#so there are a few reservations there i might have done some things differently but the botsukki feels still hit hard

[touchlikethesun]

i tried to pick one section that best exemplifies this fic but i can’t no one bit does it justice. just pls read this. bokuto… i feel like bokuto’s feelings aren’t always taken seriously, but reading this was like peeking into his soul. it hurt, a lot, but the resolution makes it worth it… i think this might be a popular fic but it’s a bit older so if any bokuto protectors/appreciators haven’t come across this yet pls pls pls do give it a read you won’t regret it xx

[highwayorgantrade]

Safe House

Pairing: Female Reader! X Soap

Request: Nooo

Summary: Oh no! A bunch of soldiers posted up in your farmhouse bed and breakfast?? Whatever shall you do!! Should you fuck them??

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: Overstimulation, begging, volume (keep quiet), unprotected sex, cervix kissing 

Author's note: Okay listen y'all I did not plan on doing this whatsoever. I was in the middle of writing a Graves thing when I got this idea and I knew I just had to get that damn little brain worm out before it ruined my life further. This is gonna be a series!!!!!

The mission had gone wrong. Oh, so horribly wrong. 141 thought they were smart by teaming up with Los Vaqueros again to take down a trafficking ring - “Positive international relations,” Price had called it. “We even got imported muscle.” He grinned, referring to the 6’10” man they had called in, after hearing of his ability to do his job and keep his mouth shut.

 However, the ring had decided on the same tactic, bringing in a nearby cartel to defend their location. Quickly, way too quickly, the group was overwhelmed, frantically phoning in to Laswell for extraction.

“Don’t worry,” She sighed, after directing the seven men to a relatively safe area, the black-tinted SUV already flying gravel. “I have a friend.”

You had just so happened to be the friend. Well, the relative was more accurate, being her sister-in-law. You knew what she did for work, but you never thought she would call on you for help with it.

“Please, (Y/N), it’ll only be for a few days, I swear. A week, tops.” She called you early one November morning. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.” And you knew she wouldn’t. The fact was simple: You had lived relatively nearby, and the bed and breakfast you operated and lived in certainly had the facilities to house eight people, and it so happened to be the off-season.

You were eager to accept, happy to help your sister, and it would be nice to have some muscle with the chores that needed done around the property. When the SUV pulled up, you quickly regretted your decision. You had expected a house full of military boys, tearing around like a pack of dogs, but out stepped six of the most attractive men you have ever seen, all completely different, but equally as handsome and rugged. Two were masked, but Christ, were they big anyway. As they loaded packs out of the van, you stepped into the grass, the cold air causing you to draw your cardigan tighter around yourself. When you approached, you kept a safe distance - partly because you didn’t know them, but also because you were afraid that if you got too close, you’d get lost in the intricacies of their faces.

“Hey!” You spoke finally, the rustling of the dying leaves nearly drowning you out. “I’m (Y/N), I hope the trip out wasn’t too awful!” You internally cringed at yourself for giving them the usual spiel you reserved for guests, but continued anyway. “Come on in, all the rooms are pretty much the same, but you can pick, so… that’s something.”

“Ay, don’t worry lass, better by miles than where we’ve been.” One of them finally spoke, casting a friendly grin your way, and you turned quickly to hide the burning on your cheeks. 

You were proud of the way your property looked, hidden well off the road in a small forested area, the whole thing had kind of an eclectic feel to it, but you still felt kind of strange leading them into the common area. 

“Okay!” You clasped your hands together, and tried to remember that you were only a housing opportunity - they had more important things to focus on. “Well, uh, I’ll stay out of your way as much as I can, but you might see me flitting about here and there. What’s mine is yours.” Some nodded their thanks, others were making quick work of checking their bags for God knows what, and one, the one in a skull mask, merely stared down at you, his large arms crossed on his chest.

Okay… You took that as your cue to leave, and you quickly stepped out the back door, hoping to make progress on your chores before the sun set.

The frigid air felt nearly unbearable compared to how hot you were burning in their presence - you didn’t even realize that you were slightly sweating. With a sigh, you reminded yourself of your responsibilities. Repaint the gazebo, refill and hang the bird feeders, and fix the greenery so everything is in full bloom by summer. Leaves crunched under your step as the half-painted gazebo came into view. You could hear voices coming from your house, a few with different accents, mostly British, but you could pick out a Scottish, a vaguely German, and a couple Spanish lilts. A booming laugh echoed, and you relaxed your tense shoulders at the sound. 

“Don’t make me regret this, Kate.” You mumbled as you settled into the grass and popped open a paint can.

She was pretty. It was the first thing Soap had noticed. It looked like she belonged here, in the woods, with the wind blowing her hair and birds singing in her presence. No doubt she kept them well-fed. He had barely listened when she spoke - he was much too focused on how her sweater wrapped tightly around her body, or how her eyes seemed to physically sparkle with curiosity. She had said something, Soap had no idea, but he responded anyway. Something about the drive? The rooms?

“Ay, don’t worry lass, better by miles than where we’ve been.” He answered, stabbing that it was an appropriate response. The way she averted her eyes and a hint of a smile played at the edges of her lips told him that he was successful. When she turned around to lead them into the safehouse, Price gave him a nudge and shook his head ‘no.’ No fucking Kate’s pretty little sister? Might as well ask him to walk on fucking water, next. 

She had promised to make herself scarce, and Soap was silently thankful. He didn’t want this woman caught up in what they were doing, and he didn’t want her to know something that could get her in trouble - Laswell would never forgive them. When she left, Alejandro was the first to speak.

“Nobody talk to me about this mission tonight.” He grumbled, and Soap recognized that as a request long ago, based on the way his jaw was clenched nearly the entire drive to the location, muttering what Soap assumed to be expletives every so often. He trudged up the stairs with his bag, Rudy trailing not far behind. 

“Right, then.” Ghost spoke, rolling his shoulders and pulling out a map of the enemy facility and laying it on the wood table, and Soap nearly laughed at how out of place it looked. “If they’ve gotten support from that gang, it eliminates them from support from anyone else, and makes them a target to others, not just us.”

“We need to get to them first.” Konig’s hand landed on the map, gesturing vaguely at an entrance. “This was lightly guarded.” Soap stared at the location, before his eyes flitted out the window to see you approaching a gazebo outside, and he itched to get this out of the way.

“Aye, they might reinforce that entrance since they know it’s weak now. Leaves somewhere else open to vulnerability.” Soap strategized, his eyes lingering on how your hands ran through your hair, and JESUS, how did it still look perfect after that? A light thump on the back of his head pulled him out of his thoughts, and he looked back to see Gaz with a raised eyebrow, the corners of his mouth turning upwards. 

“No-go, mate. Red zone. Laswell would have your head on a stick.”

“Might be worth it.” Ghost chimed in, following his gaze to the woman.

Price pointed a warning finger to Ghost, his face stony.

“Ghost, stop instigating. Gaz, leave Soap alone. Konig…” He took a breath, considering the man had nothing to do with their antics. “Good job. Soap, I wish I had control over who a soldier decides to sleep with, but I don’t.”

“That girl in Ibiza left a bad taste in your mouth, Cap?” Soap retorted, recalling one of his more infamous hook-ups, and Price laughed loudly.

“Lesson for the inexperienced,” Ghost turned to Konig. “Remember your date’s name or she will throw a knife at you.” Konig shook his head at this, and slung his bag over his shoulder, ready to call it a day.

“Sounds like my kind of woman.”

Soap had already tuned the ribbing out, and when Ghost packed up the plans, he was already tracing your path, walking out the back door to meet you.

A rustling of leaves caused your head to perk up, and you turned to see the one who had spoken to you earlier, a small smile on his face.

“Need any help?” He tilted his head at the gazebo. “More hands make less work ‘n all.” You looked back at your work, having made minimal progress since you began. 

“Oh! Yeah, sure. If you want.” You responded, pulling the paint tray out in front of you so he could take the spare paintbrush. A moment of silence passed before he spoke again.

“I’m Johnny. Most of the guys call me Soap, though.”

Soap? The nickname seemed to come out of nowhere, and you crinkled your nose at this.

“Why do they call you that? You shower more than everyone else or something?” He laughed at this, reaching up to cover the underside of a railing in white paint, and you fought to keep your eyes from lingering on his arms.

“Good at cleaning house, love.” Soap corrected you, your lips pursing at the nickname. “How long have you had this place?”

You shrugged, simply happy that he was making conversation with you.

“Coupl’a years. Since I was twenty. Bought it as a dump and flipped it.” He makes a noise of approval and takes a deep breath. 

“Your, uh, boyfriend live here with you, does he?” At this, you can’t help but allow a laugh to tear through you, both in recognition of what Soap was doing, and out of pure shock that he was doing it.

“Not sure where my boyfriend lives, I haven’t met him yet. Let me know if you find him, though, yeah?” Soap shook his head.

“I don’t think I will, but thank you for the offer.”

The back and forth with Soap left your head reeling, and you considered your options as you painted in silence. Kate would kill you if she found out, but she doesn’t need to find out. It has been terribly long since you’ve even been on a date, or even had sex for that matter, and Soap certainly isn’t the worst looking man in the world. He clearly had a great body, and you delved down the rabbit hole of how his arms would look pinning your arms above your head, his battle-worn dog tag trailing cold electricity down your chest.

A flash of yellow light pulled you out of your musings, and a firefly landed on your knee. You took a deep breath and turned to Soap, his attention garnered by your sudden movement of waving the small bug away.

“Do you wanna have a drink tonight? With me?” Your face was comically serious, and Soap let out a soft chuckle as he replaced the lid on the paint, taking the brush from your hand.

“Aye.” He stood, sighing a bit at the noise his knees made, and handed you the paint tray.

“I’ll, uh, go put this up and meet you inside.” You offered him a small smile, and his head tilted at you, trying to hide his own.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Soap had to stop himself from running back into the house. Giddiness coursed through him, and he burst through the door to see Gaz, Ghost, and Konig sat in various places around the living room, the TV tuned in to the local news.

“Get the fuck out.” He stated simply, his eyes wide and a dumb grin on his face.

“Pardon?” Ghost barely spared him a glance, and Konig automatically stood, silently confused as to where he was supposed to go. Gaz merely stared up at him.

“I said,” Soap wrapped his hand around Ghost’s bicep and pulled, forcing the man to stand, and Gaz followed. “Get the fuck out.”

“You sendin’ us to bed, then, eh?”

Soap picked up Ghost’s bag for him, and shoved it into his chest, nearly pushing the men up the stairs.

“I am.” He turned to Gaz, his mouth already open to protest, and pointed a finger in his face. “If you fuck this up for me, I will end you.” 

The second the three men shut the door to their respective rooms, you stepped back into the house, locking the backdoor behind you.

I raised an eyebrow at the television, and grinned at Soap.

“Did you turn on the news?” I ask, grabbing two glasses and a bottle of wine from cabinets, pouring us both a fairly full glass.

“Yeah, it’s a new form of foreplay.” He laughed, taking a sip. “Learnin’ that we world is shite.” 

“Oh, so foreplay is important to you?” And that question was your first step. He glanced at you from across the kitchen island, and you could just see the gears in his mind turning, figuring out the best way to get himself into your bed. Honestly, he could have asked to bend you dead over the kitchen counter, his large hand pulling your hair as leverage as he thrusted into you from behind.

But your imagination always runs wild.

“Mm. ‘S very important.” You cocked your head at his answer, and he shrugged. “I prefer to have a girl simply beggin’ before I even think of finishing.” He took a step around the island, not quite in front of you, but leaning on the side. You sipped your wine again, trying to cover your reaction to his answer, but there was no wine glass big enough to cover how you pressed your legs together, one hand gripping the counter with slightly more force than necessary.

“How do you do that?” It was an effort to keep your tone even , trying not to show how badly he was affecting you.

“Eh.” He set his wine glass down, finger lightly circling the base of the stem. “Usually have ‘em coming a few times before I get my own.”

Holy fuck. You needed Soap, and you needed him bad.

“Ah, so only good reviews then?” Damnit, why is your voice suddenly higher? You cleared your throat to try to get it to return to normal, and the fucking bastard smirked at you.

“So far. Tell me, love.” That damn nickname again. “When was the last time you were fucked?” You opened your mouth to answer, but it didn’t matter as Soap began talking again. “Ah, lemme revise that. When was the last time you were properly fucked? The last time someone had you cryin’, had you just stupid on their cock?”

You were buzzing, shaking slightly at Soap’s vulgar words. His accent got lower, rougher as he spoke, and you could feel your arousal tying a knot in your throat.He simply stared at you, waiting for your answer with a dumb smile on his face, like he already knew.

“Oh, no, don’t tell me…” He began, in mock sympathy. “Never?” You shook your head at him, not wanting to tell him the truth.

In all reality, you’ve never orgasmed with someone else. It was all only you, and you learned quickly not to say this, as all men would try to be the first. Then you’d end the night by lying, and they would go with their egos inflated.

You both stood, the tension in the kitchen more than you could bear, and just as you were about to dismiss yourself for the night, Soap wrapped a hand around your forearm - Not tightly enough to worry you, but just enough so you looked up at him, your faces inches from each other.

“Love, I don’t like to, uh, think I’m all that, y’know?” He cleared his throat. “But I’d like to try. Show some thanks to our host.”

In one last attempt at quieting down your own perverse thoughts, you set your wine glass down, and looked at the floor.

“Ah, you don’t need to thank me Soap.”

“I absolutely do,” He responded immediately. “I really do need to. Nothin’ better than a pretty face while I work.”

You bite the inside of your lip, considering all the ways this could go bad. Every single one was overrun with the way Soap was searching your eyes, silently pleading for you. With a purse of your lips, you poured the rest of your wine down the sink, and smiled.

“Absolutely.”

You barely got the words out before Soap wrapped his arm around your waist and lifted, slinging you over his shoulder and making his way up the stairs, searching for any room that didn’t look like it was already occupied.

“Mine’s on the other end.” You breathed in an effort not to laugh at his eagerness, and he turned on his heels toward a door that was differently painted than the rest. He placed a hand over your head, protecting you from a bump as he ducked through the doorframe, and less-than-gently set you on your bed, locking the door behind him.

When he turned, you didn’t see the sweet man offering to help you with painting, you saw a soldier. A soldier tuned into your every breath, every movement, and every thought. He kneeled in front of the bed, between your legs, and began planting lighter than air kisses on your ankle, untying your shoes and setting them to the side haphazardly.

“Red means stop.” He whispered against your skin, traveling upward to your knee. “Yellow is slow down, green is good. Repeat it.”

“Red is-“ You were cut off by your own gasp as he delivered a light bite to the inside of your thigh before kissing it again, and you could feel him smile against you. “Red is stop. Yellow is slow. Green is good.”

“And where are we now?” He breathed against the spot right where your thigh met your most sensitive area, and you felt your stomach jump.

“Green. So, so green.” A whimper escaped you, and Soap tsked, like he was about to scold you.

“Stay quiet, lass.” Teased Soap, as he slid your shorts down, along with your underwear, and he whistled lowly. “A Chriosd ann an ifrinn, seall ort, a nighean bhòidheach.” And with that, he licked one long, thick strip up your cunt, dipping down to tease your hole with his tongue. Soap was eating you out like a man starved, and you were obsessed. 

Light, breathy moans left you, ever so aware of how quiet everything else was. 

“Tell me what feels good, love.” He punctuated his command with a nip to your thigh, pulling your mind out of the pleasure-induced haze. His tongue traveled through your folds, eyes trained on you to see your reaction to his ministrations. Soap’s lips wrap around your clit, fingers toying with your soaking entrance, and it felt like all rational thought had left you. You didn’t care about who exactly was between your legs, nor if his team could hear your desperate mewls.

The pressure inside you was building, and your movement was strange - trying to wriggle away from the incessant barrage against your clit, and trying to grind impossibly closer to Soap’s lips, and by his huff, it was clear he had enough of that. One large arm wrapped around a thigh, his other pressing down on your abdomen, and the only noise Soap could muster was a few low groans as he continued devouring you.

