#or he was magicked up that’s possible too.

[phosphorus-noodles]

had a thought last night and am now considering the possibility of toh au joel being raised by lesbians. probably nature wives

[miupow]

Just Like Magic! | K. TH

“𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩.” -Blaise Pascal

❝You're a novice witch in love with her mentor, something frowned upon and taboo, especially when it comes to magick; but you just can't help it, Taehyun is simply too talented and handsome! you're content with admiring from afar... but when you get ahold of an ancient spellbook with a recipe for a curious potion, your curiosity takes over.❞

✦ PAIRING: warlock!kang taehyun x witch!fem!reader ✦ RATING: NSFW, MDNI! ✦ WORDS: 6.8k ✦ WARNINGS: smut, dom!taehyun, sub!reader, fantasy au, dubcon elements, aphrodisiacs, oral sex (f. and m. rec), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, wet dreams, f2?, power imbalance, powerplay, name calling, degradation kink, rough sex ✦ A/N: this is not proofread! inspired by an ask from @napofamoon~~ your brain is so huge and i love it so much, so happy to be mooties w you :3

taglist: @wintertxt , @boba-beom , @wolfytae-exe , @takemehye , @naomiarai , @mapofthemazeinthemirror , @bunnie-hq , @doumachi , @numxra , @soobinsbuns , @taegimood , @jeniihss , @soobabby , @hhoneylix , @beargyuuzz , @fullbodyblankets , @xenkimmie, @ttaesoob , @shinyngirl , @lxnoluvr , @blxxsss , @ode2soob, @beom-gyubears, @ashiixari, @lurking-coconut , @horanghaelovr , @yyeonzi , @paegesoobin , @nightlyhyuka, @i814hue, @f4iryfever

Taehyun had warned you that this witch was a bit of a hoarder, but nothing could have prepared you for the marvel that was her cottage; from the floor to the ceiling old and rickety bookcases flanked every possible open space, packed to the brim with every book you could have possibly thought of, accompanied by all sorts of trinkets, herbs and crystals-- your eyes scanned over the washed-out spines, fading ink hardly legible on most of them; A Hundred and One Ways To Use Fairy Dust. Potionmaking for the Hearth and Home. The Greater Area Magickal Beast Encyclopedia. Simple Charms For Everyday Life. "Hey, Taehyun, look at this!" you called over your shoulder, already anticipating your mentor's irritated sigh. "There's a book all about magical mushrooms, wouldn't that help us with this stupid assignment we're on--?"

You reach out for the battered green textbook but Taehyun's quick to slap your hand away, brow furrowed over his big brown eyes-- he was cute when he was angry, and you delighted in annoying him to his wit's end. "I said don’t touch anything; Don’t make me look like a fool when we're only here for ingredients. And we're here on the behalf of the Crown, thank you, nothing about this is stupid. You're being childish."

"He's made us travel half across the kingdom for a fancy cologne, essentially. I think it's a little silly." you retort under your breath. Taehyun turns away from you sharply with an angry huff, and you bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from grinning.

"It's a luck spell, not a cologne. Don't you want our Prince to succeed at his first banquet?"

"He just wants it for all of the girls that will be there," you laugh. "You and I both know this has nothing to do with his royal duties and everything to do with his flirting skills."

"And that's none of our business." Taehyun answers curtly, though the tick in his jaw shows you that you've struck a nerve-- your mentor had known the crown prince his entire life, grown up with him, and while he cared about him like a brother the Prince also never failed to irk him (and you) with the most outlandish requests. "We're just doing our jobs. Now stay here and keep your hands to yourself, understand? Don't go anywhere, don't touch anything, and I'll be back shortly. I just need to get these mushrooms from the herbalist."

“Why can’t I go with you?” You pout. “You always make me stay behind.”

“Just do as I say.” Taehyun snips, jaw clenching as he begins to walk away.

"Yes, sir." You reply, rolling your eyes at Taehyun's retreating head.

"Good girl," He replies over his shoulder, curt and clipped. An all-too-familiar heat rushes to your cheeks at his words. You used to hate it when he addressed you like that.

You hardly ever listened to what Taehyun told you anyway, so you were quick to continue browsing through the countless shelves once your mentor was out of sight-- you couldn't pass up an opportunity to surround yourselves with the things you loved most; spellbooks. After spending a childhood surrounded by those who hated the craft, your fearful family forbidding you from ever practicing the natural talents you had been born with… you couldn't get enough of reading anything you possibly could. Besides, Taehyun just adored leaving you behind like some squire, never including you in any of his duties– you had to learn for yourself one way or another.

You tip-toed your way through the winding labyrinth of bookshelves, eager fingers and eager eyes analyzing every tome, scanning any title that piqued your interest. It all seemed to be standard fare, however, things that you had read and studied before, so you left them unbothered on the shelves… except…

You had glanced right over it initially, gold title too weathered and faded to read, but its cracked leather cover kept calling to you as you continued down the shelves, making you turn around and walk back to its spot nestled in-between two much larger tomes. Dust stuck to the pad of your finger when you ran it down the book's spine, marveled at the purple cover-- most of the cottage's windows were covered up by all of the piled-on clutter inside, keeping everything veiled in comfortable shade, but cracks and beams of the bright, warm sunshine seeped through and caught the little book in the most mystifying shimmer. You'd never known leather to shine like that, like little crystals embedded into the fabric. Your curiosity gets the better of you; without much self restraint, you pull the small book down in a cloud of dust, tickling your lungs-- you resist the urge to cough the best you possibly could, lest you alert Taehyun or, Gods forbid, the owner of this cottage. You managed a strangled little wheeze instead.

You turn the book around in your hands, inspecting it's cover from all angles; there's nothing on the back, just smooth, purple-ish leather, and the writing on the spine is illegible, but the title is still bold and striking on the front. In careful, hand-written penmanship the words "Love Magick" were written, nothing else. No author's name, no description-- you should just put the book back and carry on, keep yourself out of trouble, but you just couldn’t help from cracking open the pages.

"What an interesting little spellbook you picked, that one." a withered old voice creeps from over your shoulder. "Wouldn't have been my first choice."

You yelp, fumbling, rushing to shove the book back on the shelf-- the old woman behind you laughs, bright and cheerful, and a spindly wrinkled hand comes to pat you on the shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't-- I mean, I wasn't--!"

"Oh, don't apologize now, dearie. Books were made to be read, after all." She snatches the little spellbook out of your hands, catching you off guard, and takes a hold of the small crystal bifocals that hang around her thin swan neck on a beaded chain. You gaze at her quizzically, taking in her odd appearance; several large gold rings adorn her crooked fingers, matching the gaudy bauble earrings hanging from her ears, so large they made her short, thin frame even frailer-- swathed in a shapeless, faded periwinkle dress that had leaves caught in the hem, grey hair frazzled and reaching up towards the sky, she glittered just as brightly as the spellbook did. She moves the little glasses up to perch on her hooked nose, squinting deeply at the cover of the book, and it took a few moments of perplexed investigation before her wrinkled and sun-spotted face lit up in recognition. "Ah, I remember this one! I haven't looked at these pages in quite some time."

You supposed this must be the herbalist, but you distinctly remember Taehyun describing her as much younger than the woman standing before you. "I'm sorry, madam," You apologize again, twisting your hands together nervously. "I wasn't snooping around, I promise--!"

"Don't lie, now." The old woman chuckles, tracing one long and painted red fingernail over the book's cover. "You were snooping. But that's quite alright, a little curiosity is good for the soul."

You blink owlishly.

"You know, this is one of the rarest books on these shelves," she continues, beady eyes looking upwards to regard her enormous collection. "I've been here for a very long time, and I have many, many books, but there is only one of these little books right here."

"Only one?" You ask quietly, giving the spellbook a wide-eyed stare. It twinkled back at you like it was winking. "Why is that?"

"Why, because I wrote it, of course!" She smiles, flipping quickly through the yellowed pages, regarding them like old friends-- you supposed that they were, in a way. "Many, many years ago. It's nothing fancy, darling, just some home recipes. You can take it if you'd like, I'm far too old for this kind of spellwork now. I think you'd have much more use for it anyway.”

"What, really?" Trying not to seem too eager, you take the book back when she hands it to you, run your fingertips across the title. "What do you mean? I couldn't possibly take this, ma'am--"

"I saw the way you were looking at that handsome wizard you came with, you know. You're ever so obvious." the old woman giggles, her deep set eyes twinkling with mirth. "I remember being young and in love… magick could always help with that, you know."

You squeak and flush hot, head whipping around to make sure no one else was near-- if Taehyun heard any part of this conversation, you'd never be able to look him in the eyes again. "No, it isn't like that! He's my mentor, that's all!" And that's all it will ever be, you thought sadly. Nothing more, nothing less.

"If that's what you would like to believe…" The old woman shrugs, a smile still gracing her wrinkled face. "But I insist, take it. It was calling for you, dearie… it told me itself! Now hurry along before we both get in trouble--"

"Grandma!" another unfamiliar voice calls, a pretty young witch twisting her way through the bookcases to approach you and the old woman. Taehyun followed her with a covered basket nestled in his arms; the ingredients that you had come here for, you presumed. You shove the book haphazardly into your satchel, praying neither of them had noticed anything amiss. Taehyun had irritatingly sharp eyes. "Grandma, I thought I told you to stay in the garden!"

"I was just talking to this lovely young lady here," The old woman-- the Madam's grandmother-- replied brightly, briskly hobbling over to the young witch's side. "You know old hags like me never listen."

"You're not a hag, Grandma, don't say that… I'm sorry about her, she's gotten a little wild in her old age." The Madam sighs, intertwining her arm with her grandmother's. The old woman seemed to find this entire ordeal incredibly amusing. "You're both free to leave now, thank you for your patience. I hope those mushrooms serve the Prince well."

"Thank you, Madam," Taehyun bows, always so polite. He turns and begins to walk to the cottage door, motioning with his fingers for you to follow-- you scramble after him like a lost puppy.

"I like him," You hear the old woman say as the two of you depart.

You had walked to the cottage and therefore had to walk back to your shared hut on castle grounds; you had spent the entire time getting there complaining, but now you followed Taehyun quietly and with your head down as you both trekked through the trees. "You're awfully quiet." Taehyun remarks casually, turning his head to regard you with an unreadable expression. "What are you thinking about?"

"Oh, nothing." You reply, maybe a little too quickly. Taehyun raises an eyebrow. "Just thinking is all."

It felt as though there was a hole burning through your satchel.

You waited until late that night to finally take a proper look at your new spellbook, having shoved it haphazardly under your pillow when you and Taehyun had finally returned home-- only after you had triple-checked that your mentor was sound asleep did you feel comfortable enough to pull it out and read it. Certainly you were making it a much bigger deal than it needed to be, it was just a book after all… but something about it and what lied in it's pages felt forbidden and sacred to you, something that you should keep hidden from Taehyun, his condescending smirk, and his prying eyes.

Maybe he would get the wrong idea, quite like the old woman. You had no intention of using any of these spells on him.

Holding the candle you kept by your bedside for light, you took in the spellbook's cover once again. Its deep purple color was faded and washed out, dusty and dirty and ages old, yet it was even more beautiful in the moonlight. The night sky shone through an open window near your bed, catching the cover like little stars captured and woven into the leather… You could never place it inconspicuously on Taehyun's bookshelf, amongst his boring canvas-wrapped manuals and journals. You could never place it anywhere where he could possibly find it at all; it was far too brilliant, too eye-catching. You would simply have to keep it tucked away in the safety of your bedroom.

You crack open the book, it's spine cracking from disuse. Instead of a proper book, like you had expected, your eyes met the pages of what seemed to be a journal; pages and pages of messy scribbles and notes, crammed on small pieces of twine-bound parchment, recipes and spell incantations and notes about any spellcasting ingredient you could possibly think of. There were even diary entries among the notes, meandering paragraphs about that old woman's personal life many years ago… No organization, no cohesiveness, just pretty cursive words muddled together and jumbled on top of each other in a confusing mess… It was endearing, an insight into her youth, and you adored every page.

And then you saw it. Halfway through the journal, tucked away between two uninteresting diary entries, you discovered a folded up and torn out page. With careful fingers you picked it up and peeled it open, casting the spellbook aside for now-- and to your surprise you were confronted with the recipe for a love potion.

Simple but Powerful Love Potion

Ingredients:

-2 quarts of standard potion base; fresh moonwater charged under the full moon

-a large handful of dried rose petals and a single thorn, ground in a mortar and pestal to the consistency of a fine powder.

-a small spoonful of crushed siren scales

-one large mother of pearl

-2 small sticks of Licorice root

-a few strands of unicorn mane hair

-a single droplet of pure love

Directions:

Over a burner, prepare the moonwater in a small pewter cauldron, keeping it away from sunlight. Bring the base to a boil before adding the licorice root and mother of pearl, and then lower the heat and leave the potion to simmer overnight. The next day, add the crushed rose petals and thorn, unicorn hair, and siren scales. Stir clockwise until the potion turns a bright pink, and then leave to sit for another night. Last, add the droplet of love, give one clockwise stir, and your potion is complete.

P.S. Please use sparingly, a little goes a long way! Perfect for stupid men who won't take a hint.

You stare at the paper in disbelief. Is this what the old woman meant by you making "good use" of her spellbook? Surely not! She was a woman of the craft, she knew as well as you did that any romance between apprentice and mentor was looked down upon, not to mention when it was aided by magickal intervention… The herbalist must have truly been telling the truth when she said her grandmother had started to go mad! You couldn't even fathom the consequences if you were caught doing anything of this sort-- you'd be stripped of your titles, expelled from your studies, exiled even… and Taehyun…

Taehyun would never forgive you. He'd be disgusted by you.

You shove the recipe back into the book and shut it with a dull snap, toss it away from you like it was poised to attack; you hated yourself for entertaining the thought for even a second. Taehyun wasn't just your mentor and your crush, but your friend, and you couldn't possibly do that to him! He trusted you, with his pretty dark eyes and his cocky smirk, and his big, warm, veiny hands with thick calloused fingers that rested on your lower back when you were nervous in public and needed comfort. His thick arms with muscles that bulged out of his tunic sleeves when he rolled them up, his sharp teeth that he liked to bare when he sneered. His gentle, soothing voice and his never ending generosity and politeness that were a pinnacle of him even when he was one of the most stuck up people you could think of. You couldn't ever do anything like that to him, even if you died a little bit inside every day that he never seemed to glance your way.

But… you thought, reaching back over to the discarded spellbook with a shaking hand, it wouldn't hurt to re-read the recipe, just in case.

"Taehyunnie?" You ask sweetly, peeking your head into his study. "Can I ask you something real quick?"

Gathering most of the ingredients had been relatively easy. If anything, you were caught off guard by the ease in which you put together your secret potion, hidden and bubbling away in the safety of your bedroom, a place Taehyun never dared to enter. You snuck to and from Taehyun's packed pantries whenever he was sleeping, prepared everything exactly as the recipe had stated-- you had never made a potion before, but you had a fairly good feeling that you were doing a fine job. Most of the ingredients were common potionmaking faire anyway, things you had observed Taehyun fiddling around with in the past, things you had on hand and the basic knowledge needed to prepare… except for one small detail.

Your potion sat simmering a pretty opaque pink, which meant it was ready for that little "drop of love" the recipe called for, and then it would finally be done… but you could not for the life of you understand what that could even mean. How in the world could you possibly get your hands on a droplet of materialized love? Was that even possible?

Taehyun looked up from the book he was reading with an annoyed sigh, hooded eyes searching the room before landing onto yours with a quirked brow. You never bothered him when he was studying, and you most certainly never called him 'Taehyunnie'. Not unless you were trying to weasel something out of him, at least. "Yes?" He drawled, returning back to his reading as you tiptoed closer, took a curious look over his shoulder; you caught snippets of something about astronomy and equations, the pages mostly filled with numbers and symbols you couldn't even pretend to understand. You wondered if it had anything to do with the Prince again.

"I was doing some reading…" you begin slowly, scattered mind racing to come up with a proper preface for your question. You had practiced what you were going to say at least a dozen times, you were sure of it, but every line had fled your head the moment you called Taehyun's name.

"'Reading?' That's not like you." Taehyun retorted with a snort, turning the page. He didn’t even bother to look up when you huffed in response, but you could see his grin hidden behind the hand he rested on his cheek.

"I read plenty!" you bark, taking the bait, but regain your composure when you catch a glimpse of Taehyun's smirk widening. "It’s for my studies-- I'm to be tested by the Magickal High Court soon, you know."

"I'm well aware. I’m sure you’ll do just fine." Taehyun responds tersely, picking up his quill and scribbling a note down into his journal. He must have felt your eyes glaring daggers at the back of his head, because he waved a dismissive hand at you. "But go on."

"Well… I was reading up on potions and I came across an ingredient I haven't heard about before. I was wondering if… if you knew anything about it."

Taehyun's quill stopped moving. "I see." he says, far too cryptically for your liking. "Well, what is it? It’s getting dark— it’s about time you go to bed.”

“The recipe– I mean, the spellbook I was reading mentioned something about a ‘droplet of love.’” You stumble, fidgeting nervously. “ Do you know what that is?”

Taehyun doesn’t say anything for a moment,stares down at his spellbook long enough to make you sweat, before turning to re-dip his quill in his inkpot. “Well, that could mean many things.” he says, uninterested, continuing his notes. You let out a relieved sigh you weren’t aware you were holding.

“What do you mean?” you prod gently.

Taehyun lets out an irritated sigh. “Some spellwork can be left up to interpretation, made unique and personalized for the spellcaster. Often when instructions are not clear, it's because you're supposed to figure it out yourself.”

