#god the amount of times i drowned in this game

[metorea]

Receiving Oral w/ HP Boys

smut below the cut!!! all characters aged up

Harry

♡ More than anything, Harry is nervous. Nervous to mess up, nervous to do poorly- just nervous. 

♡ But this doesn't stop him from trying. Quite contrary, actually, he tries very hard. 

♡ He has never gone down on anyone before, but he has …. done his research. 

♡ He's gentle and cautious at first, but the sounds you're making spur him on like nothing else 

♡ “So good, so so good. You can give me another right?” 

♡ He finds himself quickly drunk with lust, addicted to the reactions he's pulling from you 

♡ You will have to pull him off, because he's not stopping until his jaw locks up. 

Ron 

♡ Weasley's man, I'm telling you. 

♡ This is probably one of the first sexual things you guys do together, period. Just going down on each other. No risk, high reward- what could be better?

♡ He's ever done it before you, but unlike Harry, he is not nervous in the slightest. In fact he is glaringly confident 

♡ For good reason, too. 

♡ Ron is, in a word, ravenous. 

♡ He may be oblivious most of the time, but in this arena, he is not. Quite contrary, he is incredibly in tune with you. Every move you make, every sound that leaves your pretty lips, he's listening and adjusting accordingly 

♡ “Fucking hell,” Is all you'd get from him, once or twice. His mouth is too full for him to say much else. Not that you're complaining. 

Cedric 

♡ Cedric is not a huge fan of oral. He prefers to get to the main event, where you're both feeling good. But seeing how interested you are in it, he's willing to try it. 

♡ And God, is he glad that he did. 

♡ He has you lay down on your back for him while he explores slowly, moving at an agonizing pace

♡ The first time you cum, he's shocked. He'd hardly done anything at all and here you were, a mess. 

♡ It opens up a whole new world of possibilities. 

♡ He watches and enjoys as feather light touches elicit the most extreme reactions from you, taking unbelievable pleasure in the way you're so desperate for him

♡ Yeah, oral becomes a staple of your foreplay from therein. 

George 

♡ He wants this. He wants it an incredible amount. 

♡ You never have to ask. He is ready to go, constantly. 

♡ Under the desk. In a closet. On his bed. On your bed. On Fred's bed. Everywhere. 

♡ George Weasley is absolutely nothing in this world if not a munch. 

♡ And God, is he good at it. Entirely too good at it. It's almost too much, the way he devours you without inhibition. 

♡ You have to push him off when you've finally cum too much for you to handle, and simply can't keep going. Even then he'll try to persuade you to just let him help you clean up, resulting in an eventual round 10. 

♡ “Come on baby, you're okay. Hush pretty girl/boy, one more.” 

Fred

♡ Fred isn't a munch per se. He is, however, a freak. 

♡ He's always looking to try something new, something experimental. 

♡ One day, an idea occurs to him. What if he combined his two favorite things? You on top, and him making you feel good. 

♡ This lands you here, on his face 

♡ Fred LOVES it. He loves the way that he's drowning in you while you rut against him, his fingers digging into the fat of your hips hard enough to leave bruises as he pulls you down against him. 

♡ He's looking up at you with greedy eyes while you use his mouth to get off, and he could not be more thrilled.

♡ “Y/N, I told you to sit, not hover. So fucking sit.” 

Draco 

♡ 69 sorry not sorry. 

♡ Draco is a very greedy man. He takes and gives nothing back, as has always been the case. 

♡ Luckily for you, this does not apply to sex … most of the time 

♡ He loves to have you sat on his face while you go down on him so he can feel you struggling to focus, choking on him while you shake against him. 

♡ He makes a game of it, trying to get you to finish before he does. More often than not, he wins 

♡ “Merlin, Y/N. Already? Tsk.” 

Blaise 

♡ He does it to think. I'm not kidding. 

♡ He's stressed out? You're crushing his head between your thighs. He's confused about something? You're sat on his face. 

♡ He uses you as a reassurance, taking pride in the way he can make you feel so, so good. 

♡ If he can control nothing in this world he can control how hard you're cumming on his tongue, amen.

♡ “Lay back.” He'd say, bursting into the room from what you can only assume was a long night, loosening his tie just enough for it to hang on his neck. “You know what I want prince(ss). Help me out, won't you?” 

Tom Riddle 

♡ Like most things with him, it is a ploy. A plot, to make you weak, make you pliable. 

♡ To Tom, there is no position more powerful for him than between your legs, staring up at you while you struggle to create any thoughts whatsoever. And that's exactly how he likes you; totally brainless. 

♡ Unlike the others, though, this is not about your pleasure. He is mean about it, always. More often than not, he goes down on you as a punishment, not a reward 

♡ He withholds orgasms for so long you're crying, shaking against him 

♡ And when he does let you cum, he refuses to let you stop- overstimulating you into a puddle

♡ He's a powerful wizard, he can go all night. And he does. 

♡ “What, it's too much?” Tom asks, raising an eyebrow with a sneer. “That's too bad. You aren't moving until I'm done with you.”

-

Requested by: @irissfoot

[usedpidemo]

Tell your friends (Ive Yujin & Wonyoung)

—————

Thank you @capslocked for the input/advice <3

—————

“What do you think?” asks Yujin, casually, as you’re both walking up the long, winding stairs. A scenario you’re familiar with, but this is completely different from before.

“Of this place?” Your eyes wander around, scope out the surroundings like you’re evaluating real estate. “Eh, it’s fine—I mean, I’ve already been to your place and it’s really nice.”

“First time I’ve heard anyone call this place just fine.” Completely surprised at your reply, her eyes go wide, along with her jaw, as if you’ve said something taboo. “This place is no joke, it makes mine look like an average joe—just like you!”

“Hey.” Offended by her personal taunt, you counter, “At least I’m content with what I have instead of pouring needless amounts of money for this narcissistic shit.” 

She simply laughs off your retort. You’re not even trying. Part of the game is you actually playing along. “Gotta keep the image up, after all.”

“What image? That you’re slutting out every night for a ‘random nobody’ off the street?”

“If I wanted a random nobody off the street, I could have at least gotten someone with a bigger cock,” says Yujin, trying to get under your skin. This kind of banter should render you poisoned with all the toxicity, but you’re almost numb to it at this point. Her words hit hard, because she’s speaking the truth. Anyone else could be in your position right now, and you’re luckier than 99.9% of the people on this planet, because she’s still An Yujin—variety queen, fashion icon, and pop star—after all. “Or maybe someone who’s willing to rip through my clothes when I tell them to—”

“Yeah, I get it. You get new clothes that you’ll use for a week, only to stash them away in the storage.” Might as well put on those imaginary headphones to drown out the noise, but you’ve heard it so many times, your ears simply block out her voice. “You’re rich and famous; I’m a nobody. We get it.”