The knot inside you was getting tighter and tighter, and it felt like it was going to snap any second. A split moment of panic ran through you as your back arched off the bed, Begs and cries tumbling out of your lips before you could think of them.

“Soap, please, please.” You cried, hands aching from gripping the sheets. “Please don’t stop, please…” Staying true to your direction, Soap was unrelenting against you, the combination of his sucking, biting, and licking at your clit had dizzy spots appearing in your vision. With one hard push on your abdomen, and a particularly slow drag of his tongue at your entrance, you felt that snap, and you finally understood why it was called the Little Death.

Your mind had gone completely blank, mouth open in a silent scream, and your thighs clamped around either side of Soap’s head, where he still had yet to stop drinking you. It felt like your heart had even stopped beating, until the pounding was heard in your ears. As Soap continued, you felt your body lurch upwards, fingers tangling in Soap’s hair until he finally looked up at you, his hand coming back to slide a finger into you.The sudden intrusion forced a gasp from you, and he gently kissed your thigh, where you noticed the ache that predates a bruise.

“How we doin’, love? We okay?” His voice was impossibly sweet, a complete 180 to how he just made you feel. You nodded, despite feeling like every single sense in your body had been blown out. His finger continued sliding in and out of you, your walls pulsing around him.

“Green.” You confirmed breathily, and he smiled a wolfish grin before adding a second digit into you, his pace quickening. A quick flash of aggravation and desperation coursed through you, and you knew how to get exactly what you wanted. 

You looked down at him, eyebrows upturned in a pleading look, and your doe-eyes were working overtime. 

“Please, Soap, just fuck me.” You said, voice higher and more gentle than you thought it would come out, and he groaned, rolling his head against your leg. His fingers took on a ‘come here’ motion, and your eyes rolled in the back of your head at the feeling.

“Ah, I know what you want. You want these…” Soap planted a kiss on your thighs, interrupting his own speech. “God, these pretty thighs pinned behind your head, taking me so well, takin’ me so good.” He looked absolutely pussydrunk, his eyes darting between your eyes and his fingers, tsking and offering a slight noise of false sympathy when a tear rolled down your cheek. Your walls pulsed around his fingers, and you could feel that fire building inside of you again. “Christ, love, you wanna come again, huh?” You nodded furiously at his question, one hand coming up to absentmindedly play with your tits. A bright look crossed Soap’s face, and while his hands continued, his mouth met your hands.

His lips wrapped around your nipple, and before you could think, he bit down - the orgasm that crashed through you was stronger than the last, and the muscles in your thighs screamed from being clenched so tightly. You felt his fingers work their way out of your pussy, hissing at the feeling of your walls clenching around nothing.

“You want me to fuck you now, pretty thing?” His face was almost smug as he climbed up on the bed, one hand going to your lower back to effortlessly raise you, and he peppered light kisses on your sweat-covered face. Of course you want him, how could you not? Your body was buzzing with the aftershocks of two orgasms, and here he was, lining himself up with you.

“God, yes, please.” You breathed, hands coming to rest on his back. Soap brought his lips down next to your ear, sending another shock straight to your core.

“Beg better.” He punctuated his command by rubbing his cock through your folds, and you twitched when the head ground against your already sensitive clit. Beg better? Fuck you, Soap. 

You took his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you and, hopefully, how serious you looked.

“Fuck me, Soap. Now.” 

The simple instruction was all it took for him to push inside you, and it was like it activated something in him - Soap simply could not shut up.

“Ach, mo Dhia, tha thu a 'faireachdainn cho foirfe timcheall orm. So perfect.” He planted a kiss to your temple. “So perfect, my pretty girl.” 

You brought your lips up to his neck, kissing the curve where it meets his shoulder, and his babbling only continued as his cock dragged against nearly every nerve, your broken moans echoing through your room. God, his slow pace was nearly agonizing, you wanted more, you needed more. It was like Soap read your mind as he paused, hooking your knees above his shoulders, effectively pinning you into the mattress. He flashed you a wicked grin before he began his jackhammer pace, and this new position had him reaching impossibly deep inside you.

A vague, low ache began in your abdomen every time he bottomed out, his head kissing your cervix every single time. The depth combined with his pace, his groaning and endless praise in your ear - it felt like it was all culminating in a perfect storm, one that was threatening to break down every fibre of your being.

“Fuck, Soap, I’m going to-” You interrupted yourself with a low, hoarse groan, your admission only spurring him on as he replaced his hold on your knees with his hands.

“Look at me, love, I wanna see it, I wanna see you.” His stuttering hips told you he was in the same spot as you, and you both were not going to last much longer. “Come for me, pretty girl.” He growled, and that was all it took for you.

Your legs shook uncontrollably as you released around him, and your ending brought his own on. Curses left him lips as he buried himself inside you, collapsing next to you.

“Ach, come ‘ere.” He breathed, reaching his arm out to hook around your waist and pulling you to him, one leg wrapping around his waist. One hand rested on your jaw, planting kisses on your forehead, cheek, anywhere he could get access to. Your body felt numb, and you knew he stayed true to his word - you were fucked absolutely stupid. You wanted to talk, you wanted to ask where this left you? Would you ignore that this happened? Would it recur? Would he tell his team about it? You wanted to ask, and yet you didn’t - The song of crickets and his heartbeat was a lullaby, and one that you couldn’t fight.

The snare of sleep overtook you as your heart rate evened out, and only one thought was on your mind before you gave up the fight for consciousness:

You really fucking hope you don’t regret this.

[vampireimiko]

Could I request neuvillette x male reader?

M!reader personality: flirty, mischievous, hard to fluster, can be extremely rude, can be perverted

M!reader region: fontaine

M!reader species: kitsune

M!reader occupation: model

M!reader looks: Slim, curvy, shoulder length hair, shorter than average, he also wears heals most of the time

Extra

Likes: Modeling, skincare, makeup, getting his nails/hair done

Dislikes: getting his makeup ruined, getting his hair ruined, dirty things

M!reader extra: extremely popular, extremely attractive, cares alot about his looks, wears some makeup(eyeliner, mascara and lipstick) can be a bit of a narcissist sometimes

Oh and could he be more submissive in the relationship (not sexually)

Neuvillette x Male! Reader Headcanons

warnings, none !!

note, GAHHH THIS HAS BEEN DONE FOR A FEW DAYS NOW 🤕 I've just been sick and busy 😭🙏🏾 also i need more genshin mutuals so hmu 🤓☝🏾

જ⁀➴ How you and Neuvillette got together will always be a mystery to the citizens of Fontaine. You two were the complete opposite of one another—where you were flashy and always embraced extravagance, Neuvillette was mostly quiet, speaking only when necessary, and approaching things with simplicity.

જ⁀➴ But against all odds, you and Neuvillette found a way to be together. He became the steady and supportive boyfriend who held the fort in Fontaine, while you embodied the charismatic persona that seemed to charm its way into everything you desired, often accompanied by an effortless air of confidence.

જ⁀➴ Neuvillette's days were consumed by the responsibilities of his position as Chief Justice. On the other hand, you reveled in the luxuries that life in Fontaine provided, a lifestyle that resonated with your natural inclination for the extravagant. You were known not just for your striking looks and unique aura but also for your audacious approach to life.

જ⁀➴ Speaking of couple activities, you found immense joy in playing tricks on Neuvillette, fully embracing your Kitsune nature. From innocently hidden notes to elaborate pranks, you delighted in bringing moments of surprise and laughter into his orderly world. The faintest smile would dance at the corners of Neuvillette's lips, a testament to your success in tugging him out of his formal shell, if only momentarily.

જ⁀➴ Your mischievousness, paired with your innate flirty and perceptive nature, often led to playful banter and witty exchanges between you two. Neuvillette, who rarely allowed himself to be easily flustered, found himself occasionally caught off guard by your audacious comments and innuendos. It was a dance of wit and charm, a constant push and pull that brought a dynamic energy to your relationship.

જ⁀➴ As a model, you knew the value of appearances and the art of presenting oneself flawlessly. It was a commonality that further bonded you and Neuvillette. He might have held a position of authority, but your shared appreciation for grooming and style connected you on a different level. There were instances when you both would spend leisurely evenings together, experimenting with skincare routines or discussing the latest trends in fashion.

જ⁀➴ Despite your sometimes provocative nature, you respected Neuvillette's reserved demeanor. It was in those quiet moments that you found yourself drawn to his depth, his thoughtful perspectives on matters that transcended the superficial. Neuvillette's presence allowed you to explore your own complexity, inspiring you to embrace more facets of your personality beyond the outward flamboyance.

જ⁀➴ So with that being said, you and Neuvillette were definitely opposites of each other through and through. But you loved and cared for one another dearly, despite the contrast of your personalities.

𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞; 𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐒𝐎 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄... 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬💀 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐰𝐚𝐲, 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬, 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐬𝐦 (𝐢𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐟𝐮𝐥) 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 !

𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

[i984]

Sweet Words Make a Lovely Shade | Part 1

|Pairing|: Wednesday Addams x gender neutral reader.

|Warnings|: Ooc! Wednesday Addams, mentions of gore, Wednesday being uncharacteristically tame, reader likes to test boundaries, Wednesday gives bone-breaking hugs, no beta; we die like my brain cells.

|Summary|: You test your luck by putting Wednesday Addams in a compliment jail. 

|Word count|: 2.7k words

|A/n|: I ended up not changing a thing. I took some liberty with your request 💡anon, hope you still enjoy it! | Part 2 is available in my masterlist.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Love  

It does wonders for a person. 

And for you? Well, it makes you spew the utmost revolting, foolish, and absurd things out of your mouth—Wednesday's words, not yours. You think it's her way of saying she likes the compliments you practically shower her with. 

At first, you didn't even realize you were doing it. You could be sitting next to the raven-haired girl in class, having some lunch together, reading books in the library, or on your occasional walks around town, and you only have one single recurring thought that you can't seem to get out of your mind; 

Wednesday Addams—your precious sadistic little girlfriend—is so pretty.  

And not to be shallow or anything; after all, you like her for many different things. Her intelligence, wittiness, and her I-don't-give-a-fuck attitude. Her obsession with everything macabre, the monochromic-colored outfits that perfectly suit her, and the way she uses words you can't even begin to comprehend half the time. 

But then there's the way her hair has that lustrous glow, and then the rare grin she cracks when it's just the two of you, the constant little pout in her lips, and don't even start about her plump dark burgundy lips; Oh, you wanna kiss her-  

"-so bad," you mumbled out absent-mindedly, and Wednesday slowly looked up from her double cap—mouth gaping slightly at the suddenness of your words—her eyes blinking rapidly at you.  

"Oh- no no no I was just thinking and I got distracted because your lips look SO pretty!" Your voice was louder than you had intended for it to be, and you quickly covered your mouth—a pointless act as the slip-up had already been done. 

Wednesday only spared you a sharp glare before standing up from your shared sofa booth, already heading towards the Cafe entrance. Before you can even explain yourself, she had already bolted out, leaving you and her double cap behind. 

You know that Wednesday is not big on PDAs; soft kisses and gentle touches are reserved for private quarters. And even then, you can tell that her moves are calculated—afraid of doing too much that she'd find herself in a compromising position. 

But you didn't miss the darkening of her freckle-painted cheeks as she snuck a peek at your figure from outside Weathervane, and that's when you realized; 

Oh.  

Well, this is gonna be fun. 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You walk to your dorm room with a dopey grin on your face, recounting the things that happened earlier.  

You've figured it all out. Wednesday might act like she isn't affected by other people's words and opinions about her—and in most cases, this is true—except when it comes from you.  

She caught you wearing a hoodie of hers? Now you have three more in your closet. You respond a beat late to some disputable thing she mentions? She immediately apologized for being insensitive and asked your take on the subject. You told her that she looked good in that checkered sweater? Now she wears the piece of garment all the time. Ask her to binge-watch all 10 seasons of My Little Pony with you? It would give her nightmares for weeks, yes, but absolutely.  

You quickly realize that you're one of the few people lucky enough to have Wednesday tolerate you to a certain degree. So you do the obvious—run after Wednesday after leaving some money on the table, and then shout at the top of your lungs, "I LIKE YOUR LIPS WEDNESDAY ADDAMS"  

You swear to God, you've never seen someone bolt out of your view so quickly. She didn't even spare a single disapproving glance at you—on normal occasions she would—but now, as people stop in their tracks to see who your words are pointed to, she's gone, nowhere to be seen.  

It's cute, how much she's affected by your words. And that's why, as you open your dorm room door, you walk straight to your thinking desk past a figure, planning to come up with new ways to fluster your girlfriend. 

Wait. Past a figure? 

You turn your head to see Wednesday Addams standing still, looking daggers at you, and you know things are about to go down.  

You smile coyly at her while taking a seat. The raven-haired girl's gaze trails your every movement. She looks almost predatory in this state. Like she's about to tear you apart to shreds. 

You hold your head high as you speak, "Is something wrong, Wens?" A pet name. You've heard Wednesday made it clear time and time again to Enid that she was against pet names. And you've never called her one before. But you're willing to gamble your life this time just to see how far she would tolerate you. 

So you maintain your perfect facade, and it was all worth it as you see Wednesday's eyes widen at the morbidity of your words—the good kind, you'd assume—and you saw her mouth open and close a couple of times, trying to say something deprecating and failing acutely.  

She stands awkwardly like that for a moment; her hands making little gestures as if she was trying to make a point while maintaining her look of utter disbelief at your behavior. 

You figured if you didn't egg on her a little more, she wouldn't let her guard down, so you decided to turn your back on her and pulled out a book to read. 

"What are you doing?" You can hear the stress in her words. You can picture her look right now; her jaw clenched, teeth gritted, brows furrowed in dismay. 

"I'm reading a book, as you can see with those pretty brown eyes of yours." You flipped a few pages, eyes tracing along the shape of letters and words, not really paying any mind to the actual content. 

"All right then," exasperation is evident in her voice, and you have to fight yourself from snickering at the situation. 

You've always been very careful around Wednesday, trying not to agitate her into giving you snarky comments—she still gives them nonetheless, and you find it amusing as time goes by—but curiously, she's not giving you any at the moment. And if you are to guess, it's probably because she physically can't bash you for your words. Not when she's fighting for her life with feelings she refuses to acknowledge most of the time. 

You hear her footsteps grow distant—she's heading for the door, you figured—and you don't even bother to look up as you say, "Come back soon, tesoro,"  

The sound of footsteps ceased. 

"Are you really going to keep doing this?" You can tell by Wednesday's voice that she is trying so hard not to burst at your display—you were never like this after all—from rage or the compliments, you don't know. But you figure you'll find out if you pick the right words. 

"Keep doing what, Wens?" You spin in your chair to her, your voice dripping with honey, with faux innocence. You can see her face turn colors into one of carnation, her lips thinning into a line as she tears her gaze apart from you. 

"You. Know. What." Wednesday strains every word, her tone is low as if to intimidate you, but you know the ball is in your court. 

"What? Telling you how pretty your lips are? In front of a lot of people? 

"Yes, exactly-" 

"And that I wanna kiss those lips of yours so badly? Dark plump lips like yours are my favorite, by the way," you look at her in the eyes as you speak, and you let your gaze trail down her face, and Wednesday fidgets with the hem of her top. 

"Oh wait, actually, you are my favorite." 

Wednesday glares at you—an act that usually works with Enid and everyone else when she wants to avoid certain conversations—but you are unfazed. You have her exactly where you want right now, and judging by the absence of a knife in her hand, you're going to assume that she's more than okay with what you're doing.  

"But wait. Oh. Is this about the fact that I know you blushed so hard when I complimented you? Every single time, did you notice that?" You stood up from your seat, throwing the book atop your desk.  

"I know you like it, Wens," you smirked, the nickname easily sliding out your tongue the more you said it, "I know you like me."  

"Oh, you are so full of yourself-" 

"You know what else I like? The way your pout grows bigger—as we're speaking right now, yes," and you see her face growing a scowl as you take a step closer towards her, "and now you're clenching your jaw slightly, god, you look so cute doing that."  

"I do not look cute, and if you cut my words off-" 

"Do you know that your micro facial expressions are probably the most adorable thing I ever get to witness?" 