“Figure it out myself?” You echo, a little outraged. This explanation wasn’t helping you at all.

“When practicing magick that involves complex ideas like emotions and memories, things begin to blur between the literal and the figurative.” Taehyun elaborates. The way he was hunched over his desk made his shoulders look much broader than they were, and it was getting increasingly harder to focus on what he was saying. “More advanced spellwork sometimes requires the spellcaster to work with physical manifestations of these ideas.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” You retort combatively, crossing your arms over your chest. Taehyun’s non-answers were only serving to piss you off. “I can’t manifest love.”

“Sure you can.” Taehyun answers vaguely, shaking his head. You wished you could see the look on his face. “A ‘droplet of love" may just refer to some sort of representation, whatever that may mean to you specifically. Though "droplet" tends to refer to some kind of liquid, so you can start there.”

“Liquified love? What would that be, though?”

"Honestly, I'm not exactly sure either. But you're a smart girl, I'm sure you can figure it out." Taehyun once again raises his hand to wave you away. “Go off to bed now, you can spend all of tomorrow thinking about it if you have to; I need to finish this before I go to bed, and you’re keeping me up.”

“But–”

“Go to bed. Don’t misbehave now.” Taehyun looks up from his notes and meets your gaze– the look on his face is as unreadable and stoic as usual, plush lips stretched into a thin line, but the swirling darkness in his eyes makes your head spin; he knows something, you can feel it. A strange familiarity that panics you deeply, pisses you off; why does he love so much to keep you in the dark? Is it because he enjoys leaving you confused and ignorant? Or is it because there’s knowledge he genuinely doesn’t want you to know?

You trudge back to your room dejectedly, peel off your robes and climb into your bed like a defeated soldier– you might have just tipped off to Taehyun that you were up to something, and what did you get out of it? Absolutely nothing. Just some cryptic words.

Going to Taehyun was a bad idea; you wallowed now in your own stupidity.

Droplet of love, you repeat to yourself as you drift off to sleep. Droplet of love…

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Taehyun hisses venomously, eyes narrowed and wild. You’ve never seen him this angry.

“It isn’t what it looks like, I swear!” you cry desperately, try to cover your still brewing potion with your body– Taehyun is too quick, grabs you rough by your nightgown and pulls you up against him. His face is so close to your own you can feel his hot, panting breath fan across your cheeks.

“Isn’t what it looks like?” Taehyun spits. “My stupid little assistant being a little whore, making a love potion behind my back? How stupid do you think I am?!”

You open your mouth to defend yourself, but Taehyun doesn’t let you utter a single word. “Were you gonna use it on me, huh? Gonna get me to fuck you? Needed some cock so badly that you were willing to throw everything away for it? Stupid fucking whore. You could have just asked.”

Taehyun lets go of your nightgown and you crumple at his feet on the floor, groveling and sobbing for his mercy. “Please don’t tell anyone, I’m sorry!” you beg, too distraught to catch the last part of Taehyun’s rant. “I won’t ever do it again, I won’t ever go behind you back agan, please!” Big fat tears stream heavy down your hot face, chest caving as you beg for your mentor's forgiveness... yet still your thighs squeeze together at his venomous words and his nasty tone, poor pussy throbbing for attention– Taehyun notices your quivering thighs with a sneer, eyes dark and cold.

“Such a fucking slut… you like this, huh? Me yelling at you?” with his big rough hand he tugs you up to your knees, holds your chin in place as he unbuckles his belt and undoes his trousers. “Want me to put you in your place? Trying to sneak around behind my back, bad little girl… need to remind you of who’s in charge. Let me use that pretty throat and I’ll forgive you.”

Taehyun pulls his cock out, flushed and leaking, flared tip shiny and begging for your tongue— in one violent thrust he sheaths himself in your throat all the way to the hilt. You gag and splutter, tears still streaming down your face, but even with your blurry vision you can see Taehyun’s sick smile as his cockhead kisses the back of your throat. “Good girl,” he hisses, “Take it like the whore you are.”

Using the hand he has tangled in your hair as leverage, Taehyun begins thrusting his hips in earnest, heavy balls slapping against your chin— your whines come out like garbled chokes, pathetic and dizzy on your knees while your mentor uses your throat like nothing more than a toy for his own pleasure. “so fucking good at this, aren’t you?” He sneers, “Such a good little assistant you are.”

You keen around his cock, pussy fluttering around nothing and dripping slick, your poor panties soaked through and ruined completely. You feel so empty it almost hurts, gummy walls aching for the cock fucking your throat open, but you can hardly find it in you to care— you’re distracted by the warlock’s taste, the nasty wet sounds, the way your scalp burns from his grip on your hair. Your hands, previously laying limp at your sides, reach up to claw uselessly at his thighs, which only seems to spur him on, hips slamming hard against your face as he moans deep in his chest.

“No one else fucks this throat like me, huh? Think anyone else can use you like this?” His chest is heaving, cock twitching violently in your mouth— he’s about to cum, and your cunt clenches with excitement. “Should just slut you out right in front of the entire kingdom, even the Prince— fuck! show everyone who you belong to, who your master is!”

You whimper pathetically, one of your hands leaving his thigh to play with your neglected covered clit— Taehyun growls, pulls hard at your hair, snickers darkly when you rush to place your hand back on his thigh. “Don’t you dare touch that cunt, that’s my cunt, you think you deserve it?”

Your pussy is throbbing, hot tears streaming down your cheeks as Taehyun continues fucking your face, “I said, do you think you deserve it? Answer your master.”

You shake your head no, as best you can speared on his dick, sobbing snotty and broken and so desperate for his cum. “That’s what I thought.” Taehyun laughs humorlessly. “Good little witch.”

You can’t focus on anything other than making sure to breathe and hollow your cheeks and stay perfectly still so Taehyun can have his way with you– your jaw aches, but you swirl your tongue around Taehyun‘s shaft the best you could anyway. “Fuck, gonna cum!” He whimpers after a particularly harsh suck, hips stuttering, his big hands moving to cup both of your cheeks. It would be sweet in any other situation, so gentle and loving if he wasn’t bruising your throat with the force of his thrusts. “G-gonna— pretty little throat gonna make me cum, shit! ‘m cumming–!”

You wake up with a gasp, heart pounding in your chest so violently it was painful– it takes you a few moments for you to recognize your own surroundings, realize that you’re tucked safely in your bed and not caught red handed by your mentor; you can hear the soft bubbling of your potion at the foot of your bed, undisturbed and simmering away…

And between your legs was a sticky wet mess, your thin panties soaked through, arousal dribbling down the insides of your thighs— you’re humiliated but so turned on from your dream you could hardly think, fingers trailing down to dip into your panties and run along your slit… and you marvel, intoxicated, at the way thick droplets trickle down your fingertips when you pull them back.

Droplet of love…

Taehyun had fallen asleep at his desk that night, slumped over his scrolls and spellbooks, so you felt it was only right to wake him up with a treat— a steaming hot cup of perfectly brewed tea, complete with a little wooden teaspoon and a saucer full of freshly-baked cookies. Taehyun stared it down like it was staring back at him.

“You never make me tea.” he says flatly, brown eyes flickering between the cup and your face, making no moves to take the teacup from your outstretched hand. His sleepy, raspy voice and disheveled appearance would have made you swoon if you weren’t going half-mad with anxiety.

“Well, you’ve been working so hard! You know, for the Prince and all.” you chirp cheerily, voice only trembling slighrly. “I just wanted to show my appreciation!”

“Right.” he gives you an odd, side-eyed look but does eventually take the cup, takes a good long look into the amber liquid before stirring it slowly with the spoon. You were starting to sweat. “You’ve been acting odd lately. I’m a little concerned.” he says after a few moments of painful silence, making your sweating turn into full on chills. “Is there anything you aren’t telling me, ___?”

“No!” you bleat out immediately and far too quickly, making Taehyun turn his head to regard you quizzically. You didn’t have any time to process the fact that he cared for you at all. “No, nothing at all! Everything’s totally normal!”

Taehyun blinks. You give him a smile, but you’re fairly sure it turned out more like a grimace.

“If you say so…” Taehyun concedes, placing the saucer on his desk. “If you’re certain everything’s in order, would you mind running a little errand for me?”

“Of course!” you agree quickly, a genuine smile creeping onto your face. You thank the Gods above that Taehyun actually took the tea, now all that was left was to wait… and you supposed that playing errand girl was the perfect task for the meantime.

Taehyun picks up a small, parchment-wrapped parcel from among the clutter of his desk and hands it to you. “Would you be a doll and hand this to the Prince for me? And tell him to be sparing with it, for goodness’ sake, it’s not one of his perfumes.”

You take it gently, blushing— the package was much lighter than you expected it to be, and it gives a light rattle when you turn it over in your hands. “What is it?” you ask; you can never stop yourself from being nosy. Taehyun sighs, but there’s a mirthful glimmer in his eye that makes you giggle.

“The luck spell, remember? Now go on, he needs it to take effect by the evening.”

You waltz back into the cottage as the sun was just beginning to creep behind the treetops, having made sure to take your sweet, sweet time delivering the Prince’s package– you even stayed for tea and a chat, just in case; it wasn’t really your fault that the crown royal never knew when to shut up, was it?

“Taehyun?” you call out as you step inside— everything seemed perfectly normal and nothing was out of place, and perfectly still silence met you as you continued through the front room and into your winding, rickety hallway, at the end of which was your mentor’s study. The door was left slightly ajar.

You peeked inside, tentative; back facing you, you could see Taehyun hunched over his work desk, head hung low as he gripped onto the wood with white knuckles. He was panting, shoulders heaving with the force of his breaths, his arms shaking— your heart soared with euphoria. The potion must be working, you thought with zeal.

“Taehyun?” you call again, voice barely above a whisper dripping with faux concern, trembling with excitement, and you gently push the heavy oak door farther open with an ear-ringing creek. Taehyun’s head snaps up at the noise, startling you with his expression— his eyes were wide and wild, face flaming red, and he stares at you in shock and in rapture for a deafening few moments before averting his gaze and tugging hard at the collar of his tunic. He turns back to look at the scrolls on his desk with a cough. You could still see the blush coloring the tips of his ears.

“Taehyun, are you okay?” you ask, this time not having to fake the worry. You take a few tentative steps towards the warlock— he looked almost as if he was in pain, and you anxiously wonder if maybe you should have been more faithful to ‘a little goes a long way.’

“I’m fine.” Taehyun grunts, his usually light voice gruff and strained. The sound of it hit you deep in your tummy. “Just feel a little hot, that's all.”

You take a few steps closer, slowly and cautiously, and reach out your hand to touch his shoulder. “A-are you sure?”

“Don’t come any closer.” Taehyun warns, voice flat but dark, dripping something that makes your thighs clench together.

Your fingertips just barely brushed the top of his shoulder.

As if possessed, Taehyun spins around within an instant and grabs your wrist tightly, staring you down for a long, intense moment with a primal, dangerously dark look— it frightens and excites you, leaving your head spinning.

He uses your wrist to pull you roughly to his chest, faces centimeters apart and bodies flush; within the same breath he cages you against his desk, traps you tight between his muscular arms.

You can feel his breath fan your face as he pants like a dog, lowers his head closer and closer to yours. “I’m not sure what’s wrong with me; I just need you…”

His pillowy lips crash onto yours mid-gasp, passionate and dominating— you lean into the kiss immediately, moaning high in your throat when he deepens it, tilting your head back to stake a possessive claim that leaves you dizzy and gasping for air. He moves to run his hand up your thigh and grind his hips against yours, pushing your skirt up your hips. His thick hard cock presses hard up against your dripping slit, soaking your thin cotton panties. When he pulls away, hissing, you can see a damp spot on the crotch of his pants, outlining his straining bulge obscenely.

“Tyun—“ you whimper, but he’s quick to cut you off. He lowers himself down and takes a hold of your thighs, tugs them over his shoulders and dangling in the air; he chuckles out a breath that blows icy cold against your sopping panties.

“Just need a taste of you…”

His nose bumps gently against your throbbing clit and he mouths hot and heavy against your folds through the covering fabric. You keen desperately, nearly shriek when he begins to run the flat of his tongue up your slit and towards your clit. “Lemme taste you…” Taehyun breathes against your cunt, his long finger coming to tug at the hem of your panties.

“Anything you want!” you whine, twisting your own fingers into his thick hair. Taehyun grins wickedly.

“Anything I want?” he coos, poisonously sweet. “What a good little assistant I have.”

With a rough tug he pulls your panties to your knees, leaves your legs tangled in the wet fabric and up in the air. Taehyun devours your cunt like a starved man, his thick lips sucking tight on your clit and his tongue slow and nasty around your entrance. He drinks up your arousal as if it were some type of ambrosia, only going faster and faster with his motions until you cum all over his face with a cry, until you’re tugging hard at his hair and whining for him to stop.

He pulls away from your pussy with a longing glance, his lips and chin dripping your slick, the tip of his nose shiny. “You said whatever I want,” he pants, standing up to begin unbuckling his belt. “Gotta fuck you now, gotta fuck this pretty little pussy…”

Taehyun’s cock springs out of his trousers, slaps against his belly before standing to attention, veins throbbing— he fists his shaft loosely, enough for you to catch a glimpse of pearly white pre-cum leak out the slit of his thick pink head. Your tongue ached for the taste.

“Yes, yes, please,” you beg, pulling him closer so he can grind his cock between your weeping folds, getting his shaft nice and wet with a sloppy mix of his spit and your arousal. His cockhead pushes at your hole teasingly, and Taehyun lets it slip against your rim and slides up your folds to bump your clit. You whimper and attempt to spread your legs any bit farther, restricted by your panties— Taehyun chuckles before readjusting his cock and sheathing himself entirely in your cunt in one deep stroke. His cockhead kisses your cervix, your walls stretched so suddenly and so painfully good that you cry out in surprise and ecstasy. “You’re so deep!” you gasp, your eyes rolling back into your head when Taehyun starts rolling his hips in a ruthless rhythm.

“Take it like a good girl,” he laughs, repositioning his hands to grab tight at your hips so he could thrust into you in earnest, hips slapping together loud and wet, impossibly fast. “So tight, shit! Feel so fucking good, you’re so wet— perfect cocksleeve, perfect pussy.”

He splits you in two, your gummy walls stretched past your limits, hugging tight on his throbbing cock. Your cervix gets pounded with every hard thrust, his cock so deep you could feel him in your lower belly. “I’ve wanted to fuck you so bad,” Taehyun confesses, pussy drunk. “Wanted you since I first met you— You’re mine now, pretty thing, you hear me? Perfect pussy for me, never letting you go.”

“Yes!” you wail, too fucked out to process any of what he had just said. All you could think about or focus on was how good Taehyun was fucking you, how his heavy tightening balls were slapping against your ass, how that fiery hot knot in your belly grew tighter and tighter. “I’m yours, I’m yours!”

“Fuck yeah, that’s right. All mine, baby.” Taehyun groans deeply, hips stuttering. His hand lets go of your waist to circle your clit with rough, calloused fingertips.

You’re sent barreling towards your climax, that fire in your belly all-consuming as your pussy flutters around Taehyun’s cock. “Feels so good!” you sob, gripping his thick bicep for support. “I’m gonna cum, Taehyunnie, ‘m gonna cum—!”

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum too. Beg for my cum, baby; I’m gonna cum inside you, fill you up!” Taehyun’s cock twitched and throbbed inside your cunt, his thrusts wild and desperate. “All mine…”

“Cum inside, please! I need it, I need your cum so bad!” you hiccup, big fat tears rolling down your puffy hot cheeks from overstimulation. “Want your cum in my pussy!”

Taehyun does so with a broken moan, shoving his cock as deep inside of you as he could go, up against your cervix. He paints your walls white, floods your womb with his thick hot seed. You can feel his cock twitch with every spurt— you cum yourself a second time from the sensation, pussy clenching hard around Taehyun's slowly softening cock. He grunts, winces and grits his teeth.

Your chest is heaving as you pant for air and so is Taehyun’s, both of you sweaty and spent and trying to catch your breath. He dips his head to rest his forehead against your own, something so touchingly intimate it makes your heart clench, and you’re just about to close your eyes and bask in your euphoria, you catch Taehyun’s evil sneer.

“Silly girl thought I didn’t know? how stupid do you think I am?”

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

The Arcana HCs: M6 get kidnapped and tortured

~ an overdue sequel to MC gets kidnapped and tortured. CW for mentions of being restrained (in the scary way), having injuries, broken body parts, and trauma processing. enjoy! - brainrot ~

You'll never forgive yourself for how easy it was to lose your beloved.

It was just after breakfast - an unusually slow one, morning light spilling across the emptied dishes, a contented, carefree smile dancing from your lover's eyes to their lips and back again. They had stood slowly, bent to press a chaste kiss to your cheek, and stepped out to check briefly for wherever their familiar had disappeared to.

And then they didn't come back, and you didn't think to look for them until it was far, far too late.

The next time you saw them, it was in the back corner of a windowless cell, bound with their arms behind them to a wooden pillar, clothes tattered and bloodied and head slumped with the brokenness that can only come from despair and abandonment.

Julian

Apparently he's been surviving the last several weeks by dreaming of you, because he doesn't believe it's really you at first

He meets you with a dazed, faraway smile, barely wincing at the way it pulls at the bloodied bruise on his cheek. His good eye is bloodshot, and both retain an undercurrent of despair

His voice is hoarse and cracked from disuse when he invites you further in and apologizes for the poor space, telling you that you look as stunning as ever and wishing for the dream to last a while

Reality doesn't come crashing in on him until you're close enough to touch him. That's not possible for a figment of his imagination

He goes from tired condolences, asking you not to worry and to sit with him instead until you fade away, to staring up at you in shock and disbelief. It's you - it's you -

Does this mean it's finally over??

