Once again, he drew your pebbled nipple between his lips, tongue flicking at the tender, stiffened peak, his low groan vibrating against your chest as the pair of you quickened. 

"You drive me fucking crazy, you know that?" He whispered against the smooth, inflicted warmth of your breasts, giving them a greedy squeeze, his slender digits toying with your nipples, eyes wandering over your face as though nothing could compare to the sight before him. Shallow moans danced between the two of you, slick, sultry bodies rocking together against the couch cushions, "Is that such a bad thing?"

"I never said it was." Neil grinned, pulling your lips into a messy, rather impatient embrace, tongues winding against one and other with matched yearning.

Your walls contracted with each desperate bounce, feeling a hand glide from your chest to your fluttering pussy, taking zero hesitation in pressurising the drastic swell of your clit, features painted by a blatant smirk as he observed your face contorting with pleasure only he was providing.

"Oh, fuck-" You uttered, entirely overwhelmed by the combined sensations of his fingers working on both your nipples and clit, his thick cock filling you further and further with each rock of your pelvis.

A hoarse, breathy groan fell from Neil's lips as he lost himself in the feeling of you, digits stroking your arousal just a little faster as the opposing hand took a keen rest on your behind, allowing himself to better embrace the feeling of it against his skin. He offered your ass a small, restrained squeeze as the both of you grew closer and closer. 

"That's it baby, just like that.." He praised, length quivering between your tight, eager clenches. Suddenly, your release hit with the force of a tidal wave, coursing through your aching body as the firmly-wound coil in your stomach finally snapped.

At that, Neil slipped a rather loud, ragged moan, hips jerking up scruffily as he came undone, thighs twitching as did yours, both palms slowly caressing the flushed skin of your ass.

With an amused, clearly out of breath chuckle, Neil pressed his forehead to yours with the assistance of his charming, hopelessly bashful grin, "Maybe we should make our own movie.”

Thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed! Please feel free to use the requests/asks feature on my page - it’d be so greatly appreciated!

[withleeknow]

wishful thinking. (05)

chapter five: say what you mean

summary: the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.

pairing: minho x f!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres/warnings: friends to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut; mentions of sex, kissing, we’re starting to dip our toes into angsty territory !!, less edited than i’d like but what’s new lol word count: 2.8k

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

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Get me a drink, I get drunk off one sip, just so I can adore you I want the entire street out of town just so I can be alone with you Now go when you’re ready My head’s getting heavy, pressed against your arm Just to adore you, I adore you

Adore - Dean Lewis

Whenever Minho asks if you two could hang out together at your place, it usually means that you will end up in your bed.

Tonight you suppose is no different.

Even though you often cap off the night having engaged in activities that could make the Victorian lady in Hyunjin faint, it’s not all that you do. Both you and Minho never let yourselves forget that you’re friends first and foremost. Sex is the added benefit that should never take anything away from your friendship. He is still one of the people you’re most comfortable with, one of the few people whose company you enjoy.

You’re sprawled out on the couch in your small living room when Minho returns from the kitchen with a plate of freshly peeled tangerines, the same ones that he brought over earlier. You push yourself to half-sit up so he could squeeze himself between you and the armrest, before you go back to laying your head on his lap as you two resume watching a bad movie that you put on.

“I hate this so much,” you comment, your eyes glued to the TV screen.

“You picked the movie,” Minho says. “It’s not that bad. The plot is kind of decent.”

“I’m not talking about that. Jeez, if they wanted to make a movie where the main character is a graphic designer, you’d think that they would at least consult someone who knows literally anything about visual art. Look at that horrendous typography job, the text isn’t even aligned with the edges and corners. This is hurting my soul.”

Your cushions (Minho’s thighs) shake lightly as he laughs at your dramatic outburst over something as trivial as a fictional character’s poor standards of digital art. But you really aren’t kidding; the way the woman on screen is butchering the text alignment is quite literally making that very particular part of your brain want to shut down for the next five to seven business days.