"-again, I will cut your tongue and force-feed it to you."  

You ignore your girlfriend's words, continuing the torture you've devised for her. "No, not probably. Definitely the most adorable thing ever."  

A broad grin sprouted on your face, the one Wednesday always calls 'the idiotic grin' but you know she secretly likes it, and you can't be happier right now. You're experiencing a power trip; adrenaline rushing through you to continue your teasing despite the possibility of being mute in the future. 

"And that? Right there. Just now. The way you just announce dangerous threats? And sometimes about people's demise? Now, that is attractive."  

Wednesday decided that she's had enough of your antics. Her hand reaches for the doorknob, and you trail after her out of your dormitory. 

"Do not follow me," Wednesday hushed, and you walk beside her trying to catch up as she seems to speed up her pace.  

"I'm not following you, we just happen to be walking in the same direction- Oh, hi Bianca!" You see the girl waving back at you as you both walk through the quad; Wednesday did not acknowledge Bianca's presence as usual. 

"Oh yeah, that reminds me. Remember when you totally beat the shit out of Bianca in that oral test last week? That is also incredibly attractive."  

Wednesday seemed to pay no mind as you continued your horrible strings of compliments, except for the fact that she's practically running through the corridors right now, embarrassed of being caught blushing by any of her peers. 

You know that at this point, you're threading a thin line between her turning into putty at your words or her leading you to a grave site, ready to smash your head with a rock once you get there. 

Well, she's heading towards Ophelia Hall now, so it's safe to say you won't be visiting the realms of the dead today. 

"It would be wise for you to quit whatever skulduggery you're doing if you don't want me to slice your head off at fencing class-," 

You raise your hand in mock defeat at her words, and you can see Wednesday's knuckles turn white in a fist as she continued her words, "-which will start in a couple of hours. So, leave me-" 

"Oh yeah, that got me thinking of how good you look when fencing. I mean, there's a reason why I never ever spar with you during class."  

"Yes, and it is your remarkable ineptitude in the sport." 

You shoot her a look of false hurt at her words, "How dare you- Well. I mean yes, but also have you seen yourself?" You speak out of breath, your legs slowly catching up with Wednesday's pace.  

"Yes, of course. I've been staring at a mirror in the middle of my sparring," Wednesday rolls her eyes at you, "and that's why I've been on a losing-" at this, you can see Wednesday practically seethe in anger as she chokes the word out, "-streak against Bianca Barclay."  

"No, silly, it's because I would be in complete awe," you decided not to comment further on the sore issue, opting to clear out the tension with—yes you guessed it—more compliments.  

"I mean, the all-black outfit? Your menacing strikes and your calculated steps, not to mention your disheveled hair and the concentrated look on your face?" You clasp your hand in front of your chest, eyes looking up dreamily at the memory, while the girl beside you scoffed in irritation. 

You're now at Ophelia Hall, and Wednesday continues her brisk walk toward her shared dorm room. You don't have much time left if you want to break her composed demeanor. 

"And yes, if I sparred with you, the exact situation you mentioned earlier would've happened. My head sliced off the very first second into the spar." 

"And I'd assume you wouldn't want that. So don't make me do it." 

"Quite the contrary, I wouldn't mind. I bet dying by such skillful hands would be an amazing experience." 

You can see the door now. Wednesday knows this as well. If she gets inside and locks you out, maybe you'll shut up and spare her from the torture that makes her gut feel like it's ripping her apart from the inside. 

"What do you think of adding my head as a mount on your room's wall? I'm sure Thing would appreciate the addition of another dismembered body part in the room." 

If Wednesday wasn't agitated before, she definitely is now. As she opens the door to her dorm room and turns her body to you, you can see that not only are her cheeks of blossoming color, the tips of her nose and ears are as well! It's as if this is the first time blood has rushed to her face, and you'd argue that she looks dangerously magnificent like this; face sneering but eyes unable to maintain eye contact with you. 

She spared you only a short pointed glare, before closing the door to your face. You can hear her voice ring moments later, "Stop pestering me on my writing time or I will take you up on that offer. If you decide to omit my warning, make sure you say something adequate, as I will personally make sure it will be written on your gravestone as your last words."  

Her threats have never felt so empty, not with her obviously shaky voice—not when you know she's staring at her typing paper blankly right now, unable to type a single word as you can't hear any clacking sound of the machine's keys. 

The gears in your mind turn at an insane speed, and with the bravado only you possess, you belt your next words for the whole dormitory to hear,  

"I AM CRAZY FOR YOU, WEDNESDAY ADDAMS!" 

There was only silence. Then, you hear the rapid clickety-clack of your girlfriend's shoes, and you jump backward when Wednesday yanked the door open. 

This is it, you thought.  

You had been too cocky, thinking that you could get away with harassing the raven-haired girl—if compliments can be considered harassment, that is—and now you're going to pay the price. In the most gruesome way imaginable, if you know anything about your girlfriend. 

Wednesday storms at you, and before you can even try to escape, you feel her arms wrapped strongly around your figure in a death grip. She's about to tackle you to death, and you brace yourself for the upcoming impact- 

-that never comes? Her arms just stay there, her head buried against your chest, and you are at a loss for words. 

It's unfair, how easily she makes you feel flustered. You've been trying to get a reaction out of her all this time, and she barely cracks. But now as she hugs you, you practically melt into her embrace; your mischievous agenda is long forgotten. 

When you regain your senses, you take a breath— about to comment on the situation before she cuts you off with a; 

"Shut up. I hate you."  

You smirk at her words before sighing in contentment, eyes closing as you soak in the rare moment, "I love you too." 

"But I will never shut up about this- OW-" 

Wednesday left you rolling on the floor in pain after landing a punch in your guts. 

"Now, you will."

[mrsjellymunson]

Hi kittie Hope you're well

Imagine going on a picnic date with eddie after the food he lays his head back on your thighs you softy begin to place flowers in his hair

A Crown For Your King

Pairing: Eddie Munson x gn!reader

WC: ~950 || CW: None, other than mentions of food (no descriptions of eating), although this is extraordinarily fluffy so if you’re worried about dental caries perhaps take heed 😉 || A/N: Oh, this is such a lovely idea @celestialbat! I hope you like it 💗 Also, how could I possibly pass up the opportunity to reshare this insanely beautiful and rather gloriously appropriate piece of art by @themultiverseofmars 😉😘

😘☀️🌸🌼🌺🌾🧺🍽🥪🍓🍰🫐🥨🍖🧀🥕🍅🥜🍏🍎🍇📸🐛

Eddie’s not usually one for cuteness and fluff - he’d normally take someone to The Hideout, or spend time in his van out by Lover’s Lake. Not because he doesn’t want to, more because he doesn’t know how, and can’t take the risk of embarrassing himself.

But with you, it’s different.

Before you, he reckons he wouldn’t’ve known how to be romantic if his life depended on it. But now, he’s finding he loves to do things to make you laugh, to make you blush, even just to make you smile, and he doesn’t even care if he makes himself look like an idiot.

So today, he’s packed up as much of a romantic picnic as he can manage. He’s borrowed a basket and cooler from Steve, along with some tips on what to pack, after he admitted he was just going to get Twinkies and chips from Melvald’s. Steve’s even let him raid his fridge for a few things.

He’s shaken out the blankets from the back of his van, and has brought a few throw pillows from the trailer, so you’ll have something comfortable to sit on. There’s camping plates and cutlery, usually reserved for Wayne’s fishing trips, so you don’t have to pick things out of packets, and he’s bought your favourite soda. He’s even folded kitchen paper into bird-like shapes, so they stand up on their own - fancy.

You think he’s just taking you to the local park, maybe collecting something from Benny’s on the way, but he surprises you, swinging the van along one of the exit roads to a ‘secret spot’ outside of town.

It’s a pretty meadow, down a quiet lane, filled with tall grass and wildflowers.

He takes your hand and helps you down from the cab with a polite ‘my dear’, and insists on carrying everything himself, even though you offer to help (and, as you suspected he might, he almost trips twice).

He chooses a patch of meadow that’s more grass than flowers, explaining he ‘doesn’t want to hurt them’, and lays a blanket out for you both before opening up the cooler.

You can’t believe he’s gone to all this effort. There’s cold meats and cheeses, small tomatoes, carrot batons, berries, nuts, apple slices and a few grapes. And because he can’t forego the snack food, there’s also pretzels, breadsticks and, yes, chips.

You think it’s wonderful. You think he’s wonderful. And the two of you spend an idyllic afternoon snacking and chatting and laughing and holding each other’s hands.

Once most of the food is gone, you help him to pack away the leftovers and encourage him to lie down, insisting he deserves a rest after all he’s done today.

He smiles softly at you, and says he will, but,

“Only if I can choose the best pillow in the state.”

Confused, you look around at the worn cushions he’s brought from the trailer, and he smirks as he drops down onto his elbows and wriggles himself backwards to place his messy mop into your lap. He twists his head back and forth a couple of times, settling, humming to himself, mumbling,

“Mmmm, definitely the best pillow in the state. No wait, the country!”

You chuckle down at him as he peeps up at you with those coffee brown eyes you love so much, and run your fingers through his bangs.

You enjoy the weight and warmth of him resting against you as you talk about everything and nothing, and Eddie begins to doze in the afternoon sun. He stirs a little as he feels you periodically lean to one side, but thinks nothing of it.

He feels you playing with his hair again, and thinks he might just be in paradise. Surely, there’s no reason why the two of you couldn’t stay like this forever?

But then something unfamiliar tickles his cheek, and he opens one eye to see you leaning over him, examining a bright yellow buttercup before you cock your head sideways and appraise him, squinting a little.

Placing it into his hair between a poppy and a daisy, he sees the tip of your tongue poke out as you adjust it before leaning back and admiring your handiwork.

He brings a hand up to his hairline, gently and carefully so as not to dislodge anything, and discovers he has quite an array of blooms adorning his waves.

You reach into your bag and pull out your Polaroid camera, wanting to capture his beautiful visage. Taking a couple of snaps, you place them face down on the blanket to develop as Eddie gleefully makes grabby hands, wanting to take a picture of his own. He hadn’t even realised you’d brought it, and he’s not missing this opportunity.

You won’t know until the picture develops, but the sun that’s now setting behind you is giving you a glorious halo that Eddie thinks makes you look like a heavenly being. He decides that if he can capture even a tenth of your ethereal beauty in a photo, he’ll keep it close to his heart forever.

❤️

Optional ending:

Just as you’re thinking this is definitely the best picnic, and possibly the best afternoon, of your life, one of the daisies bends a little, and something small drops from one of the petals.

It’s a tiny green caterpillar, and it tickles him as it squirms against Eddie’s temple.

Bats, rats, skulls and devils don’t bother this metal-loving freak, but real-life creepy crawlies? That’s a whole different story, and a massive nope.

He leaps up, thrashing wildly at the beautiful display you’d made, the colourful petals and bright green stalks flying everywhere and showering you both like confetti as his feet get tangled up in the blanket and he squeals,

“AAAAAHH!! Bug!! BUG!!”

😘☀️🌸🌼🌺🌾🧺🍽🥪🍓🍰🫐🥨🍖🧀🥕🍅🥜🍏🍎🍇📸🐛

Disclaimer: IDK what wildflowers grow in Indiana so I’ve gone with ones I do know 😜 Also, a couple of these things are based on my own experiences, but I will only divulge which if you ask very, very nicely… 😉

And, if you’d like to see a Steddie-fied version of this, because I just couldn’t help myself, stay tuned….

Tagging my general list, which is very much open: @joejoequinnquinn @jamdoughnutmagician @curlyjoequinn @madaboutmunson @airen256 @sunshinepeachx @the-unforgivenn @skrzydlak @comeonatmebruh @jamiecb66 @80s-addict @abellmunsonmovie @definitionwanderlust @sheneedsrocknroll92 @munson-blurbs @wonderlanddreamer @daisy-munson @maedesculpaeusoubi @kurdtbean

[wordsarelife]

so my idea was that reader never had her first kiss and is very inexperienced. they‘re all making fun if her but in a loving way. but lockwood decides to rescue her and teach / practise with her.

—london boy

pairing: anthony lockwood x fem!reader

summary: lockwood and y/n finish a study about what defines the greatness of a kiss

warnings: kissing ig

note: this was so fun to write!! such a good idea, I hope I did it justice!!

"yeah" Lucy laughed "but that wasn't the weirdest thing, when he kissed me, he had so much spit in his mouth, I nearly had to throw up"

"ew" George exclaimed, the rest of the table irrupting into similar sounds at the story of Lucy's horrible date

"I hate it when people do that" Lockwood agreed and you grew quiet. you had never kissed anyone, so it wasn't like you would now what should and shouldn't be done while kissing.

you found it some what embarrassing, but at the same time you had only turned sixteen, you had all the time in the world to kiss dozen of people. you internal monologue, had totally occupied from listening to the conversation and now all eyes had turned to you

"what is it?" you raised your brows. you sensed the growing reservation from your friends

"nothing" exclaimed Lockwood quickly, but you didn't buy into it

"we just wondered if you had ever kissed someone before" George said. Lockwood threw an angry look in his direction and Lucy admonished him loudly

"what?" you asked, startled by the sudden question

"well" said George "we all had a fair share of relationships, but we never saw you with anybody.. that begs the question" George left the rest of sentence unfinished, due to the kick he received from Lockwood under the table.

"oh" you looked down in shame "well, in that case I guess you're right"

"its nothing to be ashamed of" muttered Lucy. you looked up and send her a grateful smile

"it's a bit funny. but in a good way" George send you a smile "hopefully you will never have to kiss such a douchebag like Lucy, with a mouth full spit, there are enough of them in this world"

you all broke into laughter, the tense atmosphere suddenly blown away by you guys falling into your usual comfort.

an hour later, you were cleaning up the kitchen, when there was a soft knock at the kitchen door. you turned around and were met with Lockwood

"hey" you smiled "you know you don't have to knock, right? this is still your house"

"I didn't want to startle you" he walked into the room and sat down at the table

"I just finished" you sat down beside him "its quite late, we should go to bed"

he had taken your hand and stopped you from standing up

"wait" he muttered and watched as you sank back in your seat again "what you said earlier, was that true?"

"what? that I've never been kissed? do you think I would lie, because I like to feel embarrassed all the time? it's bad enough already, I don't need you to make fun of me"

"I would never, and there's nothing to be embarrassed of, a few less douchebags you have kissed, what does it matter?"

you just shrugged

"not every kiss is awesome. some of them are bad. so bad even, that you later regret them" he smiled reassuringly "maybe you avoided a few of them"

"this might sound stupid" you breathed "but are there bad and good kisses or just bad and good kissers?"

"well, what's the difference?" Lockwood smiled

"I presume there's a big one" you said "the difference is noticeable wether you measure the quality of a kiss by the circumstances or more by the person giving them. statistically-" you were interrupted the moment Lockwood suddenly leaned forward and plastered a chaste kiss onto your lips

"wha-?" your eyes turned big

"that was a good kiss for example" he said lowly "and just for measurement purposes" he leant forward again and repeated his action, this time leaving his lips a few seconds longer

"yeah" you breathed confused "those were pretty good"

"I think I understand what you meant now" he said "is it the kiss or is it the person giving the kiss"

"yeah" you nodded, leaning forward and kissing him again "I think it's the person giving the kiss" Lockwood shrugged and you smiled

"well, maybe there's another possibility we haven't thought about yet"

"is there?"

"yeah, what if it's the length of a kiss?" you planted a short and chaste kiss onto his mouth

"yeah, what if the quality is defined by time rather than skill?" Lockwoods hand wandered to rest on your cheek. he pulled your face forward slowly, connecting your lips.

it was in that moment you realised that kissing was much more easier than you had initially thought. it was a lot like falling asleep. all the time it didn't happen, you would worry and think, but when it finally did, it just happened, you knew what you had to do suddenly

your hands went into his hair, his hand was still resting on your cheek, the other gliding down towards your waist and pulling you off your chair and into his lap. his lips were soft, not that you had anything to compare them too, but still. you opened your mouth slightly, his tongue slipping inside.

you slowly broke the kiss, leaning your forehead against his and smiling. you stayed like that for a few minutes.

