#it just upsets me a lot how much harsher he was on me all the time. i never got cheered on or encouraged or really ever accepted as a frien | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

buckyalpine · 5 months

Text

Reader that always cries/tries not to cry. As someone who has been yelled at for crying and who is extra sensitive, I live for the angst where the reader struggles to hold their emotions followed by all the fluff, comfort and reassurance.

"But-it feels like you don't care Bucky!"

"I told you I was busy y/n!" Bucky sighed out of frustration, running his fingers through his short locks, "You know how stressful this job is, it's not like I cancel our dates on purpose"

You couldn't help but feel a tinge of neglect as you stood in front of your boyfriend, fully dressed for your date only for him to text you that it would have to happen another night.

Again.

"I haven't seen you in weeks. You go for days without answering your phone. I only call you because I care about you, I love you" You could already feel the warning signs making their way throughout your body. Your throat felt tight making it difficult to swallow. Your eyes stung with fresh tears. Your nose felt warm, threatening to sniffle.

"Yeah I get that," He scoffed, shaking his head in annoyance. "I just don't know if you understand how much I have to do in a day"

"I'm not stupid Bucky" Your voice started to crack, feeling worse for adding to his stress as your own emotions started to crumble. You wanted to hold it together, to have one conversation where you didn't break but-

"But you don't get it- c'mon y/n, don't cry" Bucky bit out, the words coming out harsher than he intended, not realizing how much it would upset you. You bit your lip harder to keep your chin from trembling, fat tears threatening to slip out the more you tried to blink them back. Your throat ached, constricting your neck more and more.

"I-I'm s-sorry" You choked out, hating yourself even more for getting emotional, the frustration evident in your voice. You harshly wiped your face between hiccups, letting out a frustrated groan. Bucky blinked, his previous annoyance replaced with regret seeing how upset you were with yourself.

"I-I don't mean t-to cry" You dug your nails into your palms to try and get yourself together, your body betraying you wish a fresh wave of tears only making you feel worse, "I don't want to!"

Your body trembled, your arms moving to hug yourself in an attempt to hide away, squeezing yourself together to gain some semblance of control. Bucky cursed internally, now pissed at himself for losing his patience when you were only upset for not being able to see him. You never asked for much; the only thing you wanted was to spend time with him and recently he hadn't been doing that either.

"Hey-no-baby shhh, c'mere" Bucky pulled you to his chest, pressing his lips to the top of your head, rubbing your back up and down to calm your labored breaths. "Its not you angel, its me. I'm the one whose sorry, I shouldn't have spoken like that to you or said that, I'm sorry sweet girl"

"I-c-cry for-for everything" Your voice cracked into a defeated sob, embarrassed over how easily you broke down to tears, a new wave streaming down your face, wetting the front of his Henley. Bucky picked you up in his arms, carrying you over to bed where he could place you in his lap, cradling you to his body. "I h-hate it"

"My sweet, sensitive baby" Bucky cooed as he continued to cuddle you, rocking you in his arms while you got your breathing under control. "I'm sorry babygirl"

"I just missed you" You sniffled, clutching onto his dogtags while he kissed your temple repeatedly, stroking your hair.

"You have every right to be upset. I should be lucky my girl loves me so much, you don't even ask for a lot. I'm sorry I've been neglecting and cancelling on you so much, m'gonna take some time off so I can love on you properly"

You smiled into his chest, your body finally starting to relax, following the rise and fall of his chest.

"I'm sorry I cry so much- Bucky tipped your face up, pressing his lips against yours to stop your rambling.

"No, you cry as much as you want with me, I love that about you, okay?" He looked at your sincerely, meaning every word.

"But-

"You cry because you care. I love that you care so much. I love that cute little animal videos make you emotional. I love how deeply you feel for others. Fuck, I love how much you love me. I'll never meet anyone else who loves and cares for others the way you do. Don't ever change baby, you cry all you want"

You let out a small sniffle at his words making him chuckle, swiping his thumb across your cheek to wipe the tear the slipped out.

"What if it annoys you" you pouted while Bucky playfully pondered your question, pecking your lips again.

"Hmm, then you send Steve to beat me up. I promise he'll run at the chance at any given moment. Call Sam in too and get comfy with those fuzzy peaches you love so much"

"You sure?"

"I'm sure, doll" Bucky whispered, settling you under the covers with your head on his chest, planning to spend the rest of the day cuddling in bed. "Very sure"

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actuallysaiyan · 2 months

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You Could Have Have Anyone You Want, Why Would You Want To Be With Me?

warnings: Post-Shibuya, mentions of scars, smut, insecurities, JJK Spoilers, unprotected sex/creampie finish word count: 1.4k pairings: Post-Shibuya!Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader summary: your husband feels so insecure since surviving the Shibuya Incident, he doesn't understand why you'd stay with him...so you remind him of just how much you truly love him.

Your heart is breaking every time you look at your husband. Ever since the Shibuya Incident, he’s been a shell of a man. You know it’s really affected him and made him feel so useless and vulnerable. He feels like a burden on you.

But it doesn’t take long for you to begin missing physical intimacy with him. He’s healed up well thanks to Shoko’s technique, but there are still some scars and he’s got a weak leg and he can’t see perfectly well out of his left eye. He doesn’t think he looks good at all, despite the fact that he still looks so picturesque and gorgeous as he always has.

One night as he’s winding down after a day at the office, you find yourself feeling even more needy than usual. You want to crawl onto his lap and press soft kisses all over his face and chest. There’s a part of you that is so scared to initiate anything. Still, you want to show him you still love him just as much as before.

So after a warm shower and lots of skincare, you throw on one of Kento’s t-shirts and you go snuggle up next to him on the couch. The minute he sees you, his eyes widen. There’s a dusting of pink on his cheeks that gives him that perfect boyish charm you’ve come to fall for.

“Hi, sweetheart.” You coo softly, your hand coming up to caress his cheek.

He slides away, “Are you comfortable?”

You sigh softly, turning away so he doesn’t see just how upset you are. He feels something stirring inside of him, but he thinks there’s just no way you’d ever want to be intimate with him ever again. His heart aches at the thought of you growing bored of him and finding someone new.

“Yes, I’m comfortable.” You scoot closer, your hand gently brushing down his arm.

His heart skips a beat as he realizes what you’re trying to do. He can’t help but think this has got to be out of pity. How could you possibly think he’s attractive? He takes your hands in his and then gently places them on your lap.

“Please, I don’t…I don’t think I can handle the thought of you touching me out of pity.”

Your mouth hangs open as your jaw drops. How could he possibly think that was the reason you were touching him? It’s been months since you’ve been able to place your hands adoringly on his skin. It’s been months since he’s been deep inside of you, head on your chest and panting for more of you even if he’s as deep as can be.

“Why would you dare say something like that?” You snap, your words coming out harsher than you’d like.

Kento hesitates, “B-because…there’s just no way you could still find me attractive.”

His hands gesture towards his damaged eye, the littering of scars on that side of his body and his lame leg. Tears well up in your eyes as you settle on your knees on the couch. You can’t help yourself as you begin to cry.

“Kento Nanami, I have been in love with you since the day I met you. Just because you were injured gravely doesn’t stop me from loving you and thinking you're attractive.” You take a deep breath, “It has been months since we’ve had sex and I just…I just miss my husband so much.”

It’s Kento’s turn to begin to cry. You’ve hardly ever seen him cry. Maybe a few times since you’ve known him, and this was different from the times you’ve seen before. He’s so vulnerable right now, and you can tell he’s scared to lose you.

“I–I didn’t know what to think. My darling, I worried that maybe you’d grow tired of a damaged old man like me,”

You don’t even know what to say, so instead you wrap your arms around him softly and you begin pressing kisses all over his face like you wanted to. His cheeks grow hotter, and more tears stream down his face. He’s so happy to feel this love and affection again.

“I just feel like a monster every time I look in the mirror,”

This comment breaks your heart even more. You cup his face in your hands and you press your lips to his. It’s soft, loving and so tender. When you pull away, you press your forehead to his. In a soft tone, you whisper the sweetest words of love and praise for this man before you.

“You aren’t a monster. You are a hero, my love. And I am so happy I have you here with me. I am so grateful I get to live another day with you every time we wake up together in bed.”

He gasps softly at your words. He’s blushing even more now than ever. Then you gently take his hand and bring it under the hem of the shirt you’re wearing. He grunts softly when his fingertips brush against your soft pubic hair. He doesn’t need more guidance than this; he knows what to do next.

“You still think I don’t find you sexy? Cause I really do.” You coo softly, leaning in to kiss him as his fingers tease your swollen nub.

Kento continues his ministrations, his own cock beginning to harden in his pants. It doesn’t take long before he’s sliding off the sweatpants he’s wearing to show you the hardened member that’s just begging to be sucked, kissed and stroked. You notice there’s a portion of his cock that’s thicker than the rest; it’s scar tissue.

“I think my pretty husband needs some love, don’t you?” You tease him, getting ready to kneel before him. But he surprises you by grabbing you by the waist and pulling you onto his lap.

“Can’t wait, need you now,”

He lifts up your shirt and helps you out of it, tossing it to the corner of the room. He holds you up; the testament of his strength is still very apparent to you. Then with one quick thrust up into you, he’s balls deep inside. You’re both panting and moaning as your walls flutter around him.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking big,” you whine as you nuzzle your face in the crook of his neck. You take no time to begin pressing kisses to the scarred skin there.

He chuckles, “Yeah? Feel good?”

You nod dumbly as he begins bouncing you on his cock, “Feels so fucking good.”

The feeling of your lips on his scarred skin makes him shudder. The sensations of your tight little cunt gripping on his dick make him grunt and growl; the feeling of possessiveness comes crashing over him,

“You’re all mine,” He grunts in your ear before nipping at the lobe. “Mine, all mine.”

You cling to him, your little hands holding onto him as he fucks himself up into you. Every thrust of his cock sends you closer and closer to the Earth-shattering orgasm you’re so desperate to feel.

He pulls you in for a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. He knows his own orgasm is imminent, so he needs to work fast if he wants you to come undone along with him. His hand comes up to your mouth, and he shoves two of his fingers in.

“Wet those fingers, baby. Do it for me,”

You don’t even hesitate to begin sucking on his fingers. You moan around them, your tongue gliding over the long digits. Then he pulls them from your mouth, only to press them against your swollen nub that’s been begging for attention. Faster and faster he rocks his hips, his other hand steadying you by your hip. You’re moving in tandem as you work towards the same goal.

“Fuck I love you,” Kento pants. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry for the shit I said…”

You kiss him lovingly, “I love you too. I forgive you.”

The coil in your stomach is tightening more and more, and soon it snaps. Stars dance in your vision as you cry out his name desperately. The pleasure builds more and more as your orgasm courses through your body. You can barely hold yourself up as it becomes a blinding heat in your body. Kento’s struggling to hold on, your gummy walls are just milking him for everything he’s got.

“Gonna…oh fuck! I’m gonna cum!” He growls, holding you down against him as he bucks his hips wildly.

Ropes of hot, thick cum begin to coat your insides and fill your waiting womb as Kento succumbs to the pleasure of his own release. He’s growling and grunting; words that are both possessive and sweet tumble from his soft lips. Then he slows himself, still holding you down against his body.

“My precious love,” he whispers softly. You slowly open your eyes. “I’m sorry I ever doubted your love. I’ll never think of it that way again. I’ll never take it for granted.”

#bacon.writes #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x fem!reader #nanami x y/n #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x y/n #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami x you #kento nanami x y/n #nanami fluff #nanami angst #nanami smut #nanami kento smut #nanami kento fluff #jjk x reader #jjk nanami x reader

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v3nusxsky · 9 months

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so i saw you have no Nat request but was wondering if could do wanda and Nat x freader smut with these prompts

48.“Watch your mouth...”

19. “I swear to god I’ll fuck the brattyness out of you till you can’t walk…”

60“You broke the rules…”

with dom Nat and wanda bratty reader

maybe they’re all out at like a bar for a celebration of some sorts and R feels like little left out because Nat and Wanda are talking to each other and barely including her in the conversation so she decides have a little attitude with them . this just gets r less in the conversation so she gets up and sits next to some other girl and fake flirts with her this catches Nats eye . which leads them to take R home and give her reminder of the rules ;)

(aka punishment)

if not Wanda and Nat then just Nat would be fine

if you do this and do the both can Nat be the slightly like harsher one and Wanda not like a completely soft dom but is not as harsh as Nat can be

hope have a lovely day

i love your writing especially “needy puppy”

Bratty Baby 18+

*Authors note~I took a lot of creative liberties here with this one so I hope that's okay and that you'll enjoy it*

Trigger warnings~ dp dom Wandanat sun brat r g!p Nat enchanter strap on wanda harsh dom Nat slight soft dom Wanda, overstimulation kink teasing dildos Voyeurism punishment Dacryphilia size kink voice kink oral fixation mommy and daddy kink smut smut smutttt

Prompt~ see ask^^^^

Tony was always throwing parties after every successful mission, you never knew why. Perhaps he wanted to flash the cash and his success but you liked to think his love language is showering you all with gifts and parties to celebrate achievements the team made. You love dressing up for your girlfriends, allowing them to take in your outfits always led to a fun night. The team knew of your relationship dynamics, but had never once questioned either of your girlfriends, probably because they could kick the rest of the teams ass without even braking a sweat.

Normally you'd be hanging off one of their arms all night, but tonight they seemed to be immersed in one another's company. It was like you were third wheeling in your own relationship and for the first time you felt jealousy towards them both. They very rarely included you in their conversations, you didn't know much about it. You tried to show them your hurt at their ignorance but they seemed unfazed by your clear upset. That's when your plan formed. If they wouldn't give you attention then you'd go find someone who will.

Truly you didn't know how it happened but it did, you were leant up against the bar nursing a drink while carol tried to poorly flirt with you, asking about a scar you'd gotten a year ago. You weren't interested at all, very in love with your girlfriends but you could practically feel Natasha glaring in your direction so you fed into it. Fake flirting with Carol seemed to grab the attention of both women so you weren't surprised when both of them came to you. Natasha behind you sneaking a hand to your head while Wanda stood between you and Carol. A little whimper escaped you at the tug to your hair. "Dekta, why don't you let Carol go enjoy her night you are done" she murmured to you eyeing Carol dangerously causing her to flee.