“They should’ve consulted you first, is that right?” Minho asks.

“They really should have. I could’ve done wonders for them,” you say matter-of-factly. “I almost majored in graphic design, y’know.”

You have a habit of biting your tongue around others because you know that people don’t really care about the same things you do. Whenever the opportunity arises for you to share tidbits about your interests, excitement would tumble out of you only to be quashed soon after when no one wants to listen to your silly little rambles. It’s disheartening, you’re used to it.

But you never feel that way around Minho. He always lets you babble on about anything and everything, even if he might not know what the hell you’re talking about. He indulges you. He never makes you feel neglected or ignored.

“Hmm, my little genius artist.” He taps your cheek once, and when you turn your head to glance at him, he tells you to open up before he slips a slice of tangerine past your lips. “You’re right. Even I can tell that it’s horrendous.”

You hum appreciatively when the sweetness of the juicy fruit floods your tastebuds. Minho’s hand trails down your arm to rest on your stomach, just below your ribs where he fiddles with the worn fabric of your sleep shirt. If he moves his hand up, he would be grazing your bare chest underneath your shirt. You didn’t bother with a bra because, well, comfort above all else, especially within the four walls of your own home. Besides, it’s nothing that Minho hasn’t seen anyway.

He keeps on feeding you tangerines in between your complaints about bad design standards until the movie ends and the plate is cleared. The only sound in the room is the soft music on the TV as the credits start to roll.

You turn to lie on your back, staring up at Minho. “That was deeply disturbing.”

“You chose it,” he reminds you. “You went in knowing what the premise was.”

“Yeah, I have no one to blame but me. I had too much faith in humanity.”

“And you call me weird.”

“You are weird,” you say. “But I like weird.”

Minho looks down at you and for a moment, he says nothing. His fingers trace something on your stomach. A heart or an odd circle, you don’t know; you’re always bad at deciphering those. His eyelids fall a bit, softening the usual sharpness of his gaze.

Then he’s pulling you by your shoulders, guiding you to sit up and before you know it, you’re situated on his lap with one of his hands on your waist, the other on the back of your neck. Minho tugs you closer, meeting your lips in a kiss in which you waste no time returning.

He’s sweet, like the tangerines that you were sharing all evening. It tends to start like this - sort of randomly, whenever it feels right. He squeezes your side in a comforting gesture as his tongue slips into your mouth. There are times where it’s more urgent, where one of you is needy and desperately seeks the escape and release that can only be found in the other’s embrace. Other times, it’s slower, more gentle, where you can really focus on making each other feel fully satiated.

This, right now - you would pinpoint somewhere in the middle. There’s no fiery clothes-ripping urge, nor a need to lay the other person bare and knead every single knot of stress from their system. Today, there’s just languid wanting; an unhurried inclination to be close.

Him and his tangerine flavored kiss, you and your resolve built on shaky foundation.

You start rolling your hips over his, tugging on his shirt because you want to feel his skin against yours. Minho stops you though; he puts both hands on your hips and pulls his lips away from yours. You blink, dazed, confused.

“I...” he starts, trying to even out his breathing as he finds the words. “I don’t want to have sex tonight.”

Embarrassment instantly washes over you. The rejection is a little humiliating; it’s the first time you’ve ever felt like this around him. Your cheeks catch fire from the mortification, and you’re very aware that you’re still sitting in his lap, right over his crotch.

Wanting to climb off of him and just fucking bury yourself in a ditch, you start stuttering like an absolute fool, “Oh... Y-yeah, no, of course! Shit, shit, I’m sorry. Of course we don’t have t-”

Minho holds you in place, one of the hands on your hips goes to cup your cheek to make you look at him. It effectively shuts you right up.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have phrased it like that,” he says, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone in an earnest apology. “I just want to keep kissing you. Is that okay?”

You’re at a loss for words. He’s holding your face, your waist, so delicately. He looks drunk on your presence alone even though neither of you have had a single drop of alcohol tonight, so sincere in his simple request that you feel your heart swell tenfold.