She shoots you a devilish smirk, complemented by a wink before going ahead. Her flawless body and model strut serve as the perfect hall pass; you're willing to give every excuse and exemption just to be with her in bed when it’s all said and done.

The huge front doors swing open automatically. The living room alone dwarfs your entire house and makes Yujin’s look miniature in comparison. Collective chatter fills the atmosphere as guests convene everywhere. Not a single space remains unoccupied with at least two people engaged in conversation over drinks. 

Like the visitors at your girlfriend’s party, you have no idea who these people are or what their intentions are. Some of them turn their heads, stare at your direction and greet you hello. They’re not actually meant for you, but for the woman right beside you. To your dismay, she remembers how awkward you are at large gatherings and takes advantage of it. Bumping shoulders, she encourages you to wave back at them. Not the name you want to make for yourself.

So you sneak away from her and escape into the crowd. Passing through different rooms, you eventually run into a familiar face in the entertainment room. The person turns around, meets your gaze in dramatic fashion, and her excitement immediately rises to dangerous levels. 

“Hey! Oh! Were you invited too?” asks the girl, enthusiastically, running toward you.

You vividly recognize her cute face—and her Japanese accent. She was the girl who almost uncovered you twice in a single night.

“Oh God—” You grumble, bothered, silently praying your whisper drowns in the sea of loud gossip. “Oh—hi, Rei.”

“You must really be someone special to be invited to Mistress Jang’s party.” Rei suddenly pulls you by the shoulder to whisper something secretive in your ear, closing any opportunity to escape. “You know this is a blue card invitation, right? Only those deep in her social circle can come here, and her private circle is really, really small. Just so you know, there’s an industry rumor going around that the son of a government official offered millions in a bid to woo her, and she turned him down.”

“O-oh, that’s—cool.” 

Respectfully, what you wanted to say was that you had no interest in the so-called Mistress Jang, or the corrupt children of the officials running the nation with puppet strings. You were only there at Yujin’s insistence, and nothing else. “Surely he must be fuming that Jang—”

“Shhhh.” Rei puts a finger between your lips to quiet you down. She briefly looks left and right, scanning everything and everyone around you. “We call her Mistress Jang, Miss Jang, or Miss Vicky Jang. The title is very important here.”

“What?” For a moment, you thought you had stepped inside the palace of some ancient dynasty, the way titles are held in high regard. “What are you talking about?”

“You don’t know, huh? Are you living under a rock? Miss Jang is one of the biggest names in the country! She’s Korea’s it girl and national princess. Gosh, every brand she wears—and touches—becomes instant sell outs. She’s like a god even among celebrities!” Rei turns around, scouts the place a second time, as if she isn’t already screaming. Surely, this has to be hyperbole because you’ve never heard anyone with a description this grand, only in children’s role play. “She’s practically royalty, even if she doesn’t have a title.”

“Oookay.” Your lack of interest shows through your dry tone. “Yeah, well Yujin invited me here so—”

“Well, that makes perfect sense. I was thinking you were some kind of celebrity or photographer, but now I also know you’re Yujin’s boyfriend. So, the guy hidden in some of her Instagram photos was you.”

“Right.” Shake your head, slowly drawing away from her and this conversation before you become the center of discussion and treated like an actual celebrity. “So, yeah, it was nice seeing you again—”

“Can I ask you one question?” Her narrow eyes and pouty lips are practically pleading to you. Might as well amuse her just this once. Maybe she’ll finally leave you alone. “Please?”

“Fine, what is it?”

“What kind of person is she in bed?” The question elicits an animated reaction on your face—the kind that gets passed around on the internet as a meme. “I bet she gives really good head—”

“There you are!” Yujin suddenly shouts, interrupting right before it becomes extremely awkward. “Hey Rei! What have you been talking about?”

“Yujin!” The Japanese girl abruptly releases you, meeting her in embrace and exchanging friendly kisses. “Not much, just catching up with your guy about some—” she suddenly pauses, making up an excuse on the fly. “—stuff. Anyway, did you know he doesn’t know who Miss Jang is?”

“I was about to take him to her, actually.” 

“Oh no—” You impulsively blurt, losing control over your volume at that moment. 

Forget that they’re right in front of you. Forget that you value your own life over some pussy you can get any other time you want.

Surely Miss Jang would be the kind of person who immediately comes for the life of the offending party when the smallest rumor or slander reaches her ears—how much more at an occasion with some of her most esteemed guests, making you an example of what not to do to cross her.

Fortunately, the two friends then turn their eyes toward you, seemingly unaware of your dismayed reaction. Yujin takes you by the hand, but her soft touch doesn’t relax you in the slightest. “I’ll take him to her now. See ya!”

“Of course, have a great night, you two.”

There’s no light at the end of this tunnel; it’s more of a series of unfortunate events connected from one to another. You’d rather take the option of sharing the freakiest, lewdest secrets of your sex life with Rei over meeting this Mistress Jang face-to-face. You had no say in the matter, not when you’re Yujin’s partner and she’s just as highly esteemed of a name, if not greater, as everyone else in the room.

After a flight of stairs, she scans the second floor, where more people are drinking and chatting it up, before heading in. With you in-tow, you head toward the center hallway together. Seemingly uncaring of your hand getting crushed by her grip, she weaves around dashing from one side to the other until she suddenly stops. Her eyes light up when she sees several suited men assembled in a circle surrounding something—or someone. 

“She’s over there. Give her a minute,” she says, observing them without giving a moment to consider your squished hand—or you for that matter.

“Understood, Miss Jang,” says the oldest man at the center, nodding. The suited men disperse in different directions like a trained, coordinated army unit. A young girl emerges from the assembly with a cold, steely expression in her eyes and her features. 

You expected Miss Jang to be of intimidating, imposing stature, like she could snap you in half like a twig, when really, you’re more likely to toss her around instead. At first glance, everything about her appearance makes her akin to a doll. Pearly white skin, soft, silky lips, and a lightweight figure—everything about her seems curated and designed for maximum appeal to the unrealistic standards of the public. It wouldn’t surprise you if she was actually a life sized model in disguise, with metals and electrical wirings operating the body underneath several layers of unnatural beauty.