Doesn't say much beyond a stream of babbled "thank you"s and "I missed you"s and "are you sure this is real"s as you lead him out

Already knows the nature of his own injuries (he was, unfortunately, conscious and fully aware when they were made) and ends up talking you through how to treat and bandage them

Gets absolutely slammed with guilt in the following days as all the trauma and pain catches up with him and he watches you suffering in turn on his behalf. Thankfully, you're able to kiss it out of him

Tries to joke about liking pain anyways and can't do it, not for this

Asra

Their head snapped up as soon as they heard a new set of footsteps coming towards their cell, and they were already praying it wasn't you. You weren't ready for the look of horror when it was

He's already hoarsely begging as soon as you're in view. Get out of here. Run. It's too dangerous. He can't protect you here. Go -

Has a hard time believing you when you tell them that it's okay and that you're here to get them out. You can see them shaking their head in denial even as you kneel in front of them to free their hands

It's his hands that do you in. Apparently in an effort to keep him from trying any magic, his kidnappers have mangled them beyond recognition or functioning and you can't stand to look at them

As soon as they're free, they're scrambling to get both of you out. They were already putting together their own escape plan and have some scarily accurate guesses for effective escape routes

The look of terrified desperation doesn't leave his face until you're both out and you can prove that you won't be followed

They don't want to talk about it. They don't. want. to talk about it

He'll have to, eventually, as the waves of gratitude stop covering for his frustration at how slowly movement is returning to his hands and how often he has nightmares of his kidnappers taking you

They hate the discomfort of the process, but they're learning the sweetness of letting you take care of them for once

Won't sleep easy until he's magicked away all of the scarring

Nadia

You don't manage to say much when you make eye contact with her because the look in her eyes is leaving you breathless

You don't know what was done to her, you don't know what state she was in before you got here, but all you see in her eyes now is fire. If you're here, her courage and determination are boundless

Already pulling herself up against the wall and asking you to catch her up on the situation as you're removing her restraints

Are her captors aware you're here? How many have you fought? The big one, with the club - did you get him? Who else is with you? What's the plan? Give her your shoulder so she can walk with you

She runs on adrenaline and determination until you make it back home. She's reciting all the information she has and making strategic suggestions to ensure the group is wiped out completely

And then, when you make it home, she's collapsing

The following days show you a side of her you've only had glimpses of in the past. Her pride refuses to let anyone else near her, but

But you. You can stay. .... please stay

With her body broken and her mind haunted, all she wants is to be convinced of her support. She doesn't want to do this alone, all she wants is to lie down and know that it'll be okay for a bit

You begin to worry for a moment that she almost becomes too dependent, refusing to eat or sleep unless you're next to her

She comes out of it eventually, though she hates tight sleeves now

Muriel

You didn't know what to expect when you saw him, but it wasn't the deep shame that made it nearly impossible for him to meet your eyes. You don't know where this guilt came from

His first question is if you're in danger. As soon as you tell him it's all taken care of, he doesn't make another sound

Not a question about how you found him, not a grumble of discomfort or a grunt of pain, not even a sigh of relief as you undo the multitude of ropes tied so tight he could barely breathe before

He can barely stand to be touched by you as you brush his matted hair out of his eyes and take his hand to lead him out

He keeps stumbling. It's clear his captors were afraid of his strength, and had gone out of their way to damage his muscles and tendons and restrain him too tightly for the smallest motions

It's not until you're back in the hut and bandaging his wounds, with the door locked and Inanna at his side, that he's able to speak

He blames himself. He should have been aware of them when they came for him. He should have fought them off. He's been hunted for his strength his whole life, and suddenly, he didn't have it

It's your quiet testimony that he's allowed to be weak and still be precious that undoes him. With all the barriers out of the way, he doesn't have the energy to stop himself from being needy

Greedy, even, finally asking for hugs and snuggles and painkillers and second servings from dinner, and shocked when you say "yes"

Portia

You only catch a glimpse of the wavering hope on her face before she realizes it's you and her head falls back in sheer relief

You're here. You're here. Finally, you're here. She knew she could hold on another day, she knew there would be an end, she knew she could trust you not to give up on her, she knew you'd find her

And here you are. Her faith in you has paid off, and she's beyond happy to see you. She's pressing kisses to whatever part of you she can reach before you've even removed her restraints

When you do, she's all breathless, relieved, tearful giggles, and hugs as tight as she can manage with injured and bloodless arms

Her legs are broken, but that's okay, she'll just ride piggyback while she watches behind you for any pursuers. You've got this!

Never in your life have you been so grateful for a partner as relentlessly optimistic and resilient as she is. Even as the treatment of her painful wounds makes her wince and hiss, she's smiling

Of course, she can't act as though it never happened. She wishes she could, but the nightmares and the fatigue and the shooting pains and the crutches by her bedside suggest otherwise

Late night conversations venture to new confessions. How afraid she was. How out of control she felt. The lonely moments in her cell when her faith in you faltered and she wondered if this was it

It's hard to sit through her descriptions of what happened, of what was done to her, but you knowing it too brings you ever closer

Lucio

He'd like to say that he put on a brave face, but as soon as he saw you and knew he wasn't alone anymore he crumpled completely

He missed you. He missed you. He thought it would never end. He never wants to do this again, never, ever, ever, don't worry about the damn restraints, just kiss him and tell him it's okay, please

There's tears tracking through layers of grime and crusted blood and faint trails of his eyeliner - has he really not been able to clean himself in weeks? - and he's muffling his sobs into your shoulder

You keep wanting to tell him to hold still, the knots and locks are tricky to undo with the intense shaking through his body, but every pained cry wracking his frame is loaded with relief

When you finally get him freed, he's looping his arm around your neck and falling against you until you hold him

Hold him tight, hold him despite what a mess he is, hold him without worrying about his blood getting onto your clothes, hold him even if it hurts him, hold him so you can soothe his soul

And then get him out. He's clearly severely injured and in plenty of physical pain (which he will loudly make known to you once you're both safe) but he'll run limping next to you without complaint

It's a long time before he can bring himself to lift a blade or put the armored pieces on his gauntlet again. He still brags about his skills, but the way the light glints along the sharp metal makes him wince

Can't fall asleep by himself for a long, long time

[mochie85]

Truth Or Dare

These Wicked Games Collection Masterlist | Complete Masterlist

Summary: The first contact you and Loki had made in weeks, since the falling out that fateful morning. A game of Truth or Dare makes you both confront your feelings. Suggested Song: "Do I Wanna Know" by The Arctic Monkeys Word Count: 2.9K Pairing: Loki x Female Reader Warnings: Smut adjacent/Mature, a game of truth or dare, a kiss between Reader and Steve Rogers. 😏

Pent-up days bled into lonely nights. You retreated into your room, save for mission briefings and assignments that Fury would send you too.

Your interactions with Loki had been civil. Not a word was spoken between you two that didn’t involve other people or the task at hand. And when you found yourself in each other’s company, alone, you would just leave the room.

What you didn’t see were the glances and the stares in your direction. Not Loki’s, but the team’s.

“They must’ve fucked,” Bucky whispered.

“Absolutely, they did,” Natasha confirmed.

“How do you know?” Steve asked. “You can’t know that.” The three of them were watching through the glass wall of the conference room. You were showing the new recruit, Wanda, around the common areas and Loki was watching you through side glances and narrowed eyes.

“Do you remember how he acted during poker night?” Bucky asked.

“Ya, he was a real piece of work. I thought we were gonna have to call HR or something the way he was coming on to her,” Steve spurned.

“Ya, and now…that stopped. He got over his infatuation.” Bucky observed.

“Or he wasn’t enough to satisfy her.” Natasha counteroffered. Both men looked at her quizzically. “I mean come on. Not once had she looked in his direction. She’s over him. But he hasn’t been able to keep his eyes off her!” Natasha said proudly of you. Neither Steve nor Bucky could argue with her assessment.

You had just walked into your room when a loud knock came on your door. “Come in” you yelled across your apartment.

“Hey,” Nat said, walking in and sitting on your duvet. She eyed you up and down looking at your blouse and pencil skirt. “Did you just have a meeting?”

“Ya, with Fury.” You said, mid unbutton.

“Don’t get undressed yet. The rest of the team is on a mission again tonight. So, we thought we’d have a little movie night to welcome Wanda.”

“Oh, that’s nice. I think she would love that. I’m down,” you said excitedly.

“Great! Same crew as poker night.” Nat said getting up to leave.

“On second thought…”

“What?! What is it?” Nat asked running through a list of possible scenarios and conclusions in her head. “Oh my God, is it because of Laufeyson?”

“WHAT?! No! Why would you say that? Pfft…of course not!” You laughed. “Laufeyson? Why would I care? I don’t- I don’t care,” you prattled.

“You guys slept together, didn’t you?” She smirked, wanting confirmation of her earlier theory. You stayed quiet. Just staring at her, not knowing how to answer her question. It wasn’t like you were ashamed of it. It was just that it ended on a very sour note. “Your face says it all. Tell me everything!”

You sat there, telling her about the amazing night you had weeks ago. How you brazenly went to his room that night of the poker game and had your own game. But then you also told her about the following morning and how neither of you have really talked about it since.

“You like him, don’t you?” she asked with a Cheshire grin. “You really like him!” You groaned and flopped yourself on the bed, hiding underneath your pillows. “I honestly don’t see the problem. The man was packed! And if you’ve managed to ride it and leave it. More power to you.”

“Natasha!”

“What?! I remember the poker game. I remember him stripping!” she laughed as you rolled your eyes.

“How could I forget? He made a show about it in front of me when he could’ve easily just magicked his clothes off!”

“Look. Just come. Prove to him that you don’t care what he said to you. That it was a game for you too and nothing more. Right?”

“Right…” you agreed hesitantly.

You followed Nat down the hallway, praying to any powers-that-be that Loki wouldn’t show up. Wanda bound up to the two of you and she blocked your view of the common area. She was very excited about the movie, thanking Steve for letting her choose it. When she moved to sit, was when your eyes landed on the recliner across from you. Decked out in a fitted white shirt and loose black denim, sat Loki, with his arms crossed and legs open as if in invitation.

You sat on the couch to the other side of him, facing the other direction, pretending to be interested in the projector Bucky was trying to work out. Bucky smacked it a few times till the light flickered momentarily and then went black again.

“Why is this not working?!” Bucky raised his arm to hit it again before you and Vision stopped him.

“You know, I think we should play a little game to take our mind off things while those two try to fix the monitor,” suggested Natasha. “A little game of Truth or Dare, perhaps?” The game got your attention and you looked directly at the redhead, affixing your death stare to her pouty lips.

What are you up to? You mouthed to her. She ignored you completely and turned around. “Ooh, can I go first? I love this game!” Wanda asked bouncing excitedly. “I’ll start with Steve!”

“Awe why do you have to start with me?” He asked petulantly.

“Cuz you’re our fearless leader. So lead!” Natasha pushed. Steve only rolled his eyes.

“Truth or dare?” Wanda asked.

Steve lowered his head down in defeat, smiling, trying to be a good sport. “Dare,” he said to the resounding oohs and aahs from the group.

“I dare you to demonstrate the best kiss you’ve ever had.” Wanda smiled innocently at the heckles and jabs thrown in Steve’s direction. Although, you got the feeling that she was hiding more than she was letting on.

“What? Like in the air?” Steve proceeds to pucker his lips and kiss an imaginary person in front of him.

“No! OK, that’s… kind of gross!” Everyone laughed.

“How ‘bout on her!” Nat interrupted, pointing to you as she sat back and smiled, watching the whole thing play out.

Heat ran down your back as you looked at Steve. He gave you a boyish, heartwarming smile that almost took your breath away. You watched as he got up and made his way over to you. Did everything just go in slow motion? He lifted your chin to face him. “May I?” he asked so sweetly, and you nodded in response. With bright blue eyes shut, he leaned in and kissed you.

It was soft at first. He gently sucked on your upper lip and splayed his hands open, cupping your cheek. You had missed this. The closeness. The intimacy.

You missed him!

You started thinking about Loki and the few erotically charged moments you spent with him. You moaned at Steve’s touch, imagining it was Loki you were kissing. Steve took that as a sign to tilt his head and his tongue dove in further. It slid across yours, sending a tingling sensation down to your core.

Natasha watched Loki. As Loki watched you. The scowl on his face getting deeper and deeper as you clung to Steve tighter and tighter. Steve pulled away slowly, as he breathed out. You didn’t realize you were holding tight to his lapels, on your tippy toes, keeping him close to you.

“Ok. My turn!” Steve smiled and turned around abruptly as if he hadn’t given you one memorable kiss. You stood there stunned into place, slowly turning to face away from Loki. Steve looked at Natasha to exact his revenge. “Natasha. Truth or dare?”

“Truth.” She answered confidently.

“Have you ever fantasized about anyone in this room, intimately?”

“Yes.” She answered and Bucky’s ears picked up, looking at the deadly assassin through his side eyes.

“Who?!” Steve asked aloud.

“Fixed!” Bucky yelled as the monitor came to life.

“One more before the movie starts.” Nat turned to you and asked you with wild eyes and a mischievous grin. “Truth or dare?”

You took a deep breath and sighed, “Dare.” Nat’s grin got even wider as she walked up to you and whispered her dare in your ear.

“Oh come on! We all want to hear it!” Wanda said. Your eyes turned wide and the expression on your face dropped when Natasha pulled away.

“Go on. You have to do it! You chose dare.” She goaded you. You narrowed your eyes at her as you started making your way over to Loki on his lone recliner. His arms were still folded, and his legs were still open.

The confusion on his face was telling. It got even more concerned when you turned around and sat directly on his lap. Loki held his arms in the air, unsure of what to do or where to put them. “Excuse me?!” he finally said.

The room looked at both of you, chuckling and awe-faced. Nat looked like she had won a match that you were unwittingly a player in.

“Just go with it, okay?” you whispered to Loki.

“Go with what? Why are you sitting on my lap?” Loki bellowed.

“Shh! The movie is starting,” Natasha scolded the both of you, turning around with a self-satisfying grin. The audacity! The fucking nerve of this woman! You were going to pay her back somehow. You didn’t know where or how, but one day! Best friend be damned! Maybe you’ll reveal who she’s been having fantasies about. Maybe you’ll hide all her guns. Yeah! And her stun bracers too!

Loki placed his hands on the armrest. He was euphoric at the turn of events. But highly confused as to what the dare was to make you sit on his lap. How long will he have? Are you going to sit here for the entire movie? Can he touch you? Norns how he longed to touch you! It’s been weeks since that awful morning. And every time he tried to talk to you, you would leave the room. Or there were more pressing matters at hand.

His pride and confidence left him the morning you left his bed. He thought he made it very clear how in love with you he was. But you either didn’t believe him or you were just playing a game with him.

He didn’t know how to approach you anymore. But one thing is for certain, if you keep moving the way you were, he would have to excuse himself immediately.

“Stop moving!” he ordered.

“I can’t help it. You’re not exactly comfortable to sit on.” You whisper-growled back at him.

“That’s not what it looked like a couple weeks back. I seem to recall you enjoyed sitting on my lap.” Without warning, Loki grabbed your waist and pulled you closer to his frame. Seating you right in between his open legs. Right on the cushion of the seat. “Better?” he asked.

“Yes,” you said begrudgingly. “Thank you.”

“Always a pleasure, darling.”

The first half hour of the movie was hard to follow. Every breath Loki would take, any small movement he would make, you felt it right behind you. You sat perfectly stiff. Your back, like a ruler, not wanting to give in to his warmth and comfort.

As the movie progressed, you tried to make the best of your awkward situation. The team had settled and forgotten about the two of you in the back of the room. You yourself got lost in the dramatic plot of the movie. All too soon, your arms grew tired. You relaxed them onto the armrest, forgetting that they were already occupied by Loki’s. You tried to relax them to your sides but were met with his thighs on either side of you.

Loki didn’t seem fazed by any of it. His breathing was even. His heartbeat was steady as a drum, albeit thumping loudly and hard behind you. The only tell he gave away was the movement of his head next to yours. His quick inhale of breath as he surreptitiously smelled the perfume of your hair.

How long has it been? Days? Weeks? A lifetime, since you’ve felt his touch. And here you are now, sitting on his lap, hoping that the growing hardness you felt behind you is what you think it is and not just his belt buckle.

“Truth or dare, darling?” Loki whispered in your ear, breaking his resolve.

“Loki, I’m tired of these games. I don’t-”

“Truth? Or dare?” he insisted. You gave out a big sigh and rolled your eyes, knowing he could see your expression. You looked around at your team, engrossed in the movie.

“They can’t hear us as long as you whisper,” Loki said answering your unspoken question.

“Truth.” You answered him.

“Really?” he asked surprised.

“Well, a dare got me into this mess,” you reasoned.

“What was Natasha’s dare?” Of all the things he could’ve asked you. You didn’t think he would be too curious, but it was also the one answer that would leave you too vulnerable.

“She dared me to-”

“Sit on my lap?”

“No!” A beat was taken before you had the courage to say what you needed to.

“What did she say, verbatim?”

“Her exact words were…to sit with the person I had feelings for…for the entire movie,” you whispered.

Heat crawled up your spine. You can feel your embarrassment radiate through your clothes and add to the heat that Loki was giving off. You felt so flushed and nervous that you started rambling. “And you had taken up the entire space with your long legs. Clearly, there was nowhere else for me to sit but your lap. I mean honestly. It was almost as if you didn’t want anyone sitting next to you. What’s the point in coming to these group exercises if you don’t intend to be amiable? I-”

“Shh,” Loki said putting his finger to your lips. “Keep your voice down, darling. Or else my enchantment will fail.” You looked around at your teammates who were still engrossed in the movie.