You want it too. You’re more than okay with just kissing him.

You don’t answer him verbally. Instead, you just nod and move to kiss him again, your hands tangled in his soft hair. The sweetness of the tangerines grows more and more distant as you chase his lips, but you can taste his smile. It’s infinitely more saccharine, and it only grows sweeter when he holds you close and knocks the breath out of you.

When you pull away for air, you slump against him, hiding your face in the crook of his face, shy all of a sudden. He keeps you there but continues with his onslaught of kisses - on your hair, your cheek, your neck, anywhere his lips can reach. Like he simply can’t get enough of you.

“You really like kissing,” you comment, giggling quietly as you do. “Even when we… y’know, bone.”

“Bone? You’re so romantic, babe.” You feel the rumbles of Minho’s chest as he lets out a hearty laugh, the sound of which fills the space of your modest home, embeds itself in every nook and crevice, in between every minuscule crack in your walls until the whole place feels warmer, brighter somehow. “Are you complaining?”

“No... just pointing it out.”

“Well, I like kissing you,” he says. “You’re not a terrible kisser, I guess.”

You sit up straighter and catch the teasing grin on his face before you roll your eyes. “Gee, thanks. You really know how to sweet talk a girl.”

“Says the girl who uses ‘bone’ to describe sex.”

“It’s a perfectly good euphemism for ‘sex’.”

“You might as well just say ‘boink’.”

“Literally shut up.”

“Sure.”

Then he’s pressing his mischievous smile against your mouth once more, and you can’t really wrap your mind around how it’s even possible that he keeps getting sweeter and sweeter. His sugary kisses send warmth tingling up your spine, make a fluttery sensation erupt in your stomach. You’re lightheaded, and not the kind that can be remedied by a sufficient fix of blood oxygen.

Even though you’re perfectly content with kissing, there’s a certain implication that comes with only kissing that you’re not sure what to do with. He’s literally inside of you on a weekly basis and yet, this feels much more intimate than anything you two have ever done.

Because friends don’t kiss each other the way he’s kissing you right now. Friends don’t kiss each other the way you’re kissing him back.

A chime from your phone breaks you two apart, the intrusion forcing a mildly frustrated grunt from Minho. You find the mobile device hidden between the cushions of your couch, and after you quickly scan the notification on the screen, you tell him, “It’s Hyunjin.”

“What did I say? It’s always him at the scene of the crime,” Minho mutters, speaking in the same tone that one would when their sibling interrupts a round of their favorite video game. “What does he want?”

“Just wants me to send him a photo of the sample portfolio from our class.”

“Ignore him. He can wait.”

“He’ll call me if I don’t reply.”

“He’s so annoying,” Minho grumbles but loosens his hold on you nonetheless. “Hurry back.”

“It’ll only take a minute, you big baby,” you chuckle, pressing a swift peck to his lips before you get up from the couch and head toward your bedroom with your phone in hand, searching for the binder that Hyunjin is asking about.

Once you’ve snapped the picture and sent it to your friend, you return to the living room. When Minho hears your footsteps, he holds out an arm, silently beckoning you into his embrace again. And you do. You slide into the space next to him, slotting perfectly against his side.

Your fingers absentmindedly trace along his forearm until they reach his wrist. “This is pretty,” you say, touching the thin link bracelet that he always wears, the one with a small charm hanging off the center in the simple outline of a dove.

“You like it? I’ve had it for ages.”

“Mhmm, it suits you.”

A moment passes where you both sit in silence as you fiddle with the gold jewelry, and you can feel Minho’s eyes on your face the entire time. After a while, he pries your fingers off his skin, only to swiftly take off the trinket.

“No, Min. What are you doing?”

He doesn’t answer you. You attempt (in vain) to pull your wrist back but Minho is stronger. He holds it in place as he clasps the chain around your wrist.

“Minho, you are not giving me your bracelet.”