"do you think those are enough kisses to determine a measurement?"

Lockwood shook his head. "we still have to find out if quantity stands above quality"

you stood up from his lap. "I think quality's more important" you giggled, watching his face fall dramatically

"well, only one way to find out" he laughed, chasing you up the stairs.

the next morning George and Lucy would complain about having heard you two giggle all night.

you would send a conspiratorial look in Lockwoods direction, having continued your study up in his room

you were no longer the only one in the house who had not been kissed. and you had Lockwood to thank for that. although he had gotten quiet angry when you had suggested to expand the study by testing out different kissing partners.

he was much more keen on him being the only one you were kissing. well, let's just say, it's not like you minded...

[crystaldivination]

𝗣𝗜𝗖𝗞 𝗔 𝗠𝗨𝗚

𝗔𝗽𝗿𝗶𝗹 𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗶 𝗺𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗮𝗴𝗲𝘀

Hello there beautiful souls! With this cute little pick a card reading let’s us see what this month has in store for you and what you can do to make the best out of it, shall we?

✤ masterlist • paid services • spoil me! ♡

Check out my latest pick a card reading here

how to choose your pile. take a few deep breaths & look at each pile separately. Take your time to pick out a pile that sparks an interest or a memory in you. Come back later to it again if you can't decide.

The piles

from left -> right

Disclaimer: this is a general reading which may or may not resonate with you. Take what resonates and leave out anything that doesn't. Feel free to choose another pile if you'd like.

𝗣𝗶𝗹𝗲 𝟭

New opportunities and visions

You might meet someone of interest who might or might not become someone significant to you nevertheless they will be influential in your daily life in some way. This person would be someone who comes into your life in order to help you build structure or a routine. They will help you to reorganize your goals and look at them from a different point of view. They seem to be someone mature who can guide you along your way and who you can learn from and vice versa. This connection could develop into a great friendship or even into a romantic relationship depending on what you want to attract. Try to approach life in a different way. New change is ahead. Things won’t be the way you’re used to but it’ll be positive just like a fresh breeze of air. Be open to receive and get help from others. It’ll give you the strength and motivation to embark into a new process. You’ll slowly see this as the month passes by. Stay curious and have a lot of fun, pile 1!

𝗣𝗶𝗹𝗲 𝟮

Reflect

You’ll have more time for yourself this month, pile 2. This time can be used to go within and practice self help. Self care is very important now and needed so if you feel like the past months have been rough and didn’t do you well it’s the time to lean back and focus on your well-being . Find alignment with yourself again. Look back at what you have achieved until now and give yourself some credits. You deserve them. Meditate from time to time or journal if you like it. This will help you ground yourself and practice gratitude even for yourself. While doing so also really think about anything you want to improve or change and come up with a plan to carry these things out. A great time to rearranged priorities such as connections, relationships, work and life. Really think about what you want to do and set your intentions well. Deep cleansing in a lot of areas is indicated here. Gone with the old one and welcome new positive attitudes, pile 2!

𝗣𝗶𝗹𝗲 𝟯

Growth

You’ll be busy this month, pile 3, but in a good sense. You’ll be occupied by many projects which could help you build new stable connections and bring you growth as well as learning. You might get to work on the things you really like. It’s the time to get work done and enjoy the fruits from the hard work and all the achievements you might’ve gather from the past two years until now. It’ll be a great time with full of new experiences and excitements. It’s your time to shine and show off your skills so use it wisely and plentifully. Some of you might even get to be in some sort of high/er positions that’d come with making decisions and force you to have or take responsibilities but overall this will be something you’ll get a lot out from so enjoy the ride to your goals. I see a lot of positive energy filled with success and recognition. Lucky you! Go get it, pile 3!

© 2023 crystaldivination ── all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, edit, alter, or redistribute my work. Plagiarism in any form is prohibited.

𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀! 𝖨 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗍’𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗉𝖿𝗎𝗅 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎. L𝗂𝗄𝖾𝗌, 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 💓

[thefloorisbalaclava]

Ghost giving easily flustered reader a lap dance. That’s.. that’s it

Okay but...yes. I think he'd do more a striptease though.

Imagine:

Simon is typically reserved, not particularly shy, but just quiet.

But...

He is different around you. Flirty and clingy (in a good way). The man just wants to curl up against you and forget the world.

But...

He also has a naughty side that shines just for you. Some of what he likes is beyond filthy and sometimes it's just him wanting to try a new position.

One night, he is quieter than usual. You know he's up to something. When he pulls a chair from the table and tells you to sit in it, you raise an eyebrow but do as you're told.

He doesn't put music on. He doesn't need it.

He leans over you, putting his hands on the back of the chair so that he's leaning in close so close his nose is touching yours.

"Eyes on me, love." He pulls his balaclava up and presses a quick kiss to your lips."And keep them on me." You nod silently, hypnotized by him already. He moves a few feet away from you and stands there for a moment before pulling his shirt off. You feel the heat rise to your face and you feel yourself getting a little shy and wanting to turn away although you've seen him like this before.

There is something so deeply intimate about it though. Him standing before you shirtless with just his lips revealed from under his balaclava.

"Don’t look away," he says as if he's reading your mind. "You like what you see, don't you?" You nod. "Use your words for me, love?"

"Yes," you whisper.

He moves closer again and your breath hitches.

"Would you like to touch?" He asks.

You nod again but he gives you a look. "I mean...yes."

"Go on," he says, but when you reach out, he moves back. With a chuckle, he moves closer again only to move away when you try to touch him.

"Simonnnn," you whine. He walks up to you and tilts your head up. You think he might kiss you, but he just smirks down at you. He moves away and then reaches for the button on his jeans. Your mouth waters and you swallow hard.

"Would you like to do the rest for me?" he asks. "Come here, sweet girl."

You stand and walk over to him. As soon as you get close to him, he pulls you in for a kiss.

"Go on," he breathes when he pulls away from the kiss.

You reach down and unzip his jeans before trying to push them down his thighs. His thighs have always been one of your favorite things--muscular and sinewy, pure strength and power.

His jeans finally reach a point where they easily fall and pool at his feet. He steps out and then presses his forehead to yours.

"Done?" he teases, and you shake your head. Your hands slowly reach for the waistband of his boxer briefs. You don't even have to look down. You know what's there. You slide your fingers just under the waistband, but then move your hands around to his ass, squeezing playfully. He groans lowly, pressing himself against you.

"Thought I was doing the teasing," he jokes.

"I wanted to have a little fun too," you say, finally pulling his underwear down. You try to look down, but he tucks his fingers under your chin again and makes you look into his eyes. He moves his hands to the hem of your shirt, but you move away.

You pull your shirt up and off. "Sit down. It's my turn."

[Masterlist]

[camels-pen]

the difference between zosopp and sanuso (romantic OR platonic) is that Usopp is Zoro's specialest little guy and Zoro is someone Usopp hangs out with and looks up to and hides behind when things get scary, but Sanji and Usopp are best friends. They horse around, they beat each other up, they confide their worst fears trying to one up each other. Usopp hides behind Sanji sometimes, sure, but idk, Sanji's weaknesses are more obvious (bugs, fighting women, etc) so there are times when Usopp has to stand in front of Sanji too, yknow?

Like, how do I say this, all the crewmates are equal- Usopp and Zoro are equals- but with Sanji it feels like more... comradery? Zoro's a rock in a terrible storm- even rocks tend to get weathered and chipped and worn down, but they overall stay strong and steady. He has trouble being vulnerable and there are times when the burden he's placed on himself to keep the crew safe is crushing his chest. Usopp would help with that and be very understanding, but the point I'm trying to get with that is that those moments are few and far between. So I feel like Usopp, especially after Water 7, would take Zoro's lead on something like that, and keep most of his worries to himself or only talk about them sparingly unless they're really bad and/or he can't hide them.

Sanji is like a tree in a storm; he can be strong, yes, but it feels like he bends and sways with the storm, and has more obvious breaking points. He can relate more to Usopp's struggles rather than resorting to blunt honesty that might border on callous like Zoro. And while, with Zosopp, I tend to think of scenarios with Zoro being blunt like that as a good thing- because sometimes when you're spiraling, it's nice to have someone say exactly what's great about you and shoot down all your worries with straight facts that you can't argue with- I can also see this as being a bad thing. Anxiety can really twist up your brain sometimes, you know? And despite the words, the tone could still mess someone up if they're already feeling like a burden on others in some way.

With Sanuso it's a lot more understanding and thoughtful words. It's distractions and comfort food and patience- the kind reserved for Usopp- until Usopp talks about whatever's troubling him. Compared to Zosopp, it doesn't take as long for Usopp to open up, since he's done the same thing to Sanji at times and it's more familiar to him to talk and commiserate with Sanji about his worries and doubts and such. However, there are times stuff like this has absolutely no effect and Sanji will end up at a loss, no idea what to do or how to help over the course of several days with Usopp being quiet and keeping his distance, and he'll end up working himself up about it which will only serve to make Usopp feel worse and. yeah. bit of a vicious cycle with them.

So it's like. Usopp can be weak with both of them, but since I see Sanji as the type of guy who'd be more open with his worries (at least compared to Zoro), there's less of a need to 'perform' and be his best self around him. He's comfortable around Zoro, yes, but he is constantly wanting to show that he won't be a problem to him. On the other hand, while he's more open with Sanji, and Sanji with him, they tend to relate a bit too much with each other and they both have issues with causing trouble for others and being 'deserving of love' so failed attempts at consoling one hurts the other and creates an unpleasant cycle of misery and avoidance before some other crewmate (Zoro) tells them to quit being stupid and just fucking talk to each other.

[lightlycareless]

More high school au with Naoya and y/n pleaseee😩😩🙏🏻🙏🏻 they are so cute and like- uughhhhh ( you don’t have to tho )

Hello anon!

Thank you so much for waiting 🥺❤️❤️ I actually have some snippets here and there of scenarios I want to write for them, however, now that valentine's day is approaching this other idea popped up hehehe, so I might as well take advantage of it.

Also, this is a two part thing. As of now, the second part is scheduled for... you guessed it, the 14th 😂

warnings: none. fluff. a lil bit of heartbreak, but nothing too serious. more to come on the second part.

All I got to say is, this went a completely different direction than I expected. We shall see if it pays off.

Without further a do, happy reading!

taglist: @sureconfused

part 2.

It’s rare when the faculty allows students to take control of anything outside of their studies and training.

But there were occasions they allowed it, especially in those where they’d not only prove they’re much better academically than any other institute, but also humiliate their sister school in their annual exchange event.

Which is exactly what happened last summer, an undisputable victory to remain for the years to come as the worst defeat Kyoto has ever experienced.

Taking this into consideration, the school thought it only deserving for the students to be compensated.

What the Tokyo school ended up choosing as a reward was a trip to one of the popular theme parks in Japan, but to afford such trip without having to choke the higher ups with their expenses, the students began to plan out ways to increase their budget.

Luckily for them, the money hungry Mei Mei knew exactly what to do.

Thus, preparations soon began to plan out, starting with decorations and activities that would not only incentivize students to participate, but willingly spend all their hard-earned money (plus an extra for herself.) for something enjoyable in return—all coinciding with the most awaited time of the year.

We’re talking about White Day, of course.

A date that you were naturally also excited for, simply because it was your first White Day since enrolling in jujutsu high.

You had your own motives to be eager, but your enthusiasm simply kept growing thanks to your classmate’s incessant discussion of the plans they set up with their boyfriends, or the guys they were being “courted” by.

“My boyfriend got reservations at this nice place in downtown! We’re going there as soon as our classes are done.” One would say.

“That’s so sweet! There’s this guy I’ve been talking to for a while now—we haven’t done much but I just know he likes me! I’m just hope he’ll confess his feelings today…” Another adds.

“What about you, Y/N? Set your eyes on anyone yet?”

No.

Maybe…

Oh, who are you lying, of course you did!

But you’re not sure he even noticed your presence; let alone your gift on Valentine’s Day. After all, he’s one of the most popular students in the whole school.

You’re talking about Geto Suguru, of course—what you’d consider to be your first crush, the first man that you’ve ever felt these growing feelings for; and with enough luck, maybe even your first love.

He was just… oh, so dreamy. Good looking, but most of all, charming. It’s a mystery how someone like him got along with Satoru at all! Maybe it was some kind of opposites attract type of situation?

Who knows.

Either way, you won’t deny that getting a chance of becoming Suguru’s special someone was equally wonderful, which you hoped would’ve increased with the chocolate you gave him exactly one month ago.

If fate desired so… then today, you’ll get your answer.

And whether you’ve caught someone else’s eye, as well?

You don’t try to get your hopes too high when it comes to that, since you’ve only been here for a few months—not enough time for anyone to develop feelings and pursue you, you know?

Geto was different though, since you’ve known him way before you even considered entering jujutsu high, due to him being your sister’s and Satoru’s (a childhood friend) classmate.

So yeah, you don’t expect much from anyone else this day, outside of… maybe a card here and there, or some sweets from the people that always bring something for the whole class just so they won’t feel excluded—sensei’s included.

And so, when classes begin, you keep reassuring yourself with the following statement Mei Mei’s Cupid Mail Service (or whatever it’s called, with a charge of course) begins to roll in: You were new, not that well known even with your sibling’s popularity, single, but most importantly, that most of the things sent through that service were for the popular kids—or so Hinata theorized.

A great excuse that would’ve kept your sanity intact…  had no one else gotten anything.

The ones that didn’t voice their plans, that is, the single ones—and even then, those with a partner still managed to get heartfelt confessions from those daring enough.

«It’s just… well, luck! I think… Besides, don’t they always say that people in relationships are more popular than those that are single? I would never do something like that!» It’s what you tell yourself when seeing one of your classmates, who has a boyfriend, get a rose from the same Cupid Mail Service—and as seen from her rection, not from him. «Yeah… that must be it.»

But your anguish would only deepen when the day went on by and the gifts didn’t stop.

By that point, your sister had gotten a bouquet of roses, amongst some boxes of chocolate she didn’t bother to care for, unless they had come from Yuki-senpai.

Your brother was seen with a large teddy bear but given the grin on his face and the direction he was heading; it was clear this was a gift for his girlfriend.

Gojo and Geto getting gifts even on the day they’re not supposed to doesn’t surprise you anymore—in fact, every day seemed like a holiday to them, so you just ignored them.

Nanami was a heartthrob you did not expect to see flourish, since he mostly kept to himself, but there’s always something alluring about the mysterious, cool characters—you more than anyone else would know that.

However, none of these situations were to be the worst ones yet.

Not to discredit the poor guy, you appreciate him as the excellent classmate he is…

But even Ijichi got a gift!! Like, come on!!

Statistically someone must’ve sent you one thing at least! You’re not even asking to be appreciated by your beauty or anything, it could’ve been just because they thought you were funny or something! A great friend!

Yet, it was not meant to be.

And by the end of the school day, reality slowly began to sink into your mind—accepting that perhaps you were not as likeable as you once believed… and unfortunately, that is something that wouldn’t change, not even if you’d been here since the school was founded.

Not desiring to be seen crying your poor heart out when your feelings are finally pushed to the edge once the last bell rings, you decide to head straight back to the dorms after quickly gathering your utensils, curtly bidding everyone farewells and wishes for an enjoyable evening out, and heading out the classroom—just before you could hear any more of their whispers noting how you didn’t get anything.

Thinking that if you hurried enough, you’d be able to get to your room before anyone noticed the tears already sliding down your cheeks—but alas, there’s always someone in the wrong place at the wrong time, and just as you were to turn around the corner and leave the school building, Mei Mei calls you.

“Off to meet someone in your room? How indecent.” she snickers, noting your unusual adrenaline when traveling across the hallways. At least for someone she knew hadn’t gotten anything planned for the day. “Back in my day, we’d try to do it off campus. But if you want, I know a room—"

“That’s not—I’m not in the mood, Mei Mei.” You murmur, not bothering to turn around to face her while doing your best to hide a sniffle. “I have work to do.”