He pulled you closer to the chair, flushed against his firm chest. His large hand cradled your stomach while his other fingers continued to explore your lips. They tickled you as he ran them gingerly, tracing your cupid’s bow down to the soft pout of your bottom lip. He kept his stare at your mouth, lost in thought.

“Dare me, darling.” He whispered.

“That’s not how the game works, Loki,” you smiled.

“Dare me to kiss you. Please.” His plea took you by surprise. Desire wrapped around the two of you. Squeezing the air from both your lungs, leaving you wanting.

Breathlessly you said, “I dare you to kiss me Lo-” You hadn’t finished your sentence before his lips hungrily descended on yours. His hand cupped your cheek and kept your head to his. Your hands intertwined with his and he held on to you tighter.

Loki’s kiss was deep and demanding. There was a sense of urgency to it as if he was running out of time and he had yet to get his fill of you. He pulled away briefly to breathe but his appetite only grew. He needed to kiss you. He needed to touch you. Everywhere.

With his eyes closed, his lips found your neck and artfully marked your skin. His hands flew to the buttons of your shirt, opening them one by one as you laid your head back onto his shoulders.  You gave in to him. Into his touch. His hands reached inside and cupped your breast, making you moan.

A well-timed explosion happened in the movie that you and Loki had already disregarded. It pulled your attention away from his yearning, giving you logic long enough to remember where you were.

“Loki…” you whimpered. He ignored your cries and was lost in his own spiral. “Loki I…I need you. But not here. Not in front of everyone.”

“Why not in front of everyone? That way Rogers knows what a proper kiss looks like,” he growled. His jealousy made you titter. “Let me wipe that moment out of your memories. Let me replace it with my lips.” He grabbed your chin and kissed you again with no regard for keeping it quiet. His entire body shook with emotion. Longing, jealousy, dominance.

“I was thinking of you,” you admitted panting onto his lips. “I was imagining I was kissing you.”

Loki stared into your eyes as he let that information swirl in his thoughts. His growing smile sent shivers throughout your body. You felt carnal pleasure in knowing you had pleased him somehow.

His voice changed. His eyes had grown darker. He inhaled through his teeth as he praised you, “That’s my girl,” he snarled. His hands continued to roam underneath your blouse. His fingers pinched your aching nipples through the lace of your bra, sending you jolts of pleasure down to your already heated sex. “Are you going to continue being a good girl for me?”  

You nodded devotedly. “Good,” Loki growled, fighting to keep his desire at bay. “I want you to go to my room and wait for me on my bed. Can you do that for me, pet?”

You moaned when he nipped your jaw gently waiting for you to answer. You slowly got up, feeling the rush of your excitement pool down into your panties. You walked slowly, trying not to get the attention of the others, as you snuck behind the chair where Loki was sitting.

“Oh and pet…” he whispered grabbing your hand gently. “…Don’t think of running away to make me chase you like last time. Unless,” spreader bar “You’d like to be cuffed and barred again.” He smiled, daring you.

⬅️20 Questions | House of Card➡️

🏷️ @emarich7 @michelleleewise @coldnique @psychospore @lokisgoodgirl @silverfire475 @fictive-sl0th @springdandelixn @wheredafandomat @goldencherriess @peaches1958@salempoe @thomase1 @kkdvkyya @a-witch-with-words @mischief2sarawr @sarawr-reads @vbecker10 @peachymallow @irishhappiness @cakesandtom @simplyholl @here4thefanfics @tallseaweed @holdmytesseract @immersed-in-mischief @joyful-enchantress @lokisninerealms @kikster606 @glitterylokislut @loz-3 @slytherclaw1227 @chantsdemarins @the-lady-amphitrite @eleniblue @km-ffluv @lokidokieokie @n3rdybirdee @melsunshine @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokischambermaid @cjand10

[jinkiezzsstuff]

AAA I really love your alastor movie night story! Any chance you can make a part 3 ? 🥺

Absolutely! so sorry i got to you late but i wasn’t ignoring just preparing! i hope you enjoy this one too, although it’s not movie centred this time, rather a continuation of the last!

Part [1] [2] (although technically it could be read as a stand alone)

Summary: Alastor wasn’t proud of his admission during the movie night, instead he decided to treat you to a surprise date, one where he can get a better feeling on what his emotions are.

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol drinking, Alastor who’s not pleased with romantic emotions, possibly ooc?, alastor mentions knowing french, homie manipulates the surroundings with his magic, no bodytype/hairtype/skin colour mentions, i think that’s it! lmk!

word count: 2.4k

Alastor wasn’t too familiar with the current feeling he was experiencing, but he knew it was related to romance. The way his heart thumped, and his mind always seemed to fall back to thought of you that night. You seemed to be highly interested in him, not only as a powerful overlord, but as his less interesting mortal self, and that made not only his ego kick start but his heart. After the stunt he pulled, telling you he loved you, and kissing you softly, he knew he was in trouble.

He thanked all the unholy that the next day you didn’t seem to spread the news like wildfire around the hotel, however he did speak to Rosie about such affairs, as she would be the one to know best. The trip was like any others he took to Rosie’s but this time he got plentiful advice concerning love, romance, dates and the other unsavoury aspects he mentioned he’d rather hear little of.

That brought him to tonight, in his room was a make up of land that was much like the foliage he had back in his home in New Orleans. Since you seemed very interested in his home life, he decided to set up a date around it, show you a little of what his home was like. It made him feel sickeningly domestic, preparing to show you something near and dear to his heart, like opening up his memories and displaying them just for you. He set up nice wood table for the two of you to eat at, with some of his favourite dishes set out, even the deserts he wasn’t a fan of he laid out just in case you wanted to try some.

Around his room sprung up some weeping willow trees, the wooden floor turned to dirt as well as grass, and the forest that was once there became a bayou, what you were so curious about during the movie. He decided to share some of his other past, voodoo artifacts he replicated from his past life, some old songs he was a big fan of, as well as one of his old dictionaries that had both French and English. Alastor made some other arrangements, his shadows were forced to play jazz, he magicked some fireflies to light up the false sky above, he essentially created an illusion of the woods near his home, aside from the bayou.

Closing the door to his bedroom he materialised his microphone tossing it up once before taking a confident stride. It was time to put on the southern charm he knew he could effortlessly woo you with. As he sauntered down the hall he began to get more nervous, after all that night was all about the movie, what if it wasn’t true what you had said?

He didn’t have time to dwell, lifting his hand he knocked rhythmically on your door, waiting patiently as you shuffled around. Opening the door, you were shocked to trail your eyes across the radio demon, you half expected to see Angel, as he’s been pestering you ever since he picked up on you eyeing Alastor more often. Fixing your posture you smiled at him, feeling a little self conscious that he caught you at a time you looked, well, not great. You were in leisure clothes, relaxed and had been laying in bed all day.

“How’re you Alastor, can I help ya?” You ask, quirking your head to the side. Alastor barged into your room pushing past you, perhaps when you first met him you’d be unsettled but you’ve come to love Alastor’s presence and the way he carried himself; even the tad bit annoying aspects like barging in uninvited. “Oh my dear I am just fantastical! And I was oh so hoping you’d join me for dinner tonight?” Your eyebrows raised as you shut the bedroom door, Alastor had been in your room before but he noted little upgrades like a record player, some photos of you and the group plastered against a mirror.

You looked down at your attire, and looked to the clock. “Uhm, like how soon is dinner? I look a mess Al.” You sighed softly not wanting to reject him but also immediately feeling pressure to be and look your best. Alastor flicked his wrist, tossing his head back in disbelief. “Please my dear don’t think of me so lowly.” Before you can respond to his random comment he snapped his fingers and suddenly you body felt hugged by new fabrics. Gazing down at yourself you were greeted by formal garments that were clearly from the late nineteen twenties.

Smiling softly at the gesture you looked up at Al who was already looking at you through lidded eyes, his hands clasped in front of him. “You look wonderful darling, truly.” Although still boisterous sounding, it was a lot more tame and meaningful than his prior theatrics. Alastor couldn’t deny the way he felt looking at you doused in clothes from his time, it made him feel something firey within him. Slowly he offered his hand to you, a charming smile upon his face. “Shall we dear?”

Now you both stood at Alastor’s bedroom door, he was tense and nervous about how you’d react. Regardless of how he presented himself with his suit and his pious demeanour, he was still that louisiana man who had a big heart for his home and the culture surrounding it and didn’t want judgement surrounding some of his favourite aspects about home like the cricket noises, swamp, and of course the food. It was a new and interesting worry since being in hell as he didn’t really worry about his past life since, but the night you two shared opened his eyes.

Finally pulling himself together Alastor pushed opened the bedroom door, stepping aside with a ‘ladies first’. It was gorgeous, the moment you walked it you were hypnotized. Obviously, Alastor grew up in the more outback of New Orleans since his entire aesthetic was mossy forests and obviously the deer hunting, however this was a beauty beyond compare. There was a mock up night sky above, firefly’s lit the way to a small table displayed with foods. There was tall and short grass all around, as well as willow trees that sagged low dusting the ground with their leaves. On the furthest side of the room, on the other side of the table, there was a bayou you could see as you walked in. On the mossy murky water there were lilipads with frogs croaking out, that paired with the crickets gave a soothing camp like ambiance.

Grinning widely, Alastor smiled, pulling your chair out for you to sit. Once seated he sat across from you, you were glad it wasn’t one of those long tables but something closer and personal, where you could still reach over and touch him. “I thought since you seemed to enjoy that movie so much, y’know, I can’t show you my home but i can show you parts of it.”

Your cheeks hurt from smiling so widely, you had no idea how he did it, and you took another sweep around the room soaking up all that you could see. “Alastor, this is amazing! I can’t express my gratitude and also excitement that you were willing to do all this.” You admit getting shyer as the sentence went on; the weight of the act dawning on you. Alastor hummed, eyes closed as well as his smile, and to you it seemed like his typical indifference he was keen on displaying, however the truth was Alastor had no clue how to properly respond to it. You had inadvertently pointed out the fact he went out of his way for you, with his magic on top of that, and that wasn’t something he was proud of.

Snapping his fingers, the shadows he’d forced into musicians began their strumming, and singing. You jumped a bit at the sound, although you did recognize the song being played, which surprised you. ���So Al, can I ask what possessed you to pull this together?” Alastor, who was in the middle of serving the two of you some red wine, paused briefly, if you looked close enough at his smile and his eyes you’d be able to see the hesitancy behind them.

Closing the bottle he placed it back on the table, and took a sip, stalling his response. “My dear, we had quite the night together didn’t we? That movie opened up some interesting doors.” The non answer-answer Alastor gave you made you a tad bit nervous. Saying nothing you sipped your wine, and took in his appearance. Despite the date being a formal situation, he was dressed more relaxed, not by much this was Alastor. However he did have his suit jacket set aside, he wore a washed out looking red button up, with his red vest and he still had his tie on. It was quite the rare sight, you’ve barely seen him look normal, he’s always playing that character that’s immune to everything others aren’t; no matter if it were demons or humans.

Deciding that it was better to enjoy your time with him then pester about his intentions; you knew who Alastor was and the horrific things he could do, and you still chose to ignore it. It’s more fun that way. Digging into your food the two of you made small talk, mainly Alastor as he explained certain dishes and tid bits on his mothers version of the cooking, as well as certain voodoo topics and misconceptions. The longer the wine set in, the more you flirted, and although Alastor wasn’t as affected by the wine as you were, he still returned the gestures with a soft smile.

“I didn’t know you spoke french, what?” You leaned on the table resting the side of your head on your palm, the food that was once on the table gone. “Yes my dear! New Orleans is bilingual.” The deer laughed cheerily at the awe and wonder in your eyes, as if it was such a spectacular thing. “That’s pretty hot, y'know laddies n lads love the french language.” Taking another sip of your wine, Alastor followed in suit, sipping his wine smile relaxed. “I really only care for what you think.” With the deep hushed tone he said the sentence in, made heat crawl from your neck to the pit of your stomach. “Well I think it’s pretty hot.”

You bit your nail watching Alastor’s ears twitch at your words. “Such gamy words dear, couldn’t you express yourself through more appropriate terms?” Alastor chided playfully, wiggling his figure at you. You grinned, biting your lip with mischief in mind. Tapping your lip, you looked up, giving an exaggerated impression that you were in a contemplative state. Then, perking up, finger in the air with a ‘light bulb’ expression you sarcastically spoke. “My dearest Alastor, your ability to converse in French, seduces me. Better?”

Alastor hummed gently, shaking his head side to side. “I’m afraid that’s still rather forward of you dear.” After speaking Alastor tipped his glass finishing his wine. “I hope that wasn’t making you uncomfortable.” You say cautiously worried that he may be serious, embarrassed you leaned back in your seat distancing yourself just slightly. Alastor felt a ping of distaste hit him when you retracted your body, and he had to refrain himself from pulling or beckoning you back in. “Not at all, if i was you’d surely know.” The ominous grit he got when threatening people made an appearance, but didn’t last long before he relaxed. Deciding to push forward, he stood, ushering his shadows away from playing songs, he walked over to you offering his arm. “Would you like to see the bayou you were so enthralled with? The real deal?”

Alastor looked down at you through lidded eyes, his tone silken. As you looked up at him you could get a peek of his tail flicking back and forth methodically. Taking him by the arm you stood, and so he guided you away from the table as the room morphed with hazy black shadows into a different scene. The two of you now stood on a dock, looking out on the bayou, fireflies flickered by, crickets and cicadas made their ambient noises, the water would occasionally splash with a fish, it was beautiful. “So Al,” You start nervously, looking at the demon who still held you close via your interlocked arms.

Alastor hummed a static sounding hum looking down at you. “Uh, I, well remember what you said the night we split from the movie?” Alastor’s brow quirked, smirked down at you he strung out a yes that sounded teasing, of course he knew where this conversation was going, but at this point in the night he’d gotten more comfortable with the idea of it. “I was wondering, if you still meant it?” Alastor nodded slowly looking into the murky waters of the bayou, looking a little zoned out. “Yes, I do think so. I’m certain if you’d ask me to kill for you I would, if you needed my help I’d help, if you’d ask for my advice I’d give it. I'm not familiar with many aspects of love but I'm definitely fond enough of you to do a laundry list of things I wouldn't do for others.”

Alastor turned his body to you, gently willing your own to do the same with both his hands on your shoulders. With his head lifted high he looked down at you through his lashes, a coy smile appearing on his lips at the sight of your sudden bashfulness. With a soft hand, he lifted your chin to gaze at him. As much as he hated to admit it, there was something addictive in the way you made him feel and the way you were so responsive to him, be it his touch or his words. Oh he knew he liked you now, unfortunate state of events for him.

Watching your eyes blink up at him patiently made him solidify what he was going to do. Bending to your level, he looked into your eyes making sure you fully understood what he was planning on doing, briefly your eyes bounced around his face making sure you were reading him correctly and when you were certain your eyes fluttered he closed the window of space between you. Compared to the chaste kiss he gave you the night of the movie, this one could’ve been considered ravenous, he pulled you close almost immediately, wrapping his arms around your torso and neck. Your hands cautiously came up around his waist and up to his back pulling him nearer.

Alastor’s movements were slow and thought through, and when he pulled away from the passionate kiss, he immediately pulled you into a hug to hide the emotion he knew would be in his eyes. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to be that vulnerable yet, but in due time, perhaps he’d try.

[st-danger]

Ooo that thing you just wrote for @/forlorn-crows is a sick idea, normally I like stuff so I can read it later but that was a READ NOW BITCH type deal.

Gives me the idea of Aether going into people’s minds and giving them wet dreams

The new kid's insatiable. It isn't like it's a problem for anyone- on the contrary, they're delighted by it. They're no strangers to sex and lust in the Pit, but here, in humanesque bodies, it's a foreign experience. Different in ways that are difficult to quantify, but different. The obsession with new sensations in new bodies is a universally known thing, something they all went through when first summoned. And who could blame them?

But what a treat getting to watch it from the outside. How nice to watch him sweat and tremble and take until it hurts to be touched.

Aeon is easy.

Pliable. Suggestible and willing to try whatever anyone suggests. He desires with a fierceness that sees him crawling into bed with Dew late at night, desperate for relief. Sees him staring at Swiss during mass with dark eyes, bouncing his leg, unable to sit still, and Swiss is more than happy to drag him out after and lend a helping hand. Or mouth.

So. Aether offers, and Aeon agrees, and that as they say, is that. It's never brought up again, and he knows Aeon wants to ask when, when can we, but part of the fun will be doing this when he doesn't expect. In the meantime, Aeon cums from all the attention he gets, and rubs his cock until it's red and sensitized, and even a little past that.

He's lovely when he's awake- crooked teeth revealed with every wide smile, constantly smoothing messy hair off his face. He's lovely when he's asleep, too, sprawled out on the couch or the bed, shirt riding up to expose a stripe of stomach, eyes closed. Long lashes. Of course Aether was going to offer. When someone wraps a present for you, sets in directly into your palms, it would be rude not to open it. Cruel, even.

He lies sleeping in his bed in loose boxers, a thin white shirt. Half under a blanket having kicked part of it off at some point. Aether flicks the table lamp on and carefully, so carefully, sits on the bed beside him. He's out like a light- it's possible he's worn himself out (or, more accurately, been worn out by someone else) to the point he's less asleep and more comatose. Lips parted, drooling a little on his pillow. Aether swallows hard. He tingles in Places. His fingers itch with want. He wishes he had more patience, that he could convince himself to undo the bow and carefully remove the wrapping paper, but he's never had much self control with this, to be honest. He tries, but here, now, with the way he looks... surely it's understandable to want to rip the paper open as quick as possible.