Your assumption seemingly comes to pass when she turns her head in a rather mechanical motion, then the blank look on her face shifts to a fixed little beam, hiding any sort of emotion behind them. “Yujin.” Her voice comes out near silent but honeyed, eyes curling into a smile as she recognizes your girl.

“Wony!” She lets go of your hand to hug and give her a kiss on the cheek, treating her like every other acquaintance or friend of hers.

“So, a boyfriend huh? Congratulations,” the other woman replies, reciprocating her friend’s gesture with a kiss on the other cheek. “I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks. He’s kind of a bum, but he’s all right.” Even around friends, Yujin couldn’t help but make the gap between you and her obvious. You’re properly dressed for the occasion (disregarding the fact she bought and tailored it for you), but otherwise, you’re a fish out of water. 

“Come here.” Mistress Jang shoots you a cold stare. Frightened, you immediately follow. Releasing herself from Yujin’s hug, she extends her hand out for you to shake. “You must be Yujin’s boyfriend. Welcome.”

“Um,” You try to think of something—anything—respectful to reply to her with, but ultimately come up with nothing. Sure, she’s not the dangerous boss or demanding overlord you envisioned, but she’s still the most important person in the entire mansion, with emergency protocols practically marked all over her. “Thanks.”

“Please, make yourself at home.” Her eyes lock onto yours, curls into a friendly smile, inviting you to act comfortably in her presence. “I know it’s your first time here, so enjoy.”

“Thanks,” you reply twice in quick succession because it’s the only word you can think of. Other words aren't necessary when it’s the safest option available. 

Patting you on the shoulder, then giving it a playful squeeze, she reassures you again, “I know you’re nervous because of the whole Mistress Jang thing, but please, I don’t bite. I would never.” 

A little teasing smirk and wink from her makes Yujin giggle. The two women rub foreheads, share a brief stare into each other’s eyes, reveling in their strong bond. “Please just call me Wonyoung.”

“Um, okay. Thanks for the welcome, Wony,” you say, looking over your shoulder, trying to escape those magnetic eyes of hers, but they ultimately draw you back in. No one else in the room other than you three. “You two know each other, Yujin?”

“Of course!” The energy Yujin answers you with is infectious. Your girlfriend plants a kiss on her cheek, hooking her arms around her shoulders. If you weren’t around as a third wheel, they’d make for a perfect pair. If she had her way, she would talk about her all day long. “We’ve been friends for a long, long time. Then she got bigger and richer than me and—”

“No need to compare,” interrupts Wonyoung, facing her with a wider grin. “Let’s not make our guests here jealous.”

A hearty laugh from the two follows, and you can’t do anything but smile. You don’t really find their jokes funny, but at the very least, their tight friendship warms your heart. The way their eyes glimmer when they meet, how rosy their cheeks burn, and how close their lips are from making contact—they love each other dearly and intimately it’s almost invasive that you’re awkwardly watching them, as if you didn’t exist in that moment.

You have places to be and other things to do. Inelegant as it sounds, you’re forced to interject, respectfully. “I think I should be on my way now.”

Wonyoung turns her gaze back at you. “Oh, right. Almost forgot you’re there,” she replies, almost bursting into a giggle at the end of her sentence. “The main event will begin soon. Go and have fun in the meantime.”

“Yeah. Go and have fun,” Yujin repeats, almost taunting. It’s almost second nature for her to tease you. The twosome turn around and walk away, hands still clingy like they can’t live without the other, and their collective laughter echoes all over the room as they leave you alone.

—————

You promised yourself not to stir up a commotion during the party, knowing that anything you do has a high probability to snowball out of control very fast. Only one drink will suffice. It’s not like you’re deeply hurting at all, unlike in the past. 

You’re sifting through framed photos throughout the house, mostly of Wonyoung’s silver spoon childhood, but one picture sticks out from the rest—one with her and Yujin that was certainly taken recently. It becomes even more apparent that she’s most likely her only friend, considering she’s the only one present in the photos who isn’t connected by family or bloodline.

“Yo!” A shout breaks your introspection. Turn your head and Rei’s fastly approaching you. This time, you don’t even try to hide your annoyed expressions. “Enjoying the place? Have you met Mistress Jang yet? What was she like?”

Remaining silent, you feign ignorance, looking the other way, back to the photos. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t work.

She’s standing right beside you, smiling mischievously. It's almost trollish, almost pervasive, and downright annoying. You wonder how anyone puts up with her, and how she even gets invited to these gatherings. “Did you see her and Yujin holding hands? They look so cute together! I bet they would make an amazing couple, you know?”

You raise your eyebrows, partially in agreement, but mostly to entertain her, if it means she eventually leaves you alone. 

“You know, you’re such a weird guy for being Yujin’s supposed ‘boyfriend’,” she continues, pushing her face close to yours, lips pouting and shooting you mischievous, playful looks. “I mean, I don’t get why she’d want someone like you, unless you’ve got something big down there—”

At this point, you’d rather cut your ears off than listen to another minute—no, five seconds—of her grating prattling. 

When you walk away from her, she takes a hold of your hand, causing you to look over your shoulder, furious. Glaring at her, you snap. “Back off.”

“I’m not backing off until you answer me!” Rei’s shouting, trying to make a scene out of this heated exchange. “Serious, I’ve been nice to you the whole time, yet you don’t even look at me with equal respect!”

“What does that have to do with respect? You’re being annoying as fuck!” You don’t mince your words. “I mean, why does it matter to you that I’m fucking Yujin every night?”

She staggers back, eyes wide in shock, jaw slack, and the hand that seized you covers her mouth. It’s the answer she wants, yet it sounds unbelievable. It also draws the attention of everyone nearby, some approaching to see what kind of commotion is happening. There might as well be a huge spotlight shone on you both. You’re the main characters now.

One glance and it rips you from the immersion of the moment. Dozens of eyes focused on you and your co-star, eagerly anticipating what happens after the cliffhanger. The break is long and awkward; nothing exciting happens while you both freeze in place, like the script hasn’t been completed yet. In your mind, you’re hoping someone slaps some sense into you—or wakes you up from this elaborate dream. 

“We’re just talking here, not much is happening!” Somehow, you’re able to break character to break the tension. It doesn’t seem to work initially. The onlookers remain observant of the situation, unconvinced, until one person leaves, followed by another, and more disperse, until you’re completely irrelevant in their eyes once more. Even more amazing is how not a single butler stepped in to intervene during the sudden uproar.