“I’m sure you do, Y/N.” she says, taking a step closer to you.

“If it’s to get me to spend money on your delivery system, I’m not interested.” You frown. “Why don’t you go ask Hinata? I’m sure she’ll be more than happy to spend all her allowance in things for Yuki-senpai…”

“Already done that—And I got to say, Hinata really is one of my best clients when it comes to it. After Satoru, of course.” She snickers—Gojo has become kind of her personal ATM at this point, he just made it too easy! You remain quiet. “Either way, I’m here for something else. Something relating to you, actually.”

Well, if this day wasn’t odd enough already.

“…What do you want?” you cautioned.

“I got a gift for you—from Cupid himself.”

“What?!” you gasp, sharply turning around to verify her words, dropping your books and breath hitching upon seeing the enormous size of the gift she held in her arms, and all that contained:

A basket filled with all kinds of chocolate, local and foreign, alongside an immeasurable number of roses that almost managed to hide the core: a red teddy bear holding a heart of the same color with the words love stitched onto it.

After being deprived of this attention for hours, it almost felt surreal to suddenly obtain all that you wanted—And not to brag, but this also had to be the biggest gift you’ve seen at school that day!

You genuinely didn’t believe your eyes… and yet, there was still more to come.

And all for you.

“—while the rest are to be delivered to your dorm.” Mei Mei says as a group of her… lackeys, (wait, is that her brother?) brought along more and more gifts—from plushies of your favorite characters, your favorite flowers, and jewelry… to the most surprising piece of all:

Boxes of mochi, of your favorite flavor, taro.

Whoever sent these gestures knew you in somewhat of a personal level, thus, you naturally had to ask—

“Who sent them?” you breathe, unable to hide your excitement at that point; could it be…?

“A secret admirer.” Is all that Mei Mei reveals. “Perhaps.”

“Aw, come on! I mean—you have to know, right?? You’re the one in charge of this!”

“I do… but my services don’t go beyond that.” She smiles—hinting wanting more.

But you suppose that for something as sweet as this, to keep the identity of your unknown aficionado would only be fitting. Partially.

“Could you at least give me a hint?”

Mei Mei only laughs, and you get the idea that it was because of your naivety when it comes to her methods.

And it was, in its majority.

But it was also because she couldn’t believe you didn’t know already!

Of course, this was nothing but obvious for someone who has made it as her personal mission to find dirt on just about anyone she can squeeze out a few yen from.

Especially from big targets like him.

But given the way he behaves around you, and the things he did today, just for your attention how come you hadn’t noticed that the heir of the Zen’in, Naoya…

Likes you?

I don't know if other schools do things like that, but mine did. And I used it once. And I never got a reply. YIKES. But I don't blame him though, that letter was wack lmao. I was only 16 😭 please be merciful.

Anyways, I hope you liked this first part :3 Keep an eye for the second one 👀👀👀

Take care, and hope to see you soon!

[spacemonkeysalsa]

I read about an evil magistrate in another Faerûn city, a few decades after Astarion had that job in Baldur's Gate and it has me thinking about his pre-vampire days, and my irl time as a Las Vegas law clerk. A lot.

Full disclosure: I feel a little guilty that I wrote so much on this topic rather than on one of my fics.

I wrote very little in July 🫣but it's because I was drawing and reading instead.

I read 13 books, but they were the first 13 Legend of Drizzt books.

And while writing fic, I've avoid details about Astarion's background as a magistrate, for reasons I've talked about a lot before, but I might need to rethink that, because one book in the Drizzt series just gave me SO MUCH context for what the world was like around the time that Astarion would have had this job, and also, what that job was like, and how it was very effected by geography and race. And I have THOUGHTS. Thousands of words of thoughts, apparently, below the cut.

TL;DR - The popular idea that pre-Cazador Astarion is the biggest possible asshole so he "earns" his fate is boring as hell, not actually supported by canon, or the examples of magistrates that we see in FR (who don't even need to be corrupt to satisfy cruel inclinations) and I deeply prefer going in a totally different direction. Below the cut is me working through my headcanon, and why I came to these conclusions.

I tagged this appropriately I think, but to emphasize, topics of relevance include horror movie tropes, torture, the deeply flawed American justice system, and the even more deeply flawed one in Faerûn as described by the Forgotten Realms novels I've read and the mentions/demonstrations in Bladur's Gate 3.

If you feel you need to avoid thinking about all of that, you are valid, and probably more correct than me for doing so.

And as always, it's just my opinion, based on my experiences. All headcanon is equally headcanon.

To start, I'm going to briefly reiterate that:

Astarion's canon backstory is thin on purpose and that all we really know about him is that he was a magistrate with not-red eyes who made an unpopular ruling that was unpopular for an unspecified reason and got jumped by Gur for a (heavily implied to be unreliable narrator influenced) reason.

That artbook is a developmental tool that is actually less likely to ever be considered canon than even a later stage developmental tool like a full manuscript outline precisely because of its position in the process.

But, before I get into what I read in Drizzt, I want to establish that my head space started from thinking about how much sadder it is if Astarion actually did have compassionate ideals and a balanced sense of justice prior to Cazador. The reason I think it's sadder is best illustrated by the choice to either make a doomed horror movie character sympathetic or an asshole. What happens to Astarion is basically a horror show, and some people prefer those fates are reserved exclusively for asshole victims. There's reasons to write this way, and it can be done well, but it's very easy to make it feel cheap and contrived and it's usually a sign of an amateur production, and a quick way to make an accessible film rather than a good one. Another option (which can also be done well or done poorly) is to harm characters who did absolutely nothing wrong.

To be clear, whether or not we like a character doesn't affect whether or not they "deserve" death. Horror movies often deal with totally disproportionate consequences, and the gruesome fate not really being "earned" can be an inherent part of the horror regardless of our sympathy.

But, I'm not sad when the evil teenagers in Toxic Avenger are killed. I am not that sad when Jigsaw's traps prove to be too much for his chosen victims. What happens to Julia's marks in Hellraiser doesn't move me as much as what's going on with Kirsty, even if they didn't deserve it, because they aren't particularly sympathetic.

And the thing about using characters like that is that it's not realistic. And to be clear, I don't think you always have to be realistic to tell a good story, in fact, please don't always cling to realism. But realism in characterization is usually a stronger choice, and should be considered generally. Most people are not as flat and unsympathetic as the asshole victims in slasher flicks. Even people who do bad things are not so one dimensional as to instill no sympathy in irl humans. I think people like to flatten Astarion in their mind, so that they don't have to confront the fact that very bad things happen all the time, and that most people didn't do anything to earn a horrible fate.

In the specific case of what happened to Astarion, even if he was a bad person, it's very difficult to ever make 200 years of torture, the loss of autonomy, exploitation on every level, including physical, sexual and psychological abuse, ever feel proportional. So at this point, some people need something to make it seem more just. Either because they hate the character, and want to feel that hating the character is objectively correct, or their worldview includes an idea of justice that can't accept such disproportionality.

And if you need that for your headcanon, dope. you're allowed whatever headcanon you want.

The "corrupt magistrate" thing isn't canon. It's headcanon. I understand that some people who really seem to know what they are talking about said it was canon, that's because they are wrong. People are wrong sometimes.

I recently became aware that although I thought we were all playing the same game, a bunch of players have never seen what I've seen, because it's all missable content. And, because everyone knows there's a bunch of stuff they haven't seen, it's real easy to just believe any random person on the internet who tells you something is buried deep in the game that you don't know about.

This specific situation with Astarion's canon backstory is that you'll never find much in the game, no matter how much you play, because there's nothing to find. Here's the facts: -There was never anything about Astarion being corrupt in the game, in early access, or in any of the writing that made it to recording. It was an idea that was discussed very early on---like back when we almost had a werewolf companion, (RIP Helia, you would've loved what I put you through) and they went in a totally different direction. Essentially, just imagine what they ultimately ended up doing with Gortash, and know that they were thinking about doing something similar with Astarion, but a long, long time ago.

-In the game, he'll lie and tell you he's a magistrate in Baldur's Gate and that it's tedious.

-Or, if you wait to ask him about himself until after you know he's a vampire, he'll tell you he was a magistrate, punishing troublemakers.

-Backstory complete!

-Art books are great, and beautiful, and it's baffling to me to see fans treat them like canon content, because if anything, they demonstrate various attempts to put together a story that ultimately didn't land for the creators. I love using materials like this when I write, I create character sheets and artbooks for my work all the time, and part of their charm is the features that didn't make it into the final work. Minthara is no longer an elven cleric, Shadowheart isn't covered in tattoos, and Astarion isn't one of corrupt elite of Baldur's Gate, or even elite, or a courtesan. Stop bringing up the artbook, you're embarrassing yourselves.

-There's actual explicit dialogue in game in which Astarion says he doesn't remember much from before he was turned. He says the person he was is gone, nothing left but a name on a rock. That's what's intentionally in the game. I think this is brilliant, because I think his character represents loss in a really poignant way, and that if they included anything too detailed about who he was before he got turned, that would undermine this theme, in a way that's especially unnecessary. It's better to keep it purposefully blank. A void of nothing. I'm actually really surprised that they didn't do this for Shadowheart, given that she's a Sharran, but in her story, we actually see a really nice counterexample: she does recall small details about her time in the city. Coming back there triggers memories and if you find all three of them---[spoiler deleted, please message me if you want to know about this, I've been informed I shouldn't just shout this out, because some people like to discover this stuff on their own. But also I'm not a gatekeeper, if you really want to know, I'm happy to tell you]. There's none of that for Astarion, in fact, if you go to the cemetery looking for his grave, which is something I think a lot of us did, you won't find any mention of him anywhere, but you will find one of those Shadowheart memories if she's with you. You only get to see Astarion's grave briefly, if you're romancing him, and even then, he once again takes the opportunity to talk about the person he once was truly is lost to him (and to us) and gone forever, long before we ever had the chance to know him.

It's tragic, and kind of perfect.

And in the meta of all this, it's intentional that we'll never known him. We might think we do, but we literally can't, because it's not in the story.

Which is good because it would ruin the scene a bit if he'd been like "btw I was a real piece of shit lmao." Just like it kind of ruins the affect of the empty backstory to go ahead and add a backstory.

But. We're curious, we speculate, and we expand, that's what fanfiction is for—it exists outside of the canon. I usually write post-canon, canon-consistent content, but there's a possibility I'll need to add a few scenes from Astarion's mortal life in this one fic—maybe not, idk—but in preparation for maybe doing that (or not), I had considered working through what I think his life was life before he was turned, and the events leading up to Cazador capturing him. I wasn't sold on the idea, but I was thinking about it.

And, then I started reading Spine of The World, which features an actual magistrate from DR 1365. This one is um. Corrupt. Or, at least, we would consider him to be corrupt? He's actually doing his job perfectly according to the very messed up justice system in Luskan, where he works. They don't have a concept of burden of proof there, or of innocence at all after you manage to get yourself arrested, and instead essentially just torture people to death publicly and explicitly for entertainment. It's not chill. It's not subtle. They call it Prisoner's Carnival.

This magistrate has Astarion's exact job, in a different city and a few decades later (and those differences matter, we'll get to it) but the important features are the same. So, here's some things to note: being a magistrate is a position of limited power, you have total discretion over the prisoners given to you for punishment (minus a few notable exceptions that come up in Spine of The World), but that's it. It's not like an influential political position of respect or anything. It can't be, because they are beholden to laws they can't change, and cultural traditions that are non-negotiable parts of the community.

This guy is referred to multiple times are a carnival barker. And there's loads of magistrates, they all have different reputations and and ymmv on how sadistic they individually are in Luskan. In a later book, when this particular magistrate is brought up again to another magistrate in Luskan, it's clear that the carnival barker thing isn't entirely universal and that he's considered one of the really bad ones, but regardless, they all acknowledge that what he does is legal and "serves a purpose" and they all direct and orchestrate the torture and slaughter of prisoners, and they all admit that many of them are probably innocent. The magistrates, and more importantly, the people in charge of them, maintain the necessity of the system, and the fear it instils to keep troublemakers in line.

One of the more reasonable and intelligent wizards in the series (a guy called Robillard who I can't help but envision as Gale of Waterdeep, because almost everything he does and says makes him sound like Gale of Waterdeep) shocks Drizzt by defending this system of justice very passionately.

Actually, Drizzt's thoughts in general about the Prisoner's Carnival are S-tier Drizzt musings, I love a man who keeps a journal. Likes cats too. Drizzt is lovely.

Drizzt also notes that this is a popular system in human societies specifically. Other races don't go in for it so much, and tend not to participate unless it's as... um... you know... as the prisoners being tortured. I think it's interesting that he mentions that elves in particular (in his experience) are universally disgusted by it. It's also explicitly stated that Baldur's Gate is different, and a much preferrable place to get tried by a magistrate. That isn't in his journal entry though, that's earlier in the novel. A moment of foreshadowing.

The whole world is brutal, but Baldur's Gate is a bit more modern and open to change than other places. That's probably one reason it keeps getting featured and mentioned even though we've barely spent any time there in Drizzt's series so far. It's a bit more relatable a place to actually live in long term than somewhere like Luskan, where you may have to seek out real estate that's far enough away from the square that you're not constantly hearing the death screams of someone being drawn and quartered in front of a cheering crowd. So that's the basics of it, and getting back to Astarion and the backstory that I would personally novelize for him, we have options:

If I'm going to try to fit this into the context that I now have though, it's important to keep in mind that 1) Baldur's Gate is considered one of the "nicer" places to be tried and 2) culturally, elves don't go in for cruelty, especially not as systemic "justice." None of this has to apply to Astarion, but if I'm writing it, I'm not going to ignore this cultural context. At a minimum, I'm going to say that appointing an elf as a magistrate in a city that's known for being more progressively compassionate about their treatment of prisoners was probably pointed on the part of tptb. Baldur's Gate wanted him to set an example for these bloodthirsty humans about mercy and justice and the balance between them. Racism dictates that you don't go to a human for that. They're carnival barkers. If you want a more compassionate magistrate, appoint an elf. And from there, we get to decide whether or not Astarion met their expectations, or if he defied them. Because maybe he was an asshole. Maybe he was just as bad as his human magistrate counterparts. That's not outside the realm of possibility at all, there's an argument to be made that we write him as a counterweight to the stereotype. Astarion is written to be capable of anything, so you can literally go in any direction with his disposition.

But, considering how Cazador rages that he "made" Astarion, and Astarion doesn't even argue with that sentiment. I think it's more likely (and loads sadder) if this unmaking and making included a complete and total overhaul of Astarion entire sense of justice. I actually think the harsh sentiments that Astarion expresses at the tribunal in Ansur's trials are a really good example of the flickers of Cazador and the person he twisted Astarion into, than they would ever be indicative of who he was before getting turned.

That guy's gone, remember?

And if it's not obvious, I'm going in that direction with my fanfic. I'm going to say he actually thought he could help his community. He studied. He got this civil servant position. It was a bit disillusioning. It's better in Baldur's Gate than in other places, but the system itself is cruel, and he's rewarded for being cruel within it. It doesn't even matter that he originally got the job because they hoped he would be a compassionate elf judge amongst bloodthirsty humans, once he's actually in position, it's all about maintaining the status quo. That's what they actually want from him, in spite of their "progressive" leanings.

If anything, he's getting in trouble, and getting noticed by not quite being status quo. A soft-hearted elf, letting his charges get away with all kinds of mischief. I'd write him this way, because I think it then easily follows that Cazador takes note of him and targets him, precisely because he's too merciful. It's annoying.

And, little bit about me, I'm an attorney, and early on, during and right after law school I worked for a few judges.

If Faerûn is anything like the USA I figure that after a few years he has figured out that being a magistrate only gives him a limited amount of discretion and authority over the specific individuals who are brought before him.