He reaches towards him, strokes his hair, playing with it. Twirling the shock of white that cuts through the brown at his hairline. Lets the smallest little bit of his magick drip from his fingertips and into his head so he can make sure Aeon doesn't wake before he wants him to. He drags his fingers down the side of his face, tracing the angle of a sharp jaw, stroking down his neck. With his other hand, he palms himself, working himself up just a little. Not too much because he has plans for Aeon that require him not to pop too early.

Down his neck, down his chest to find a nipple, to give it a soft rub until it's peeking through his shirt, obvious. Down further, to the hem, where he slides it under and caresses his stomach. Pets his navel, and then the barest hint of hair that disappears under his waistband.

The magick flows easy, then. Warms him from the inside out and Aether watches, ensorcelled by the gentle noise Aeon makes on his next exhale. The obvious twitch of his dick stirring to life. If he wasn't so eager to wake him up and ask him to run that pretty tongue over his balls, he'd draw the blood south slower. But not tonight. He squeezes himself, presses on Aeon's belly, and stares, hungrier than he's felt in a while as Aeon's cock fills out. Faster than is necessary, perhaps, but who cares. Certainly he doesn't. Certainly Aeon won't be complaining.

He's tenting in no time, and Aether supplies him with visions of being taken. Being loved gentle and raw, and finally, Aeon whimpers, hips shifting while he dreams about many hands peeling his clothes off, mouths sucking his neck, tongues licking at secret, hidden places. A little more phantom sensation on his cock, and Aether groans as a dribble of precum dots the fabric, stretched against a head that he cannot wait to make sticky and overly sensitive.

It goes on until Aether's working himself and hard to the point that he's dying to pull it out. His pants are tight, oppressive. It's making him ache, and all he can focus on is what the little kitten licks he's going to ask him for will feel like.

He turns the dial of quintessence up, and Aeon gasps, unconscious and pleasured, leaking fluid and staining his boxers with the pre because Aether wants him to.

They've kept his balls so empty there's been no possibility to cum in his sleep yet. His body hasn't had a chance, and maybe that's the reason Aeon was so quick to agree- something new.

He gets him nice and close, until Aeon is whimpering, shifting where he lays, and Aether gives up.

He forces too much pleasure into his mind, and Aeon throbs and moans and Aether's eyes go wide as he watches his cock start to bounce around and spit out shot after shot, soaking himself-

Aeon wakes up moaning and disoriented halfway through, barely has time to register what's happening when Aether decides to give him a little gift of his own, drag it out, make it last unnaturally long, until Aeon is crying out, thrashing, looking at Aether with surprise and shock while he defiles himself by Aether's suggestions.

When it's over, when it's finally over and Aeon lies exhausted, and panting, he gifts Aether with a disbelieving giggle.

"What," he breathes, weakly.

Aether is already standing, unzipping his pants.

[kittenintheden]

No Thoughts, Just Vibes

Oh, you know, just a little Solstice/Midwinter treat for you. Enjoy!

Rating: E Pairing: Astarion/Tav (descriptionless) (BG3) Content warnings: PWP, PIV sex, oral sex, sex toys, tooth-rotting fluff

---

Their adventures by night in Faerún take them all over, from the Underdark to check up on Astarion’s siblings and their new spawn charges to Waterdeep in search of potential arcane solutions for certain undead individuals with sun sensitivity.

In fact, they find themselves entering Waterdeep just in time for Midwinter. The magicked streetlamps of the place glow golden and are festooned with all manner of wintery decorations, which feel oddly out of place in the seaside city but have a magic all their own nonetheless.

It’s just past dark when they approach a wizard’s tower, having spent the daylight hours getting to know the tavern and inn down the way while the sun still sparkled off the water. Now that it’s safe once again, Astarion and Tav ring the bell near the tower door and are greeted with a series of chiming meows in the style of a popular carol.

“He really doesn’t have to try so hard,” Astarion says, smirking despite himself. “And yet.”

“Let him be the dork of his dreams,” Tav chides playfully. “He deserves it. We all do.”

On cue, the large door of cypress wood before them swings open and their wizard friend holds out his hands in the foyer of his tower, arms wide.

“You made it!” Gale says, beaming. “Come, come inside. Please mind Tara, she’s been quite taken with the mistleberry and has made herself sick more than once despite my gentle reminders .” He yells the last words toward the spiraling staircase and from a nook nestled high in the wall, he receives a hiss in response.

“Relateable,” Astarion mutters as he comes inside, but he accepts an embrace from Gale nonetheless, giving him a stilted pat on the back.

Truly, the lot of them are glad their adventuring brought them to Gale’s doorstep. It’s nice to be off the road and surrounded by modern luxury again, and the wizard’s gone out of his way to ensure their modest celebration is full of delights. He’s even procured a top-vintage sanguine refreshment for Astarion.

“Did you imbue this with clove?” he asks, swirling it in his goblet and giving it another sniff.

“Not exactly,” Gale says, cheeks rosy from his own imbibed glass of wine. “Were you aware certain herbal and spiced components cross the blood barrier when inhaled or consumed? Give the resulting blood a bit of an essence for a certain frame of time. Garlic is the most common offender, but I thought I’d skip it, in this case. This donation came from a dear friend in the spice trade. One who doesn’t ask many questions and frequently dabbles in certain other trades.”

Astarion blinks against the verbal onslaught, then turns to Tav and says, “Hold on. Is that why I break out in hives after you’ve put too much garlic in your food?”

Tav’s also delightfully tipsy and she raises her glass to him. “I love you, dearest, but I’m not giving up garlic for you. Some prices are simply too steep.”

The night winds on and on like that until eventually Tav nods a sleepy head onto Astarion’s shoulder and he guides her off to bed in the spare room at the base of the tower. He returns to Gale, who’s ragaling Tara with his own rendition of “Marvelous Midwinter” to her great disdain.

“So, Gale,” Astarion says, interrupting to give Tara an appropriately respectful scritch on her head. “I have a bit of a favor to ask, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Not at all, my friend,” Gale says, swaying. “How can I help?”

Astarion reaches into his pocket and procures a folded bit of something. He hands it to Gale, who unfolds it and examines it with some curiosity before cocking a brow at him.

“Any possibility of, erm. Recreating something to this effect?” Astarion asks. “One tied to a command word, perhaps?”

“Oh, certainly,” Gale says, going into tinkering mode as he examines the object. “I would need a few components, but luckily I have them in stock, thanks once again to my spice merchant friend. A little bit of articifer ingenuity to craft an arcane battery, some relatively complex enchantment, and a… wait.”

Gale gives Astarion another look and the vampire tilts his head and smirks.

“Right, I’m not asking,” Gale says, eyes back on his new puzzle. “Give me a day.”

“Lucky we’ll be here for three,” Astarion says with a light laugh.

The morning of Waterdeep’s official Midwinter celebration dawns bright and mild, the sea breeze rustling through the thick curtains they keep drawn in the guest room to ensure Astarion doesn’t wake up with burns or worse. They doze in the double bed in their underthings, Tav draped across Astarion’s chest and breathing softly as she wavers in and out of sleep. He’d actually fallen asleep last night, pressed up safe against her, and now he smiles into her hair, tracing his fingers up and down her arm.

Eventually she stretches along the length of her body and yawns against his skin, resting her chin on him and looking up into his face. She blinks lazily and runs a finger over the length of his nose with a delicate touch.

“Morning, dear,” she says, voice still rusty with sleep.

“Happy Midwinter, my love,” he murmurs in return. “I got you a little something.”

“Oh?” Tav purrs, sitting up a bit. “Is it fun?”

He arches a brow. “I certainly hope so.”

Astarion tangles his fingers in her sleep-mussed hair and draws her to his mouth, kissing her deeply as she relaxes into his body, letting her tongue stroke against his. He rolls them both to their sides and hooks his leg over hers, taking his time as he lights up her skin in all the ways he knows she loves. She laughs, tilting her head back to expose her throat to him, and he licks along the column of it, though he doesn’t bite. He wants her fully aware this morning.

With one hand, he deftly undoes the clasps of her brassiere and tosses it aside. Her smallclothes follow quickly after. She hums, pleased, lazing onto her back as he kisses down her breastbone, palming one of her breasts and rolling his thumb over her nipple until it peaks. His mouth works at the other, teasing and swirling until she’s arching up into him and rubbing her thighs together.

“Is this my gift?” she sighs. “I like it.”

Astarion chuckles against the space below her breasts as he continues working his way down. “In part, I suppose. But not quite.”

He runs his tongue underneath her breast and then leaves her a moment to fetch something from the side table. She whines at his absence, but he doesn’t leave her waiting long. He rolls back over, slipping a ring snugly down onto the second knuckle of his middle finger.

She giggles. “Are you proposing to yourself? Fitting, honestly.”

“You’re cute when you’re lust drunk,” he says before he puts the weight of his body on top of hers, kissing her deep.

He hauls her leg up by the thigh, wrapping it around his waist so he has better access as he runs his hands down the length of her, gripping her arse tight before moving around to the front and teasing his clever touch between her legs. She’s already going wet, her arousal making for a smooth draw over her skin and she settles into it, a wide smile on her face, knowing she’s in a master’s hands.

Astarion grins. She has no idea.

He places his hand flat against her slit, cupping her and resting the ring against her in just the right place.

“ Deliciae ,” he whispers.

The ring sends a brief, rapid vibration through her core, just beside her clit, and Tav cries out in surprise, bucking her hips and gripping his biceps, her breath going erratic. She’s fully awake now, staring up into his face, wide-eyed.

“What in the hells,” she gasps.

Astarion gives her a light kiss. “I’d hoped you’d like it,” he says. Then, again, “ Deliciae .”

“Oh,” she says, her thighs shaking on either side of him as another vibration pulses through her. “Oh, dearest . Again.”

He's happy to comply, kissing her between her gasps and mewls, repeating the command word in a sultry whisper while he works her with his fingers in the meantime. His own arousal aches where it’s pressed against her hip and he gently grinds it against her for relief, just enough to keep his own head as he watches her break to pieces beneath him.

Tav rolls her head back and opens her mouth in a silent scream as her legs shake, incapable of holding back their shudders as a shivering, powerful peak comes over her under the little toy. It’s familiar but sweeter; her hips rise off the mattress and then slam down as she tips over the other side. Astarion feels her clenching and pulsing, strong and slick, and the entire ordeal is instantly worth it to bear witness to the unraveling. There is no pleasure, no greater high, than knowing he’s the one who brings her to this state. The one who has the privilege. The one she chose.

She blinks back to herself, a moan low in her throat as she tries to clear the spots in her vision. When she meets his eyes again, he’s panting himself, still rolling his hips to get some relief against her side. Her gaze clears as she breaks the surface of her pleasure and she growls, grabbing his face and bringing him down to her mouth, nipping his lower lip between her teeth until he whines from it.

“You liked my gift?” he whispers, breath quickened.

“Oh, yes,” she sighs. “Now let me give you yours.”

Tav’s hand snakes down their bodies to find his fingers and she takes them, slipping the ring off. He’s so dazed with lust that he lets her without thinking about it too much and gladly moves as she rolls them both until he’s the one on his back. Her mouth is so hot on his cooled skin as she places open mouthed kisses everywhere he likes – the space behind his ear, the place where shoulder meets neck, every rib on the way down. She spreads a hand in the center of his chest, over where his heart resides, and presses him into place as she licks down the line between his abdominal muscles.

Astarion’s cock twitches, throbbing against the weight of her body as she continues her path, and she uses her free hand to give him a rewarding squeeze and stroke, running the pad of her thumb over the split underneath the head. She gives his foreskin a little swirl, helping make sure it’s properly drawn down, and he thrusts up into her hand with a pleased murmur.

It’s taken time and significant gentle coaxing to get him to a place where he simply lets go and allows her to lavish him with attention. A lesson he’s forever learning, rewriting centuries of conditioning with care, with passion, with love. He closes his eyes and focuses on her touch, allowing himself the pleasures she’s happy to share with him.

With a slight jolt, he twitches when he feels her warm tongue follow the path of her fingers, rolling circles around the head of him and applying long licks down his length. Her fingers move to his sack, gently rolling his balls in her palm, warming them. She places a knuckle against the spot beneath them, kneading deep but gentle, finding the place that drives him wild.

“You are so good to me,” he sighs as she moves her mouth over his head again. “That’s so good.”

He senses her smile just before she swallows him down, taking his length halfway into her mouth and working him a few times before she pulls off and says, “ Deliciae .”

Astarion’s vision whites out as the knuckle pressing into his perineum sends a hard vibrating pulse through him at the same time she takes his cock in her mouth again. He gives a sharp cry.

“Bleeding hells,” he manages. “I… I…”

She pulls off of him, tears forming at the corners of her eyes, and says it again.

Pleasure upon pleasure crashes over him, lighting up his entire body as he writhes under her touch. She goes slow enough to make it delightfully tortuous, though it would be incredibly easy to push him over the edge in short order. She moves the enchanted ring, experimenting in different places – the base of his cock, the rim of his arse, the crease of his thighs – and each spot brings new sensations.

He’s an absolute mess by the time she draws back and crawls up his body, his hands weakly grasping at her hips as she sits up on her knees, gingerly reaching between her legs to hold his cock in place as she slides down onto it, both of them near sobbing at the sensation.

“I love you,” he manages with what little breath he can hold. “Gods, I love you, I love you.”

“Love you,” she breathes back as she rolls her hips hard against him over and again. “Love this. All of this.”

Tav rides him slowly, firmly, with intention. When they get to a point where they can’t help but pick up speed, grinding one another into oblivion, Tav lifts his shaking hand in hers and takes the ring from her finger so she can slip it back onto his, the movement reverent.

Astarion looks her in the face as he reaches down between them with his fingers spread over the base of his cock where they meet, resting the ring right alongside her oversensitive clit. 

“ Deliciae ,” they say together.

They shatter in the same moment, eyes rolling back, crying out to the morning light. The waves of delight roll like the tide outdoors, rising up the shore and receding back to the great unknown.

Tav collapses onto Astarion’s chest and his arms are so very heavy as he lifts them to wrap around her back. They breathe, and pulse, and live. Eventually, he begins tracing soothing patterns along her skin.

He clears his throat. “I take it that’s the inaugural positive review for Gale’s potential toy venture?” he says.

“Oh gods, that’s where…” Tav covers her face with her hands. “Oh gods, I have to go out there and see him.”

Astarion laughs and she laughs with him.

[punkpandapatrixk]

Full Harvest Moon in Pisces ♦︎ Moon Magick Pick A Card

The Full Harvest Moon, known also as the Singing Moon, was in Pisces on 18 September. It was a partial lunar eclipse and carried a massive Healer Archetype aenergy about it. After all, it was a supermoon in the sign of self-undoing and martyrdom :P It ushered in a deeply reflective time to ponder upon the suffering of Mankind in this all too often unfair world.

‘You’re not yourself when you’re triggered. You become who you think you need to be to survive. If we remain in environments that trigger our fight or flight mode, our identity starts to slip away because our values and personalities are constantly being hijacked by thoughts of fear, panic and survival.’ – some pin on Pinterest

It is unfortunate(?) but it is a significant part of Reality that each and every individual existing within this Matrix is suffering in their own wildly unique ways. Perhaps this is why the Buddha’s whole ass brand revolved around suffering—not to glamourise its concept but to maintain a semblance of awareness of its existence; and how that very thing alone shapes each person’s perception of Reality. Such an awareness...usually, breeds empathy. And that is precisely what this Full Singing Moon in Pisces theme is all about~🥰

‘When I was a novice, I could not understand why, if the world is filled with suffering, the Buddha has such a beautiful smile. Why isn’t he disturbed by all the suffering? Later I discovered that the Buddha has enough understanding, calm, and strength; that is why the suffering does not overwhelm him. He is able to smile to suffering because he knows how to take care of it and to help transform it. We need to be aware of the suffering, but retain our clarity, calmness, and strength so we can help transform the situation. The ocean of tears cannot drown us if karuna (compassion) is there. That is why the Buddha’s smile is possible.’ – Thich Nhat Hanh; excerpt from The Buddha’s Smile

SONG: Fine on the Outside by Priscilla Ahn

MOVIE: When Marnie Was There (2014)

deck-bottom: XVII The Star Rx, Red Historian (John Dee) & Priestess of Protection

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☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 1 – Deliciously Enjoying Your New-World-Building

e m p a t h y – 3 of Pentacles

There was a time, you built a world up from the ground, with people you thought were your people. Or at least, you thought you wanted to build a world around or with these people. But then you became disillusioned. You realised they were ungrateful, or perhaps, they didn’t quite see the world the way you did. What you thought they wanted similarly as you, in the end turned up to be quite the contrary. Then you realised the Universe had all along planned for y’all to grow differently~

Now you’re done with that old paradigm where you’d been too helpful towards those unworthy of your companionship, or even compassion. Facing forward, you now know that the most important thing is to surround yourself with people of similar ‘values’ and not just ‘goals’ or ‘ambitions’. Spiritual values go far deeper than just shared economy LOL ‘Corporate goals’ or whatever some such 3D-based nonsense. None of that interests you at this point in your spiritual evolution. You want something bigger, more awesome in meaning!

m e r c y – 5 of Cups

You’re still healing or just fresh out of spiritual rehab from this feeling of having lost people and whatnot. But it’s all good because, ‘The peace I have now is worth everything I’ve lost.’ If you’re truly honest with yourself, I’m sure you’re actually glad to have lost these losers. You know deep inside they would’ve never been able to survive what you’ve survived. In many ways, you also know these small minds were never destined for the greatness that you know is just around the corner for you~!