Deafening silence follows as you’re both left alone to contend within yourselves without outside interference. One look at Rei and you find her still motionless, like every part of her malfunctioned. Perhaps it’s the bluntness in how you’ve admitted a lewd secret to her or the way you snapped against her that caught her by surprise. You’re not entirely responsible though. She should have known what she was getting into by poking the bear.

Still, you’re a nice guy, and it’s still a heat of the moment action you’ll definitely regret in the morning. “Um, look, I’m sorry, but yeah—”

“Gosh.” Rei suddenly blurts, eyes still wide, staring at you without a single blink that it’s a little unsettling. You expected her to finally calm down after such a quiet, low answer, but instead, she follows with, “I wonder how well she takes your cock—I mean—how well does she give head?”

“Is this how you talk to friends and acquaintances, Rei?” you reply, tilting an eyebrow, more amused than annoyed. 

“Maybe—” she rolls her eyes, avoiding your gaze, and you can spot the faintest sign of a devious smirk on her lips. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind if you showed me with your girlfriend’s consent—”

“To all house guests. To all house guests.” An artificial voice echoes over the speakers, interrupting the conversation and grabbing everyone’s attention. “Please gather outside. The special show will be starting soon.”

After the brief distraction, she faces you again with a friendly, mutual smile, saying, “We can talk about this another time.”

Leaving you on another cliffhanger, she spins around and follows everyone outside.

—————

The interior of the mansion is nothing compared to the courtyard. An enclosure so large in scale; it can host a concert or festival. While you and the guests pick seats, butlers form the stage for the performance. Surprisingly, Rei opts not to lurk close by, instead choosing a seat far behind. You, on the other hand, settle for one in the second-most front row area. She doesn’t spot you spying on her a fair distance away, and probably for the best, too, after what had just transpired.

Ignore her. You’ll want to avoid her for the rest of the night. Perhaps if you’re luckier, Yujin decides she’s had enough and wants to leave, but it’s very, very unlikely. It would take the ground beneath you splitting to separate her from her best friend.

Smoke rapidly fills the platform as the stage goes dark. The entrance is grandiose; the audience around you erupts in thunderous applause as two silhouettes flash themselves behind a door-shaped window. You can recognize both figures with ease. With all the times your fingers traced her skin and curves, you could recreate Yujin’s body from memory alone. 

The cheering grows as the windows swing open, their faces now in clear view. Yujin and Wonyoung make this sexy pose side by side. It’s almost unbelievable how radically different their attitudes are on stage, and you were just speaking to them a while ago. A handful of phones are stretched out to take photos of the duo, while you’re mentally taking pictures, taking in their overwhelming beauty that cameras don’t do them enough justice. Your girlfriend was always the first thing you had your eyes on, but admittedly, Wonyoung’s making you feel some kind of way, too. 

They follow up with a parallel strut that outshines any model. Yujin shoots your side of the audience a flirtatious smirk, and your reaction is no different than anyone else, falling head over heels for her, as if you weren’t her lucky one. Wonyoung’s smile is more innocent, dainty—the kind that warms even the coldest of hearts. Had your fingers not bore deep into your thighs, self-restrained, you might have quietly snuck them between your groin, irrespective of where you are and who you’re with. 

You don’t realize they’re singing on stage with the stationed mic stands. You’re mostly immersed in their little sensual movements and the way they motion to the crowd with their hands. You don’t know the lyrics to every song, but you’re bopping lightly, imagining how their tight bodies would react when they ride you in private. There’s a little hum quietly dripping from your lips, not because you’re following along with the tune, but because you’re moaning. 

Yujin and Wonyoung perform for half an hour, but you don't waste a single second of it not admiring them. There are times when one of the girls waves or shoots a pair of eyes at your direction, but you remain reactionless, taking in the sight of their perfection before you like they’re a present for your patience.

One more wave to the audience before they leave, to the loudest wave of resounding cheers. They walk back to where they stood in the entrance, flaunting their cheeks before the doors close and they disappear in a puff of smoke. In a different setting, you'd have ran onto the stage and taken them both, right then and there, in front of the crowd, without a care in the world. 

—————

You don’t hear a word from either of them for the next two hours. Biding the time, you wait on the outskirts of the courtyard, beyond anyone’s sight, taking solace under the fresh mountain air, occasionally looking through your phone with no texts or calls, looking for a sign to leave. One look over your shoulder and it’s very clear that no one’s going home anytime soon. Taking photos of the two was the smarter play, in hindsight.

“Miss Jang would like to have a word with you.” A steely voice catches your attention. Tilt your head to find one of the many nameless butlers standing upright before you. “Come with me.”

“Oh thank God.” You’re not even hiding your excitement, as evident by that lively pep in your step. You feel your patience is finally being rewarded.

You follow the servant back to the mansion proper, avoiding eye contact with anyone, even when you catch a glimpse of Rei around the corner interacting with another guest. Back up the stairs to the second floor. Not another soul around and not a single sound can be heard. Ultimately, he leads back to the room where you first met Wonyoung before turning around and leaving you there alone.

“Wait, what does she want—” The door slams shut with a loud thud before you can even finish the question. Run back to chase him, but the door remains firmly shut and you’re unable to open it. Knowing how much surveillance there is everywhere, it wouldn’t surprise you if she knew of your little exchange with Rei, whether it be cameras, microphones, or guests disguised as moles. 

“No, no, no—” you grumble, each one more fearful than the last. Try as you can to turn that knob, it refuses to budge. Texting Yujin’s your only other option, but you can’t get a good signal inside the spacious chamber, despite previously seeing 5G on your phone. The lights suddenly shutting off would be the last thing you want to happen, and against your wishes, it’s what does end up happening—leaving you entirely in the dark. 

It’s the stuff of nightmares: completely shut inside a rich manor, with lights suddenly going off at random, and with no forms of communication. The only thing missing are the windows swinging open to let strong winds blow, but you have to stop thinking more of these grim thoughts before they become reality. 

Desperation sets in so quickly; you’re banging aimlessly at the door, at the window, but not even your hardest efforts can move a single inch. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Your fate is basically sealed.

A little gleam clears darkness from the other side of the room. A call to judgment. A slim figure walks in, judge, jury, and possibly executioner all at once. Then the lights come back on, blinding you. 

“Hi.” She calls to you gently, ignoring that you’re walking in aimless circles. “You okay?”