"Draga, you know better than to whore yourself out" Wanda purred causing you to retaliate, "I bet Carol would fuck me right!" The mumble caught by both women causing Nat to rage on and Wanda to worry. "Nat, you're hurting me" you whimpered as she dragged you back to your room with Wanda on your tails. "Nat honey, maybe you should calm down" Wanda tried as you were thrown into the bedroom. The two women began to converse, little did you know Wanda was trying to make Nats temper deflate a little for you. "You don't fucking want me know" you all but screamed at them.

"Watch your mouth you whore" Nat seethed stalking towards you like a animal hunting prey. "ljubezen" the softer one of your girlfriends warned, she meant business but was no where near as angry as Natasha. Natasha held your throat and slammed you into the wall, her lips roughly fighting with yours now. Wanda taking the free time to strip from her clothing while Nat marked up your exposed neck. "I swear to god I'll fuck the brattyness out of you till you can't walk." She growled before dragging you to the bed where Wanda laid spread and playing with her puffy cunt. "Go and eat mommy out, prove you can be a good slut for us."

Crawling onto the bed you immediately tried to kiss Wanda's soft thighs but Tasha forced your head into her cunt, "eat" she growled. Immediately, you began to give kitten licks to her soaking cunt, her clit being spoilt with attention before plunging your tongue into her tight little hole. "Oh fuck, baby yes there yes good girl" Wanda mewled causing Natasha to lean over to slap Wanda face, "she's nothing more than a worthless whore Wanda, do not make me punish you too." Tears sprang in wandas eyes, "oh dekta you look so pretty when you cry, daddy doesn't mean to take her anger out on you. This slut is the one who should get it. Don't you agree?" A yes was squealed as you managed to throw the witch over the edge and fuck her through it.

Natasha once again tugged you up by your hair to spin you around and thrust her hard veiny cock into your tight throat. "Make this wet for daddy slut" was all she offered before thrusting into you. Wanda took the time to calm her body and strap up and enjoy the show. "Natty" Wanda whined when she was ready, "let me have a turn." That was how you found yourself sucking Wandas strap happily while Nat edged you with your aching clit.

Once both women had enough you were immediately positioned on all fours, Natasha lining her self up with your hips to hold them steady. Wanda teasing your folds with the head of the strap, "oh yes baby so wet for mommy"she purred before thrusting in. "Mommy no big too big" you whimpered causing Natasha to smack your ass in warning, "you'll take it, mommy wants to stretch out your fuck hole to make sure you can take daddy's cock." Natasha helped you fuck yourself onto Wandas dick as she stretched out your walls. "Oh god mommy! Daddy! Wanna cum" you mewled.

"Cum my whore" Wanda purred happily as she was approaching her edge too. A rough thrust had you both tumbling over that edge together. "Mine" the red headed Russian growled practically ripping you off Wands dick and thrusting into you from behind. The sheer size of her dick stretching you more than Wanda had. "Mommy it hurts make her stop" you cried hoping she'd take pity on you. "You broke the rules baby" Wanda reminded before completely ignoring the pleas and cries for her to help you.

Nat is a passionate lover but her temper flared often making it hard for her to know when to stop. "Wands look the pretty slut is crying. Look at how beautiful she looks taking me Wanda" Nat panted with every rough thrust, "the more you cry dolly the more I want to ruin you." You'd lost count how many times you came around her cock, the pleasure and pain dizzying. "Stop stop please daddy I can't" you whined, only to be shut up by Wanda popping her breast into your mouth, "shhh baby here suck on mommy."

Natasha happily filled you to the brim as you screamed around Wandas nipple. When she finally slipped from your now gaping hole you could see the mixture of both your cum seeping from your own hole onto the bed. Trying to catch your breath you noticed Wanda slipping underneath your body and Nat repositioning her already hard cock. You weren't even sure how two cocks could fit into your small cunt but these two lovers were determined to make them fit. "Oh look at the cock slut wands, taking both our dicks into your needy cunt"

Natasha shoved two fingers into your mouth as they both pounded into you, it was awkward at first but they soon found a rhythm to overstimulate your poor puffy cunt. Tears streaming like a raging river, you continued to moan and whine as you came around their dicks again and agains. Your orgasm causing you to clamp around them like a vice. Making them cum became the ultimate goal, and when you achieved that you tapped out immediately, the pain now outweighing the pleasure.

Both women flipped like a switch into caring and loving, making sure you were cared for and loved, cleaning up and cuddling with your exhausted body while they whispered words of praise and love until you all drifted off to sleep.

Word count~ 1552

#anon answered #v3nusxsky answers #fanfic #anon requested #wandanat x reader #wanda x y/n #wanda marvel #wandanat x reader smut #wanda maximoff #wanda x you #wandanat x y/n #mommy wanda #natasha marvel #natasha x you #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha romanov #nat x you #natahsa romanoff

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pacific-rimbaud · 1 month

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i was reading your thoughts on how fans felt about l&oha and while i concur it is a perfect piece of work in my head and have reread it 5x, i wonder if you think fans tend to be harsher/more critical of hermione and let draco slide? i see it a lot in fics where he's more of an alphahole type

Oh, man. Okay. The can is open, the worms are loose. Rant under the cut.

I'm actually going to set men aside entirely. Just. To the side with you. I desperately need more realistically complicated men, too, but that's a whole separate discussion. Right now: women.

There must be whole dissertations out there on the phenomenon of readers hating female characters with negative traits. I'm a fandom old, so I didn't grow up identifying with Hermione, and wouldn't have even if I'd been young enough to. I did that "which character are you" test just now and my top three matches were Janis Ian from Mean Girls, Jughead from Riverdale and April from Parks and Rec, which, massive grain of salt, etc. BUT gives you an idea. I am not a Hermione and never was, so she's never been a comfort character or self-insert for me. Some of my favorite fictional women are Sophie Hatter (mean, irrational, petty, old and mostly loving it), Harrowhark Nonagesimus (evil stick), Phryne Fisher (zero fucks to give). What I like about Hermione is how imperfect she is. I'm a "cleverest witch of your age I've ever met" truther (book!Lupin is absolutely saying "you're the canniest 14 year-old child I have personally met, saying this as a guy who doesn't get out much," not "you are a once-in-a-century genius"), and from my perspective, she's often wrong and often a dick, and not in a fun and fiesty burn-down-the-world BAMF way. Which. Good for her! Be human.

And that's the thing. I personally don't want Hermione to be perfect, I want her to be what I think she is, textually, which is intelligent, hardworking, loyal, competitive, compassionate, controlling, belittling, rude, petty, insecure, vindictive, volatile. She has the right to be that way, because she's human. The desire for perfected women (or unapologetically and unstoppably awful ones, another brand of female power fantasy) is not limited to Dramione fandom. I think it's amplified in DHr by many readers who DO identify as former gifted children, books-as-coping-mechanism kids and Strong Female Personalities who felt marginalized in childhood and want to see Hermione have it all: she's slim, she's tiny, she's fragile as a bird, she'll break your neck, she'll step on your throat, she'll tear down the system, she'll heal all wounds, she does not need help, she holds all the knowledge, she holds all the cards, she is forever wronged, she can do no wrong, her vagina is tight, her nipples are hard, her hair is on point, her waist is tiny, her tits are bouncing, her ass is in the style of Now. And like. This isn't at all unique to DHr and Hermione. It's pervasive in fiction written by and for women. Female power fantasies are obviously feeding a massive hunger. It's just not what I personally want. Personally, I find it alienating and uncomfortable, which I know equates to, "That is wrong and shouldn't exist" to a lot of people, but that's its own tale as old as time.

There's a disconnect that happens too often where a reader wants one (1) thing from their fiction, and receives something else, even when the contents are clearly labeled on the tin. In this case, wanting a female power fantasy and encountering a woman who's written with flaws makes people upset. And maybe if we could be more honest with ourselves about what we're looking for when we read, work to accept that not everyone wants the same experience, and learn to close a book when it's not working for us and say, "No shade, this isn't for me," it would be less upsetting when we encounter a character who isn't written to meet our personal expectations. I will open a book, realize the FMC is a female power fantasy archetype and close it, because that's not what I show up for. I like my women gritty and weird and foolish and vulnerable and liable to hurt people and feel terrible about it. Give me all the exhausting chatterers and evil sticks and jocks with swords and their hearts on their sleeves (their hearts ripped out), give me shy Anne Elliot and her suitcase full of regrets and the ugly fuckup who never has a glow up, give me dirtbag stoners and Fleabag and Alicent Hightower apologetics and every role Natasha Lyon has ever played. It's not a moral high ground, it's about a preference for seeing actual, demeritus flaws on the page and on the screen. Blame that woman. It's her fault. She has so many faults. Then show me how to forgive her so I can figure out how to forgive myself.

The thing is, I love women. I love women so fucking much. I want to be around them, to get to know them, to read about them, to watch them on TV and see them in films. And personally, I like them ugly. Physically. Spiritually. Morally. Give a woman a Bad Personality and watch her succeed in the most self-injurious way possible, fuck you. Give her a gaping chest wound and line it with teeth. Stick a piece of grit in that girl's tightly sealed shell so that a pearl is her only option. Make her love other women, make her fuck it up, make her have to earn them back.

Thankfully I do feel like we're getting more ugly women in fiction, especially BIPOC, queer and marginalized women who deserve gross, weird, nasty representation and not just didactic moralism, patronization and misguided sainthood. Some readers won't want that, and that's fine. Again, personally (it's all so personal, please, please remember that when you hit that comment button), I'm here for it. If you write about women like this, know that you have a thirsty reader here. I'm swallowing them up. I'm smacking my lips. I'm smashing my mug on the cafeteria floor and calling for another.

#you asked I answered #rant #long post

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bisexual-horror-fan · 5 months

Note

Bex would you be down to write a dom ethan and sub reader type dynamic smut? This isn’t a request just wondering if it’s something you’re into 😻

Anon of course this is something I am into. First time writing more dominant Ethan! I hope you like it Anon, I haven't posted a fic in over a fucking month! Everything has been so hetic and nuts, I've been working on this behind the scenes and I am hoping this gets me back into the swing of things! Let's go!

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Now Or Never.

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Rating. Explicit. Length. 2.5K. Ethan Landry X FEM! AFAB! Reader. Warnings: DUB CON! Stalking. Creepy And Delusional Behaviour From Ethan. Obsessive Ethan. Man Handling. Degradation. Vaginal Fingering. Vaginal Sex. Raw Sex. Implied Cream Pie. Hold The Moan. Don’t Get Caught.

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Ethan has never been the kind of guy to really go after what he wants. He is much more passive, go with the flow, he doesn’t want to upset the apple cart nor ruin the image that people have of him. He knows it isn’t the best practice, he wants to get out of that, he wants to start doing things for him, maybe he should have made the call to start standing up for himself before agreeing to help his family avenge his brothers' death via a complex murder plot. However, Ethan was committed now, and he wasn’t going to back out, more importantly he saw no way how to, and so he stays.

Assuming an identity in a new place and pretending to be someone he isn’t to infiltrate a group of people, pretend to be their friend just to be close enough to kill them was stressful. It felt like it was consuming his whole life, losing who he actually was in some regard, he needed a distraction, something to help give him purpose, ease his worries and the harsher edges of it all, or he’d go nuts.

You were his outlet.

Stalking just went along with what he did in service of the grand plan, you were not part of it, not involved, but you caught his eye in one of his classes. The first time, he was just going the same direction as you, he swears to God, he wasn’t being a creep, at first. That did not last long. He started to watch you, learn your schedule, get into your routine, and whenever he wasn’t having to continue his charade he was consumed getting lost in you.

He knows where you live, he knows your class times, the coffee shop you frequent, your order at said shop, he knows what soap you use, the part-time job you hold and that one of your biggest pet peeves is when the tag in an item of clothing itches against your skin.

He’s been watching you for an amount of time that he is sure if you knew would make you very fucking uncomfortable. You seemingly hadn’t caught on to what he was up to, which was good, it meant he could keep it up without worry, watching you living your life while you were totally oblivious. To be fair, how observant you are or are not, is not what he liked best about you, honestly what he liked is that you were the opposite to him in a lot of ways. No real responsibilities other than the ones you wanted to have, just living the way you want to, he felt some modicum of jealousy over that, he imagines what life could be like if he could get out of his current situation and have a more normal existence with you, it’s a good escape, but it’s just that, a fantasy, an unattainable one.

It is getting harder and harder to ignore the situation he is stuck in, the same way it is becoming impossible to ignore the clawing feeling of dread in his chest. He wanted to stop feeling so helpless, wanted a sense of control, to feel like he was living for himself, even in a tiny sense.

Time is running out, and he needs to correct this, or he might fuck up everything without some serious stress relief.

Ethan learned about the Halloween party you were going to attend, and he thought maybe that would be good, to go and cut loose a little while near you. That plan changed, morphed, got away from him once he was actually there and near you in the costume you chose.

He tried to keep distance, to just watch but between observing you having fun, the mounting pressure and the frankly bordering on painful erection in his jeans that would not stop throbbing finally a piece inside of him broke.

You had to know what you did to him. You had to know the effect you had on him, it was like you were aware you were being watched, doing this on purpose, it’s maddening. He could crush the red solo cup in his hand as he observes you dance with a friend, the way your hand rests on his arm, your head tips forward to press against his shoulder as you laugh, the sway of your hips, it should be him, why not him? He stews in his thoughts and the anger, the unfairness and the budding arousal threatening to boil over inside himself.

He’d brought his Ghostface costume along, had it in his bag for something he needed to do later, it was like he acted on autopilot. He sneaks off, he got into the costume, and then he waits for the right moment.

You are on your way to the bathroom, but not the main one people use, no these were your friends, and you knew about the lesser used one, he knew about it because of course, creep that Ethan was, he followed you there. When you are close enough he strikes, his hand over your mouth, his other arm loops around your middle, and he drags you the rest of the way to the bathroom. The door is already ajar, it’s no trouble to get you inside, a backwards swing of his foot to the wood makes the door close. The light is dim, there is a nightlight plugged into the wall outlet near the counter top by the mirror, so someone stumbling from the basement guest bedroom can find their way to the bathroom he assumes.

You are struggling against him, squirming, muffled sounds trying to get out from behind his hand, but he is struck by just this. He is touching you for the first time, holding you, he draws you closer, makes it so you are flush against him. He’s thought about this countless times, you are warm and softer than anticipated, he can fucking smell you and it is intoxicating. He is so caught up in this, taking in every detail and small movement, he presses his hips forward, grinds himself on you through the layers of jeans and black fabric as he smells your hair and then what you do next? Ethan never would have thought in a million years you’d respond like this, by your eyes closing and you grinding back, pressing your ass closer to him with a sound behind his hand that might sound like a moan if he let you express it fully.