So I think, right now you’re still balancing your thoughts and emotions. There’s another quote that says: ‘Sometimes your heart needs some more time to accept what your mind already knows.’ And that perfectly captures the aenergy you’re currently swimming in. But look around—wow, isn’t it peaceful? The clouds are finally parting and your world is warm again <3

c o m m i s s a r y – 2 of Pentacles

After having gone through the mental struggle you’ve had to deal with, you’re stronger and fiercer in your capacity to deal with bullshit. I see that you’re quicker to deflect someone’s disrespectful behaviour and you’re not tolerating people acting out at the expense of your peace of mind anymore. Back in those days, you compromised so much of your own values to accommodate people’s ‘feelings’ but you’ve realised now that those very people often didn’t think about your feelings or how they’d put you in an awkward situation.

This FM in Pisces, you’re gaining a deeper layer of understanding of the mechanism of the crazies you’ve had to deal with up until fairly recently. I’ve this feeling that you’re dealing with the last remnants of those heartbreaks. You’re not going to ever deal with these thoughts and feelings anymore, so think about them for the last time and bid farewell for good~ From here onwards, you’re peacefully enjoying a new new-world-building without those crickets, so~ HAHAH <3

full moon self-care🔻🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

Gold Astronomer (John Dee) & Priestess of Patience

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☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 2 – Done ‘Experimenting’ with Bullshit/Sorrow

e m p a t h y – Page of Wands

Oh, this is the ‘empathetic weirdo’ pile! You must be a Pisces in some way LMAO

This is a very strange aenergy in which you’ve been in this phase of ‘exposing’ yourself to bullshit and suffering in the grander scheme of the Human Experience. You’ve been ‘assuming’ this role of an experimenter or some such, exposing yourself to some degree of toxic experiences for ‘research purposes.’ It was imperative that you had firsthand experiences with various-but-specific kinds of bullshit surrounding this whole Matrix World, all so that you know how to dissolve them once and for all through the act of alchemical transmutation.

You’re a natural transmuter of ‘negative constructs of Reality’, believe it or not. The whole idea of your ‘little experiment’ was for you to have a hands-on experience with certain aspects of suffering within this Matrix, so that you’d be able to ‘vote down’ on qualities that you do not like. In this way, you may resonate with being a Blue-Ray Starseed or a Crystal/Rainbow Child of a Lightworker~

m e r c y – King of Pentacles

Yes, you’re a part of the board members that are able to give your ‘disagreement’ upon negative qualities that are commonplace in this Earth Matrix. The magical thing about your very existence here is that as long as you DISAGREE with something, anything that’s wrong/undesirable about this world, it immediately dissolves. Well, depends on what you’re disagreeing with, but eventually it all dissolves with your dislike and disagreement. You’re just that powerful, you capable but dehydrated bitch~ XD

If you’re ever interested in becoming a public speaker, a content creator, or a whatever else what will allow you to reach, connect and convey your epiphanies to a larger audience, all the more wonderful. You’re meant to be heard and listened to—you’re too wise to live an offline existence in this era of digital connectivity ;P You have a power within you that can potentially encourage and motivate others to co-create a more positive Reality for themselves through their own power of agreeing and disagreeing with bullshit ^o^v

c o m m i s s a r y – 2 of Wands

Anyway, you’re now done experimenting, babe~ I see you. You’ve suffered enough in the name of commiserating with ‘normies’. In some ways, you might’ve also just been breaking generational curses and karma. But that’s all mostly over now! You’ve known enough; you’ve gained enough data/information for building perspectives; you’ve studied enough for an entire lifetime. You’ve exposed yourself to enough of the horrors of the world; now you can clean up and return to your natural state of paradise and peace.

You can still do the magickal work of spiritually transmuting the world’s bullshit from your natural habitat of high-speed manifestation. But now, you’re not a commiserator anymore; not a soldier anymore—you’re a billionaire philanthropist hahahah You see, you have the know-how, the resources and the power to help, but you don’t have to suffer together. Celebrate in this return! You’re YOU again! You’re your true Divine You again!

full moon self-care🔻🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

Silver Alchemist (Ramon Llull) & Priestess of Inspiration

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☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 3 – You Can Now Eat the Cake, Too

e m p a t h y – Ace of Pentacles Rx

More than even Pile 2, you seem to have dealt with an even greater amount of lack throughout your Life. This may be a financial lack for some, but for the most part, this Pile is really talking about a general lack of proverbial SUNSHINE! It almost feels like you’ve never truly been happy or free practically your entire Lyfe! Maybe some of you will resonate with being this way for a long time instead of an entire Life XD Yeah anyway, that was the spiritual lesson, which may have been a carry-on from some previous incarnations~

But now, you’re fucking done. You can have the cake and eat it, too! You know why? Because you’re a goddamn cake factory, that’s why! You’re now able to produce endless amounts of cakes and that’s the secret to your abundance for the remainder of your days. But you’re not greedy either, so the Universe really favours that, too! And sometimes, you always have cakes around because you have other people giving you cakes~ \`★_★`/

m e r c y – 5 of Pentacles Rx

To be quite honest, in a weird way, this aenergy is making me think of royal families LMAO Like these ‘royal’ fuckers ain’t do nothin’ but they keep receivin’. They keep having the best of everything with taxpayers’ munny tsk tsk… I know you ain’t a fucker like ‘em, but this is just the image that comes to mind LMAO It’s a vibe that’s giving ‘Universe’s favourite’ or ‘I get paid for just existing’ and all some such. But unlike evil ‘royals’ on Earth, you’ve achieved this level of abundance because you’ve tapped into your Spiritual Royalty consciousness~ ♥︎

Right now, I’m seeing you take care of your body, mentality, spirituality, sanity, but most of all, body. Yes, body and habits. You’re being asked/guided to re-build your healthy habits, your sane rhythm. You’re returning to old-but-positive habits that might’ve been robbed of you as you were surviving some of Life’s toughest challenges! Some habits or comfort activities you might simply have forgotten, and now you’re reclaiming them ^-^v

c o m m i s s a r y – IV The Emperor Rx

Many of you tuning into this have been deep in the process of dissolving an entire paradigm of lack caused by trauma, done by some ‘authority figures’ in your childhood, or younger years. This mostly has something to do with ‘discipline’? Or some sense of needing to be ‘humble’ and ‘regulated’ while in reality they were instilling a scarcity mindset in you. Very evil. Very manipulative. The whole time, these figures were never as ‘limited’ as they were shaping you to be.

You could’ve also been judged so harshly and unfairly, to a point where you became overly critical of even the smallest things about yourself. In your mind, there was this bullshit panopticon that was always policing your conducts, even your mind! In some sense, you could’ve struggled with having a ‘good girl syndrome’ kind of problem tsk tsk… Yeah, that’s all in the past though. This reading is literally just giving you validation and clarity ^-^v I promise you that your happy days are impenetrable now~♪

full moon self-care🔻🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

Red Geographer (Marco Polo) & Priestess of Happiness

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

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[mightbeimpossiblenotto]

Song — Oct 5 — @rosekillermicrofic — 1,352 words — Warnings: none I think

Evan, personally, hated the Gryffindor parties, but he attended because Regulus wanted to attend, and therefore their entire friend group had to go with him to support him. They were too loud, there was too much red and gold all around the common room, and too many kind people trying to talk to him, despite his very clear aura displaying do-not-talk-to-me. He typically spent all of his time at these parties hanging quite pathetically off his friends, Dorcas or Pandora or Barty. Regulus was always off with Potter.

It was Barty, that night. Dorcas had wandered off with none other than Marlene McKinnon, and Evan wouldn’t be surprised if they were found together much, much later, with rumpled clothing and swollen lips. Pandora had disappeared entirely, but that wasn’t uncommon for her in a normal situation, let alone a Gryffindor party. So, Evan stuck with Barty, which wasn’t hard as he had positioned himself next to the magicked muggle radio, spelled to play any song the spellcaster wanted. He was hosting a karaoke night of sorts; students came up to him with a song request, he played it, and the student then performed for a small crowd in the room, complete with cheering from the crowd and a broomstick held like a microphone stand by the performer.

Evan was surprised, though, when Barty got up to perform one of the songs himself. He turned back to Evan, sitting alone on the sofa now, to give him a wink.

“Save my seat for me, Rosie,” Barty purred, and Evan did nothing except nod stupidly. The opening to the song had begun playing, and he was still trying to figure out what the hell Barty was up to. Barty had spun to face the room, taking up the broomstick-microphone, and locked eyes with Evan.

I could be the one, or your new addiction

It's all in my head but I want non-fiction

I don't want the world, but I'll take this city

Who can blame a girl? Call me hot, not pretty

Evan didn’t recognize the song, which made his confusion more palpable. Barty was singing directly to him, that much was clear, but Evan didn’t know what Barty wanted from him. He could feel the stares of other students who had noticed Barty’s dedication to him, but he ignored them.

Baby, do you like this beat?

I made it so you'd dance with me

It's like a hundred ninety-nine degrees

When you're doing it with me, doing it with me

Against his will, Evan flushed. Barty couldn’t possibly mean that he wanted to be with Evan, his best friend, practically his brother to him. It was something Evan had considered, of course (how could he not? — he wasn’t blind, and Barty was the hottest thing on Earth), but he had promptly shoved down any feelings because he knew they wouldn’t be reciprocated. He was starting to feel like Barty may be teasing him.

H-O-T-T-O-G-O

Snap and clap and touch your toes

Raise your hands, now body roll

Dance it out, you're hot to go

H-O-T-T-O-G-O

Snap and clap and touch your toes

Raise your hands, now body roll

H-O-T-T-O-G-O

H-O-T-T-O-G-O

You can take me hot to go

H-O-T-T-O-G-O

You can take me hot to go

During the chorus, most of the girls in the room got up to do some sort of dance with their arms, forming the letters that Barty was singing. Evan barely saw them, though — his eyes were locked on Barty. He was swaying his hips to the beat, showing off his slutty waist that Evan usually tried his hardest not to notice. But Barty was wearing a tight black t-shirt with low-rise black jeans, which had been driving Evan crazy all night.

Well, I woke up alone staring at my ceiling

I try not to care but it hurts my feelings

You don't have to stare, come here, get with it

No one's touched me there in a damn hot minute

Barty winked at Evan on the last line, smiling salaciously, and Evan summoned the strength not to melt right into the couch. He knew that was true — that Barty hadn’t slept with anyone lately. Probably because Evan hadn’t been able to hide how angry it made him to see Barty paying attention to anyone else. It made him furious, and it wasn’t helped by the fact that he lived in the same room as Barty and had to see every latest conquest out the door the following morning. But Barty had given up his string of lovers, instead choosing to spend his time reading in the common room with Evan or sneaking off to the kitchens to bring them back a snack.

And baby, don't you like this beat?

I made it so you'd sleep with me

It's like a hundred ninety-nine degrees

When you're doing it with me, doing it with me

On the sleep-with-me line, Barty raised his eye brows significantly at Evan. And, well, there was no misinterpreting the meaning of that one — clearly, Barty wanted to fuck him. And Evan had reason to believe it was more than that. Why else would Barty be spending all of his free time with Evan? He felt the blush from earlier darken, spreading to his ears and down his neck. He hated all of the attention, but watching Barty bask in it was doing it for him.

H-O-T-T-O-G-O

Snap and clap and touch your toes

Raise your hands, now body roll

Dance it out, you're hot to go

H-O-T-T-O-G-O

Snap and clap and touch your toes

Raise your hands, now body roll

H-O-T-T-O-G-O

H-O-T-T-O-G-O

You can take me hot to go

H-O-T-T-O-G-O

You can take me hot to go

Barty joined the girls in their cheer routine, raising his own arms to form the letters of the chorus. It was unfair the way he made a simple dance look erotic. Despite enjoying the performance, Evan was wishing it would be over with already. He wanted to take Barty directly back to the dorm, while Regulus and their other friends were too busy here at the party.

What's it take to get your number?

What's it take to bring you home?

Hurry up, it's time for supper

Order up, I'm hot to go

What's it take to get your number?

Hurry up, it's getting cold

Hurry up, it's time for supper

Order up, I'm hot to go

Well, Evan was beyond ready to fucking “order up” Barty and get him “hot to go,” but the song still wasn’t over. Evan could have groaned as he watched the girls lining up to perform the dance routine again to the chorus. All Evan could do was hope that this was the final refrain and the song would end soon. Already, he was imagining Barty’s mouth on his skin, his hands under Barty’s clothes.

H-O-T-T-O-G-O

You can take me hot to go

H-O-T-T-O-G-O

You can take me hot to go

H-O-T-T-O-G-O

You can take me hot to go

H-O-T-T-O-G-O

You can take me hot to go

Finally, the melody of the song wrapped up, and Evan sat forward, readying himself to get up off the couch even as Barty walked over to him. As the outro of the song played, Barty spoke.

“Whew, it's hot here,” Barty said, fanning himself with one hand. “Is anyone else hot?”

Evan felt very warm, indeed, but he didn’t give Barty the satisfaction of getting what he wanted. Instead, Evan was sure he was glaring at Barty. But seeing as Barty was grinning right back at him, Evan was pretty sure he knew exactly the effect he had on Evan.

“Woo, you coming home with me?” Barty asked, finally reaching the couch Evan was still sitting on. He waited a beat, and when Evan didn’t stand, he swung a leg over to straddle Evan on the couch. Suddenly, for Evan, all of the other people in the room had disappeared. All that mattered in the world was Barty. “Okay, it's hot. I'll call the cab.”

[breakfastteatime]

Cal wakes up from a nap. Oops, fell asleep on the couch again. He's so dozy, so comfy, maybe he'll drift off again and...

Wait.

Something feels different about his head. He stirs, brushing the blanket pulled up to his chin.

"Shhh. Go back to sleep." It's Merrin. She must be sitting next to his head. "I am not finished yet."

Her fingers are in his hair, brushing through and separating small handfuls into trios. The feeling is familiar, a distant memory from so long ago. He feels himself relaxing. "Why're you braiding my hair?" he asks, although it sounds more like "whyybraidnmuhheyh?"

Somehow, Merrin interprets his mushy words. "It is shiny. And pretty."

"S'not."

"Oh, yes, it is." There's a gentle tug as she deftly braids. "Fiery. Like my magicks."

"S'green."

"Hush, Cal. Let me finish."

Cal zones out, drifting into memories of Master Tapal patiently plaiting his braid, tying it off with the finest of thread. It never seemed possible for someone with such huge hands, and yet Master Tapal managed it every time. Sometimes he would tug on it to get Cal's attention. Other times, if he couldn't grab the hood of Cal's robes fast enough, he'd grab Cal's braid instead, and that never failed to bring Cal to a sudden and complete halt - usually before he wandered into traffic in the Brave's landing bay. He smiles at the memories, at the warmth, the tradition, the simplicity.

Merrin probably isn't going in for simplicity. Maybe he'll look like Cere did in that echo he picked up from Trilla's lightsaber. She looked so awesome with her hair like that. Could he grow his hair out that long? His pictures it - autumn reds, oranges and golds trailing all the way down his back, tied in intricate braids...

...who is he kidding? He'd sling it back in a ponytail and be done with it.

He giggles to himself.

"You are strange, Cal," Merrin tells him.

She has no idea.

A few minutes later, Merrin's fingers pull away. "Done. You may wake up. BD? You can come and look now."

Familiar feet tippy-tappy their way over. BD gives a long, slow beep of awe, and then the light of his scanner shines through Cal's eyelids.

Pretty, BD declares.

"I am not pretty," Cal grumbles.

"You are. You are a pretty princess," Merrin says. "BD, quick, make a recording."

"Excuse you, I'm no princess, I am a queen," Cal corrects.

"Forgive us, Your Majesty," Merrin says.

Curiosity wins and he opens his eyes, sits, frees his hands from the blanket, and explores his head. What he finds is a series of small, tight braids encircling his head - much like a crown. He leans forward and catches a glimpse of his reflection on the table. "Huh."

"You like it?" Merrin asks. "Cere explained to me how to do it, but it is easier to practice on somebody else."

"I do like it," Cal says. "It's really practical. Keeps it out of my eyes, too."

The hatch opens. Cere and Greez board the ship, both carrying several grocery bags. Cere clocks Cal first, nodding in approval. Greez does a double-take, puts down his bags, and moves in for a closer inspection.

"Well?" Cal asks, moving his head to really show it off.

"I love it!" Greez gushes. "I mean I really love it. I want it. I want that style right now."

"When you have more hair, I will teach you how," Merrin says.

He grins. "It's a deal. You heard it here, folks, Greezy is officially growing his hair out."

[yourlocaltreesimp]

could you do yan legend and/or hyrule? i love your writing so much! ❤️

Both? Both.

TW: Yandere and all it’s accompanies (obsession, violence, etc)

Yan!Chain Headcannons

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Hyrule

Really sweet once you first met, definitely one that became your friend before shit began to spiral. The familiarity of his old guide made becoming close friends really easy.

Once he fully realised who exactly you were, however, platonic standards are thrown out the window. Chances are he’s latched to your side, constantly making sure you’re happy and healthy. Lord forbid he found out that you aren’t, he’d spend all his magic fixing your ailments to whatever degree of success before striking down whatever dared try and harm you.

He’ll hold your hand or give you a kiss when you need healing, savouring being the one to hold you

Love languages are probably Physical touch and Acts of service. Making sure to be close to you, to shield you from the horrid world he’s seen. He likes to know you’re close, that you’re there.

Not to say he’s adverse to singing your praises. He’d write hymns and gospels if you asked. Afterall, who was Hylia to think she was divine when you stood right there.