It's really legislation that makes a difference and he is specifically forbidden from that. He rules from the bench, and hopes that if he's consistent and fair, and if nothing disastrous results from his rulings, (and if he doesn't get reversed too often, idk if that's a thing in Faerûn but it's a thing in America) then maybe he could eventually influence those who do legislate, but like, that's not his job. And it's going to take a long time because most of it's quite tedious and people don't pay attention unless it's someone they care about standing before him. Nobody cares about the vast majority of these people. His job is to stare at "troublemakers" who have supposedly broken the law, hear witnesses and confessions and denials and lies and decide what the truth is, and decide what's fair.

And it's emotionally heavy work. A lot of people describe being a magistrate as a political position, and that's not incorrect, but there's a valley of difference between Astarion's very hands on job, and what Gortash/Duke Ravenguard do. You are beholden to powerful politicians (like actual politicians) with a lot more influence who figured all this out long before they made the mistake of having ideals or believing in anything, or taking a job in which they would have to a) actually work with people to probable burnout and b) inevitably make a lot of people very angry regardless of what they did.

But, Astarion is still young, he's still got energy, he's not lost himself yet, he thinks he can handle this responsibility and he's wrong.

One day, someone is brought before him. This person is Gur and has supposedly broken the law. Other Gur are upset about the way Astarion ruled. He was way too harsh, or maybe he wasn't.

Quick sidebar: in court, I have watched people literally receive the death sentence and have zero reaction. Same with life w/o parole and other life ruining sentences. In my experience, what triggers an emotional reaction and anger targeted at a judge isn't the severity of the sentence, it's how the severity of the sentence stacks up against their expectations. The defendants (or their families, with proxy outrage) who get really angry, who try to attack the judge, or the ones who are so disruptive that we have to call it and go wait in the hallway while the baliffs calm things down, all have one thing in common: they legitimately thought they were going to just be sent home. They didn't think they were going to be held at all. For that reason, I actually saw a lot more rage from people who had committed minor offenses, because they didn't think what they had done was that big a deal, showed no remorse, ignored their atty, made no effort to express any respect for the law, or any victims, and then when the judge just decides to go with whatever the statute says, in light if zero mitigating factors, the defendant hears "60 days" for the very first time and assumes that the judge just made that up and hates them.

And like, I know it's fiction, and I'm speaking on a very niche experience that most people can't relate to. It's unlikely the writers had anything (let alone realism) in mind at all when they decided to be as vague as possible in the details about a character who embodies "loss" as a concept. I think they were vague because of the theme of loss. I think they were vague because of the theme of loss. I think they were vague because of the theme of loss. I think they were vague because of the theme of loss. I think they were vague because of the theme of loss.

But this sidebar is just to explain why whenever someone says "well he got beat to death for it so his ruling must've been racist and harsh" my knee jerk response is "not necessarily."

And sidebar within the sidebar: if I was going to fully novelize the story, I would actually go in the direction of having the ruling in question be uncommonly fair. I might hint at some racism though—nobody really talks about it below the surface level obvious stuff that's in the game, and part of that is because information about the Gur as a people isn't super accessible. But there is information, and synthesized: racism against the Gur seems pretty standard, especially for an elf who has had it up to here with human bullshit generally. Especially during that time period. He probably didn't have a good opinion of the Gur in life.

But, I have to assume that his animosity towards the Gur that we see in the game was at least affected by the fact that they beat him to death, and then, he spent two centuries as an undead being that they kill on sight with absolutely no justification needed. Like. I don't think it's wild to suggest that. I'm actually very confused by how much people push back on the idea that this could be responsible for his attitude, in part. And that's as far as I have combed through all this so far. Idk how much of it will end up in fic, but it's my personal headcanon now.

I love horror movies. I have watched so many of them it's embarrassing. My letterboxd is embarrassing. I do love several horror movies that feature asshole victims, but as I look at my very favorites, I'm noticing a pattern. I like to feel hurt. I like it when a movie doesn't shy away from dealing out universal, apathetic and disproportionate punishment to everyone. I can't think of anything quite so sad as seeing a perfectly normal, maybe even morally progressive person with their whole life ahead of them, and choosing to unmake them and twist them into a broken puppet in your own image. Sparing/saving no one and nothing in the process. Just make them lose everything, including their entire sense of who they are.

So, I'm going to hurt my own feelings with my Astarion headcanon.

[blues824]

Brothers with a Xiao MC I kinda want to see how this one goes

Gender-neutral reader. While I don’t know how to write for his character, I made a reference to his name card in the later scenarios. 

Lucifer

You both are a lot more alike than one might think. You both are reserved and severely touch-starved, and find a few human things very childish and unusual. The only difference is that he is a demon and you are a conqueror of demons. You definitely conquered his heart, that’s for sure.

When you both enter a relationship, it’s actually very professional at first. It took months for you both to be able to hold hands because you both don’t really know what to do in an actual romantic relationship. So, that just means you can go at your own pace.

It’s quite hilarious actually, because you both view the other brothers’ actions as incompetent and annoying. So instead of just being scared of your darling boyfriend, the other six are also terrified of you and your wrath as well. They are getting way more than just a slap on the wrist.

Mammon

Well… he can’t exactly call you ‘human’, now can he? But your title of The Conqueror of Demons is something that he is terrified of. Mainly because he is a demon himself, so yeah. Bro has every right to be scared.

Everyone (including yourselves) are surprised to see that you both actually like each other romantically. You both are just the opposite of each other. He’s very immature, but for some reason you love that about him. He acts like himself, and it puts you at ease as well because you could smack him for being annoying but that was your truth.

But there are a few times where you’re very tempted to hang Mammon upside down from the chandelier. Each relationship has its lows, though, so you both assumed that it was normal. This might be a bit extreme, but you both were immortal.

Leviathan

Bro is fanboying so hard over you because you remind him of a character from the video game A God Took Away My Sibling And Now I Have To Traverse This Realm To Try And Get Stronger And Find them. What’s better is that the character is his main.

You might not particularly enjoy video games, even viewing them as a waste of time, but you can’t deny that it’s absolutely adorable when Levi geeks out. He goes on a full-blown rant, and even though it’s very uncharacteristic of you, you can’t help but listen to every word. This surprises you because you usually want people to get to the point.

However, there is the matter of his other brothers. Mammon, in particular. You hate it when the second eldest doesn’t ever pay back your boyfriend, so you go in to take the payment yourself. It’s a team effort, and Levi gets his money back so it all works out.

Satan

You both actually really enjoy each other’s company. You both tend to think that if it’s not important, it’s not worth your time. He is not at all intimidated by your title of Conqueror of Demons, mainly because he knows that if you wanted to conquer each of them you would have done so already.

I feel like you both would have a wonderful time browsing different bookstores and calling it a date. If you one day propose reenacting a scene from one of the romance novels that you have been reading, Satan will be very excited. You finally get to wear the mask and dance, if you so choose.

He likes to point out the irony that you are a demon conqueror but you’re romantically involved with a demon, and it makes you smile. You think it’s because you’ve seen that not all monsters are the same, but in reality he just made you relax more than you ever have. You felt like you could put away the mantle of yaksha when you’re around him.

Asmodeus

Upon hearing that you were the Conqueror of Demons, he couldn’t help but squeal in a certain kind of excitement. The thought of having someone so important stay just a few steps away from him just made him bubble up in joy. Plus, he loved the feeling of thrill that came with it.

You would usually view the majority of Asmo’s hobbies as a ‘waste of time and energy’, but you couldn’t help but agree that whenever he got excited about a new product that reached the shelves, you were hopelessly in love. The sparkle in his eye was something you had lost long ago and is something you’re trying to get back.

When you tell him about your dark past, it was during a self-care day where you both were spilling a bunch of secrets to each other. It almost made the demon tear up at how sad it was. He then got serious, held your hands in his, and said that he would make sure you got the dance in the field of flowers that you wished for.

Beelzebub

He doesn’t look at people’s past, so even if you killed demons, it doesn’t mean you did that now. It would be a bit concerning if you continued because you are now residing in a realm filled with demons, after all. But anyways, Beel prefers to look to the future rather than dwell on the past (mainly because the memory of Lilith is still a fresh wound).

You don’t particularly like human food which does make him sad, but it’s all according to personal preference, right? So, he has you experiment with food to see what you like and dislike. Eventually, you find some almond tofu and you admit that it is one of your favorite foods. Beel buys it for you as a gift.

Look, when it comes to this fine piece of man, your love language is his love language. You might not prefer words of affirmation, so he gives you gifts instead. You might not prefer physical affection, so he might perform acts of service instead. Consider yourself pampered and living easy with him around.

Belphegor

He can’t kill you if you're immortal- I apologize but I have been waiting for this one. ANYWAYS, you both were always going toe to toe with each other, kind of playing the game of who's the edgiest out of the two of you. The other 6 brothers often tune into this live-action tv show and place bets.

But then you got into an official romantic relationship, and it was the plot twist of any decade, century, or millennia that no one was expecting, not even yourselves. It did make sense after a bit of thought, because you both don’t like wasting time unnecessarily with trivial things like conversations without a point to them.

Another thing, he also doesn’t care if you're the Conqueror of Demons because he also knows that if you wanted to kill him you would have already. He does have to  admit that he was a bit iffy in that statement at the beginning, especially when he did try to kill you.

[hunny-beann]

Desiderium II

Loki Laufeyson x f!Reader

<- Part I

Note: Thank you so much to everyone who left such kind feedback on the first part of this series! <3

Warnings: A little bit of angst, mentions of death/disappearances, a crazy amount of pining

Word Count: 6,170

It had all started well over one thousand years ago, when you and the now so well known god of mischief were but babes at the mercy of the wild world around you.

You, the daughter of a powerful and well sought after witch named Karliah and an experienced healer named Tal, born and raised for eight years within the woods of Asgard until destiny laid herself bare before you and stole you away.

A witchling by blood, and a strong one at that, your parents had brought you up with grace and dignity in mind, each passing day a new lesson, and each moment spent a gift, though one that sadly ended up being in low reserve.

Eight blessed years of life spent with two loving parents, before it was traded for a still well-loved, but slightly more lonely life with your aunt, whose adoration did not make up for your sorrows, but did keep you from going down the wrong path upon your loss.

'Abandoned' they had called you when your dear aunt moved you out of the woods and into the palace to live alongside her, 'Left behind', they'd said.

But deep down, nearly everyone knew the truth of the matter.

Karliah was no weak woman, and Tal no coward. If neither had come for their daughter within the first few days of their sudden absence, then surely something had come for them, something strong enough to harm the most powerful witch in the known realms outside of those found within the royal family.

Most shuddered at the thought of this, and stuck to the tall tales of your improper abandonment instead.

'Poor witchling, left to die, so lucky to have been brought in by the merciful hands of her aunt, the palace teacher, educator of the princes and all other royal manners of children, be them visitors or otherwise.'

Oh, and of course, you.

From eight onward, you had lived within the palace walls, wandering from corridor to corridor and exploring every available nook and cranny until you had all but mapped it out within your mind, branding this once so foreign place as your home with a childlike fondness.

And you had not done such a thing by your lonesome, had you?

No, of course not, for everyone knew of your friendship with the feeblest prince, little Loki Odinson, the magic bearer, the one who used his mother's feminine magic, the seidr, over that which had been deemed stronger by the many men of Asgard.

The boy cared not for his image after all, he was just a child, the second born son of a god, and thus not the one who would have to worry about succeeding the throne himself someday.

No, that duty fell to Thor, more brawn than brains, but oh so sweet, though he notably lacked the vast intelligence of his brother.

It was as if someone had cut the perfect child in twain and created some hilariously different duo to see what the Allfather might do.

And though he loved them both, it was clear that in Odin's eye, the brawn came before the brains nearly every single time.

So, while Thor had his expectations laid out before him upon his birth, Loki had spent his days wandering the halls with you, the little witchling and her trickster prince, bound together by adventure and some childlike wonder found only in the eyes of those who had yet to learn but craved so desperately to do so.

The two of you were as close as close could get, tugging each other along by the hand, whispering secrets into one another's ears, every day a new opportunity to amuse yourselves in spite of the boredom that seemed to surround the palace.

Though, notably, you seemed to be the most interesting character of all, and perhaps that had been what had drawn your trickster prince to you in the first place.

Your mother's daughter to be sure, just as she'd had prophetic visions, ones containing the future in bursts that she often controlled, you had something rather similar, though far less easily grasped.

You, Asgard's little witchling, had prophetic dreams randomly while deep within your slumber, something that you had learned shortly after taking up residence within the palace.

It made you miss your mother tremendously to have her powers, and you resented the lack of control that you had over them, but even so, as each passing dream came true, you found suddenly that you were far more useful to those around you.

You were able to say which one of two dinner options might be best for upcoming guests based upon visions you would see weeks prior to their arrival, and on more than one occasion, you had avoided being caught by straying away from the wrong hallways while on your adventures with your dear friend after having had a particularly useful dream a night or two beforehand

Loki, of course, so heavily fixated on his intense study of magic, was entranced by this naturally inherited power of yours, and would gladly spend hours hearing you talk about your visions, no matter how mundane.

Except after one dark evening, he found that you no longer wished to.

You had woken up pale, a sure sign of a vision the night before, one that the god of mischief, thirteen years old at the time, knew all too well.

He had greeted you enthusiastically, something that was not so uncharacteristic of him at that time, only to find that you did not wish to talk about what you had seen.

Something bad, he'd realized with a start, having never considered before the downside to a power such as yours.

Sure, your mother had been able to control hers in some ways, but yours could appear almost as nightmares to you, uncontrollable and painful, because in the end, waking up offered little relief.

It could still come true after all, more than likely would too.

Not a very fair situation for such a young witch to endure on her own.

So, he decided, you would not have to.

And thus, a promise had been made.

Under the blooming flowers of one of many beautiful trees in the queen's garden, you and the god of mischief locked your pinkies together in fealty.

You would no longer hide your visions, no matter how frightening, from your prince, and in turn, he would never lie to you, at least not on purpose.

It was a childish way to appease one another, but in the end, that promise was what ended up driving you onward far into the future.

In fact, that promise was why you had ended up in the Avenger's Tower in the first place, lying on the floor with an audience of heroes watching as the man who had once been your closest friend rushed toward you, falling to his knees close enough that he could touch you if only he reached out.

You had missed his touch more than that of anyone else throughout your many years of solitude, a fact which gnawed at you slightly when you thought about your aunt and the wonderful hugs she had once given, until the final one, which had oh so sadly been in farewell.

Still, even she could not top the feeling of being held by Loki Laufeyson, though back when he had still done so, he had been Loki Odinson to you, and to everyone that knew him.

It had been Loki Odinson who had danced with you at nearly every social event, Loki Odinson who had mastered the art of sneaking into your room each night, Loki Odinson who had held your hand sweetly since childhood as you'd wandered through paths yet untraveled by your feet, and Loki Odinson who had kissed you beneath that same tree which the two of you had made that binding promise under.

You could only hope, as you looked up at the man before you, that Loki Laufeyson was not so terribly different.

You were unsure if you could take another loss, after all, not after having been alone for so very long, yearning to see the face of the one you once loved, silently praying that he might find you somehow, back in that old cabin where the two of you had carved your names in your youth.

Over your one hundred or so years there, you had all but traced that carving raw, remembering what it had been like to have the god of mischief at your side.

There was no longing like that which you felt for Loki, and of that you were certain.

Even as he stared at you with such a wild expression that you almost wondered if he had gone mad at the sight of you after so many years, perhaps having long since thought you gone from him.

It would not be so strange, after all, that you would have died in the time that passed. As far as your dear Loki knew, you were but a witchling, your immortality fragile and preserved almost entirely by the safe life that you once had led in the palace alongside him until your "disappearance".

You almost shuddered to think about explaining all of that to him now, and wondered briefly in the back of your mind if any part of him blamed you for your sudden absence.

Had his father told him of all that had transpired? Had Thor? Or had your dear prince of Asgard been left to wonder what had become of you, assuming himself abandoned at your hand?

As you gazed up at his still so perfect features, taking in their persistent familiarity, you found that you could not tell.

That is, until he spoke up, voice husky and thick with what almost sounded like grief, or the impending weight of tears.

"Starlight?"

He repeated as if in disbelief, the familiar name causing you to freeze up instantly.

You stared, unable to move nor speak.