A scream escapes your breath, leaving you in your most embarrassing state. “Wonyoung!” You don’t give her any space to ask for context. “Look, if this is about what happened earlier, then I’m sorry—”

“Sorry?” She raises an eyebrow and her lips curl into a frown, concerned for different reasons. “Incident? Are you okay?”

“Didn’t you know? Me and Rei got into an—oh.” Realizing there’s no reason to panic, you relearn the ability to pick up cues, and act like everything’s normal. Wonyoung’s shooting you a wary look, and it’s not far off from how everyone else at this party saw you—at least at one point. “Yeah, no. I was kinda scared because the lights suddenly went off and—”

“The lights? Well, Yujin told me you were a scaredy cat,” says Wonyoung with a small smile. You roll your eyes to the side, far more annoyed than anything else that happened tonight. Take back what you’ve said earlier. Yujin’s the kind of person who’d actually pull those tricks on you, and of course she’d allow her friend to get involved in her own warped games to avoid suspicion. That’s how cunning she can be. She sees you as a sandbox to play with.

“I’m sorry. I called you so I can apologize and because I want to speak to you.” Wonyoung continues quietly, bowing reverently as if she committed an unforgivable crime—something she most likely learned being under intense scrutiny all the time. Forgiveness was going to be given, regardless. This seems completely unnecessary, but you appreciate the sincerity and effort.

“Wony, or Miss Jang, whatever you want to be called—it’s fine, there’s no need to cry about it.” She lifts her head, sobbing a little, and her lips contort into a gentle smile. You can see and understand why she’s so beloved; beyond the wealth, she’s so innocent, pure looking and sounding, all the elements of a likable character in a cute package.

“Thank you.” She nods her head energetically, shaking your hands in appreciation. Dramatic behavior for something relatively minor, but you’re a guest without any authority in her house. Besides, how can you say no to that endearing face? “I’m really sorry. I just wanted to be close with my friend—”

“Yujin? Don’t worry about it. She likes to tease me a lot,” you interrupt, rolling your eyes to the side again, tone mildly disgruntled. Another one of her playful tactics, out in the light. “And I can see you two are really close.”

“Yeah.” Wonyoung brushes a finger against her pink cheek, pouting her lips. “We’ve been friends for so long, I don’t remember anything before we met.” 

She suddenly stops, looks over your shoulder, before adding, “We should take our little talk to another room.”

—————

“Thirsty?” asks Wonyoung, walking around the room, scouring for the tea infuser.

“Kind of,” you reply, unsure if you really want a drink—or to drink her. Either way, you’re dying for a taste of something sweet. 

While she’s preoccupied with serving you tea, you scan her from head to toe, still dressed in her showy outfit from earlier. A red corset covers her white dress shirt and tie, complemented by her hair wrapped in a cute bun. None of it steals your attention more than her short shorts, showing a glimpse of her plump ass cheeks that ripple when she casually walks back and forth. Her attitude is nothing compared to what she displayed on stage, yet she renders you speechless. In your head, she’s still the daring woman out there performing.

She walks over to you, casually reclined on the comfy sofa, with a fresh pot of tea in hand. Pouring a drink on your cup, she shoots you a heartstopping smile, like she’s facing the cameras; it’s second nature for her to charm. A memory you’ll keep forever. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” Lean over to grab the cup and take a sip. Very hot that it scalds your tongue, causing you to flinch, but it’s tasty. “Mmmmm—hot, hot, hot.”

She giggles in the middle sipping her own self-made drink, but it doesn’t bother her. Admittedly, you’re no religious tea drinker to tolerate it, but on the contrary, she handles it with such well-trained poise. It’s in the little details: how straight her sitting posture is and how she holds the cup in her delicate hand, despite the long nails, along with the saucer—very princess coded.

“Not used to tea?” she asks, before taking another swig at it. “It’s healthy for you, you know that?”

“Don’t really have time for it,” you reply back, mirroring her motion, but the second nip is just as sizzling. As a result, you end up looking even more stupid. She has this neutral, deadpan look on her features, but the little shift in her lips as you burn your tongue on her tea reveals cracks in her well-manufactured character. A very embarrassing display, even behind closed doors. “Shit—I mean, crap, that’s hot—”

“Hey, you can swear here. This isn’t a church.” Her cup is half-empty or half-full, depending on how she sees it, before she puts it down on the table. “So where were we again? Right. Yujin.”

Her name sets off red flags in your head, activating your fight or flight response. Even when you’re in the most secure place in the world, where nothing can hear or see you, she’s lurking around the corners of your mind rent-free. Knowing she’s close with Wonyoung means she’s more than likely in the know about every part of you, down to your most personal parts. The lights prank was the biggest proof of this.

“Tell me. What is she like as a girlfriend to you?” No mincing words, no gentle mood setting opener, she goes straight to the point, yet you’re still on edge. The wary side of you believes she’s probably extracting info that you’re keeping for yourself. It’s the perfect lure; behind all the flashy lights, she has a kind and friendly aura wrapped in a sweet package.

It takes a few minutes to process and think your answer through. Her eyes demand honesty, but to you, it’s probably just a front. She’s a celebrity, after all. She wears a mask everywhere she goes. 

“That’s a very personal question to ask,” you reply, emphasis on very. There are lines that can’t be crossed, and this is one of them. You’re not falling for the bait so easily. 

Wonyoung tilts her head, cocking an eyebrow, unbothered. “I know. Yujin tells me you’re a great lover, but I wanna hear it from your side. How do you feel about her?”

“She’s a great lover too,” you reply, testing the waters’ depth. Very treacherous. Hope it doesn’t pull you down and drag you to the bottom. “She likes to tease, she’s very playful, and she likes to make me look bad in front of her friends, but otherwise, she’s great in just about everything.”

She lifts her eyebrow and nods, taking mental notes of every spoken word. After a pause, it’s on to the next question. “In what way does she make you look bad in front of your friends?”

There’s still time to swim back to safety, but the waves are growing more turbulent by the minute. 

“Er—” you struggle to formulate anything that doesn’t raise a suspicious eyebrow. Either it breaks continuity, or makes no sense. Maybe you’ll float, somehow, but that sinking feeling remains stronger. “She likes to stick it in my face that she can own me if she wants to.”

“And is that not true? You know you’re dating a celebrity right?” Wonyoung places a finger on her chin, staring deeply into your soul. She’s the taller person in the room, but not the bigger person. “We’re kind of narcissistic like that to anyone. You should have known that.”