Keeping up my love of Fae!Hyrule he definitely thinks you’re married to some extent

To him, he’s utterly devoted to you, at your beck and call. He’d bring the greatest of warriors, including the very deity that traveled with the chain to their knees if you said the word. The world would burn to ash and yet he’d shield you from the fire if it ment you could be close. He’d fight drove after drove of monsters if it ment he could collapse into your arms at the end. And in turn you give your time and compassion, you grace him with your presence. You let him heal you not that there’s any other option and you let him fawn and you keep his gifts. That’s as good as married to him.

Definitely uses his magic to… pull some strings. Make his words more persuasive, make the colours shine a little brighter, make his words more alluring, make the blood on his clothes less noticeable. Your clothes are enchanted, your jewellery as well. Your food magicked to calm your nerves and ease your heart.

You’ve met his faerie sisters. They love you. They’d riot if you were hurt. They’d tell him if you ran off.

Not to mention that it’s good practice to gift the fae with silver jewellery for safe passage or protection (yeah i mentioned this in a post before, idc). If you so happened to do this, he’s sold. Done for. Any question of his feelings for you? Gone. He’d pierce his ears to don your trinkets, flaunt the necklaces, adore the bracelets. But goddesses above, if you got him a ring? Well my friend, you’ve sealed your fate. He’d flaunt it, proud of his successful courtship, if his divinity being pleased by him. No one can touch it, no damage will come to it, it will be just as pristine as when it was in your hands.

Probably not one to kidnap you per say, but would be confused if you didn’t want to come with him. You gave him your ring, that’s binding to humans isn’t it? Your his and he’s yours. Why would you want to leave? He has everything you want. And anything more you could possibly want, all you’d have to do is utter the words and it’s yours.

For nicknames, Love, Honey, Sweetheart, Flower, a variety of faerie nicknames

Legend

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Off the bat remembered your guidance. While this led to some shakiness in his trusting you. The second he realised you’re real and not some cruel imposter, that too is thrown right out.

Doesn’t spare you from the sarcasm, in fact, he’s right on your nerves. He itches for your own snarky comments and blows. Itches for your voice and your attention.

Again with the enchanted jewellery. Earrings, necklaces, bracelets, rings, whatever it is that you want, it’s yours. No questions asked.

Sleeps on you… and odd headcannon, but sprawls out completely over you like a starfish whenever he needs to sleep.

Love language is Quality time and Gift giving. Quietly letting you braid his hair or run errands side by side, getting you rings and clothes. Picking flowers to bring back to you while he’s on patrol. The quiet things. Lest someone find out his moth eaten heart still beats.

Protective to a T. Literally feral. Will bite a man.

Snide comments? Only from him, watch your back. Dirty look? Pulling you close and glaring right back. Directly rude? Hope you have enough rupees to foot a medical bill (do they have those? do now.) But if you’re the unlucky soul that lay a hand on his heart? I hope you have good locks.

Definitely keeping up with the long lived headcannon that animal traits stick to their respective people. Will make a home for you if you happen to land in his Hyrule. Idealises the quiet life with you, getting the life he never got. Loving parents, kids *cough* breeding kink *cough* , happy life, free of Hylia’s trials and falling through his own reality.

Would probably kidnap you, he isn’t loosing again. His poor heart, battered and beaten as it is won’t just let you walk out. Nope. Not on his watch. He knows every forest, every cave, every home in every village. You’re not going to up and leave him again.

Nicknames: Babe, Love, Beloved on special occasions

Not really one for using pet names infront of others, not until there’s a competition for your favour.

[laurancezvahlslefteyebrow]

well hello there

here is aphmau in my au/rewrite

i tried to draw her in as many of her iconic outfits as possible but good irene she has a lot [click for better quality]

so here are some changes and headcanons i have for aph in my au:

•she’s neurodivergent. not entirely sure what specifically, probably adhd. for sure dyslexic.

•she has sensory issues, which is why she’s usually in shorts. she feels like she can’t move properly in a dress for pants.

•so in my au she is irene just like regular canon. i gave her her markings but you might notice they’re different; here’s why: so in my au, scars and tattoos can both be used as runes to conduct magicks. scar runes amplify one’s existing magicks while tattoo runes bestow a certain magicks ability to a person (even if they already have one to begin with). though this practice is outdated and illegal in most parts of the world. because irene’s abilities existed prior to her become a divine warrior, she scarred herself to not only enhance said abilities but to also show her true dedication. nowadays no one, except maybe zoey, actually knows what they are or what they’re for exactly.

sorry that was a lot… ANYWAY

•when irene locked herself away, she tried to dress in a way she thought might help her blend in in whatever time she popped back out.

•she was wrong.

•phoenix drop gets really hot, especially in the summer, and it doesn’t snow there. aphmau uses it as an excuse to wear shorts all the time.

•when she first showed up she wasn’t as clueless as they made her seem in rebirth. she was just as aware as she was in the og beginning (except no she didn’t think she was playing minecraft) her reason for helping out the village was basically this: “oh look a village, cool i needed a place to stay. oh man these guys are in rough shape, they don’t have a lord?!? ah geez no one’s helping them, guess i gotta help them. oh shit they made me lord!” ok maybe not EXACTLY like that but yk

•she’s not a pick me in this universe :) and she doesn’t lead people on.

•when garroth first noticed how hard she was working on the village without even being asked, he bought her some gloves so she’d stop tearing up her hands. he bought some basic fingerless leather gloves but payed extra to have them dyed black and embroidered with lil purpley pink flowers. he hopes she’d like them and that his gesture wouldn’t come off as clunky or weird. she loved them and keeps them with her even when they’ve gotten too worn to wear.

•laurmau is endgame. aph and aaron never have any kind of romantic relationship. he’s more of a mentor to her. (i’m sorry garmau lovers i love y’all but laurance is my guy)

ok

so that’s all folks, i’m sure i have more headcanons and changes for aphmau but none come to mind right now. feel free to leave suggestions tho :)

garroth is next >:)

[cowboyemeritus]

not sure what this is but have some Copia/witch reader because I’m already thinking abt Halloween :)

There’s a warm, pleasant pressure at the base of his skull as your consciousness slips into his mind, overlapping with his. Then, a tugging sensation, like he’s being pulled on an invisible string.

My love, you whisper, voice at once nowhere and everywhere. The sultry quality of it sends a delightful shiver down Copia’s spine. Already, his heart is beating faster. Come to me. Like a moth to a flame, he cannot possibly resist; you had bewitched him, completely and utterly, a long time ago. His joints protest as he rises from his chair, weary from sitting for so long, but he persists, drawn to you by forces he knows are far beyond his comprehension.

You remain seated firmly in his mind as he flees the stuffy isolation of his office. Once unsettling, your presence has become a comfort, a blanket over the raging fire of frustration and anxiety that comes with his new station. From the series of images that flashes behinds his eyes — twisted sheets, sweat-slicked skin, swollen lips — he knows exactly where you are and what your demands will be. A flash-flood of arousal washes over him and he balls his fists, fighting the urge to moan out loud as his cock twitches with interest, already filling out. Whether this is his own nature or another one of your tricks he can’t quite tell, but he doesn’t care. All that matters is getting to you. The pile of paperwork on his desk can wait; the call of his mistress is of paramount importance.

The hallways of the Ministry, lined with the tombs of former Congregants, seem to wind on forever. With each second that passes, each moment he’s away from you, he grows more agitated, his heart racing and palms sweating. Beneath the gooey, honeyed feeling of your influence is a buzzing, like a nest of angry hornets, and as the journey to your shared chambers drags on it only grows. He turns the corner and is immediately blinded by the light of the full moon, streaming in through the stained glass windows. Today has been far too long and somehow, its ending completely skipped his mind until now. Taking a moment to breathe, Copia lets the pull of your magick, your siren song, numb him to the day’s events. As the bliss creeps into his mind, he sighs with relief. This, to surrender and let you take control, is exactly what he needed.

In the blink of an eye he’s standing before the heavy wooden door of your suite. Your power is overwhelming; you’re so close he can practically taste you. He reaches for the knob but the door opens on its own, beckoning him in. Stepping inside, he is immediately met by the smell of burning incense, a scent that so often clings to your skin, and he throbs in his trousers. His feet seem to carry him to the bedroom, the edges of his vision fuzzy as he stumbles through the dark apartment. The door is already ajar, allowing a beacon of soft orange light to seep out. Through the haze of magick and arousal clouding his mind, Copia is vaguely aware of the anticipation bubbling up inside as he pushes it the rest of the way open and shuffles into the room.

In his peripheral, he can see that the windows are open, letting in cool night air that caresses his feverish skin. The full moon hangs right in frame, as if to observe the scene transpiring below. Scattered across the room are clusters of lit candles, red and black. Their flickering light casts shadows that seem to move on their own, morphing into shapes that appear remarkably creature-like.

You are the centerpiece of the room, splayed out on the bed like the concubine of some great king. The candlelight casts a glow across your naked skin, gleaming as if you were forged from gold itself. You smile at him gently, but there is a predatory, primal hunger in your eyes. When your gazes finally meet an electric spark runs down Copia’s spine, nearly bringing him to his knees. His hands start to move on their own, scrambling to undo his various buttons and zippers until he’s standing at the foot of the bed, completely nude before you. The heat of his arousal is like an iron against his stomach and every inch of him burns, craving your touch. Looking him up and down, you lick your lips.

“Darling,” you coo, extending a hand. “Won’t you come to bed?”

“Yes,” Copia mumbles, feeling wonderfully out of his body. Already, the weariness in his bones is ebbing away. “I think I will.” He takes your hand, kisses it, and then his mind goes completely blank.

[ghuleh-recs]

Please enjoy these new bug fic recs because I think we all collectively went, “oh no he’s hot” over this past week.

untitled ficlet part 1 & part 2 / st-danger / Aeon x Aether x Dew

Prompt: Dew in the middle of a quintessence sandwich. Aether teaching Aeon how to use his magick in all the ways Dew likes best. Showing him where and how to touch, what to say. How to manipulate his little body and worm his way into his mind. Just really fuckin' him up.

untitled ficlet / p1nkcanoe / Phantom x Swiss

Prompt: Swiss gives someone of your choice good jfk (maybe on the tour bus? in front of everyone? after a show?)

Star Pupil / ghoul-slime / Aether x Dew x Phantom

Aether may not be going out on tour with the rest of the ghouls, but that doesn't mean he can't teach Phantom how to properly care for Dewdrop in his absence.

untitled ficlet / gayrickgrimes / Dew x Phantom x Rain

okay this is less them wrecking rain and more of them being wrecks about rain.

something in the way you move / papaslittlesunshine / Aether x Phantom

“Be a good girl and take it.”

untitled ficlet / hypnoneghoul / Phantom x Rain x Swiss

Prompt: Rain asking Phantom “wanna to practise” then getting caught kissing by your choice of ghoul and THEN a confession in the heat of the moment leading third ghoul to say “I think I deserve a kiss (too)” to Phantom and then they ALL have a good time

infinite skin / high-imperatrix / dew x phantom x rain

It's no secret that the shy new ghoul has it bad for Dew and Rain. After weeks of mulling over the possibilities, the couple finally invites Phantom in to play. A long, sticky night of depravity commences.

untitled ficlet / iamthecomet / Aeon x Aether

18. "Don't you dare fucking cum, because if you do, I'll cum too."

between comfort and chaos / riconas / Aeon x Dew

“All yours,” Dew says sweetly, rubbing his face into Aeon’s hands like a cat. His voice goes all soft and breathy when he’s like this, eager to give. He has the loveliest voice when it isn’t being used to swear. Aeon tilts Dew’s head curiously, like he’s examining a foreign specimen. “Really?” “Yeah.” Dew entertains Aeon’s examining, neck going slack and pliable like a ragdoll. “All for you. You can use me.” “Use you?” Aeon isn’t too sure about that. The word makes him feel a little uneasy—he shouldn’t be using Dewdrop. If anything, it should be him on that end, gratefully accepting everything and anything Dewdrop deigns to give. “Tell me how.” or Aeon people pleases too close to the sun. Dew isn’t okay with that.

(major shout out to @jimothybarnes for prompting at least three of these if not more. you absolute legend ♡)

[brewstersbru]

Queerplatonic Radioapple 📻 🍎,,, old men (losers) who care abt e/o

The thing about being an angel is that there are always bloodier, messier ways to do things. There’s an easy way, and there’s a fun way, and despite what they would have you believe, angels are much too bored with eternity to choose anything but the fun way anymore.

Lucifer curses whatever twisted being made him and bestowed his powers upon him- God- then backtracks in his own head, still deathly afraid of being heard and punished. Then, once he remembers that no one is listening, haven’t been for centuries, he curses them again.

Charlie is worried about Alastor. He hasn’t been acting himself these past few days. Rarely leaves his tower unless summoned, his smiles have become tight-lipped and straining. Even with the cursory attention Lucifer has paid him- busy with trying to make up for too many years in a hole- it’s not hard to see that Charlie is right, and something is wrong.

All it takes is a quick, plausibly accidental stroll outside of his rooms to tell Lucifer what it is. Charlie hadn’t asked him to snoop, but she’s nervous. Doesn’t want to lose another friend. Lucifer would do anything and everything to Fix It, and in order to get to that point he needs to know what’s wrong. So he snoops.

The pungent reek of demon blood poisoned with holy light permeates the air around Alastor’s rooms. To anyone but Lucifer it probably doesn’t smell too different, Alastor has very obviously put a lot of effort into covering the stench with rancid deer meat, and gamey sinner. Lucifer knows what a holy wound smells like, though, hell he’s not sure why he didn’t recognize it before now. Alastor’s obviously put in work to keep this a secret but it shouldn’t have worked for this long against the literal king of hell. He’s distracted, too comfortable, needs to sharpen the hell up if he has any plans of actually protecting his daughter and her passion project in any meaningful way.

Once he knows what is wrong, it’s not difficult to devise a fix. What is difficult, is coming to terms with what that will entail.

The way he sees it, there are three ways out of this situation. One, he tells Alastor he knows that he’s still hurt and offers to heal the wound through touch, which will take approximately an hour after which they never have to speak again. That one’s mostly a bust simply because Lucifer reckons Alastor won’t let him get past the first part without mauling him.

Two, he lets Alastor die of being a stubborn, pissy bastard. This one’s not really an option considering the whole reason he’s going through all of this trouble is so that Charlie will stop worrying. Killing him won’t stop the worrying, no matter how much he wishes it would.

Finally, unfortunately the only feasible plan, is to siphon the poison from the wound over time. Slowly imbuing Alastor’s soul with his own, tainted holy energy in order to heal the wound over time. If he does it right, Alastor won’t even know he was healed. The unfortunate part about this plan is that it doesn’t rid the wound from existence like a touch would, it simply transfers it from one soul to another. Lucifer will be taking the wound onto himself, where he can work on healing it naturally, as his body is not poisoned by the purity of angelic wounds. It will hurt, but it will heal. If the wound is left on Alastor, it will never heal.

Begrudging, but still determined to be as useful as possible to Charlie before he inevitably fucks everything up again, Lucifer resolves to go through with plan number three. It takes a week. Seven days of gradually increasing pain, of magicking golden stains from his coat, then being winded from using magic, of sewing himself together each night only to wake up in a pool of his own blood because the wound had grown larger while he slept.

It takes seven days, but at the end of it, Alastor is as chipper as ever, and the crease between Charlie’s brows has smoothed into something joyful. The wound now spans the length of Lucifer’s chest, wrapping around his torso near his ribs and up to his rightmost shoulder blade. Honestly, he’s not sure how Alastor survived so long like this and feels a grudging respect at the man for having pushed through.

The wound throbs, and every so often it will twinge, as if Lucifer were being cut in half- scored and carved all over again- but when he walks downstairs on the morning of the eighth day and finds Alastor cooking, Charlie seated, legs kicking happily at the island… He knows it’s worth it. Any amount of pain would be worth the sheer relief on Charlie’s face as she tracks Alastor’s every move, still looking for any irregularities. Something like pride swells within Lucifer at the knowledge that she will find none. He did that. He brought her that solace. No one will ever know, but that wasn’t the point of it.

“Good morning your majesty!” Alastor crows from the stove, he doesn’t turn to greet him. For a moment Lucifer wonders how he had known he was there, but a pair of eyes glinting in the shadows of the hallway tells him all he needs to know about that. Charlie perks and glances over at him as he’s addressed.

“Good morning, Alastor! You seem awful chipper today, feeling better?” No one will know he helped Alastor, yes, but that doesn’t mean he cant have fun with this. Just the look on his face right now- a smile, frozen, as his brows draw inward in incredulity- is worth the twinge that talking elicits.

Alastor, always the performer, recovers easily. “I’ve no idea what you mean! I have not been sick in decades, your majesty.”

Lucifer only chuckles, hiding his wince by taking a seat next to Charlie at the island. God why does it hurt so much? Why can’t he focus on anything else? Michael had torn off his fucking wings and stabbed him through the heart with blessed steel when he cast him down to hell and he can’t handle a little holy light from Adam? Eternity has made him soft. It’s fucking pathetic.

“Apologies, I didn’t mean to presume. You had Charlie worried!” He grits, trying to keep his voice even and chipper. Charlie smacks him on the arm and he has to fight off a groan. Fucking. Worthless.

“Dad! I wasn’t- I just- UGH.” She stutters, “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I still can’t believe we sent you to deal with Adam alone. That never should’ve happened, Al, I’m so so so so sorr-“

Alastor cuts her off with a grin, sliding a steaming plate of eggs, bacon and toast in front of her. “No need, my dear! As you can see I’m right as rain and in one piece.” His eyes slide over to Lucifer for a moment and he hums.