You aren’t fighting him, not any longer, no you are rocking with him, trying to stimulate yourself in any way possible against him-

Oh.

You are better than he thought, he knew you were a slut, he’d seen you in your place, knew your porn search history and the collection of toys you owned, but to be down to fuck a masked stranger you hadn’t exchanged a single word with? You were a world-class whore, he was going to take advantage of this opportunity to the fullest.

He knows he doesn’t need to hold you so closely, his arm releases your mid-section, his hand slides down your body and between your legs and up the short skirt of the costume you wore, fingers press to your underwear. You are already wet enough he can feel it through the thin material and his gloves. Your hips buck, wanting to get closer, feel more of him, it feeds his ego and emboldens him, you want him, and he isn’t going to deny you.

He gets his glove off, he needs to feel you, skin on skin. His hand slides into your panties, his fingers dip as low as they can and feel the source of your extreme wetness, he presses, tease the hole carefully before his digits slide up through your folds, and he knows he finds what he needs when you gasp, head thrown back against his shoulder.

His hand works, fingers circle over your clit, and you inhale sharply through your nose, brows furrow, and he watches you in the mirror. The way the pleasure plays out on your face as he teases you, he enjoys how your body responds, the small tremors of your limbs, the twisting and squirming of your form, the way your clit throbs under his touch as he presses harder.

He needs to feel you inside. Fingers move, you whine, he dives inside, and he curls them, it causes the biggest reaction out of you yet. Your body pitching forward, hands on the counter and your walls clenching around his fingers. You are so soaked, soft, hot and so thoroughly alive. He can barely move them inside of you, but he does, he slips them in and out, presses to that same spot that got such a big reaction out of you, and he moans quietly, he swears he can feel you getting wetter.

In and out, flex and push, you writhe, and he wants to hear you, he pulls his hand away, but before he does, he has one finger over your lips, that classic symbol of “shhh” and you nod, eyes half lidded and lust filled. You let out quiet moans, his palm grinds against your clit as his fingers fuck in and out, he can’t take much more. The simple movement, the motion, how hard he is rocking against your ass, he wants to be buried in you, wants to fuck you.��

So he does.

His hand moves, fingers pulled out, and your eyes had slipped closed again, at the loss of him they open, confused and when you see him pulling the robe up you get the hint. You make your own move, shaky hands lift off the counter and your fingers hook under your skirt, you tug down your underwear and you step one foot out, leaving them hooked around your other ankle. He has the robe up and his pants open finally, the relief of pressure on his straining erection has him letting out a small sigh. His hands are on you, he adjusts you, one knee on the counter and pushing you forward, your hands braced on the sink, and you adjust too, your hips tilt and soon with a hand on your back and the other on the base of his cock he is lining up.

It’s rushed and faster than he wants, but he just wants so much, it’s been so fucking long he can't stop it, can't help himself. He feels you, the heat coming off of you, the wetness on his tip, he lingers for only a moment before his hips move involuntarily, and then he is helpless. The first half inch pops in with no resistance, and you are perfect, you feel incredible it makes him let go of himself, hands lock on your hips, and he pushes further, slides deeper, and he watches you in the mirror. The way your mouth falls open, the exhalation, the way you tense in some regards and relax in others, but mostly he can’t focus on much else other than how your cunt feels around him as he settles in, finally to the base.

He soaks you in for a second, you are more impatient than he, you whine again, needier than before, and you move first, pull your hips forward before sliding them back, and it makes any semblance of control break. He takes over, the grip on your hips tightens, and he pulls out almost totally before driving back in, you have to bite your lip to hold the moan back enough to not be overheard. The party is on the main floor, you are in the basement, but you are sure that he could make you alert everyone up there.

This was insanely hot for you, a masked stranger pulling you away and touching you, groping you, fucking you without you seeing his face or uttering a single word? Unbearably hot, his fingers were good, but even two minutes in his dick puts his hands to shame. He is greedy. He touches more, he didn’t touch you enough before, his other glove comes off, and he touches your legs, your thigh, a firm squeeze of your ass, he feels up your sides and your chest. You lean closer into his touch, moving still with him, loving the pace he took as he fucked you, rough and quick, he pulls the top of your costume down, exposes your tits, palms them, and you moan louder than you probably should.

This is good, but it could be better still, your hand is between your legs, you stroke your clit as he fucks you, the stretch of him is delicious, you find yourself gasping, arching your back a bit more so he hits that spot inside just a bit harder, a touch better. You are so close to the mirror you are in danger of fogging it up, but you want to look at him, you’d been staring at his masked face this whole time, wondering who is under it.

You move back, press yourself closer to him and away from the mirror, and you get this urge. This urge that you don’t question or think about. Your back is to his chest, he is still preoccupied with fucking you and rolling your nipples between his fingers, perfectly distracted, huffing and letting out small sounds of pleasures, groans, you reach back behind him and the move is fast. You push the hood back, fingers grip, and you pull and twist, the mask comes off. He’s shocked.

He was so consumed with the feeling of getting to have you, with the mounting pleasure, he even had his eyes closed like an idiot, you got the drop on him. He stopped, held deep, and your eyes met in the mirror.

He’s hot. Hotter than you thought possible, dark sweat soaked curls and hard eyes, pretty pink lips are wet and parted, he’s strong and has had no issue throwing you around and holding you down. The low orange light playing off your body and his face is going to be burned in your mind forever.

You don’t want him to stop, you want to keep going. You maintain eye contact, you move again, pull him out slightly before bucking back, he inhales hard, and you do it again, and again, slip more out and take him harder on every movement, and he comes back to himself.

You like this, like him, you liked him as a stranger doing this, but you were still into this now made it even better. He takes over again, he fucks you harder while still meeting your eyes in the mirror. He wasn’t going to stop now until you came around him, and he filled you up.

God, he needed this.

#BHF asks #BHF writing #Ethan Landry x reader #Scream 6 x reader #Ghostface x reader #HEY BITCHES I'M BACKKKKK #ENJOY IT #EAT UP

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sunshine-and-moonshine · 11 months

Text

Wedding Day Blues

Requested: Yes [How would the 141 dudes react to reader turning out to technically being folklore (simmaler to miss annity by crypt tv ie a dryder) moments before wedding time?]

Warnings: Angst

A/N: I want you to know that the reason this took so long was because I binged a lot of CryptTv. You reminded me of how much I used to love that shit. That being said, I couldn’t really find a way to bring up their more complex feelings on Reader being a monster cause I feel very strongly that they’d be more focused on the secret part of this ask over the actual monster part. Or at least at first. I mean, you specified that this was a secret that was kept until the wedding day so uh, yeah.

They’re all generally varying shades of hurt at first, wondering how you could hide such a big part of yourself from them until the literal day of your wedding. Doubt creeps into their hearts, wondering why you couldn’t trust them. When they speak their vows, their voices are soft, their grip on your hands loose, unable to meet your eyes. Your actual wedding night is quiet and pensive, his back turned to you the whole night. You don’t know how to tell him you were afraid he’d turn away from you, leave you behind, become afraid of you.

Price

Price is probably the second most upset with you, right after Ghost. He’s curt and harsh, harsher then he means to be. He’s out of the house longer and longer, not coming back for days at a time, diving headfirst into work for as long as he can, until he starts getting very seriously ill from sleep deprivation, dehydration, among other such factors. He’s forcefully sent home for bed rest and has to rely on you for pretty much everything. It’s there that he is forced to finally talk to you. The talk will be long and hurtful, but in the end he’s just tired. He wants nothing more than to hold you in his arms again and just forget the pain.

Gaz

Gaz forgives easier then some but not as easy as some others, he’s not as cold or distant as many either. He can’t bring himself to be when all he feels is sad. He’ll be quiet but it’s more of a sullen silence than an angry one. He won’t hold you as you fall asleep but he’ll stay up at night holding your face, wondering why you never trusted him fully. Eventually he’ll play it off like it never happened, showering you with his affections and gently asking you to not hide from him again.

Ghost

Ghost takes the longest to forgive you, his heart broken at the knowledge that he entrusted you with everything, and you couldn’t even do the same. It plagues him, keeps him up at night. It will take….a while before you’ve earned back any semblance of his trust. He doesn’t care that you’re a monster, he already thinks of himself as one, so why would that even matter to him? He’ll be quieter than normal, never meeting your eyes. Out of the house for longer periods of time than usual. But he will come back around one day, just as you’re on the brink of wondering if this will actually work out or if your whole marriage will be like this. He’ll be pretty out of it, sleep deprived and tipsy as he wraps his arms around you and kisses the back of your neck, begging you to never hide something like this from him again.

Soap

Soap is the quickest to forgive, though he’s still wounded by the fact that you didn’t trust him with your secrets. The morning after he’ll sit you down on the couch, your hands in his, his thumb stroking over your knuckles as he quietly watches you for a few moments before he asks why you didn’t tell him. He knows your fear is great but he still can’t help but feel hurt. Had he not proved how much he loved you already? How he would lay down his life for yours? But you doubted him. He’s quiet again for the rest of the day but when night falls he’s back in your arms, telling you that he’ll always love you, no matter what you are.

Alejandro

Alejandro is probably the only one who had any kind of idea what exactly you are. That being said, he’s always thought himself a bit delusional for it, because he’s placed all of his trust in you, and assumed you were doing the same. So to find out that he wasn’t delusional at all, that he was right, that you were hiding things from him? It just shatters his heart. He’ll never ignore you like the others but he distanced himself quite a bit, whispering to you “Not now, Mi Amor” whenever you want to talk to him. He’ll cradle you in his arms at night and just stare, stare and wonder why you didn’t put your trust in him. He’s one of the ones that will forgive you easily, maybe a bit too easily as he presses sweet kisses to your face, begging you to let him see all of you, to trust him with anything and everything.

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 3 months

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AITA for not reconnecting with my brother?

I (21x) have a really complicated relationship with my brother (18m), not helped by the fact we both live with our mom right now. He’s had a really hard time in his life, with having anger issues, ADHD, what we both suspect is NPD, and our family being. Dysfunctional at best and neglectful/borderline emotionally abusive at worse. We both know that our family wasn’t particularly good for us, but we have pretty different approaches on how to deal with it/how we feel like it’s effected us.

This is where some of my (100% AH) behavior comes in- I was incredibly cruel to him as a young teen (12ish) and basically belittled him and pushed him away at every opportunity. We used to be intense but loving with each other and I feel like I took that and made him feel like he couldn’t love or trust me (which he’s told me himself multiple times). I know I failed him as an older sibling and I hold so much regret and shame for not nurturing him into all the good he held (and still does).

Where it gets rocky is our current relationship. I hate to say this and I’ve never said it to his face, but I feel like the roles have completely swapped. He talks over and down to me, gets incredibly upset when I won’t drop everything for him (I won’t get into it bc this would turn into a long vent but he once got legitimately mad at me for days for not giving up my bed and bedroom for him out of nowhere because he didn’t want to be in his anymore). He’s called me every cruel name under the sun, and when I fight back or our fights get ugly, he reminds me it’s all my fault he’s like this because I ruined our relationship. I’ve tried to heal from my own separate trauma and mend our family situation but whenever I talk to him it’s like I regress into a fawning doormat who never challenges the way he absolutely steps over me and puts me down (my friends have talked to me about this and have come down a lot harsher than me, so I’m borrowing their words because I can’t let go of the fact he’s not. Wrong to be this upset with me- I’m a victim of emotional abuse in my own right and I know how it feels to be wrapped in fear and hate and don’t hold it against him that he’s been hurt by me).

I’ve wanted to be a better sibling for a long time, and since about 16 I’ve made a conscious effort to shelf my pent up resentment and hurt emotions to try to always understand him and give him space to be upset, plus always taking the step to reconcile and apologize for my part to play in arguments. I refuse to call him any of the horrible names I used to (bare minimum I know, but I’ve really worked to diffuse that anger and make sure everything I say isnt an attack on him personally and only ever touches oh his current actions) and I try every diffusing move in the book with only framing my feeling as mine and not reflective of who he is and how I want to know his feelings so we can work to understand each other and move past the proboem. But he still treats me like an unstable, untrustworthy bitch who “emotionally manipulates him” by breaking down crying when he calls me names and tells me I’m stupid and he’s above my level of intellectual thought and rationale (I wish I was joking but he has directly said this, almost word for word).

I’m at a big crossroads. I want to keep trying to show him I love him and want him in my life, but it feels like he’s given up on me. If he truly has, I think I have to accept it as part of my failures and shames, but he also tells me he wishes I spent more time with him and that he wants to have a relationship with me. AITA for trying not to engage with him anymore? I want to support him but when he treats me badly if makes me regress into anger and like I’m just digging myself deeper and I’m never going to be good enough to be part of his life. I don’t know what to do with myself and how to live around him when a conversation as small as asking him to do the dishes turns into him berating me for being a nagging stupid asshole.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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wanderingxiao · 1 year

Text

-Petty Lil’ Shit-

NSFW, 18+ only Plz~

Summary: Scara is having a pretty bad day, a talk with you gives him an idea to make his day better and get a little bit of... revenge

Pairing: College! Scaramouche x Female Reader

Warning: lots of foul language, degradation, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, Scara being a meanie and sweetie <3

Word Count: 4k

Enjoy~

“You may have this back when you learn to behave appropriately in class, Kunikuzushi.” A harsh growl came from the back of an indigo-haired boys throat as his phone and keys were taken from him by the teacher. His purple irises glared daggers into the back of the retreating older woman’s head, not once relenting his hateful glare towards her. He held back the urge to kick his desk out of irritation and annoyance for the old hag he was forced to listen to. The teacher proceeded with the lecture as of nothing had happened, ignoring the fact one of her students was radiating a pissed off aura that made the entire classroom shrink away from him as much as they could. After a grueling hour the class was finally over. “Kunikuzushi-“

“I’m coming, fucking hag.” The boy mumbled, scoffing at the sound of his real name being called once more by the older woman who just turned her nose up at him when he approached. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and stood in front of her desk until everyone had left in a hurry. “Give me my phone and my keys back. Those are mine.” The teacher gave the boy a stern glare as she crossed her arms across her saggy chest. How disrespectful! You’ll get them back when you’re respectful to your elders. Now please Kunikuzushi, I must prepare for my next class.” The boy stood frozen as he stared at the teacher in disbelief over the nonsense she just spotted out of her wrinkly lips. His expression turned dark, and he stomped his way out of the classroom, students scurrying out of his way before they got caught in his rage.