“If I knew all celebrities were like that, I’d have never come back to her,” you say, using every bit of your willpower not to yell at her. 

“Yet here you are. And you’d never be here without her presence.” Wonyoung crosses her legs, mildly entertained as you gradually pull those metaphorical hairs off in front of her. “You told me she was great at everything, right? I guess ruining the bedroom must be part of that, too.”

The sound that comes out of you is almost inhuman. Wonyoung’s no longer acting sincerely, breaking character to laugh at your misery. It was bound to happen with how shallow your brain thinks. Then again, you weren’t in the clearest state of mind when you reconnected with Yujin.

“I get it. She’s very hot. Everyone wants a piece of her. Consider yourself very lucky she’s just that—and not a naggy bitch, unlike some of the people in this party,” she adds, smarmy in delivery that it doesn’t feel like proper consolation.

“Yeah, but what else am I supposed to do? I don’t like being her punching bag.” 

“To be honest, I don’t know what you two are like, I really don’t.” Wonyoung suddenly stops, hops off from her couch to sit beside you. Disarming of a tone it is, the answer is anything but reassuring.  “But think of it this way. Gotta take the bad with the good, right?”

“I guess.” You take a deep breath, uncertain about what to feel, or do. 

“She hasn’t done anything to you tonight, right?” She quietly wraps an arm over your shoulders, inching her pristine face close to yours. Another line crossed. Forget about that, she’s dancing back and forth between those non-existent lines.

“Nope. Haven’t seen her after the performance, either.” 

Your eyes meet, and hers twinkle brightly, worthy of a star of her name. It’s the thing you wanted the least to happen.  You’re drowning in her gaze.

“Can you do something for me?” she asks, whispering softly. Her breath fills your nostrils with inviting warmth.

“Sure,” you say, without hesitation, throwing all caution to the wind.

“I wanna know what she feels,” she says, each word dripping with honey and rapid growing lust. “I wanna know how she feels with you in bed.”

“Are you sure?” you question, but it’s pointless. Your hands are already tracing the outline of her back, marking new territory to explore, until they cup soft, bare, round flesh. 

“I’m ready,” she replies back, eyes gleaming with desire. She shifts her entire weight onto you, pushing you to the bottom of the couch, asserting dominance over you. “She told me how amazing you are in bed, and I can’t help but be curious. I really wanna know what it’s like.”

Before you can even question the security of the place, she’s right ahead of you. Kissing the ridge of your nose, she whispers, “Don’t worry if we’re being too loud. Only the both of us will know.”

Kiss her on the lips in return. A lure until you flip positions. Suddenly, you’re hovering above her. Your hands drag along upward until they grasp the zipper of her red corset. You meet resistance when she quivers beneath you, shaking her head vehemently.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, pulling yourself back into a crouch.

“I want to keep my clothes on,” she whispers, timid and nervous, her demure character gone in an instant. “Um—it’s not that I suddenly changed my mind, it’s just that I haven’t done this before.”

You sit up on the couch, perfectly understanding, quickly formulating a way for you to make her first time feel comfortable. “Tried any toys before?”

Wonyoung follows you, softly grasping your hand. “Played with a few dildos, but that’s about it. I find it quite uncomfortable at times.”

“Hmm.” An idea suddenly hits you like lightning. It’s ridiculous, but you might as well swing for the fences. “Watched porn?”

“What?” Wonyoung’s jaw slacks, caught off-guard by such a rather obscene question, even by lewd standards. She lets a moment to let the question sink in, more on the side of disbelief than looking for an answer. “Yes, but—why?”

“Well, I was wondering if you want to learn how to suck a cock.”

“Mmm, that sounds interesting, but I’ve seen enough ‘movies' to have an idea.” Wonyoung hops off the couch, promptly drops to her knees. Frisky fingers latch on to the hem of your pants, already ahead of you. “Would you like me to suck your cock?”

There was no need to elaborate any further. 

You give her an approving nod. Immediately, her fingers work on your zipper, sliding them down. The rest of your pants and underwear follow. Her eyes light up at the sight of your cock, springing to life after being freed.

Looking up at you again, she asks, “Can I?”

Nod again, completely hypnotized by the sight of your shaft close to the perfect, young starlet’s face. It’s almost scandalous how you have what’s basically a goddess in everyone’s sight brought down to earth in such a filthy manner. 

“I’m not really good at this, but I really wanna try.” Wonyoung’s being apologetic again before anything happens, and it’s repetitive, but you’ll let it slide over and over. She sticks out her tongue, nervously inching it close to your cock, until it plants atop your tip, breaking your resolve almost immediately.

“Mmmmm.” She gets her first taste of real cock. It's bitter, salty, and everything she expects, everything she craves. That first slurp cools her dry throat, like finding an oasis in the middle of a desert.

“Christ.” You lose control of your senses, eyes growing weary at the sight of her dainty fingers, the way they wrap around the base of your dick, pumping you to full hardness. You can't believe it. There's this surge of ecstasy, and it renders you helpless under her control. "This was your first time? Fuck--"

Sloppy slurps and smooches from her lips reduce you into a groaning mess. She spreads globs of precum all around your shaft, unintentionally spilling little specks on her chin and cheeks. Her eyes continue to watch intently while you fall weak at the knees, clinging nails to the sofa’s linen. Ignore the collateral damage you’re making. It will barely dig into her deep pockets. 

The more Wonyoung continues to blow you off, the more seed splatters onto her, making her sparkly features even more glinting. It’s difficult to comprehend just how incredible she is at sucking cock—or maybe it’s just you struggling to think beyond pleasure and nothing else. She claims it’s her first time, yet the way her fingers stroke you with confident and elaborate precision means anything but. The little bits of white that taint her flawless face do nothing but make a masterpiece shine even brighter.

Her tongue continues to slide and make itself known all over your length. It’s almost impossible not to give in to your urges and force yourself down her throat. She’s doing well so far; you can barely hear her gurgle or complain while she takes more of you inside her, little by little. Caress that dark hair, still bundled together in a cute package. She reciprocates your compliment by pushing a little bit further, even when her maw tries to resist, only to cross a line she hasn’t reached.

“Ghhhk, mmmph, ghhhk!” Wonyoung coughs into your shaft, overwhelmed by the fullness of your length, tickling her sensitive part deep in the gullet. You pull her by the bun, release her throaty grip on your shaft with a sloppy pop, letting saliva spill onto the floor and her dress.