“Would you like some breakfast, your majesty?” He asks, turning back to the stove. Lucifer shakes his head, then regrets it when it makes him dizzy.

“I’m alright, thank you. Had a big dinner.” He manages. Alastor hums again, and Lucifer isn’t sure whether that means he believes him or not.

Charlie finishes her meal in quiet, comfortable conversation with Alastor, some of the other hotel residents who stop in for a bite and, occasionally, Lucifer when he manages to push down the nausea enough to speak without fear of barfing all over her nice pantsuit.

She leaves with little fanfare, but she does pull Lucifer into a side hug that, while agonizing, he will cherish forever. The rest of the ‘reformees’ make their way through the kitchen for the next thirty minutes until Charlie calls everyone to the atrium for some bonding exercises. Alastor does not make any move to leave the kitchen at the announcement, so Lucifer doesn’t, either. He’s also unsure of his ability to not pass out if he stands right now.

It’s so warm in the kitchen, Alastor had the ovens on for cinnamon rolls and it smells heavenly. If Lucifer closes his eyes, he can almost imagine that Lilith is still here, that he hasn’t fucked it all up with Charlie yet. He dozes on the thick marble of the island, chest still twinging, but strangely at peace.

It’s another five minutes of warm silence before the clink of a plate beside his elbow rouses him. A warmth settles to his right.

Blinking his eyes open, Lucifer catches sight of Alastor looking at him. Through him, might be a better description of the action; his eyes rove, calculating over the planes of Lucifer’s face. Alastor isn’t frowning- he never frowns- but there’s a crease between his eyebrows. Maybe those are like wounds, too, they don’t heal they just transfer to another person. Maybe Charlie’s just transferred to him, like his wound had transferred to Lucifer.

Lucifer snorts to himself at his own little joke. The crease deepens.

“You were not at supper last night.” Alastor prompts, finally. Lucifer isn’t quite sure how that’s relevant right now.

“Yeah, and neither were you.” Check and mate. A bit of radio static pierces through the air at his quip. Lucifer smiles to himself, sitting up.

With the knowledge that he’s under scrutiny, he puts more work into affecting his usual trite joviality. Alastor simply raises a brow as he hands him a fork and gestures to the full plate in front of him. Lucifer is shocked still for a moment. Alastor made this food. He made it, and he’s giving some to Lucifer? Of his own volition? Lucifer takes a moment to rack his brain for any side effects of the siphoning that might make him act like this but the only possible explanation is the sheer adrenaline of relief, knowing you’re not dying anymore.

“You made this for me?” Lucifer asks, voice small. He can’t remember the last time someone cooked for him. Hell, he can’t remember the last time he ate anything. He doesn’t need to, not really, but it’s nice when there’s love in it. When someone takes the time to care about him in this way. Lucifer’s never found himself all too worth cooking for, and that’s most of the reason why he didn’t, in all those years spent alone since Charlie and Lilith leaving.

Alastor rolls his eyes.

“Obviously. It would be rude not to indulge, you know. So get to it!” His voice is filled with static, it takes a moment for Lucifer to parse his words. He takes the proffered fork and takes a small bite of the scrambled eggs. Father Almighty. They’re perfectly fluffy, well seasoned and just the right temperature! Lucifer can’t help the pleased sound that escapes him at the taste. He glances up at Alastor to find that his grin has turned smug. Whatever. Lucifer’s not going to lie to him.

“This is really good. Thanks.”

It’s quiet for a moment. Lucifer takes another bite before asking, “Do you want some? I know you haven’t been eating, either, and you probably need it more than me.”

Alastor’s eyes narrow and Lucifer gets the creeping feeling he’s let something slip.

“This is the second time you’ve referenced an invented affliction of mine. I would appreciate if you refrained from now on.” Alastor hisses, the air around the two of them practically sizzles with electricity.

‘Imagined’ hah! He wishes. Lucifer raises an eyebrow, he makes it too easy.

“You’re awful defensive for someone who supposedly didn’t have an affliction.” He drawls. Alastor’s eyes flicker green as he stands, abruptly.

“Put your dish in the washer when you’re done. I will see you another time.” He grits, stalking out of the room. It’s not until he leaves that Lucifer notices that he’d cleaned everything up. The sink is empty and the stove is spick and span. The only dish left is Lucifer’s plate and fork; he’d saved him a portion.

Lucifer does as told and hobbles up to his rooms with a smile on his face and a full stomach. Maybe this whole siphoning thing wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

***

This siphoning thing was such a fucking bad idea. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow.

Lucifer curses to himself as he hobbles to the bathroom situated on the skywalk between his and Alastor’s rooms. His stitches had popped in the middle of one of his unfortunately timed yearly nightmares about falling. So, on top of the popped stitches, he’d scratched his arms bloody, too. Usually when he gets like this he doesn’t bother leaving his room, the cuts will heal themselves as soon as he gets to his door, anyway. But with the extra energy his body is expending on healing the Adam Wound, they just keep bleeding, sluggishly.

It’s been a couple days and the wound has been looking better, but it’s slow going. Lucifer shudders to think what would’ve happened to Alastor if he’d kept trying to live with it. Speaking of Alastor, the bastard’s been making him breakfast every day now; and if Lucifer doesn’t make it down during the hour he spends cooking, he sets aside a portion and puts it in the fridge.

Lucifer doesn’t know if this is his way of being nice, or if he’s luring him in to try and poison him one of these days. Either way, it’s always nice to be cooked for. Poison wouldn’t work on him, anyways.

There’s a pit in his stomach, growling and gnawing for something warm to satiate it- something Alastor-made- as Lucifer bleeds ichor onto the carpet. He pushes the feeling, and the resulting shame, down deep within himself. How low can he get, really? Fuck. Pining for kind gestures from a man who ostensibly wants to kill him? How far can he fucking fall.

The door to the restroom is open when he gets there, which Lucifer is all too thankful for. He pushes, with some effort, into the darkness.

A part of him considers turning on the light, but he has no issues seeing in the dark, and it seems like a lot of work to go through for no reason. With a groan, he bends down to grab the medkit from below the sink, then sits himself on the closed toilet.

With shuddering breaths, he snaps his shaking fingers, doubling over as his night shirt dissipates. “God- fuck!” He sucks a breath through his teeth.

Lucifer stays folded over for a moment, taking the time to breathe once, twice, before unfurling into a now familiar agony.

He grabs a hand towel and shoves it between his teeth to muffle any unwitting noises he might make- he’d found out the hard way that he’s a screamer a long time ago- and threads the suture needle with dental floss. He ran out of actual suture thread yesterday and, not wanting to alarm Charlie or let anything slip, hadn’t asked where he could find more. Dental floss has worked before, and it’ll work now. It just won’t be as pretty as it usually is.

Lucifer has just begun stitching himself up- letting little whines and whimpers into the hand towel tightly clenched between his teeth with each tug of the floss- when the door to the bathroom bursts open and a humming Alastor strides through the threshold. He flicks on the light- though Lucifer’s unsure why, as he doesn’t need it to see, either- and immediately makes eye contact with Lucifer. Then the hand towel clamped in his teeth. Then the giant bleeding wound on his chest. Then the eight golden scores in his arms.

His eyes widen a fraction, then narrow into a glare.

He strides up to Lucifer and grabs at his jaw, but the hold is surprisingly gentle. Alastor runs a finger along the area until it loosens enough for him to wrestle the towel from his lips.

Lucifer’s not sure if he should feel threatened or not. It’s not like Alastor can do anything to him. Not anything he hasn’t felt before, at least.

Why is the steel in his eyes so terrifying, then, though?

“Explain.”

Alastor says the word quietly, but somehow his voice seems to echo in the room. Lucifer sits tall, unwilling to be made ashamed of what he’s done. What he’s tried to do, to help.

“You never would have let me close enough to heal you through touch. You know that. And Charlie would have been devastated if you died because you were too much of an uptight prick to let other people care about you. This was the only way. I’ll heal. You wouldn’t.”

Lucifer’s voice is raspy, a little hoarse from the agony of the night. He has to clear his throat a few times during the monologue. Alastor stares at him through the entire thing, eyes burning against the side of his face. It’s silent for a while and Lucifer is acutely aware of the fact that he’s still bleeding.

“Now if you don’t mind, I have sutures to-” Alastor cuts him off with a vague scratch of radio static, “Give me the needle.”

Lucifer hesitates, so he repeats himself, enunciating each word.

“Give. Me. The. Needle.”

Lucifer does. He’s nervous for a moment- god knows why- but it’s like he’s been telling himself: Alastor physically can’t do anything to him that hasn’t already been done. He’ll be fine. Alastor pulls a stool from thin air and settles himself next to Lucifer.

He expects a sharp, focused pain. Tiny cruel little stabs done in excess to teach him a lesson about doing Alastor ‘favors’. But Alastor’s hands are warm and gentle against the golden shreds of his midsection. Each suture is measured and careful, he moves slowly through the motions and keeps a steadying hand against Lucifer’s side as he works. He does not look at him, though, entirely focused on the task at hand.

The gentleness is off-putting, and it makes something flighty bang around in Lucifer’s chest. He suddenly feels the urgent need to apologize.

“I’m sorry, Alastor. I should’ve asked but I was afraid it would take too long. I’m surprised you’re still alive now given the state the wound was in when I first transferred it.” Lucifer chuckles. Alastor does not join him. He babbles on.

“I don’t regret it, though. And I’d do it again if I needed to. I mean have you seen Charlie lately? She’s got the pep back in her step! And you, you’re up and cooking again. Everyone’s so happy you’re back in the apron.”

Alastor hums, finishing up the sutures on his chest and immediately moving to the deepest gashes on his arms. Lucifer is just about to protest- really, those ones will heal soon enough, they don’t need anything- when Alastor speaks.

“What about you?”

Lucifer cocks his head. Huh?

“What about me?” He asks.

Alastor chuckles, pressing some antiseptic into a different hand towel than the one Lucifer had been biting on and passing it over the- now sewn- cuts on his forearm. The sting barely registers. It’s so needless. It’s so wasteful.

“You speak of all of these benefits but I fail to see how any of them pertain to you. Aside from your obvious need for your daughter’s approval, of course.” He says.

That stings a little, which is strange because none of it is untrue. Of course he wants Charlie’s approval; it’s the fucking least he could do after everything he’s made her face alone.

Lucifer shrugs, pushing Alastor’s hands away when they try to tend to his other arm.

“What’s it matter? I don’t need the benefits to ‘pertain to me’, I don’t do anything for these people,” he spreads his arms around to emphasize his point, “not like you or Charlie do. Besides, I’ve been selfish enough already, don’t you think?” The gesture he makes this time is similar to before, but he points through the restroom door to the window that lines the skywalk. Moreso conveying the idea ‘see what my selfishness has already culminated into? Eternal damnation for millions of souls’. Alastor raises an eyebrow.

“And what would your daughter think of this… philosophy of yours?” His voice is low, and he reaches out to grab Lucifer’s arm back into his own grip. Still gentle, but firmer than before. Lucifer doesn’t fight him on it and his eyes light up at the success. That’s… oddly endearing for a murderer-cannibal.

Lucifer shrugs once more. He doesn’t really see the point Alastor is trying to make, he’s thought this through. He knows what he’s doing.

“Doesn’t really matter, does it? She’s never going to know and we’re going to keep it that way. She’s got a bleeding heart, probably got it from her old man,” Lucifer chuckles self-depreciatingly, “it wouldn’t do her any good.”

Alastor finishes with the last bandage- more unnecessary, needless waste on wounds that will heal tomorrow- and runs the antiseptic towel under warm water before wiping Lucifer clean of his own blood. His touch is just as light as it was before, it’s driving Lucifer insane. Why won’t he just hurt him already. He knows he’s itching for it.

“You are not what I thought you would be.” Alastor says, finally, tossing the towel into the laundry basket in the corner of the room. His eyes raise, finally, to meet Lucifer’s own shocked gaze. He can’t muster up a response; what is he supposed to say to that? Is it a good thing? Probably not. A bad thing? Well, then he doesn’t need more fuel for his ‘bad thoughts’ journal.

Thankfully, Alastor continues, “Next time, simply come talk to me. I don’t want this to happen again.” He stands, brushing imaginary dust off of his overcoat- which, now that Lucifer is paying attention, why is he still in his overcoat at three in the morning?

Lucifer snaps his fingers- now embarrassed by his own state of undress and reinvigorated by the tender touches- and rematerializes his nightshirt. Alastor levels him with a disapproving glare when he reels from the exertion.

“Now why did you go and do that? I could have gotten you a shirt, and then you wouldn’t be dizzy. Pity you’re so stubborn.” He comments, with just the slightest tinge of frustration. It thrills something in Lucifer to be able to get that reaction out of him, even in this diminished state.

“Yeah. Pity. Look, I’m not going to promise you this won’t happen again. I’m going to do what’s best for Charlie and this hotel, always.” Lucifer’s voice breaks a little at the latter end of the sentence, he can’t bring himself to meet Alastor’s eyes.

There’s silence for a moment, then a clawed finger flicks delicately at his chin, tilting his head up. Alastor sighs when he keeps his gaze low.

“Stubborn. I am not asking you not to do it- you were right, I probably wouldn’t have gone for the touch healing- I am asking you to do me the courtesy of checking first, before you act. Is that clear?”

Lucifer mulls over the words for a moment, considering his options. All in all it’s not a bad deal, and if this experience has taught him anything it’s that it’s nice to have someone in your corner, willing to help if you let them in. Charlie is in his corner, but she’s also his daughter, and it will never be her job to help him with anything for as long as he is alive. Alastor’s offering.

Lucifer nods, hesitantly.

“I can do that. Thanks.”

Alastor shakes his head before turning towards the door.

“Put some of the green tube on your chest wound every night before bed. If your arms don’t heal by tomorrow, add some there too. Don’t exert yourself. I’ll know if you pop your stitches again.”

And with that laundry list of care, he disappears into the night. Lucifer looks at the stitching on his chest, wondering if he was being serious, or if he was just bluffing about knowing.

Three cross stitches glow a neon green right next to each other in the middle of his chest “X X X”.

Ah, so that’s how. Sneaky bastard.

Still, though, Lucifer smiles all the way back to his room, and if he notices a shadow tailing him on his way there, he doesn’t say anything about it.

[satureja13]

Since two of them always have to be on duty at the bridge and the other two are currently sleeping, it's upon Jack and Kiyoshi again to help the Grim Reaper out.

They had to host a social event and since they couldn't invite anyone to the ship and the others are not available, they ended up with a date. So they went over to the crew mess to eat together. And found another sad location. The empty chairs of B.D's kids (B.D's full name is 'Black Diamond', just in case you wonder about the name in the tooltip in the pic below ^^') and the cereal squares he made for them.

This was breaking their hearts again and they had to leave to eat. (They really did this. Grabbed their plates and left.)

A sad date that was. Because they chose to sit right next to the kids abandoned playground... But Jack wouldn't be Jack if he weren't able to change the gloomy mood with his never-failing puppy energy. (I don't remember if I ever saw Kiyoshi laughing? Looks so cute <3 )

Jack just can't see his mate sad. And so he dragged him over to Moogie's. Upstairs, to the bar's gaming room. Because the event plan wanted them to play games... It was impossible to be gloomy in a bright room like this ^^' And so their evening - or whatever time of the 'day' it was in this endless darkness the ship was floating through - got significantly better.

Time for the Ambrosia Society Newsletter. There is no mailman in space and it took them a while to find their mail on this giant ship. It was in the Security Office. Probably to make sure there weren't any threats hidden inside the letters and parcels ö.ö A very cool workplace for Jack and Jeb who are also designated as security officers. There are even brigs! Guarded by fancy force fields! Jack: "Awesome! I wonder if we are ever going to contain anyone here?" Kiyoshi, who doesn't even want to think about anyone trying to harm his mate or his friends here: "Hopefully not! ö.ö "

The Romantium was already looping through the ship's air circulation. And a super huge AC was installed in the security office, right next to Jack and Kiyoshi. Blowing out the irresistable and intoxicating particles that makes one want only one thing - to be as close as possible to your loved one... And so Jack moved closer to Kiyoshi and Kiyoshi closer to Jack. Each of them looking at the others plump and totally kissable lips. The sweet and promising lips they'd already tasted before. Far, far too long ago... And right behind Kiyoshi was the latest box from 'Ye Olde Magick Shoppe'. With all the spicy toys for lovers. Demanding to be unboxed by curious couples to bring them joy and bliss...

But Jack and Kiyoshi aren't a curious couple! They are mates, just mates! It was almost impossible to resist the Romantium. But they remembered how bad they felt after woohooing - twice... They love each other too much to bring even more misery among them. Kiyoshi: "What are we supposed to do now?" Jack: "I don't know! I - I'm not ready for more!"

After a while. Vlad: "Are you sober again? Can I let you out? I need to start my duty on the bridge..." Jack: "Sure. Thanks, pal." Vlad just sighed, opened the force fields of the brigs Jack and Kiyoshi had locked themselves in to keep their distance, and left. What is this now again? ...

Jack and Kiyoshi cooled down enough to manage the last quest for the Grim Reaper (until the event broke again -.-) Make Ambrosia! Jack decided the fridge in the crew mess wasn't fancy enough for this special meal, so he went upstairs to fetch the ingredients from the captain's quarters... (Really. More in a future post ^^')

Jack and Kiyoshi are utterly in awe with this futuristic kitchen! They've never seen anything like this before.

Tadaaa! Well done, Boys!

I don't know if we are going to continue this event, should it be fixed. There are only three rewards left (two potions and a Death Flower, if I remember right) so we could just skip it.

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