“What did you expect, Scara? You’re on your phone in her class all the time and never turn in anything on time.” A deadpan look crossed your face as he sat in front of you fuming boyfriend. He took an aggressive bite out of his chicken sandwich and sent a cold glare towards you. “Her class is easier than counting to one, it’s pathetic really. And to have to sit there and learn from a saggy tit granny? Hah! I could give two shits about her or the damn subject she teaches. I feel sorry for the old bastard she’s married to.” You sent a questioning look towards Scaramouche. He was being WAY harsher than normal. Usually, he’d just call her an old hag, but she must’ve REALLY pissed him off today for him to be chucking insults every other word. “Who pissed in your cheerios this morning?”

Your boyfriend snapped his head in your direction, sending a cold glare your way, getting more irritated at your lack of reaction from his piercing gaze. You had known Scaramouche for years, hell you’d been dating for 3 years and living together for about 1 year. If you hadn’t gotten used to his bratty and controlling personality you wouldn’t still be sitting here with him in a university bench. Often, when he was being a brat or being a bit harsh, you would play along with his games and say harsh things about yourself. This always made him upset to the point where he would pout and come and cuddle you, telling you those things weren’t true and he was only being an asshole. Which he was. But you wouldn’t love your bratty short man otherwise.

“Very funny, brat.” Scaramouche scoffed and stuffed the last bit of his sandwich into his mouth, his cute pale cheeks full as he chewed. You couldn’t help but smile at his cuteness. He was the real brat. “Awe, c’mon Kuni…” He flinched slightly at hearing his real name slip past your lips instead of his other name. You were the only person allowed to say his name like that. He was forced to have his real name on his college transcripts. He loved how you said his name. “I know you don’t mean that, baby.” You got off the top of the table you sat on outside, wind blowing gently as other students passed by, paying you two no mind as they listened to their music or scrolled over their phones. You sat beside him and rested your hand on his chest, running your hand up and down his sternum. “You love me. You crave me and my touch constantly… like a drug you’re addicted to. You couldn’t live without me even if you tried.”

“In your fucking dreams, worm.” He scoffed harshly as he swallowed the rest of his sandwich quickly. His cheeks hinted a soft pink indicating that your words were in fact true, he was just too prideful to ever admit such embarrassing things. Your lips curled slightly hearing him call you a worm, that was your shy boyfriend for you. “I’m only your worm.” You lifted his chin gently and placed a quick peck on his crumb-littered lips. You licked your lips to get the crumbs off and sat back down, looking out over the courtyard as you waited for him to finish. Scaramouche was now unfocused on finishing his meal and more focused on your reply. “Hah! Never would’ve thought you would admit to being my slimy little worm. Spineless and cowardly.”

Your expression deepened with a frown. “Spineless? I’m not spineless! I do a lot of things out of my comfort zone, especially with you.” He knew you were referring to what you both did in the bedroom. Scaramouche was rather sadistic and possessive when it came to sex. He viewed the act as claiming possession over you and your body. Every inch of you then and there belonged to him and only him. You had been tied up, gagged, choked, pulled by your hair, smacked, and even once took part in role playing as Scaramouche’s slutty “secretary” and being bent over his desk until you couldn’t stand anymore. “That’s true… but-“ A handsome and suggestive grin spread across his perfect pale lips as he leaned over the table. His gentle and slender fingers curled under your chin, bringing your face closer to his as his lips grazed your ear. “You won’t have sex with me here, will you?”

His breath was hot against your skin, his tongue coming to lick slowly against the shell of your ear, an embarrassed heat rushing between your legs at the suggestion and his sexual advances on you. “H-Here? At the university…” Your voice was unsure and nervous. It sounded exciting though. The thrill of having to hide, the thrill of being quiet in order not to get caught. Your mind weighed heavy on the thought, but ultimately a voice in the back of your head screamed no. “Yeah, here. You’re always so willing to become my little slut at home, why not here as well? Maybe you don’t love me enough…” His voice began to trail off, encouraging you to retaliate against his statement and do whatever he wished. You could feel his hot breath ghost over your neck as he hovered his mouth over your pulse point. “You don’t love me enough to help me?”

“Y-You know it’s not like tha- ah!” You gasped in surprise when Scaramouche cupped your right breast with his warm hands, squeezing and grinding his hand against it. A flustered heat rose quickly to your cheeks, sending him a glare and grabbing his wrist tightly to stop his motions. “Are you crazy?! We’re still outside in the middle of the courtyard!” The indigo-haired boy didn’t seem to care and continued fondling your boobs until your grip tightening and started to push him away. His eyes narrowed and his lips curled into a frustrated snarl. “Are you honestly resisting me? Wow, I never thought I’d see the day you turn away a good dicking down.” He removed his hands from your breasts and grabbed your hands instead, pulling you up and shoving your things in your hands. “Let’s go.”

“Scara, wait-!” He didn’t wait for your reply, only dragging you along in his oddly strong grip towards an empty classroom. You tugged on your wrist embarrassed, heads turning your way at your struggle. Nobody bothered to save you as your boyfriend threw you into a certain empty classroom and slammed the door closed. In mere seconds your back was against the door, a pair of soft lips molding onto yours so perfectly you couldn’t help but fall into his touch. Feeling your body begin to submit to him, he slyly slid his cool hands up your waist, his thumbs coming to hook under the middle of your bra. His thumbs slid outward and towards your back, unclipping your bra and letting the material loosely hang on your shoulders underneath your shirt. He pulled away, “Lift those pretty little arms for me. I wanna see those perky tits.”

“Kuni…” You whined softly, slowly lifting up your arms and letting him remove your shirt and bro with one swish of his hands up. Your lips curled inwardly, pressing them together and turning your head away to try and avoid his intense stare. His fingertips glided over your erects nipples, touch feather light as he grinned at the way you shivered. “Mmm… I fucking love these tits. Look how hard your cute lil’ nips are for me.” He cruelly flicked your hardened buds, making you gasp and arch your back against the door, your chest presenting itself more for him. Scaramouche licked his lips and dove down to kiss down your chest and over the swell of your soft squishy mounds. “Hah… you smell so damn good…”

You moaned quietly as Scaramouche lifted one of your boobs and attached his mouth over your hardened bud. Your back arched, eyes closing as your fingers ran through his soft indigo locks. His warm tongue circled and flicked over your nipple while his other hand pinched and rubbed your other. A sticky wetness began to pool into your panties, hands shaking against his hair as they struggled not to move. You knew he didn’t like it when you touched yourself. If anything, he would do it for you and make you cum from his tongue, his fingers, or better yet his deliciously big dick. A slutty moan slipped past your wet lips when his knee harshly came between your legs, grinding you against his thigh while giving your tits his undivided attention.

“S-Scara please… Mmm! I-I want you…” Your needy pleas for his dick made him groan against your tits, pulling off with a pop before smacking your boob softly and moving to the other, giving it the same treatment. His other hand now went to slip down your pants, slender fingers skillfully finding your clit and rubbing sensational circles over your little love button. “Mmm! Fuck! Hah… Scaramouche! Ngh…” Your body shook, head turning side to side quickly as his fingers took you to edge of your euphoric bliss. You almost couldn’t take it anymore with how good he rubbed your clit. “That’s it…” He pulled off your nipple and started to leave bite marks and hickeys along your chest and the sensitive sides of your boobs. His face nuzzled into your neck, heavy pants almost searing your skin. “Fucking come undone from my fingers… that’s it baby… hah, fucking cum for me!”

“K-Kuni!!” You cried out his name as you creamed all over your smooth cotton panties, fingers trembling against his shoulders as you gripped him for support. Scaramouche dipped his fingers down to get his fingers wet before he removed them, admiring the contents of your climax over his fingers. “Hah! Look who’s enjoying all the fun over there. Cumming so quick just from having your slutty little clit played with. Pathetic.” His eyes lowered seductively, his tongue coming out to lick his slightly swollen lips. You could immediately feel heat rush to your cheeks when he slid his tongue over his tainted fingers, licking up your juices with a sexy glare. “I think it’s time for you to return the favor. Since I was so kind to give you the satisfaction of cumming without me.” Before you knew it, his hands were on your ass and pulling you up and against him, forcing your arms around his neck.

Your boobs smushed against Scaramouche’s neck as he expertly guided you both to lay you down on the teacher’s desk. His erection bumped against your clothed core as he carried you, making you hornier than you were previously. Once you were down, he got to work on stripping himself of his shirt, a thin layer of sweat already glistening on his pale toned body. Your hands reached out to run down his shoulders to his pecks, all the way down to his V-line. It was then you finally made eye contact with the obvious tent in his pants. “You like what you see there, slut?” He could practically see the drool coming out of your mouth as you stared intently at his clothed erection. Cool touches lingered against your hips as his slender fingers hooked onto your pants and slid them off with your panties. a deep moan erupted from his throat as he stared longingly at your sopping cunt. “Oh fuck… look how wet you are, all for me too? That’s so damn sexy...”

“D-Don’t look…” His beautiful view was interrupted by your hands as you covered your glistening lips with your hands, face flushed and turned away for him not to see how embarrassed you were with his gaze. A low growl rumbled through his chest as he pulled your hands away and slammed them down beside you. “Dont ever hide yourself from me again. Your body belongs to me. Not even a single hair on your head is to be called yours. You’re completely… and utterly, mine.” His voice dropped as he stated his claim over you, his dark lavender eyes lowering to study how magnificent your natural essence was. Trimmed pubic hair outline the area around your crotch and your lovely folds. The curves of your cunt had him mesmerized, how slick they were with your arousal, tiny clit now swollen from indescribable pleasure. The last thread of any restraint to be somewhat gentle snapped as your lips breathless called out his name. “Kunikuzushi, I’m yours… please… stop looking and just put your dick in me… I want you… I need you so badly, baby.”

“Ah fuck… you sound so fucking hot when you beg for me like the whorish slut you are.” His fingers made haste with unbuckling his belt, deep heavy pants leaving his mouth feeling his cock head twitch in anticipation. Relief washed over his figure feeling his hard dick be freed from the firm constraints they were previously in. The red tip twitched at the feeling of cool air blowing against it, his eyes twitching slightly as he bit his lip. You copied his movements as your lip caught between your teeth, pussy clenching on nothing as you anxiously shifted. “Kuni… Kuni please-“ a harsh slap came to your plump thighs as he jutted his hips against your lower regions, his dick slapping against your slick folds before rubbing the underside up and down. “Shut up. I’ll fuck you when I damn well please. Now hush and let me do as I please with my pretty little girl.”

A soft whimper escaped your lips at his words, your legs spreading a bit wider for him to have more access to your womanly parts. He obliged happily, stepping forward and reaching a hand down to grab the base of his dick. He rubbed the shaft up and down your folds, groaning at the feeling. He forced his tip to poke at your entrance before flicking it up to bump your clit, chuckling deeply as he watched your body squirm underneath him. Your mind suddenly flashed with remembrance, and you pushed against his chest earning a frustrated glare. “W-Wait, do you have any condoms?” Your worries were crushed with a glare from your boyfriend. He took your hands away and gripped your thighs, digging his fingers into your flesh as he started to press harder against your entrance. “We don’t need it this time.”

“What?! Scara what happens if I get pregnant? I’m not ready to be a parent!” Scaramouche looked up in thought, and a small loving smirk graced his lips. He looked back down to you, his eyes only reflecting his love for you despite his harsh teasing and cruel smile. “Then I’ll take responsibility. It’s not like I ever planned to let you go anyways. Trust me, (Y/N).” Your heart hammered against your chest at his loving and sweet words. Your resolve melted when he leaned down to kiss you lovingly as a measure of reassurance. The pressure against your entrance continued until you felt a firm thrust sheath his dick inside, forcing a small groan out of your mouth at the stretch. His large hands moved their way up to grab your hips, lips departing from yours as a string of saliva snapped between your mouths. “Sh-Shit it’s always so good… fuck I can’t control myself…”

“Kuni, mmm… feel so full inside.” His thrusts were slow and unbelievably deep at first. A wet sound came from below you as his dick came in and out of your sloppy insides. Your hands went around his neck, fingers entangling in the soft tussles of his indigo hair. The grip on your hips tightened as he started to set a new snd faster pace. Low groans rumbled in his chest while needy pants dropped from his lips. “You feel good, (Y/N)? Bet you’re feeling f-fucking amazing right now… ahhh, yeah, you’re my dirty little girl, aren’t you? You’re my dirty slut.” His hips were smacking against yours now, his eyes heavily lidded as he focused on the way your boobs bounced with each thrust, he sheathed into you. Your face was morphed into a blissful and fucked out expression, your eyes barely able to be kept open as you couldn’t help but solely focus on the pleasure Scaramouche was giving you. “Y-Yes Kuni, I feel so good… hah, oh my god, M-Mmm!”

“What else?” He called out harshly, his cold hands coming to grip around your neck, apply a gentle pressure to stimulate your eyes to snap open. You made eye contact with his gorgeous dark lavender eyes, half closed as he stared intently at you with lust swimming around the contents of his irises. His pupils were blown out with lust, threatening to swallow the lovely color of his eyes full. Strands of his indigo hair stuck to his forehead as sweat glistened on his pale skin. “I-I’m your dirty girl… all yours Kuni, all yours, hah!” He huffed out a strained chuckle, wincing as he unconsciously squeezed tighter around your neck. “Hngh! Fuck!” Scaramouche let go of you completely and slammed his hands on the desk, a loud crack being heard as he caged your body and thrust his hips faster. “Ahh! Kuni-“

“Just let me grab my papers out of my office.” A hand slapped over your mouth as quick as you first noticed a voice had sounded from outside. Your whole entire body froze, eyes blowing wide, pupils shrinking as all sense of arousal left your body. Your boyfriend squeezed your mouth tighter, clenching his teeth together harshly as he tried to withstand the unrelenting squeeze you had around his dick at the moment. The door handle jiggled, your legs coming to try and push Scaramouche off, but he wouldn’t budge. Your heart pounded harshly in your chest as you waited to be caught in such an embarrassing act. “Well, hey there teacher! My professor asked me to come get you! It sounded quite urgent… it seems somethings wrong the scantron reader, it’s giving all the students A’s. It’d be a shame if it was left the way it is.”