The entire room fell silent as everyone watched on in shock at the scene unfolding before them.

There, on the floor, having just fallen out of some magical hole in the wall, was a woman. The very same woman, in fact, that this small group of avengers had just seen smiling within Loki's hellishly realistic dream as the duo lovingly lived out their life together.

A life that had never existed.

A life that, according to the adopted son of Odin himself, never would.

Except he'd never anticipated this, had he?

No, they could see his surprise in the way he stared down at you, his hands hovering just inches away as if he were afraid you would turn to dust before his very eyes if he even dared touch you.

And maybe you would, it was hard to tell when one did not know, after all.

Hard to tell, indeed.

The silence persisted for several long moments, before finally, you spoke up.

"I-I found you,"

You began, a soft smile gracing your lips, though it notably did not erase the obvious exhaustion from your eyes,

"It worked."

Loki frowned at that, his eyebrows knitting with confusion as he remained on his knees before you, the god of mischief, so besotted and enamored by your presence that he would live upon his knees once more, for however long you so required.

A surprising sight, to be sure, at least for all who bore witness to it from the outskirts.

Though notably, you did not seem to pay it any mind, as if his almost pleading body language was a normal part of speaking with him that you had come to know so well.

Loki reached forward hesitantly, his fingers outstretched as if he were about to place his hand upon glass, and with another tired smile, you did the same, placing your smaller fingertips against his with a sense of ease that had the entire room outside of yourselves wondering what could possibly be going on in front of them.

Who were you? What were you doing here? How had you gotten here? And why was the god of mischief himself looking at you as if he'd seen a ghost?

Whatever answers they were seeking though, they did not find quite yet, not in the still pervasive quiet of that room you all inhabited.

Still, all watched on with immense interest as Loki's eyes widened at your touch, and he withdrew as if stung, expression morphing into one of confusion, pain, and longing all at once, all of these being emotions that few in this room had ever seen him experience before.

"What are you doing here?"

Loki asked cautiously as he lowered his hand back down to his side, watching with sharp eyes as you did the very same with a casualness that nearly made him shiver.

If this was not truly you, then it was a damn good copy, one that rivaled any of his own creation in the history of time itself.

You let out a shaky sigh, your smile somehow growing more exhausted each time that you wore it upon your face.

"I needed to find you. I know that it's been a long time, and that you probably won't have any idea what I'm talking about when I say this, but I made a promise, and I am bound not only by my word, or the title I was given, but also by my care for you to ensure that I keep it, no matter what."

You looked down toward the floor, clearly expecting Loki to overwhelm you with questions, having long since anticipated his reaction to a moment such as this one, especially since it had been so very long since your promise had been made...

But to your surprise, he only had one question to ask, one that had the entire room buzzing with quiet conversation and confusion, and your eyes alight with utter shock.

"You've had a vision?"

He asked gently, tone low and concerned, eyes seeking yours and clearly finding the answer he was looking for there within in instant.

You nodded anyway.

Loki turned immediately to the small crowd standing behind him, though he was most notably looking for Tony, his expression pleading for the very first time since he had been imprisoned within this realm.

"I apologize for the suddenness of my request, Stark, but might you have some available space for her to stay?"

He asked quietly, as if trying to keep their discussion private in spite of the crowd watching on curiously.

"I believe this conversation may take us some time..."

He trailed off, thankfully having his question answered before he had to elaborate any further.

"Uh yeah sure, there's an empty room two doors down from yours, have at it..."

Tony trailed off himself after a few moments, before finally he continued,

"Just uh, keep me updated, okay? I try to make it a habit to actually know the people who are staying on my property."

Loki offered the man a rather firm nod in response to his request, moving into a kneeling position and offering his hand to you, his fingers outstretched and his palm upturned,

"Can you stand, starlight?"

He murmured, and immediately you nodded, grasping onto the god's hand and pulling yourself to your feet just as he did the same, allowing the audience to truly see you for the very first time, though it was your clothing far more than your physical form that garnered their attention.

The cloak around your shoulders was a deep and stunning green adorned with familiar gold accents, though on the inside, it was dark and lined with what somehow looked to be a billion little gold stars lighting up a night sky. It was almost as if they twinkled even as you stood still, wrapping the fabric tighter around your neck as everyone seemed to stare.

"Follow me." Loki said quietly, letting go of your hand after a brief moment of hesitance, and though you nodded, taking a few short steps forward just as the god began to make his way toward the door, you did not make it nearly as far as he, instead having your eyes roll back suddenly before you pitched forward without warning, the sensation of a single strong arm wrapping around your waist from behind as voices sounded from all around you being the last sensation you felt before darkness closed in.

The next thing that you knew, you were waking up in an entirely unfamiliar room, in an equally unfamiliar bed with a soft groan of confusion and pain, your head throbbing and your bones aching in spite of your still relatively young age (as far as Asgardians went, that is).

Immediately, your eyes landed upon the god sitting in a chair beside you, his gaze unwavering yet somehow almost casual as he took in the sight of you once more.

How long had it been since he had seen you last? Over one hundred years at least, that was to be sure.

You gazed back at him, a pained groan leaving you just before you spoke,

"What happened?"

You asked, hearing the god of mischief hum from where he sat before he pushed a glass of water in your direction.

You took it eagerly, beginning to drink it in small and controlled sips.

"You over exerted yourself."

Loki said simply,

"Whatever it is that you did to get here nearly took every ounce of energy that you had."

His tone was disapproving as he spoke, but you chose to ignore it in favor of focusing a little bit too hard on your water in an effort to avoid him.

This was harder to do than you'd thought it would be, seeing him after all this time.

It didn't make it hurt any less, not even in spite of all the years that had passed, and you struggled not to stare at the way his hair still fell the same, and his clothing still looked so similar.

It did not appear as though either of you had changed in the slightest, and yet you knew for a fact that such a thing was not true.

"We both know that you were taught better than to risk your health for something foolish."

Loki said, his tone stern but his voice soft, as if he hadn't yet decided how he was supposed to address you.

You sighed in response, looking away at the subtle reminder of who exactly it had been that had worked so tirelessly to teach you better.

You did not dare allow yourself the opportunity to wonder what had become of her.

"We do."

You replied casually, though your tone betrayed your nerves, as did your fidgety body language.

"But this is far from foolish, I'm afraid."

You all but murmured, watching as your old friend leaned closer, urging you silently to continue,

So, you did.

"I-..."

You trailed off, briefly giving up before finally starting over again.

It was so hard to explain, all of this, all that had happened, but Loki deserved to know the truth, and if no one else would tell him, and you had made a promise, then who were you to deny him the knowledge that was so rightfully his?

"Lo..."

You trailed off a second time as you watched the god of mischief flinch at the once familiar nickname, immediately causing you to clear your throat and try again.

"Loki, there is something that I have to tell you, and I want you to know that it was never my decision to keep it from you for this long. When I found out, I searched and searched all over for you, but Odin found me first, and there was nothing that I could do but flee..."

Loki looked down at you, confusion etched into each of his features,

"I do not understand."

He spoke,

"What does Odin have to do with the promise you once made to me? In what manner has he worked his way into this?"

You frowned, unable to meet the gaze of the being who had once been your best friend, and then almost so much more, as you finally spoke.

"Loki, Odin has everything to do with this, because it was he who banished me and made it impossible for me to find you for so long. He saw me as I was searching the palace for you, and could tell from my complexion alone that I'd had a vision..."

You trailed off for a moment, but Loki motioned for you to continue, his body language reminding you of the way that he had once so eagerly listened to the tales of your visions, his eyes always wide and his body always leaned in toward yours, as if he feared that he might miss something if he could not make out every little syllable and each individual pause.

Oh, how you missed those times with him.

Yet even so, instead of lingering upon those thoughts as you so wished to, you carried on.

"He could tell that I'd had a vision, yet when I would not tell him of what, and I insisted that I speak to you instead, he seemed to know immediately what I had witnessed, in spite of how hard I had tried to hide it."

Loki raised a questioning brow at you, his gaze still unwavering,

"So he knew what you saw and did not approve of you telling me?"

You nodded, but it seemed that Loki was not yet finished,

"Alright, that's easy enough to understand, but what does any of that have to do with this promise we made to one another? How did his knowing of your vision stop you from telling me of it for so long? And what could have possibly consumed you to waste so much energy on finding me just to keep your childhood promise after all of these years?"

You flinched slightly at the barrage of questions, but did your best to respond,

"I know this is complicated, but you have to understand, Loki, Odin never wished for you to know, and he was willing to do whatever he needed to in order to ensure that you didn't."

Loki sighed, dropping his head into his hand,

"And what exactly was it that you saw then, starlight? Do you intend upon enlightening me anytime soon?"

He was growing cross with you now, in that very same way he once had with his teachers when they did not give him the answers to his questions as directly as he wished.

He was still so hungry for knowledge, and you could not help but wonder what trouble that had gotten him into throughout your many years apart.

You placed your hand upon his, palm grazing the back of his hand more out of habit than anything else, though you did not move it even when he tensed, desperately wanting to believe that he still found something soothing within your presence, and that you had not lost him entirely, not when he still owned so very much of your heart and soul.

"I am going to tell you, Loki, why would I come here just to break my promise?"

You reasoned gently, watching as your dear god of mischief simply scoffed lightly before looking toward the ground, never one to admit it when he had overreacted.

"What I saw in my vision was no small revelation, and I want you to know that keeping it from you for so very long was never my intention."

You began, eyes growing desperate as you took both of the god's hands into your own, causing him to look up toward you once more,

"I was banished, Loki, never would I have chosen to betray you so otherwise, and I pray that you know that."

The god sitting before you pulled his hands away from yours at that, eyes growing weary, as if he was no longer certain that he could trust you.

It nearly shattered your heart to feel his touch be ripped away from yours after so very long of being alone, of missing him each and every day, but even still you did not reach back out for him again in that moment.

"Betray me?"

He whispered, his tone gaining a slight edge to it as he spoke,

"What do you speak of, witchling?"

He hissed, and you were quick to respond,

"My prince, you do not understand, what I am saying is that I never would have chosen to betray you by waiting as long as I have to tell you what I am about to. You have always been dear to me, and I have felt guilt eat away at me for all of these years that I have allowed this lie to endure in spite of my knowledge, even if I could not risk helping it until now."

Loki sighed, motioning for you to continue,

"Just get on with it then, I desire not to be kept in such suspense regarding my own life, starlight."

You took a deep breath, nodding as you began, trying your best to maintain eye contact even when it got hard.

"Loki, over one hundred years ago, I had a vision of some event far in the future, wherein you sought out your father's treasures, and learned a most difficult truth."

You watched as the being sitting in front of you stiffened slightly, his gaze widening as he slowly shook his head back and forth.

"No."

He whispered, and you watched on in confusion as he continued,

"No, no, it cannot be. You cannot possibly know. My sole comfort throughout all of these years was that you had no way of knowing..."

He carried on, and hesitantly, you reached forward to take his hand once more, and this time, he simply stared down at where you were touching him, as if not entirely believing your touch to be real anymore.

You offered him a look of deep compassion and sympathy, before finally you continued,

"You are not Odin's true son, Loki, but a-"

"Monster."

He cut you off, voice still quiet and body all too still as he stared down at your enjoined hands.

You shook your head,

"No Lo, not a monster, that is not what I-"

"My knowledge of your vision has come far too late, my dear."

Loki said gravely, a deep and humorless chuckle leaving him as he finally looked you in the eyes again, allowing you to see the tears that had built up there in spite of how hard he had tried to hold them at bay.

To the untrained eye perhaps, they may not have been so obvious, but even after all of these years, you knew his eyes far too well to not notice that they were growing wet.

Your brow creased in confusion and concern as you took his other hand in yours once more, squeezing both the way you always had before when he had experienced some great emotional suffering.

"Whatever do you mean, my prince?"

You asked gently, watching as Loki's expression morphed into one of so many emotions that you could scarcely name them all in the brief moment that they flashed upon his face.

Grief, sorrow, anger, longing, disgust, guilt. So many things to feel, and none of them good.

He continued,

"I'm afraid that what you have revealed is a truth long known to me, sweet starlight."

He said quietly, and instantly you understood, your expression falling as sadness overcame you, not only over you being too late to help him avoid further suffering, but over the way that he so clearly felt about himself.

He thought what he was to be a monster, something to be feared and hated as if it meant a thing.

You squeezed his hands again, urging him to look into your eyes, and drawn in by a habit he had once believed to be long since forgotten, he did, seeking out something within you that you were unsure of, but desperately wished to give.

"Loki, I am so very sorry that I was too late to tell you the truth. I studied so long to find some way to get to you, but I could not risk trying anything until I felt more certain of what might work for fear of Odin finding me."

The god before you regarded your words with utter shock, but you simply smiled in response,

"I will explain all when the time comes, sweet prince, but for now, please just know that you are no less Loki to me now than you ever were, nor were you any less Loki when I learned the truth. You are Loki Laufeyson, or even Loki Odinson if you so choose, and you are a crowned prince of Asgard and the god of mischief. No lineage could ever change that or take it away from you. You are no different now than you were back when you did not know."

Loki regarded you with brief confusion, as if he had never anticipated for you to feel such a way, or maybe for anyone to for that matter, and then suddenly, his eyes were squinted, his mind obviously deep in thought.

You had no doubt that this was partially in effort to change the subject to one he was far more readily prepared to discuss, but you did not tell him that you knew this.

He would talk when he was ready, if he ever truly was.

"Hold on a moment,"

He began,

"I understand that you did not explain all, but there is one thing that I cannot ever see making any sense."

He continued, eyes searching yours for the answer to a question that was yet unasked.

You shrugged,

"Lay it on me, Lo, I'm an open book."

Loki bristled a bit at the nickname, but said nothing, likely all too aware of how much of a habit it was for you, even after all of these years.

To hear it fall from your lips so easily though...

He distracted himself with his question immediately to stop that thought where it began.

"I know that you wished to keep your promise to me, that much is clear, but you spoke earlier of you having done so not for your word, and not for your title, but for care."

You nodded, cheeks reddening slightly at the memory, though the god sitting before you was clearly far too deep in thought to consider the connotation of your words as heavily as he otherwise may have.

"Your care is easy to understand, and your word is another worthy mention when it comes to reasons you may have worked so tirelessly to find me, but I do not understand what you mean by your title. What title is a witchling so bound by that would keep her from breaking her fealty to me? Why would you say such a thing at all?"

You looked away, unable to meet your old friend's gaze even as his eyes bore into you,

"Well..."

You murmured, eyes meeting his once more before you quickly looked away again, hoping somehow, that even after all of these years apart that the silence might speak for you the way that it always had with him.

He had been all but capable of reading your mind once, and who was to say that such a thing ever truly went away?

You watched as Loki's eyes widened by a millimeter, a slight inhale alerting you to some subtle realization that had just entered through the back of his mind, one that he had not been at all prepared to consider, but that made far too much sense for his liking, particularly as he considered all that had happened to you further.

His hand found the underside of your jaw, and without warning, he tilted your head upward, forcing you to look him in the eyes, allowing you to see all of the emotions building within his green irises.

Confusion, anger, frustration, but most of all, disbelief, though you could tell that the latter of the four was quickly fading.

"Starlight, did you tell Odin what you saw within your vision that day?"

He asked sternly, and, swallowing thickly, you shook your head, watching as the god of mischief's eyes widened even further.

"No."

He said matter of factly, repeating your answer as if it might make it easier for him to process what he was slowly coming to realize,

"You- You never told him what you saw."

His tone was incredulous as he spoke, his expression incredibly hard to read as he stood, using the grip you still had on his hands to tug you up alongside him.

His eyes found yours once more now that you were standing together, his head shaking back and forth almost as if he were in utter disbelief of what you were saying.

"And you know what he did, don't you? What you've become?"

He asked gently, and slowly, hesitantly, you nodded, watching as the prince of Asgard chuckled from above you,

"What a surprise you've been at every step of the way, starlight."

He muttered, leaning his head down against yours like he used to for the briefest of moments before he pulled away, clearing his throat slightly as he did.

"Well, now that we have some of those things clarified, what do you say we give the others a real introduction, hmm?"