“You okay?” you ask, concealing the bliss you feel with a frown. Compared to her, you’re not a good actor.

To your surprise, she slaps you away from her harshly, then shoots you a disappointed pout. More adorable than intimidating. “I was still adjusting, asshole. If your dick wasn’t so fucking big—”

“Gotta take the bad with the good, right?” you deflect what she said to you earlier, chuckling at her cute scowl. Unknowingly, Yujin’s mannerisms are rubbing off on you, but you refuse to give credit where it’s due.

Wonyoung rises from the floor, opting to straddle herself on your lap instead. Your shaft lines against soft, wet flesh. Her hands grab the bottom of her shorts, pulling them up for easier access to her folds. It’s impossible to look anywhere but those magnetic caramel eyes, staring deep into your soul, telling you what she wants, without the need of any needless words.

“I’m ready now.” She rests her hands against your shoulders, looking at you expectantly. That was only a warm-up. It’s time for the real test. “Fuck me.”

You’re briefly taken aback just by how blunt her demand is, but those two words spoken in such a sensuous tone linger. Denying her at this stage would be downright criminal. Her slim thighs wrap around the area where your cock stands, the softness of her skin more than capable of making you cum before you can do anything. 

She leans forward to capture you in a passionate kiss, hotter and more passionate than the first. The spell that pushes away whatever logical and moral barriers remain. There’s an angel placed before your lap; time to make her sing. 

Lift her up until she gently descends and makes a graceful landing against your shaft. Upon impact, the kiss is disrupted, rocking her entire body with a new, electric sensation. Moaning music  into your mouth, she makes it clear how heavenly you feel. 

“Mmm—oh God, you’re already stretching me out,” she purrs against you, shutting her eyes and letting all the pleasure wash over her. 

“Better than any dildo?” 

“Better than any dildo.” She nods, lifting her head to expose her neck, clean and pure—ready for ruin, just like every other part of her. 

“Just moan for me, okay?” you say, whispering against her nape. “I’m gonna fuck you like how I fuck Yujin.”

Her body locks as you push deep into her tight, overwhelming cunt. To say she was suffocating would be an understatement. Her sopping pussy proves to be a strong vacuum when you draw back for the first time, pulling every bit of you deep into her core. She’s grasping at straws to not fall apart so quickly. Tugging your hair, neck, and into your expensive dress shirt—none of that bothers you in the slightest, thrusting in a second time, adjusting quicker to her heat than you expected.

You release a breath you’ve unknowingly been holding, looking up at her pleasure ridden face. Her expressions melt in every direction, chest heaving deeply from all the built-up pleasure. “You’re really tight, Wony.”

Resting her forehead against your temple, her palm grips the back of your skull. “And you’re so big.” Praise you’ll never grow tired of hearing from anyone. “C’mon. Do it already.”

In an ideal world, all her clothes would have been gone while you pound into her wet, delicious pussy. This is just as hot, too—maybe even hotter. The usually imperfect Wonyoung looking like your typical girl at the local bar arouses you. So you weaponize those nasty thoughts and do your God-given purpose—to fuck pleasure into their needy, wanton bodies.

Pushing your strained hips up, you pound her, make her sing to high heaven. Hungry fingers hike up the rest of the leftover fabric in her shorts being sucked in by her gap, partially stained from pent up excitement. It’s a familiar feeling, reminiscent of when you were young, innocent and didn’t know any better. Now it’s playing out again, scene by scene, with a few key differences. The girl is different, and you’re nowhere close to being drunk, but here you are—stuck in that old place.

Wonyoung is nowhere close to assertive, unlike her. Her confidence and emphaticness immediately crumble after the first thrust, and freefall even further on the second. She’s not ripping through your clothes, nor is she eager to lead you to bed right away, how she has you glued to the couch with those slender legs. None of that matters when her moans are pornographic, unbefitting of her otherwise pure, princess-like charm that she’s famously known for. On the contrary, her torrid, frantic kisses perfectly embody that trademark allure.

You’re testing those waters again to see how far you’ll go before you inevitably drown. One hand rests at the zipper of her corset, imprinted with your fingerprints, eagerly anticipating her go-ahead for undressing. The other confides on her plump ass molding into your grip, into something truly yours. Meanwhile, she continues to alternate between a mewl and a moan, crashing her body against your shaft to stretch her out even further. Soften her up more with kisses and nibbles on her chin and neck, leave crimson marks as red as her dress. As glowing as she already is, she will shine brighter than the lights above.

“Yujin must be so lucky to have you,” whines Wonyoung, huskily, tilting your face up to meet her fluttery eyes glazed with pleasure, expressions twisting with every overwhelming sensation. She kisses you again. The taste of strawberry flavored lipstick will never leave you. “This dick is so good—”

“I’m still holding back, babe.” Kiss her reddened neck and collarbone. The way she moans in response reminds you of her, a pleasure they both share. “I want you to feel good since it’s your first time.”

Yujin would demand you to up the pace, and lead you to a rushed ruin, but not Wonyoung. “It really feels so good. Keep going.”

Even as you engage in small conversation, your slow, loving tempo rocks her light frame vigorously, releasing sweet melodies you’d never hear from that mouth otherwise. Her tight, sopping cunt flexes against your cock, allowing you smoother and sloppier glides in and out of her core. You’re nowhere close to hitting the perfect angle, but her silvery mewls offer consolation. She continues to envelop you in her tight embrace, hands reaching all over your back, wanting more of you merged with her as possible.

The hand itching to undress her roams down her back to rejoin the other in squeezing her soft, cheeky flesh. To your amusement, she yelps in your ear and she violently quivers, eliciting a silent giggle out of you. A test of the room’s soundproofing, and it works as intended. Her entire body is in your grasp, moldable and malleable in any shape and form to your heart’s utmost desires. 

“I don’t know how much longer I can last. I’m so close to cumming,” she whispers, and it only spurs you on to lead her into a satisfying climax. Slow as you are penetrating her, you want the moment to last longer. A few minutes isn’t enough for you to relish the warm sensation of your cock buried in her incredibly tight hole. Still, she has this look in her weary eyes demanding you to pull through, which you happily oblige.

“Where do you want me to cum?” you ask, slowing your pace down that even snails move faster. You’re unwilling to take any risks, especially with someone like her.