“Ngh… n-now I owe that nosy… f-fucking brat…” Scaramouche cursed as he let go of your mouth, panting and lightly trembling above you. Your lungs clawed at the opportunity for air, taking shallow gasps as you tried to stay quiet. The two figures outside retreated. It sounded like… “W-Was that Heizou?” A scoff came from Scaramouche as he clenched his fists together against the table. He curt nod came as he finally brought his eyes back down to connect with yours. You could feel his body tense up as he rocked his hips again with yours. “Where were we?” He whispered, letting out a soft groan before he leaned over you, his hair tickling your forehead, husky breath fanning over your face. Your hands grabbed his face, pulling him close to engage in a sloppy heated make out.

Scaramouche pushed your hip down with one hand while the other came around your shoulders to squeeze you tightly against him. A low grunt echoed in his throat, tongue swirling and flexing over yours as he started to pick up his pace. One of his knees came to rest on the desk to plunge himself deeper, snapping his hips brutally against yours, almost feral the way he desperately chased his release now. He shoved his face into your neck, panting harder and moaning into your neck, his hips stuttering slightly as they became sloppy and all the more desperate. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, I’m so close… you’re squeezing, hah, the fucking life… o-outta me, ahhh… I’m gonna cum.” Your legs wrapped around his hips, arms wrapping around his head against your neck and sending your hands to claw at his back. “M-Me too! Mmm! Feels so g-good Kuni!”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, cumming… cumming, gonna fucking cum.” You tightened your grip on him and came with a loud moan and squeal of his name as he fucked your sensitive walls after your god-like climax. He pulled up away from you quickly, hands slamming and pushing your hips roughly against the desk as he ripped his dick out of your throbbing insides. “Sh-Shit!” He came quickly after, spurts of sticky white coming from his twitching tip as cum splattered against important documents on the desk and all over the teacher’s keyboard and screen. You were too fucked out to even notice what he’d done. Your chest rose and fell heavily, trying to catch your breath and calm the trembling in your legs from how good Scaramouche fucked you. He collapsed on top of you, panting against your chest and neck as he too tried to regain his composure. “That was… fucking amazing.”

“I-It always… is baby. You’re always so a-amazing.” You panted out in agreement, a small smile on your face as you kissed his sweaty forehead, combing his sweaty bangs out of his face. He lazily rose his head up and placed a soft kiss to your lips before reluctantly pushing himself up. “C’mon, let’s get you dressed.” Scaramouche was oddly sweet when it came to aftercare with you. He knew he was harsh and a little mean when he got really into sex, to make up for his roughness, he tried to be a little kinder in aftercare not to make you think he was heartless. He helped you put your panties and bra back on before letting you get yourself dressed while he fixed himself up too. “Oh, Scara you came all over the teacher’s desk… we better clean it up before they come back.”

“Leave it. That old hag deserves it.” He opened the desk and pulled out his phone and keys, smirking at the work he’d done making a mess on the teacher’s desk.

“…you really are a petty lil’ shit aren’t you?”

“Shut up.”

“…you really are a petty lil’ shit aren’t you?”

“Shut up.”

#scaramouche x you #scara smut #scaramouche smut #wanderer smut #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #college au #meanie scara #genshin scaramouche #genshin wanderer

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undercoverpena · 1 year

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Could we 👉👈 have some more comforting!Matt? Pretty plz

of course—i might be a little rusty with him so be kind. it has been a while hahah. but here’s 1.1k of matt somewhat being comforting.

matt murdock x f!reader (comfort edition)

He knew just from the way you entered, something was wrong. It clung to you—hanging from your tendons; the unspent emotions swirling with your perfume and the city's smoke.

Matt didn’t need to move from behind the desk and place his hands on your shoulders to feel how they’d sunk; didn’t need to hone in on your heartbeat to hear how dulled, and pitiful it was.

You were talking, forcibly and animated. Have been since you’d entered his door without knocking. Chattering on as if you weren’t upset out, all blackened at the ends from being burnt out from wearing a smile.

You did that a lot, he’d noticed—put on a front.

Whether for him, for Foggy or anyone else.

He hates it. Wishes he could rip it from you, ball it up and fling it across the city which makes you doubt yourself—which makes you think you aren’t good enough.

“—and I’m aware it’s a big ask, but—“

“Sit down.”

It leaves his mouth harsher than he intends. But, you’re panicking, bottling it all up. You’re one foot in a wet puddle from crying, he knows it. Can tell.

It nips at him, almost feeling it cuts. Which is why his words leave his lips, needing to keep you here, to calm you. The words, harsh as they were, blazing from a place within him he tries to bottle—the one which has a cap that never fits when it comes to you.

Because he’d do anything to rid you of your doubts.

Your words fizzle, practically dissolving on the tip of your tongue, followed shortly by the walls you’d thrown up before arriving.

They crack first, and then they crumble.

Apprehension ebbing at your edges, peeling at the withered parts you let him see.

“Please,” he adds.

It is so much softer than his initial two words. Almost brushes over you like a feather.

And then he slowly removes his glasses from his face, closing the arms before placing them on his desk.

He doesn’t touch the worn wood of his desk as he walks around it. The same desk which smells of alleyways and garbage bins when the heating is on.

The reason is that Matt doesn’t bother with pretend touches now you know his secrets. He doesn’t need to hide himself, you know all the sides of him. Even the thin line where he begins and Daredevil starts.

Yet, even so, you still hide from him. You’d rather suffer through a bad day and disguise your tears, than let him make you feel better—save you from your horrid thoughts.

Don’t need saving, Murdock. But, the city does.

Not realising the city includes you. He breathes, watches and waits for you. Finding nothing better, not even than winning a case, than being able to run his fingers up your sides and press a kiss to your temple, his sheets covering your skin—keeping you warm until he returns.

“Talk to me, please.”

He hears you shift. The chair you’ve promptly sat in letting out a soft squeak as you huff. “I mean… I was before you interrupted.”

The corners of his mouth twitch, even if he fights it. He folds his arms, slowly leaning against his desk. Legs spread, feet planted, giving his best neutral-lawyer-face, as you call it, waiting.

For what? He’s not sure. He never is. Sometimes it’s a list—hammered into the air, all never-ending and weighty. Sometimes it’s one singular thought, one revolving concern that you can’t shake on your own.

He doesn’t need to say it, but his eyes must because you sigh, again. The sigh you do when he calls you sweetheart and stops you from figuratively running from him.

“It would actually help if you can take on this c—“

“—What happened, who upset you?”

“—Murdock—“

“—I can’t help if you don’t let me in, sweet—“

“—Matt—“

“—heart. I can help. I want to help—“

“I fucked up, alright?”

You spit it.

And then he hears the tears balling up at the back of your throat. The ones which cling to your words. The ones which coat the walls in anger—as if they’ve been burning a hole in your tongue.

Knowing you, they has. Each letter of each word hitting the air with a purpose, piercing through it.

The thought and emotions behind them shifting, shaking and trembling the air around them.

He hears you inhale. One which fills your lungs and steadies your pulse—but does nothing for your hands, your bracelet softly tapping the arm of the chair.

“A-and, I let someone down, and now, I’m just trying to get through the day. OK? I just need to g-get through the next few hours, and I’ll b-be fine.”

Even shaky, the force you say the words hit his ears all wrong. The pitch shifting, volume jumping. All of them leaving your lips, your beautiful, soft, lips, when they shouldn’t even be thought.

Because you should do more than be fine. You deserve more.

It’s another thing he hates. That your mouth wraps around words like let down, disappointing and you can do better.

Because he’s not sure he ever could.

If anything, he didn’t deserve the patience, care and adoration you provide. The safety you bring and stability. But, even if he’s said them, brushing his fingers against your cheek, they don’t sink into the space between your ears.

Your need to make him feel better, to assure him you belonged here, with him, a greater need than believing him and taking the compliment.

It’s why he gravitated to you. It’s why he loved you.

It’s for that reason he knows there’s little point in speaking words you already know. So, he doesn’t. Instead, he bends down, almost into a squat before you.

He tilts his chin, focusing on where your face will be—seeing the hazy, burning embers of your head as he takes your hand. The one touched by the New York cold and the same one which runs through his hair when the night has been long.

Lifting your hand, he brings your knuckles to his lips, all softness and wild fig scented as he kisses them. He hears your heart skip, a soft jump—a little leap. So he unclenches your fingers, pressing your palm to his cheek. Not caring about the cold, just focusing on the way your fingers spread, clutching him.

“I’ll do it,” he says. “Take the case. Take the load from you. Of course, I will.”

And he hears your muscles sigh, before you actually do.

“But—“

“—Fuck—“

He smirks, still continuing as you swear in a whisper under your breath, “—you have to stay here for half an hour. With me. You don’t have to talk about it, but you have to be here.”

Your glare is warm, almost searingly so. He lets it touch each angle of his face, softly smiling as it does.

Knowing that it’s your weakness—him. You’d said it, all full of sleep, lashes heavy. You make me feel better by just being around, Matty. You never call him Matty. Only sleep-you does that.

Always Murdock, sometimes Matt.

“Because, sweetheart—“

He hears you scoff. Expecting a shake of your head and a roll of your eyes if he really tuned in.

“—I can’t let you go, just yet.”

Your glare softens. His hand reaches, ready to mirror your palm on his cheek, but he pauses to touch your chin, to feel the grin he’d expected to be there.

“You’re a very selfish man, Murdock.”

“It’s the catholicism.”

You lightly laugh, not a giggle and not a chuckle. “I’ll be okay…”

“I know that,” he says, lowering onto his knees, kneeling up as you part your legs. Not caring about the dust and carpet fibres getting on his trousers.

Just caring about you.

You and the world which keeps taking your smile, your laugh, and bits of your soul. His elbows resting on your trouser-covered knees, fingers stroking your jawline.

“It’s just a bad day.”

“Know that too,” he says, almost cockily.

But you don’t seem to mind, cause he feels you smile a little wider.

“I’ll stay here… for a while.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x you #daredevil x reader #daredevil x fem!reader #matt murdock ff #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock netflix #netflix daredevil #daredevil x you #matt murdock x female reader #matt murdock

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captainofthedauntless · 11 days

Text

More Rise!Nardo thoughts.

Just thinking about how he'd abuse the fuck out of his portal abilities with you. Always offering to be your "ride" when you need to go somewhere, using it as an excuse to see you for just a minute when you're busy. The classic you're upset? oh lol i just Happened To Pop By A Shop, Here, Your Favorite Snacks.

He'd show up in a heartbeat to help you move furniture, or to help you cook, or to help you speed clean because your aunt's in town all of a sudden and you cannot let her know you live like this.

You don't think anything of it, really. Because it's effortless for him. It's like getting up from the couch for how much energy it takes him.

But it gets to be a habit.

It's a pattern.

You text him after a long day, once, and you say something about being tired and not wanting to cook, and then he's in your kitchen with a crackle of blue energy and a bag of take out and a hoodie he pulls off less than five minutes later, passing it to you with an easy shrug and a nonchalant smile. Lot warmer in here than the lair, he says breezily, as though it isn't your favorite of his hoodies. As though it was an accident.

He does that a lot, you realize. Act as though calculation is coincidence.

And then you can't stop realizing it.

It's not just the portals.

It's everywhere.

He's everywhere.

He's spending enough time at your place that he just leaves his stuff there when he gets a mission call, and you end up with a stack of books and comics that you definitely didn't pick up yourself, and instead of mentioning it you just replace his horrifying whatever-he-can-find bookmarks (you find one of your bracelets there, once) with actual ones. People keep giving them to you as freebies- might as well put them to use.

Somehow he knows when you've got big appointments scheduled, and he just casually shows up the night before and complains about how you do your chores and insists on showing you how it's done, and then you blink and he's put away every dish in your kitchen, all while playfully critiquing your organization. And, like magic, you're free to sit down and relax, because evidently your sweeping technique is also tragic, no, no, give me that, you're- you're banished, that's abysmal, and feet off the ground- don't care, it needs swept, go on.

Crazy how his movie night picks are some of your favorites. Great minds think alike, eh?

And then 'huh, Leo's pretty helpful' becomes 'oh, Leo's given me impossible standards' when you wake up in the middle of the night and can't seem to catch your breath from a nightmare. You fumble for your phone and type what's supposed to say are you up? and comes out as ate yii yo? and then your phone is ringing.

He greets you with a you alright? that you think should probably be harsher than it is considering the hour, and when you manage to get the word dream out of your face he follows up with want some company?

And you must say yes, because the next thing you know is a crackle of blue energy (which should look dangerous, should feel dangerous, but looks like a playful wave and feels like home) and nearly six feet of mutant turtle dropping onto your bed, landing with a playful bounce that shakes a little of the dream-scented-sludge from your mind.

Sorry, he says, playful and grinning as he folds his arms behind his head and watches you like he can read your mind, traffic was a nightmare.

And you shake your head, because what the fuck, but you're laughing despite yourself and some of the scrutiny melts from his eyes.

Thought I'd-

Don't say drop by.

I would never, he says, but he doesn't elaborate on what he was going to say, and you draw your own conclusions. Anywhoozles, what's the vibe? Movie? Snack? Field trip to the top of the Great Wall?

And somehow he means it.

He's in your room at four in the morning, still in his pajamas, mask down around his neck, all warm and soft and sleep-shaped, and offering you the world like it was a piece of gum.

And you just stare at him, wondering if you're still dreaming.

#leonardo #x reader #leonardo x reader #leonardo & reader #*writing #2018 #imagines #headcanons #aged up as always- going for college-age here

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 1 year

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Hello🤗! It's the anon who has a geeky mom!

Made it through chapter 5 and here's my Mama's thoughts. Warning: she cried A LOT.

She's kind off curious about Mickey and wondered if he could be important in the future. She got upset when no one knew who he was lol. "Mickey Mouse was my childhood! How could they?!" She cried. She also got really worried for Yuu and the Overblots. She's surprisingly quick to guess that Vil was about to overblot because of the epilogue from last chapter.

She was excited that the school held festivals because her school did that.

My mom screamed when she saw Riddle and Kalim again. She wanted to know if Riddle was able to get through with his mom. I should mention she wants to adopt the overblot victims.

She kept on roasting Vil throughout the chapter, especially whenever he acted mean towards Epel. "I'll show you who's a potato you Bratz doll rip-off!". She legit said that.

She thinks Rook's creepy 🤣. She also wanted Leona to sing.

She instantly fell in love with Ortho.

My mom, ever the music lover, started jumping excitedly during the audition. She even clapped and cheered for all of them.

She thought the songs were bops.

Neige and the Dwarves are adorable to her.

During Vil's overblot and flashback, her disgust towards Vil turned to empathy. She especially felt bad when Vil was being bullied. On a lighthearted note, she wished my dad was like Vil's dad.