You nodded after a moment of contemplation, moving to wrap your cloak around your shoulders once more, just barely missing the way that Loki's eyes shone at the familiar sight of it, his hands briefly reaching out toward you before he stopped himself and walked across the room to open the door for you.

From there, he guided you out into a long hallway, maneuvering the two of you about until finally, you reached a rather large common area, where you suddenly realized with a start that everyone from before was waiting.

Thor smiled at you from where he sat on the couch, the apologetic edge to it very nearly causing your heart to weep.

There were few who deserved to feel guilty over what had happened to you less so than Thor, who had only been doing what he was told.

You would have to speak with him privately soon, to thank him for having caught you when you fell forward earlier on in the day, if nothing else.

Though, you suspected that the two of you would have plenty to talk about beyond that.

The room was silent as you and the god at your side entered quietly, all eyes on the two of you as Loki cleared his throat slightly before finally speaking.

"So, as many of you have likely surmised, this is the witchling that was present in the portion of my dream that I showed earlier."

At that, you shot a glance toward the asgardian beside you, briefly wondering what on earth he could have possibly been referencing, when he brought the topic back to the discussion at hand, successfully distracting you for the time being.

"That said, she is no illusion or dream, nor is she some spirit come back to haunt me."

You watched as the man who had granted you permission to utilize a room earlier groaned at that, slapping a wad of green paper into the hand of a blonde woman who sat next to him, who simply grinned subtly.

Still, Loki paid this no mind, and continued after a brief pause,

"She is very real, and though both of us are rather confused, we are working together to figure out what exactly is going on here."

At that, a multitude of hands shot up, causing Loki to glare at those who had raised them until they begrudgingly lowered them once more.

"We will happily inform you of all that we know in just a few moments,"

He said pointedly, causing a few of the people who had been so eager to ask questions before to roll their eyes at his dramatics, though they appeared to be fairly used to them by now based upon their reactions.

"But before we get to that, I would like to introduce you properly."

Loki sighed deeply, casting you a sidelong glance of what almost appeared to be sympathy before he finally continued,

"Starlight, meet my... coworkers of sorts, the avengers."

He began, and you gave a small wave to the people in the room, smiling the tiniest bit when a few friendly looking faces waved back, some even eagerly.

Still, that almost peaceful atmosphere was clearly not meant to last forever, because after Loki's next sentence, well...

"Avengers, meet starlight, the Aesir goddess of compassion, mercy, and fidelity."

All hell broke loose.

Desiderium Tag List: @princess-ofthe-pages

Loki Tag List: @mischief2sarawr

[muma-kitty]

alright, since some of you seem to agree with my thoughts, i think i'll elaborate a bit

sweeney todd's autism diagnosis

this might be a bit lengthy so ill spare you the scroll if youre not interested.

stiff movements (this isnt really a dancer's role)

lack of expression, tends to look either sad or angry most of the time. could just be the trauma tho

weird stilted way of speaking (hearn specific)

generally quiet and reserved outside of emotional outbursts (again, trauma)

strong sense of justice - "at the top of the hole sit the privileged few making mock of the vermin in the lower zoo"

entirely fixated on razors when reacquiring them, completely oblivious to mrs lovett talking about her massive crush on him

doesnt know what to do with his hands when not holding anything - "at last, my arm is complete again!"

[shaving contest /w pirelli and aftermath]

doesnt bother with any flash or flair, gets straight to work and gets the job done

becomes agitated and paces when expecting the beadle to arrive at his barber shop but doesnt know when (gotta have a schedule)

[epiphany]

if this isnt a textbook meltdown idk what is

mood swings (man goes through every stage of grief twice in the span of 3 minutes)

lashing out - "alright! you sir! how about a shave?"

mrs lovett trying to calm him down just upsets him even more

[a little priest]

doesnt understand what mrs lovett's hints at at first

asks what unfamiliar food is before trying it, as if hes hesitant to try new things

definitely an odd sense of humor

wordplay. so much wordplay.

more tactile stimming, this time with suspenders (hearn)

[god thats good]

upset because the package he was told would arrive by 5:45 is 15 minutes late (his SCHEDULE is RUINED)

once the chair arrives, becomes agitated when he cant get mrs lovett to stay and watch him open it (PLEASE let me share my interests!!!!)

once again calling for lovett's attention, this time to set up a system of communication. he just really wants to make sure she isnt missing his cues

[by the sea]

several minutes of sweeney being completely absorbed in his own thoughts while giving half-assed responses to at least pretend like he heard any of that nonsense

[wigmaker sequence]

time to infodump

possible echolalia? - "the madhouse? the madhouse!"

[finale]

upset that he now has to go find toby when hes expecting the judge to arrive soon (the schedule!)

doesnt seem to be aware of how threatening he sounds while calling for the kid

after killing the judge, suddenly remembers he was supposed to catch toby and runs out only to realize he didnt grab his razor (only has enough working memory for one task at a time)

im sure there are other details i missed, especially since everyone's performance is different, so feel free to add on

[pastelinsertfangirl]

Alastor x Lonely Reader

As the only single person left in my friend group, I'm in desperate need for Alastor to be real, so he can date me (ﾉ￣д￣)ﾉ

Super self indulgent and by someone who hasn't written in forever Super cringe, I just need to get this off my chest please

You were very self aware to not get into messy relationships or if anyone had any red flags, after all it was better to be single than in a toxic relationship. Lucky for you Alastor was a literal walking red billboard sign.

As soon as you got a text from your closest friend about them recently getting a boyfriend, the last one of your small friend group, you were feeling kinda off. The thing that was always in the back of your mind finally happened. You were the only single friend left from people you knew. You and your friend never had boyfriends before (not helping that you both have high expectations and relating to that) you always thought you two would be by each other's side till who knows when.

It also didn't help that most people at work were older and in relationships/married with kids living in their own little love filled world. You were only in your mid twenties, so you thought you had plenty of time, despite never having a boyfriend before. Alastor noticed the sudden change in your demeanor the last few days after that text you got, so he decided to pry a little into what was bothering you.

Alastor was someone who you could never figure out. He always seem to keep people at arms length unless he initiated it. However, whether you realize or not, he always seemed to have eyes on you without you noticing. He seemed to be interested in how sweet and caring you were in a world that was so filled with hatred and selfishness.

After the realization that you were the only single friend, you became more depressed and less happy-go lucky that you were known for in Alastor's eyes. It was something that he was surprised at when he first met you. You were reserved and quiet on the outside, but as others got to know you you were the sweetest thing and always willing to lend a hand to anyone. This troubled him because he always loved to see your smiling face and teasing you into different expressions.

After the news from your friend you started feeling a bit lonely. You decided to talk to some of your other friends, and all of them saying that relationships are work and it's not all sunshine and rainbows. It's also totally fine you were still single as they told you your person would be worth the wait and not to settle ever. Little did you know that Alastor's shadow was listening in on your little conversations with your friends, and from that realized what has gotten you so down.

He was surprised that you've never been in a relationship, how could someone so sweet and attentive not be chased across the worlds for. Until he realized that, just like him, he kept others at a distance, and so did you. You were very self aware to not get into messy relationships or if anyone had any red flags, after all it was better to be single than in a toxic relationship. Lucky for you Alastor was a literal walking red billboard sign.

Once Alastor set his sights on you, he was always around. Even though you might not realize, he was trying his best to court you in his own old-fashioned way. Alastor, having realized you have never had a boyfriend before, lit something in him. His was starting to grow possessive and wanting you all to himself, and treat you like a queen. Whether you realize or not you didn't want to admit it. He would always be there if you needed to talk, or if you just wanted some company. Total acts of service type of man, so if you ever needed something done whether you asked or not he was on it. Whether you acknowledge him or not is up to you, but if Alastor does become your first boyfriend, be ready for him to never let you go.

[nyctophiliq]

LANDLADY'S PROBLEM. mdni +18

description. you were late with your rent, your landlady wasn't kind enough to give you a few more days to pay, so you came up with a different kind of compensation or rather... she did

pairings. sevika + f! reader

minors dni. lowercase writing intended, nsfw content, sub/dom dynamics implied, bratty reader (?), dub-con, fingering, cunnilingus, semi-clothed sex, teasing, dirty talking (?), abuse of power, groping, modern au

moss' notes. SEVIKAAAAA SEVIKA SEVIKA !!! moss is down bad, it's not funny + this is a long one. reblogs and comments are appriciated, hope you enjoy <3

you huffed as you placed a basket full of dirty clothes on the washing machine, stretching your back before starting to load your attires inside.

"the laundry room is reserved for tenants who pay their rent, i have to ask you to leave." came with the heavy steps down the few stairs behind you. you turned around, scoffing when you saw the landlady leaning against the doorway with her arms crossed, an angered expression plastering on her face.

"i told you, i will get your money in a couple of days. i had to pay everything at once and-" you turned around, going back to filling the machine with your clothes.

before you could finish your sentence, however, sevika cut into your words, slapping her hand against the washing machine and trapping you between them. "your sad little story doesn't interest me, either gave me the money or get out of my building."

"let me pay in some other way." you sounded desperate and in all honesty, you were. this really wasn't a time for you to search for a new place to live, everything was just starting to get on the right track.

"you are a pretty little thing, y/n. i wonder what it's like to have you properly moan." the big hands of your landlady came to palm your cheek, her thumb running along the bone under your eye as she took a good look at you.

"you wanna have sex with me? that's the abuse of power-" she cut you off.

"alright then, pack your things." sevika shrugged, heading for the door. you balled your fists, giving it not a second thought that saying no is a better option than selling your body.

she wasn't halfway through the door when you screamed-

"i'll do it, i'll have sex with you." a smug grin accompanied by a breathy laugh came from the taller woman. she stood in one place for a second, wiped her face with the same laugh still coming out of her mouth before charging towards you, yet again trapping you between the machine and herself.

sevika's hand came up to cup your cheek, pulling you towards her lips into a feverish kiss. her grip was firm, but not strong enough to bruise your skin just to hold you in place. sevika's tongue wasn't asking for permission, it just forced its way into your mouth and completely took over. sevika was rougher than any other partner you have had before, but that might be because non of you are half drunk on cheap whiskey and tequila.

you weren't sure where to put your hand, or how to handle the tall and strong woman who was devouring you at the moment. you stood there like a shy teenager who was making out for the first time in their life, awkwardly keeping your hands at your sides.

"loosen up sweetness, it's just sex, not like you haven't done it before. the walls are rather... thin." sevika's finger loosened on your face, slipping to your chin to force you to look at her and not wherever you were staring off to.

"you l-live next to me?!" you almost screamed, making the woman in front of you chuckle the slightest. "aham," sevika hums, her hand carefully hooking under the strap of your shirt, pulling it down on your arm while her fingers grazed your skin the slightest. goosebumps rose on your skin, your body shivering at the tingling sensation.

"it's rather pathetic that you keep bringing those guys up and the only moans i can hear are theirs." she leaned closer, hot breath fanning against your lips as her daring eyes stared deep into your scared ones.

"i'm j-just quiet in b-bed- ah!" you shivered as sevika's cold hand slipped under the front of your shirt, giving your breast a tight squeeze. jolting your back towards her, you let out a loud moan.

"really? that was quite loud." the landlady smirked, her thumb brushing over your perked-up nipple before both of her hands grip your hips and pushes you atop the laundry machine.

you pushed into her when her lips met yours for a second time, legs wrapping around her back while your arms wrapped around her neck. sevika pushed back into you right after, maintaining her dominance in the situation as one of her hands played with the tie of your shorts. she caressed the clothed underside of your belly, humming pleasantly as her tongue explored the warmth of your mouth.

a needy moan slipped from you as sevika pulled away, continuing slipping kisses from the corner of your lips to the crook of your neck. she stopped moving to pull your shirt above your breast, staring at them for a second with a wicked smirk on her face before her hand reached for the claps on your back, pushing the bra up on your chest to let your tits drop from their tight cage.

"stop staring..." panting, you tried to cover yourself with your arm, turning your head to hide what color may appear on your cheeks as you felt them warm up quite a bit. sevika gave you a scoff, her hands grabbing your legs to drag you to the very edge of the machine.

"you look stupid like this, like a pretty fuck doll, how can you ask me not to stare?" she hummed, tugging a loose strand of hair behind your ear before dropping to her knees. she took a moment to keep staring up at you, her hands stroking the top of your thigh up and down, a few chaste kisses left on the plush of your thighs before ripping your pants off.

"see," sevika's finger hooked under and pushed aside the front of your panties before running it through your drenched slit. "so plush and pink, i see why no one can resist." she might as well have licked the corner of her lips as she gently trusted one finger inside your hole, slowly squeezing it inside you until her knuckle hit your pussy lips, making a wet slapping sound.

"stop... talking." you sighed, shivering from the slightest ministrations. sevika sucked her teeth, pulling her finger out, "oh? is that an invitation for me to eat you, right? you want me to lick you dry, don't you pretty thing?" she said as she rubbed her cheek against the plush of your thigh, trying to position her mouth to where she wanted to taste you the most.

"please... just do it." to be frank, if she wasn't so proud of herself then sevika would have squealed as soon as you said it. she had seen you around before, headphones on your head, swaying your hips side to side which she assumed was on the beat to the music while carrying the same basket of clothes down to the room she was stuck in with you as of the moment. not that she is complaining.

your legs crossed along her spine, heels of your bare feet grinding into her toned back when her tongue flicked against your clit, sweeping up and down your slit to together the wetness there. your hands split into different directions; one catching the edge of the laundry matching while the other carded through sevika's hair, holding her head.

sevika took a glance up at you, letting herself enjoy the pleasure painting your face before and finally, focusing all her care on your wet entrance and swollen bud, yearning for attention. she drew circles, big, slow, and teasing ones before slipping her tongue inside your hot pussy. your hips jumped erratically as she without a warning trusted inside, curling the tip of her tongue along your upper wall. sevika's muscles arms wrapped around your thighs, holding your bucking hips down before you jumped down from your place. her tongue soon drew senseless shapes against your velvet walls, pulling loud, gasping moans out of you.

moan after moan of curses combined with sevika's name tumbled forth from your lips, mixing in with the slick and lewd sound echoing in the tight laundry room. she pulls away and a childish whine leaves you which sevika answers with a groan, a pinch on both of your thighs.

"awh, the pretty fuck doll can't get enough?" she snickers, her head leaning against your thigh as she looks up at you with a shit-eating grin and you can't decide if it's attractive or just downright annoying.

"stop teasing me and get to it already." you stuttered despite your attempt to sound unaffected by earlier ministrations. "careful, someone's gonna think you have a crush on me." sevika freed your thigh from her right arm, using her fingers to she parted you lips and her tongue delved right into your wetness,

"seven fucks... s-sevika!" your fingers curled in her messed up hair, the warm skin of your shaking thighs threatening to close around her head. sevika flexed her arms, minimalizing your movement while pushing her head and tongue deeper between your honeyed core.

your hips trusted forward, pushing sevika's tongue deeper into your heat. you felt like bursting, your whole body ready to expload as heat was spreading through you, your hips rolled against sevika's mouth over and over, feeling those shamless, self-satisfied muffled moans resonate through you- not surprisingly assuming that the brunette was getting off on it.

sevika's chest was soaring with lust, excited to make you come so she could demonstrate what it actually felt like to be satisfied and delighted. your whole body gave into the incredible pleasure she was giving you, and the gasp that had been leaving you changed into what could be described as a soft sighs as you clenched your teeth. at least, delicious waves of pleasure washed over you as a final strangled cry broke itself from your lips.

it took both of you a few minutes to regain your breath, to calm your lungs and, for you especially, gain sense of the world around you. you knew that orgasms you had with those guys would never really compare to the real thing until you met someone special or at least someone who knew what to do with their tongue. sevika sure seemed like one but damn... being this good might be a crime.

"seems like your mouth is not only capable of smart comments..." you panted, falling against the cold wall with your hand coming up wipe the sweat from your forehead.

"oh doll, if you let it, this thing," she pointed at you then at herself as she pushed herself to her feet. "this could be way more fun."