“Relax. It’s not like it was passed down from my great-great-grandfather. It’s just a random bracelet I bought when I was 18.”

“Why would you even give me your bracelet?”

He shrugs, as though he’s merely doing something as simple as letting you borrow you a pen. “It looks good on you.”

You look down to where his hand is still on your skin, his thumb gently sliding over your pulse point as he admires how the dainty gold reflects the dim lighting in your home.

And he’s right. It does look good, but he probably doesn’t mean it in the same way that you’re thinking of right now. You think it looks good because it’s something that belongs to him that’s now wrapped snugly around your wrist, like some sort of affirmation spoken in a language that only the two of you can understand.

Minho leans over and presses his warm lips to your forehead. It takes you by surprise, the way he does it as if it’s second nature to be this affectionate with you. It’s a tipping point, then suddenly your thoughts are running rampant.

The instruction has always been plain and simple: No strings attached.

But...

The chaste kisses with no expectation of sex, being protective when you’re in the presence of other guys, even giving you his bracelet to wear just because you said it was pretty.

Why do all of these sound an awful lot like strings?

You hesitate, then you ask, “What are we doing?”

“Hmm? You wanna watch another movie?”

“No, that’s not... What are we doing?” You don’t even know what word to put more emphasis on.

Minho looks at you and loosens his fingers. What he can’t understand through your words, you think he sees it in your eyes. “Say what you mean.”

“Are we friends?”

“Of course we are.”

“Are we still friends?”

“Do you not want to be friends anymore?” He cracks a smile, but you can tell that he’s just doing it to lighten you up. “You have terrible timing. I literally just gave you a bracelet.”

“Friends don’t do that.”

“Friends don’t give each other bracelets?”

“Friends don’t kiss like that.”

Minho seems a bit taken aback, though he regains his composure in mere seconds, his voice calm as he tells you, “Friends don’t have sex either.”

“What are you saying?”

“I don’t know. What are you saying? You brought it up.”

You open your mouth, only to subsequently close it because your thoughts were never really that coherent in the first place. You look away from him to glance down at your wrist.

“You’re being confusing,” Minho says quietly, honestly.

“I just… I don’t want anything to change.”

“Did anything change for you?” he asks.

“No,” is what you tell him after a long minute, when what you really mean to say is I don’t know. You can see it as it happens, some stars fading from his eyes, some light growing more faint in his irises. Though the despondence on his face disappears so fast that you’re not sure if it was even there at all, or if it was only a figment of your imagination.

Then you throw the question back at him. “Did anything change? For you?”

Minho’s answer is the same as yours - a clear No - and yet, it makes you feel like you’ve been punctured by something sharp. You don’t know why your heart drops upon hearing him say the exact same thing that you did, but you try not to let it show on your face. Your poker face isn’t anywhere as good as his, but you hope that it’s enough.

You give him a tight-lipped smile and nod a little.

“Then nothing’s changed.” He strokes your hair, emphasizing his point with a soft smile as he reassures you, “And nothing has to change. It’s a bracelet, don’t overthink it. We’re good.”

Sometimes, the decisions you make are bad because you can foresee the outcomes, or at least, you have an idea of the consequences will be later on and yet, you still choose to go through with it anyway.

Just like how you chose to watch a movie you knew would drive you crazy with its trivial details, you choose to accept the feeling of Minho’s bracelet around your wrist. You choose to believe him when he said nothing has changed, and that nothing has to change. You choose to sweep under the rug the thoughts that you’ve been having about him lately. You choose to overlook the reason why you’ve been having those thoughts instead of facing it head-on because you’re terrified of what you’d find if you dig deeper.

You choose to let the conversation end here though it still lingers in your mind, and you choose to let him kiss you goodnight when he leaves because tonight has already been a series of bad decision after bad decision anyway.

And when you fall asleep, it’s the soothing coolness of the golden dove against your skin that lulls you to slumber, like he’s here right beside you to hold you through the night.

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