She's so proud of Deuce she literally cried tears of joy.

She thought that Malleus and Yuu's friendship was cute. She wished there was an option where we could call Malleus MalMal instead of Tsunotaro.

She was kinda down when NRC didn't win but was happy for RSA nonetheless. She called it karma that Vil was forced to sing with Neige. She felt bad for Jamil though.

My mom legit bursted into happy tears when she saw Mickey in the flesh but that joy turned to fear and worry when Grim attacked us. "What happened?! Is Yuu alright?!"

And now she thinks Idia is sketchy. She refuses to believe Ortho is in on this. "Nooooo, not the cute robot boy!"

As a sidenote, she said that if I ever went to NRC, she's pulling me out immediately 😂.

[Here’s the other installments for the Mom Anon: Ep 2 / Ep 3 / Ep 4]

Don’t ask where Ep 1 is; I don’t actually recall having received an ask specifically about that—

Good, feed TWST your tears 😊

Your mom can join the rest of the TWST theorists on the true nature and meaning of Michard Mouse who has lost all of his fame and extensive media empire in this world 😩 I think at this point the pattern for OBs has been well established (though the festival setting is certainly new and provides an added element of public exposure to the threat). djsvwjxnkss Imagine being some happy-go-lucky festival goer and you witness a celebrity causing chaos 😅 I think you’d just drop your cotton candy and run for the nearest authority figure at that point… Good thing the NRC boys were able to keep the OB contained though!

Yeah, it’s always exciting to see old characters return in later episodes your mom’s in for a treat with episode 6. We can see how they’ve changed since we last saw them. Unfortunately, we don’t get to hear of the aftermath of the conversation Riddle had with his mother, but it’s nice to just catch up with the dorm leader that started it all. (And, of course, Kalim is also present being a good boi 😌)

Mmm, I don’t think Vil acted the nicest (especially not this episode) but 🤔 I do think it’s interesting to observe how much harsher the criticisms made at his expense can be. I get the sense that people think it’s okay to call Vil out for his cruelty, but hesitate to do the same for others (such as Riddle), even when those characters have all done/said abhorrent things. I wonder if that justification comes down to Vil being the type of person who doesn’t like to show when he is hurting or being affected by negative comments (versus other characters, who are more overtly emotional or reactive). It comes with the territory of being a celebrity: you need thick skin to survive in the entertainment industry, where everyone will be judging you at all times of the day. It must bring him a lot of distress, and it also leaves him in a tough situation where he often cannot outwardly express his frustrations.

I don’t know, it makes me feel slightly uncomfortable seeing Vil in particular receives certain kinds of vitriol from the fandom, because I’m sure he’s also getting that in-universe from his “haters”. No matter where he exists, he must be facing intense public scrutiny (sometimes on very superficial things too), and I don’t know how he manages to deal with it. Like, even in the comment quoted, it’s not Vil’s character being insulted but his appearance (even if his appearance is totally unrelated to the situation). I guess it’s easy to roast celebrities when you only really get to see slivers of them in various media or maybe they’re seen as living “perfect” lives, but I don’t agree with being mean to them (or to anyone, really 💦). Confident people can still be hurt, and those in seemingly glamorous positions have valid issues. That isn’t to defend their missteps, but rather just me being sad about a general lack of empathy 😔

Let Rook beeee 😭 I won’t stand for this huntsman slander— Funnily enough, the game has teased Leona singing a few times before (most recently in Endless Halloween Night), but we’ve never actually heard him do it.

The VDC auditions were so cuuute 🥰 I really enjoyed the variation in their performances, as well as the characterization of Rook and Vil that we got through it. Rook is the positive judge that can see the charm points in each individual, but Vil is the more critical judge that can really “read” what is at the core of each person’s performance. For example, he mentions that Cater’s performance doesn’t seem to have heart behind it and that Lilia’s performance makes him seem older than a high school student. MY FAVORITE ONE WAS ORTHO THOUGH, his was so cool!! They patched his scene so that he sounds like a Vocaloid while singing, which was an excellent touch 🎵 (Great job with that one, Idia!)

Mmm, I personally don’t care for the songs in episode 5 (with the exception of Piece of My World, if that counts), but I’m glad that others enjoyed them so much! I feel similarly towards Neige and the Dwarves; there’s nothing offensive about them, they’re just a little… bland for my tastes. Cute, yes, but ultimately bland.

Vil and Azul have similar backstories in that they involve being bullied and then using that experience to fuel their efforts to better themselves and to prove their worth to their peers. I think this is why those two are able to garner sympathy (but not always empathy) from the fandom. Oddly enough though, I usually see people not forgiving Vil for his actions while also exonerating Azul for his. This… has always been weird to me, because I see Azul as someone who has done much more damage over the years than Vil has—and what’s more, Vil is one of THE most apologetic OB boys of the cast and clearly owns up to his wrongdoings. I think this difference comes from the perception of each boy; again, Vil is often viewed as harsh and overly critical, and not a lot of the general public can relate to his being a child star, so he earns less empathy overall 💦 Some of this perception also comes down to a misunderstanding of his reasons for Overblotting; I've seen many label it as shallow or driven by vanity when... well, that's not entirely true. He's ultimately looking for approval and validation of his identity and the work that he does, and that's something I think everyone wants. I just wish more people were open-minded when looking over Vil's backstory. Just because he had a successful career and a supportive father doesn't mean Vil didn't struggle to get to where he is today. Even then, he's not entirely happy with himself. That's not Vil being spoiled or entitled, that's Vil thinking he can be even better. It's that ambition and drive that defines him.

aiudbaidbabsd Vil's dad though 😫 the real OG... It must be hard for a big star like him to make time for his child, and yet he still manages to do it. It's also just nice to see a supportive parent for once in these flashbacks instead of people like the Viper parents and Mama Rosehearts (or not really involved in or aware of the formative trauma like the Kingscholar parents and the Ashengrotto parents).

When I first played through episode 5, I wasn't expecting Deuce to get his unique magic at all. Now that it's said and done, I think we can all share in his pride and excitement. We've followed him on this journey for so long, and he finally gets this big payoff and he gets to rub it in Ace's smug face.

Episode 5 is a big turning point in terms of Malleus and Yuu’s relationship; this is when his true identity is revealed to them and everyone else becomes aware that they know each other. As I’ve said before, I don’t find myself convinced by their friendship due to how little they interacted during the main story, but I guess that’s just a consequence of the writers trying to keep Malleus “mysterious”. I’m sure plenty of people find him and Yuu endearing in spite of that.

I believe the significance of Malleus being called “Tsunotaro” even after his true name and title are revealed is that it calls attention to Yuu just treating him like a normal person. There’s no option to call him some variant of his actual name because “Malleus” is inherently associated with big titles: the dorm leader of Diasomnia, crown prince to the Briar Valley, one of the strongest mages in all of Twisted Wonderland. These isolate him from others, and it’s of great importance that Yuu is an exception to this and treats him like an equal.

Haha, there’s always that initial hit of disappointment when the results come out. It’s good that your mom didn’t linger on the sadness and the defeat for too long and was happy that the nice RSA boys cinched the victory. Everyone singing and suffering together at the end was the perfect way to conclude the Pomefiore arc~ (Jamil’s deadpan tone and face were 👌)

cbssksnsn That’s a first 😂 I don’t think I’ve seen many people get excited at the idea of meeting Mickey; I feel like most TWST fans (myself included) are quick to meme on him or theorize, or they’re just put off by his presence at all. It certainly feels a little “out of place” with the aesthetics and the world (at least until it gets further explanation).

I was worried about Grim attacking Yuu too but 😔 it ultimately just amounts to nothing more than a cat scratch, which I found disappointing (as it’s really low stakes despite how serious the situation is framed). That’s probably a relief to others though, I can’t imagine that most would be eager to see Yuu and Grim in pain.

… Since when has every end of episode preview for the next ever made the next OB boy NOT look sketchy?? 👁 👄 👁 It’s okay, no matter how sketchy Idia may be, Ortho’s there to balance it out with his innocence.

Isekai’d into Twisted Wonderland with your mom?? 😂 I don’t think the main story would be able to happen if any sane, responsible adult was actually present long enough to keep the kids out of trouble looking at you, Crowley.

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valeriefauxnom · 3 months

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A Holy Hell: The Ilian Church's Very Concerning State

A little while ago, I made mention that the Church in Dragalia was not messing around. Consider this an enlightening of that comment. As always, very long post ahead because there is a lot of rather scary stuff going on.

First, the Church, both North and South, has impressive sway over the lands.

From the North, Grams' clergy, headed by Origa, is more powerful than the king, and Grams itself is a very powerful city-state able to control many of the smaller norther nations. Grams is so powerful that Origa feels confident and comfortable risking open war with New Alberia, Alberia (which was reestablished under Leonidas' kingship in Valkaheim) and quite possibly Dyrenell if Emile was grumpy someone is denying his 'sibling rights', when she orders Graht+Templars to apprehend Euden in Grams for no cause.

But no matter how hardcore the Northern church is established to be with the Holy Hunger Games for prospective Auspexes and the blatant corruption from top to bottom, the South isn't deadweight either. They're deeply enough entrenched in Alberia's statehood that Roc's story kicks off after the royal fam "secured permission" from the church to excommunicate her favorite human.

So yeah, even the Alberian royal family, as far as we know, needs permission to excommunicate and then persecute one of their own. That makes me wonder if there's a sort of protection clause in being a part of the Church, like, 'thou shalt not quarry thine own in faith' or something, necessitating this prince to be excommunicated before he was a 'valid target' in the world.

That aside, what we can see of the modern day Southern church isn't all too soft either. They're on a cusp of civil war between the Perditionists and the Conservationists already, but even just their day-to-day operations doesn't paint a very good light on them.

The Ilian church, for instance, has the capacity to punish 'heretics' for violating its principles. They not only have the power to arrest...

But Tobias' story also lays clear that they do indeed punish 'heretics', and quite severely. For commoners, most misdeeds will be dealt with in fines and maybe some prison time, which is already concerning (how long? in what conditions?) but Paladyns instead get burned alive for the same offense.

Now, in a certain sense, this could be construed as...admirable? Punishing the ones whose job it is to uphold the faith and be a representation of it, a trusted figure in society, harsher, does make some sense. But really...burning alive? Ouch.

Curran's entire job is also literally seeking people 'violating' the state-imposed faith, or at the very least, 'a state whose rules are those of the Church's, so no matter what you believe in you better follow those rules', to imprison and punish them.

Now, even if Curran here describes punishments for the 'laymen' as supposed to be softer than those of their military arm in the Paladyns, that doesn't mean laymen are treated all that well or fairly in their reality. Tobias' third story opens up with this narration:

...And within, at least a certain amount of templars and paladyns seem to hold these kinds of views regarding their role in the world and that of others:

So laypeople can find themselves killed for rebelling against the church, as the church views killing these heretics as doing them a favor to stop their souls from being sullied. That's some scary rhetoric. But why were they rebelling?

They're even willing to imprison a young child for heresy, for being upset the Church killed his father, as well as his mother, speaking the truth of a bishop manipulating a town first with forced tithing and then human sacrifices. His and his mother's fate is unknown, but with paladyns like this running the show, I'm guessing the inquisitors aren't going to be all that more merciful.

Even Curran comments that inquisitors are largely very much a 'guilty until proven innocent' kind of investigator. Curran also comments THIS, despite being a much more forward-thinking inquisitor without these preconceived notions of guilt:

He's also pretty quick to start delivering threats like these:

And with a brief mentioning to 'putting the screws' to someone in Nevin's story, I might be willing to bet that both sides of the church are willing to bust out the good old thumbscrews and other torture devices in pursuit of the truth or finding 'heretics' to then potentially put to death, not helped by the one killed priest in the Accursed Archives story describing an inquisitor's questioning as 'quite severe' at times.

Curran additionally seems to have the authority to decide if a perceived heretic or criminal dies right then and there, no trial required:

This is a lot about Curran, but he's one of our best sources at getting into the nitty-gritty darker side of church structure and powers as an inquisitor. And if Curran, resident funny man who trips over his own words 24/7 when trying to sound cool and a 'progressive' inquisitor, will engage in acts like that, that doesn't give me hope for the rest of the country with more 'traditionalist' inquisitors.

We also get other little glimpses into admittedly individual NPCs' psyche, but these glimpses can overall portray some of the attitudes that are acceptable in the church.

This is concerning again, in that even Ilia's creed, you know, the one they're all theoretically operating under, has wiggle room if the person they're supposed to be bringing happiness to is 'stained with darkness'. Very classic and very easy maneuver to declare anyone who does anything you dislike as 'impure' and thus can disregard your own rules to them.

Several in Tobias' story also express the good ole 'Ilia's will' as justification for whatever happens. Here, they're willing to leave a girl to wander in a fiend infested forest and just say whether she makes it back or not is Ilia's will, all because of their own creed that stepping onto a dragon's territory unbidden is forbidden.

Much like the northern church, the southern church is also steeped in corruption. Elisanne's appointment as Grand Paladyn was nothing more than a rigged notion, as the Archbishop actually wanted her dead to use as a Key of Perdition. Both factions are hopelessly corrupted: we see anything from perditionists bombing to conservationists attempting to arrest and kill Nino because they disbelieve the claim she's apart of the Goddess' bloodline and thus heretical (there's also at least one who wants her dead as a human sacrifice a la Elisanne for a, you guessed it, Key of Perdition).

We also have sterling examples like Father Nikolai, whose entire modus operandi is exploiting vulnerable children with no other options to groom as church assassins, as seen in Alex's backstory. At least one other priest agreed with him.

Thankfully, the one thing that keeps Alberia from being an all-out theocracy is that this generation of royal family seems rather distant from the church (well, save Zethia, who more comes across as a sort of 'holy figurine' in the church, an idol to worship despite not being particularly involved in the actual operations of the church, 'staying pure' from worldy affairs).

Nobody is particularly faithful. Phares is surprisingly among the most likely to use words like 'pray' when willing things to happen (ex, "I pray that we shall not meet as foes") but that's not exactly indicative of any deep faith.

Even Euden has a sort of vague faith in Ilia and the good that the church proscribes in its teachings, but is actually rather sheltered regarding their operations. He barely has enough of a clue to piece together that inquisitors are bad news, but not exactly why. He has some knowledge of some of the church's symbols like birds, but again, he's not particularly devout. One of his biggest expressions of faith is permitting Cibella to create a chapel in the Halidom and then hire Hope to...clean the altar in the Halidom.

Honestly, to me, it almost comes across as a sort of sheltering on both Aurelius' part as well as the royal family perhaps being a bit more immune to accusations of heresy and the darker side of the church. I could see Aurelius, who also seems skeptical of the northern church at least, trying to keep their piety to a more reasonable fervor if he knows what the north and/or south is up to.

But still, is it any wonder why Leonidas or Ciella finds no shortage of critique for the Ilian church, despite how there still are plenty who are more 'purely' clinging to the faith and aiding the young and downtrodden?

There's even something of a separate justice system, a separate one enough Elisanne is emboldened to challenge Leonidas when he tries to arrest Father Marko for maliciously spreading slander that Euden is possessed by the Other to fulfill this principle.

Of course, Leonidas goes a step or three too far in his initial persecution of any follower and his special hatred for dragons, -as he has adopted that 'dragons are the true masterminds' heretical view Heinwald was repeating to Curran in that earlier image, but he's plenty of cause to be distrustful. It's not just him, either, as Chelle is also very wary of the Church.

This is all over the place, but I hope I've made my overall point clear: the Ilian church, north or south, is not quite the benevolent savior it claims itself to be. It is rife with corruption, is in active persecution of any who it deems heretical, is its own judge jury and executioner (and some are lucky to even see a rigged trial in the first place), and is involved in any number of deep scandals and feuds.

Honestly, it's a miracle so many of its adherents are still true enough to the faith to still engage in the more pretty parts of scripture like feeding orphans and all that.

Extra: Also, can we talk about how the upper echelons of the Northern Church already seems to have at least some deets regarding Euden's true origin or the like? Not just Origa, who comments at one point that Euden is 'a man with lacking soul and manifold pacts', but even Nevin has at least a decent idea as to what's up:

Where did they learn this? How? Was part of the reason they went to Euden specifically for Agents of the Goddess a means to investigate what kind of dude he was and determine if he was a threat with his origins? I mean, come on, even the southern church is willing to immediately execute anyone who claims the Goddess' bloodline without even a full investigation whether there's a grain of truth in there, so I can't imagine either side of the church taking all to well to a person made of demon-flesh. (Wait it might actually be interesting if the Perditionists got ahold of that fact with their attitude to the Other...)

This is way way way too long so I'll cut it off here, but yeah. The Ilian church is not quite as soft as they present themselves.

#dragalia lost #dragalia #dragalia analysis #It really is a tangled mass of issues top to bottom. There's no easy fix nor does it get fixed by the end.#Too bad Ilia never got the full scoop as to what's up with 'her' own church even if it's technically Meene's.#That would have been interesting.

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marshmallowprotection · 2 months

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Hi. I'm currently applying for a scholarship and I have to submit an essay and a video for it and the offer closes on march and I haven't done anything yet because of how much terror the thought of not getting it causes me. I've cried a lot over this cause if I need it to afford the uni I want and I feel like I'm running out of time but Idek what to write or say or do?? I'm so anxious :( Could I get some comfort from GE, SE and (if he has the emotional capacity for it) my beloved Suit? :(((

GE Saeran may not know what it feels like to have the deadline of a scholarship on his shoulders but he knows what it feels like to have a deadline.

Sometimes, he thinks about how hard it was for him to get all of his work done in the nick of time. He had a couple of close calls during the time he spent in the information room, constantly trying to find all the information that was handed to him and, frankly, even more than that. There might have been guidelines for him to follow through on but the expectation was always way more than what was laid out on paper.

In his situation, he didn't have a choice but to get the work done. He could get the work done or he could be punished. Now, your situation is not as severe as that, the only thing that could happen to you, at worst, is that you miss out on the opportunity to get the scholarship you know you want.

He can't tell you what to do or what to say, but he can help you sit down and work through some of these worries. Perhaps the reason why you're so afraid to get started is because you're afraid of failure. But, you miss all of the shots you never shoot, and if you don't let yourself take a chance on what you want, you'll never know one way or the other. Take a deep breath, take his hand, and look at the little prompt siting in front of you.

It may seem like a life or death opportunity but as long as you treat it as a chance to do better for yourself, it won't feel as heavy as it does right now. It doesn't have to be the essay of the century, nor does it have to be the video of the year. All you have to do is answer the message that is given and put your heart into it. He wants to see you follow your dream, and for you to follow your dream, you have to be willing to put those dreams into motion.

"My love, remind yourself that this isn't the end of the world if you don't get what you want. There will always be opportunities on the horizon for you to follow your dream, and even if you do this and you don't wind up getting the scholarship, that doesn't mean you won't get another. It might work out differently than you expect it to in the end, but you'll never know if you don't try."

SE Saeran is in the same ballpark. He's never had to worry about the same things that you have, and the only thing he can equate it to is the experience of having a bottle of Elixir held at his head every time he didn't meet a deadline. It's not exactly pretty and he doesn't like to think about it.

But, he understands what a deadline feels like, he just doesn't know how to quantify that experience as something that doesn't end in torture.

He won't tell you to get something done if it's upsetting you, but the more you avoid something that is obviously a goal you've set out for yourself, the more likely he is to say something about how stubborn you're being about something you shouldn't be. His dry tone won't be as gentle as his counterpart here, but it’s still from a place of caring.

He's just not as soft or gentle in the approach he's had with you thus far, so you shouldn't expect him to be that way. He doesn't want to see you torture yourself, and the only thing he can think of to keep you from doing that is by telling you like it is. It may come across as harsher than he intends, but try not to take it personally since he's still learning this whole communication thing.

"Hey, brat. I know you want to get this done but the longer you put it off, the more it's going to eat away at you. You're just going to work yourself up more and more if you don't sit down and do it. Either you want to get it done or you don't, and if I have to sit here with you to make sure you get this done once and for all, I will. I'm tired of seeing you torture yourself. You don't need to treat yourself that way. Aren't you the one who's always telling me I need to stop beating myself up? Maybe you should learn how to take your own advice."

#mod kait #ask #mystic messenger #anon #mysme #saeran choi #mysticmessenger #mm #choi saeran #ge saeran #saeray #saeran #saeran mysme #saeran mystic messenger #saeran mm #mystic messenger saeran #mm saeran #mysme saeran #se saeran

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blackjackkent · 3 months

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It occurs to me that after punching so many Steel Watchers into small pieces, Hector's knuckles must hurt like all nine of the Hells.

Anyway, let's finish this place and get the hell out of here.

"The Neurocitor. I can hear its hum - familiar, yet painful. I helped design the Steel Watchers, toiled night and day on the first bipedal prototype. It is fitting it ends this way. I will bring down not only the Steel Watch but the very Foundry itself. This place will be smoke and rubble when I am finished. Are you ready, my friend?"

Why do I get the concerning impression that you are about to go down with the ship, Toobin?

(Gods, Hector looks tired.)

"What are you going to do?"

"Like the Foundry, the Neurocitor's exterior is near impossible to penetrate. However, its inner circuitry is highly unstable. I'm going to rain fire upon it - from the inside out."

This is not doing anything to assuage my concerns but I don't really seem to have the option to stop you at this point.

"Do it."

"Gond - let your hammer be my courage, your furnace my heart."

-----

Astonishingly, he actually wasn't sacrificing himself, and we got a very fun little sequence of everyone booking it out of the facility before it exploded.

And, of course, guess who's waiting for us outside. >:(

"That was a hell of a show, my friend. Watchers collapse in the street as we speak. And the Foundry? Well, it won't stain this beautiful city with its abominations - not anymore."

Oh, man, Wulbren, Hector is SO not in the mood to deal with you right now. Go away.

"But it's not over. So long as a single parasitic Gondian remains, Baldur's Gate is under threat."

"Wulbren. Enough. The Gondians are no more. I am all that is left. You've won. Take the city - let the Ironhands reign supreme. I just wish to go home and mourn my daughter in peace."

(A/N: This quest is definitely a bit confused about itself at times. Most of what Toobin just said is incorrect - there are at least two Gondians still alive from the Foundry besides him, not to mention all but two of the hostages from the Iron Throne - one of whom is his daughter that he claims to want to go and mourn. I suspect this line will be the target of a humorous patch note at some point in the future.

The main point of course remains the same, which is that the Gondians have suffered terribly and Wulbren is being an enormous turd.)

"Toobin is right," Hector says wearily. "It's over." There is just the slightest hint of muted threat in his voice. This has been a long physically taxing and emotionally draining day and he is more than ready for it to be over. He doesn't want to be Wulbren's enemy, but he is pretty sure he's also no longer Wulbren's friend, and if the Ironhands try to push this issue Hector is fully ready to throw them over the horizon.

Wulbren laughs coldly. "Please. If a Gondian told me the sky was blue, I'd look outside and check. Toobin will lie, torment, and scheme until his dying breath. Kill him - or the Ironhands will."

(A/N: Hector kept making this incredibly sad-puppy face through this whole scene, which is definitely a face he has made in a lot of other circumstances, but is actually not appropriate for this one. He's tired, and he's MAD - at Gortash who is not within immediate reach, and at Wulbren who is the nearest available target.

We have the option for a [CLERIC OF SELUNE][PERSUASION] check here but I think this is one of the few scenarios in which Hector doesn't want to take it. There's another, much harsher line that is much more in line with his mental state right now given how shaken up and upset he is at the moment.)

Hector is silent for a long moment, then lifts his head and meets Wulbren's eyes with a steady, hollow stare. No more. I can't stop all the cruelty in this city, but I can stop you, right now.

[ROGUE][INTIMIDATION] "I know a hundred ways to kill you, Wulbren," he says. His tone is flat and hard, like an unbreakable wall. "So I'm only going to say this once." He takes one step forward in the gnome's direction. "Walk. Away."

Wulbren's head snaps back and his eyes narrow to slits.

"I thought you a rebel in arms," he hisses. "I see now you were but a snake waiting for its moment to strike."

He turns a sneering gaze across each member of the group in turn, and then spits on the road between them. "Keep your blind Gondian," he growls. "I have no use for broken things. But know that I will not rest until this city is rid of the Gondians and their bootlickers. When the day comes, my hammer will find your skulls and crack them wide open. Ironhands - move out!"

------

Karlach knows Hector very well by this point and she has seen him reach his breaking point a couple times. She can see the signs of it now, and as Wulbren turns to walk away, she darts forward and throws both arms around Hector's torso from behind, pinning his arms to his sides. She feels the tense of his muscles in her grip and knows she guessed right - he was about to leap forward, to lash out.

"Easy, soldier," she mutters. "He's not worth it. Let him go."

For a moment she thinks he is going to try and struggle away from her, but he hesitates, then sags a little in her embrace, his weight sinking back against her chest. "Bigoted bastard..." he mutters. "Does he not see the suffering these people have endured? Does he not care?"

"Don't think he does," Karlach says grimly. "Too caught up in his own anger. Wish I could say I don't know what that's like, but I guess I'd be lying. But that doesn't make it right."

He nods slightly. "Gods, what a day. What a bloody day..."

"Lets go home, soldier," she says quietly. "Let's just go home. We did it. The Watchers are done. We can go after Gortash now, come morning. We did what we had to do."

"It doesn't bring Toobin's people back," he says hollowly. "It doesn't bring that little girl back..." A long pause. "So many years I lived in that cloister and never realized how much cruelty there is in the world. How much anger..."

She hesitates, then presses a cautious kiss to the back of his neck. He shivers, closes his eyes and turns in her embrace to rest his face into her shoulder.

She just holds him a little while before speaking again. "I was stuck too, the last ten years, you know. Not able to do much good for anyone. Maybe we would have done more, if we were here before, but we weren't. We're here now, and we're doing a hell of a lot. Don't you fucking lose sight of that, Hec. Not for a moment."

He draws a slow breath and lets it out heavily. "Thanks," he says quietly. "Let's just... let's just go. I need to put this place behind us."

#bjk plays baldur's gate 3 #hector carlisle #so.... everyone together... FUCK WULBREN BONGLE #drabble #bjk writes her own party banter #i liked bongle when we met him in moonrise and he has just gone down the tubes in my opinion completely since then #hector's too #hec is so MAD and so TIRED and so SAD and man we're getting into the late game huh #he's starting to remind me of all my shepards going into roughly Thessia period in ME3 #just so tired but there's no way but forward #and no one who can do it but him

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raccoon-eyed-rebel · 11 months

Text

Part 22 - Geralt

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 21 -- Part 23

Summary: The guys throw a New Years Eve party at 179th Crescent Street...

Warnings: Drugs (weed and alcohol), senslry issues.

Word count: 2.1k

A/N: Geralt is up! It's a shorter chapter than the other ones, because he didn't have a lot to say... I'm also happy to announce that all the NYE chapters are finished as of right this g'damn second! So: YAY ME! Enjoy!

Let me know what you think! 🥰

@deandoesthingstome @geralts-yenn @summersong69 @peaches1958 @fvckinghenrycavill @keanureevesisbae @livisss @sillyrabbit81 @ellethespaceunicorn @ylva-syverson @poledancingdinos

I’m barely aware of the things that are happening in the kitchen, going on auto-pilot, until Leon asks where Sherlock is.

“In his room,” Mike replies, “he wouldn’t last five minutes tonight if he had to deal with all of this, too.” He’s not the only one. For starters, it’s not ideal for Mike, either.

“We’ve got it from here,” I say. As far as I’m concerned, he’s done his part in setting up for tonight by getting the internet to work. My words come out harsher than intended. Fuck. I know he’s not mad - he’s Mike. It would take a lot more to upset him, and he knows as well as I do that I’ll be running on reserves, too, before the evening is over.

Unlike Mike, I don’t envy Sherlock. Hiding from the fuss surrounding these preparations wouldn’t do me any good. I’d still hear everything, and I somehow find it easier to ignore a noise I can see the source of. My eyes involuntarily move to the little plastic bag on the table. At least I’ll be able to sleep. Sol follows my gaze, and her eyes go wide when she sees what I’m looking at. We’ve had a few long conversations - at above average volume - about the fact that I occasionally get stoned - or, as she’d rather call it; ‘my drug use’. The last of these arguments happened while she was holding a glass of wine. She didn’t appreciate my pointing out that alcohol is a hard drug. No one ever does. With time, she’s grown used to it, but she isn’t exactly comfortable with how open we are about it here. I still don’t understand the fuss. It’s not like we’re doing anything illegal.

The hand on my back belongs to Sol. I don’t have to look to know that. I don’t even have to think about it. I just know. That knowledge doesn’t stop me from shaking it off nearly immediately. Usually, her touch calms me down, but not tonight - not right now, at least. It’s just another sensation to overwhelm me even further. There just isn’t anything she can do for me right now. When she looks at me, there’s a sliver of sadness in her eyes - a sadness I don’t immediately connect to my instinctive rejection of her touch, and with that, her intentions to comfort me. Until I do connect the dots, and end up feeling worse

“It’s just a bit much,” I say, unsure of who I’m trying to convince I’m alright, her or myself. “I’ll be alright.”

That last part isn’t a lie. No matter how exhausting this can be, it hasn’t killed me yet. At this point, after all this time, I think it’s safe to say that it won’t.

When Sherlock steps into the kitchen with Elena, he looks just about as miserable as I probably do - and he hasn’t spent a second downstairs yet. Thanks to the noise downstairs, I couldn’t be completely sure about why they’re so late, but I can make an educated guess. Sol is still standing next to me. I know she feels bad because she can’t help me, which means it’s time for me to suck it up and at least try to have a good time here until she can help me. I take her hand and pull her along to where August and Sherlock are standing. At least I can reasonably count on them enjoying this nonsense as much - or as little - as I do.

“Should I be glad Elena gets along with Anjelica so well?” Sherlock asks August while side-eyeing the girls and their animated conversation. The benefits of this party being so tremendously noisy is that everything turns to white noise nearly automatically. Normally, it would be a chore to tune out a conversation taking place so close to me, but right now, I don’t have to hear what the girls are talking about at all. Sol joins the conversation without too much effort, and I can see a faint smile on her lips when she sees me with the guys.

“Oh, we don’t get a say in these things.” I manage to very slightly startle August when I come up behind him. It’s never my goal, but always a nice bonus. He’s perceptive, tough to sneak up on, and his reflexes are insane. It’s what makes him a good boxer. A very good boxer. “I’m fairly sure we’re already doomed.”

Sherlock raises an eyebrow, clearly confused by my words. As much as I think we shouldn’t laugh or make fun of him because of it, his lack of experience can be quite endearing. “What do you mean?”

“I heard that they’re planning a girls night.” Gossiping isn’t something I enjoy doing, but I think the poor man deserves to know at least a little of what is about to hit him. August groans so softly I almost miss it. He’s damn right to, honestly. I like to think Sol isn’t the gossiping type, either, but I know better. When in Rome…

I’ve accidentally overheard plenty of these conversations between women. They’re completely exhausting to listen to, and that’s only in part due to the fact that during a twenty-minute conversation, there’s maybe a total of three finished sentences. What continues to surprise me most, however, is the amount of detail these discussions contain. I know very few men who would be as specific. Sure, the jokes around the house can be… somewhat graphic, but they’re absolutely far less informative. Something I’ve always found striking about these conversations is that there doesn’t always seem to be a clear point to them besides purely the exchange of information - no problem to solve, no question to answer, nothing to gain from these talks other than curbing their annoyingly insatiable curiosity. Women. I’m sure I’ll never come to understand them. And I promise it’s not for lack of trying.

“That usually means that all of them are going to be told every minute intimate detail of your relationship, so they can… I don’t know why they do it, just that they do.” August seems to be as lost on the reasons behind this interesting yet insufferable ritual.

“How intimate?” Sherlock asks. As previously mentioned, I believe we shouldn’t make fun of his inexperience, which makes me hell-bent on controlling my face upon hearing the alarm and astonishment in Sherlock’s voice, and all the more glad that August does the smirking for me.

“Yes, that intimate,” I answer, my voice significantly more strained than I had initially planned on, both from my efforts to keep my composure as well as my own mild terror at the thought of having my sex life painstakingly dissected by a group of girls.

“We’re not looking forward to it, either,” August adds.

“Not looking forward to what?” Elena asks as she wraps her arms around Sherlock. I can’t help but smile when I see it. They’re good together.

“Nothing,” the three of us say at the same time. It’s suspicious to say the least, but I doubt we’ll hear much more of it.

Something happens in the living room that we decide to ignore. Things settle down quickly, there’s no need for us to get involved in that. My head is pounding from the noise so badly that I barely notice Sherlock and Elena taking off. Good for them. Part of me wishes I could call it a day as well, but I can’t bear to spend time without Sol yet, and she’s still having a good time catching up with Anjelica. I know we won’t last much past midnight, so I just have to make it until then - a task that might just be made much easier by Ange’s discovery of what Mike has been up to in the living room. Solveig doesn’t even roll her eyes when she says it, either because it’s worse when I get high than when others do it, or because she realizes I could use a little peace and quiet.

The cold and fresh air help tremendously, and although the windows are hardly enough of a barrier to completely block the sounds from inside the house, they drown out enough to make it more manageable. Sol stays close, which I appreciate now that I’m not ambushed by a hundred sensations per second. She’s not cold - she’s used to harsher winters than the ones we get here. It doesn’t stop her nose, hands or feet from freezing. It just doesn’t bother her. Bothers me, though. It’s like sharing a bed with an icicle.

“Did you guys step outside when you saw me leave the living room?” Mike asks. August, Anjelica and I shrug - a clear admission of guilt. We know him a little. If one of us had so much as for a second suspected that our intended leeching would piss him off, we would have stayed inside. But it’s Mike. He grumbles something semi-annoyed while handing a joint to Dani and sits down to get to work on another one.

“Thanks, Mikey.” It’s always Ange. Mikey and Anjelica have something in common I can’t put my finger on, exactly. A certain way of understanding each other that’s very difficult to explain. Something so innately platonic that even August isn’t threatened by it - which is quite rare. She sounds tired, I notice, and she does a very good job of not looking the part. Anjelica thrives around people. Pressure. Pain. Although I completely understand why Sy questions the nature of Ange and August’s relationship, I never did. It makes perfect sense, it always has. In a way, they remind me of me and Solveig, though we have a more flexible dynamic. For a short moment, my thoughts jump to Sherlock. He had the same control issues we do. August and I. Part of me wonders if his preferences will turn out anything like ours, and I briefly wish I could be a fly on the wall during that girls night… I dismiss the thought instantly. Gossip. Despicable habit.

Mike hands me a joint, which I take from him gratefully. If I can just get my thoughts to calm down, the noise may become manageable enough to sleep later. I’m only vaguely aware of the conversation about the unrest in the living room earlier. There seems to be quite a lot of guilt there that Mike can’t seem to shake. It’s understandable, but I feel it isn’t necessary. Danielle seems to understand what he’s like better than anyone I’ve ever met - including us, and we’ve been living with him for a year and a half at this point. I hope they make it.

The six of us barely make it twenty minutes past midnight before we decide to call it quits. Mike makes a break for the stairs, leaving Dani with me and Sol. When we step into the hallway, Mike is already halfway up the stairs.

“Where is he?” It’s tough to be sure from the side, but it looks like Peter, Marshall’s best friend. “Mike, I swear, get the fuck out of my way.”

I can’t say I appreciate the amount of drama I’m getting caught up in tonight. Charles - of all people, ironically - would likely suggest we leave these things to the girls, because they’re better at it than we are. After tonight, I am inclined to believe that both sexist and - as it turns out - a lie. Men are more than capable of causing a scene. Sol is standing next to me, Dani is right in front of me. I can see August, but not Anjelica. I’ll just have to trust that she’s okay. Knowing her, that shouldn’t be too much of a problem. I hear footsteps on the stairs that belong to Marshall - clearly the person Peter is looking for to begin with. Despite the alcohol and weed - maybe even due to them - I’m alert. Tense. This probably isn’t a fight I want to get caught up in. Marshall wouldn’t want any of us to, anyway.

“Peter, leave him alone.” Mike tries to stop Marshall as he walks down the stairs, stubbornly staying exactly where he is. It’s clear he trusts Peter about as far as he can throw him right now. We’ve all met him multiple times, and he’s a good guy, but we’ve never seen him angry. And those hockey guys can fight… “Mike, it’s okay. He’s after me, not looking for trouble. It’s cool, back off.”

#179 crescent street #179cs #henry cavill characters #henrycavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill #geralt of rivia x ofc #geralt #geralt of rivia #hc geralt

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jojolovesdogs00 · 1 year

Text

Asgardian Tales

Characters: Sylvie Laufeydottir, Loki, Frigga, Reader

Ship: Sylvie x Reader

Chapter 2

Sylvie and Loki were at home. In Asgard. Sylvie was reading a book while Loki sat next to her, playing with a knife he had stolen from a thief the day before.

"What are you reading?" Loki asked casually, eyeing the blade.

“What mom offered last night.” Sylvie answered absently. “It’s good. I learned lot of stuff in there.”

Loki grunted. "Good.”

"How was your training today?"

They shrugged indifferently. "Normal." they mumbled, picking up knife and throwing it towards the corner of the room, missing it by a mile. Sylvie laughed slightly and closed the book in front of her, setting it aside as Loki got up to start cleaning up the knife. Sylvie stretched her legs, enjoying watching Loki missing their target. It was quiet except for Loki occasionally tossing his knife across the room and Sylvie occasionally getting a laugh or a joke from them whenever she got the knife right.

When Loki finally finished wiping everything clean, they sat back down next to Sylvie, looking at her expectantly. Sylvie sighed and ran a hand through her bangs. "What's wrong Loki?"

“Nothing is wrong. Why do you always assume something's wrong?” Loki responded calmly.

“Because you seem really tense and annoyed lately?” Sylvie replied, raising her eyebrows and smirking at the way Loki gritted their teeth together. “Loki, what happened?”

"That doesn't concern you.” they said flatly. Sylvie looked at them with narrowed eyes, clearly not buying their response. She didn't bother to continue arguing. If Loki wanted to act like an asshole all the time then maybe she shouldn't have bothered talking to them at all.

"Fine. Whenever you want to talk I'll be here to listen."

Loki nodded. "I know."

Loki turned around and stared out of the window. Sylvie frowned and opened her book once again.

"Do you remember that girl from yesterday?" Loki eventually said, causing Sylvie to pause.

"Y/N?" she asked slowly, trying to hide her growing curiosity. "The one that was in the diner? How is she?"

Loki stayed silent. Sylvie waited for a few seconds before starting to wonder if something else had happened. Then Loki spoke. "You liked her?"

Sylvie was taken aback. She hadn't expected that question from Loki. "Huh?"

"You liked her?"

A small blush spread across Sylvie's cheeks and she averted her eyes. "Why would you ask?"

"Just wondering, that's all." they said dismissively.

"What was that attitude?" Sylvie retorted, her tone much harsher than she had meant. The silence between them grew heavier, and the tension was so thick that Sylvie was afraid she would choke on it.

Finally Loki spoke again. "Well, first Thor now you found yourselves tiny humans. You two will be upset when you see how fragile they are."

"Excuse me?"

Loki stood abruptly, sending Sylvie stumbling backwards from their abrupt movements. "I'm leaving.”

“Where?” Sylvie asked, standing up.

“Don't worry about it.” they muttered.

“Loki you're acting weird!” Sylvie exclaimed while they left the room already. Once the door closed behind Loki she let out a sigh and leaned against the wall. She stared at the door for a few moments longer before running a hand through her hair.What was they talking about? Sylvie thought about Y/n and wondered if she remeber anything happened in diner. Was she okay? Did she remember Sylvie? Sylvie bit her lip anxiously. She wasn't ready yet to go back to her. She had to study more. She needed to learn magic. She decided to find Frigga and ask about more training. Frigga might have knowledge of the human world that Sylvie could apply.

Sylvie glanced around the empty corridors before making her way to Frigga's room. When she entered, Frigga was sitting in her usual spot by the window staring out at the Asgard streets below. Sylvie approached quietly and sat down in front of her. Frigga turned away from her view to look at her. "Oh dear. How was your test with Loki?"

"Weird…” Sylvie mumbled, avoiding Frigga's gaze.

Frigga tilted her head slightly, waiting for her to elaborate.

"I passed the test. Loki couldn't recognized me thanks to spells you thought me." Sylvie said hesitantly, still avoiding Frigga's gaze.

Frigga grinned broadly at Sylvie. "Of course you did love." she remarked warmly. "So you’ve learned about the mortal world. What do you think of them? Do you like any of them?" she asked excitedly, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees.

"Some of them… I guess. They seem nice enough I guess." Sylvie answered, still keeping eye contact with the floor.

“But most of them aren't like us Sylvie. They have problems we don't understand. They can’t understand ours." Frigga explained.

"Yes..." Sylvie murmured, looking down at her hands.

“Sylvie dear, you do not have to feel ashamed to show your emotions.” Frigga said reassuringly, caressing her cheek. Sylvie flinched at her touch, but relaxed when Frigga pulled back. “Your feelings are very natural. You just have to express it better. You must learn to express your heart. Do you understand?”

“Yes.. Yes, mother.”

“Good.” Frigga whispered. She leaned back in her chair and gazed at Sylvie. "Have you met someone new, darling?" she questioned, changing the subject.

Sylvie nodded. "Her name is Y/N. She's a human, but she's amazing." she declared proudly.

Frigga smiled. "That's wonderful my child. You should tell me more about her." she suggested. Sylvie nodded eagerly. She talked for hours, describing every detail about Y/n. About how she seemed to genuinely care about everyone she came in contact with. How Y/n was beautiful and funny. Frigga listened intently to each story and was pleased by the happiness and enthusiasm Sylvie expressed throughout telling her things about her human friend. After Sylvie finished telling Frigga what she'd told her, Frigga gave Sylvie a fond smile.

“You have made a lovely young woman Sylvie,” she stated fondly. “You deserve happiness my child.” Sylvie blushed softly at Frigga’s words.

“Thank you mother.” She replied shyly. The pair sat in silence for a few moments, listening to each other breathe. “I think I’m going to try to see her soon…” Sylvie admitted.

"That sounds wonderful, my dear. Just do whatever feels right for you. Your father and I are both very proud of you." Frigga assured, gently squeezing Sylvie’s knee.

"I will mother." Sylvie added inwardly, giving her mother a grateful glance.

"Now, why don’t you rest some more before dinner?" Frigga suggested. Sylvie nodded. “And then come here and we shall begin practicing.” Frigga suggested.

Sylvie stood up slowly, nodding. “Okay.”

#loki #sylvie #loki laufeydottir #sylvie laufeydottir #sylvie laufeydottir x reader #sylvie laufeydottir x you #sylvie laufeydottir x y/n #loki laufeydottir x y/n #loki laufeydottir x you #loki laufeydottir x reader #lesbian

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