“Anywhere you want.” Wonyoung continues to fuck herself against your cock, apathetic about everything else except the high she intensely seeks. “I swear, if you pull out now, I’m going to—”

A kiss on those sensitive collarbones tempers her demanding mouth, back to those broken, varied moans. Another reminder that she’s nowhere close to grabbing you by the balls like Yujin could. As punishment, the dress must come off, but you know it’s not worth the rest of your life in perpetual harassment in exchange for temporary pleasure. You’ve already learned your lesson; she’ll understand it one day.

For now, you settle into that laid back pace, lifting yourself a bit off the couch as much as your legs allow you to. Wonyoung has basically marked down your whole back with her nails, hoarsely squealing and whimpering as her body trembles. You can feel it in every part of her how she’s ready to cum with the way her pussy clenches against your cock, unwilling to let go, just like the first time you entered her.

“Oh god, I’m gonna cum—” 

Right on the dot, Wonyoung finally gives in, throwing her head back to let pleasure run its course. It pulls you deep, gives her juices to liberally coat your shaft with delicious waves of slick, dripping on the couch and down to her thighs, forming a lifetime connection with you. The force sends you back down on the sofa, enough to stop you right in your tracks, long before you’re even close to cumming. 

“Oh my god, oh my god. I came so much.” Firmly clinging to you, she rests her head on your shoulders, completely zapped of all her strength. Her eyes tilt down to note the wet puddle blocked by your legs. It doesn’t alarm her in the slightest; to her, a replacement couch is cheaper than a thorough cleaning. 

Kissing her ear and placing her beside you on the sofa, you quietly ask, “How was it?”

“I came so much. Oh my God,” she says, unable to comprehend she spilled that much. Her gaze remains glued to the wet pool formed on the couch, now seeing the full extent of her wreckage. A curious finger taps the sticky pool to make sure she’s not imagining things. “I don’t think I ever came that much with any dildo.”

Putting back your pants on, you smile at her innocent reaction. She’s still fresh to it all, but there’s a curiosity in her eyes, wanting to learn more. “You’ll get used to it.”

“I really wanted to undress you, you know.” you follow, examining her from head to toe, all sweaty and clothes soiled from a simple session—and you weren’t trying too hard. “I can’t help but imagine what’s beneath all that clothing.”

“You’ll see.” Her eyes have a fiery glint reminiscent of your girlfriend, and all of a sudden, she has this renewed life. “Just so you know, you didn’t cum in me, asshole.”

“Just being safe,” you reply, shrugging your shoulders. “Wasn’t sure if you were on the pill or not.”

“Of course I was on the pill.” Wonyoung looks away, but you can discern the scornful expression on her features, seemingly offended by your comment. “I would never.”

You flash a taunting smirk, ready to play her preferred trick. There was no way this would end after a one and done. “Why don’t we take this to the bed right now, then?” 

—————

It was so obvious right from the start. 

The door barely grants access to Wonyoung’s bedroom, but you already had a finger directed at the center of the mattress, pointing out the glaringly obvious figure laying on its edge. It doesn’t surprise you in the slightest, and looking back in retrospect, everything building up to this moment was all part of an elaborate plan.The questions, the setup, the secretive location—they were all red flags. Then again, you always think with your cock, not with your brain, especially when there’s a pretty girl begging for it.

“Hey sweetheart,” says Yujin, whimsically, posing on her side like it’s one of her typical photoshoots. Like Wonyoung, she’s still in her performance outfit, but with her hair down in contrast to her junior’s bun. “Having fun?”

“Was,” you retort, but your complaint has no ground when you’re unable to keep your eyes off your seductive girlfriend. 

She smirks and giggles, knowing everything’s falling into place. “Wony baby. How was the experience?”

“Pretty good,” replies Wonyoung, smiling from ear to ear. “He didn’t cum in me though.”

“Hey,” you suddenly blurt out, turning your gaze to the younger woman, not even trying to hide your annoyance, because you know what really happened.

“You’ll get yours, babe.” Yujin rolls off the bed to approach you, retaking control of what’s hers from her friend. She then pushes you onto the mattress, staring you down like a hungry predator stalking down her prey, aroused by the taste of blood—or in this case, lust. If not for those fiery pupils watching your every little move, hammering home the fear of God into your soul, there would be some fight in you to resist.

Now that’s a lie, because you would never—she always had her way with you.

“Watch and learn.” Climbing and hovering atop you, slowly spreading your legs, Yujin looks over to her best friend, watching on eagerly to see what it’s really like with you two. She’s seated on the edge of the bed, having restored much of her elegant poise to its clean, camera friendly form. 

“You did a great job warming him up for me,” says Yujin, grinding her hips against your clothed prison, already on the verge of blowing up. The two beauties watch in amusement as your tent pitches a second time. Fuck. You’re already leaking copious amounts, it’s quite obvious, and she’s humping you at such a relaxed tempo. 

“He really wanted to undress me,” comments Wonyoung, still flashing that princess-like beam, looking innocent in the matter, when in fact, she’s the instigator. “I told him not to, and he thankfully didn’t, but I felt his hands on my zipper a few times.”

“Mmm, being so naughty when I’m not looking?” Yujin’s tone is honeyed, but her movements are anything but. The pace she grinds herself against you quickens, and you’ve never felt so desperate for release, but you had no say in the matter—not when she has your hands tied over your head, kept in place by Wonyoung’s delicate but firm grip. “Were you ready to leave me for her? Good choice, but typical.”

Quick fingers make near-instant work of your pants and underwear, pushed down to the floor in an instant, freeing up your hard cock. Such relieving freedom is taken away just as quickly as it’s given when Yujin seizes you by the balls and your length, setting you alight. Each second burns hotter than the last, a kind of fucked-up form of punishment typical of the justice system. 

“Jesus, f-fuck, Yujin—” you hoarsely whimper, visibly struggling to gather air, but it only serves to arouse Yujin, and she reprimands your feeble oppression with a tighter lock on your most sensitive parts, smirking devilishly. It’s useless. For Yujin, this is all play, an elaborate demonstration to teach Wonyoung, but the pain is real. There’s a good likelihood you may not have a functioning pelvis in the morning. 

“You’re being very rough on him.” Wonyoung watches on concernedly, but also intrigued by the rather torturous method being performed. She knows she couldn’t overpower Yujin if she tried, and well, she most certainly didn’t want to be on the receiving end of her hands, either.

“He actually enjoys being handled like this, dear.” Yujin makes sure not a single spot in your shaft is left unchecked by her steely hold. The deflated, helpless expression on your face says otherwise, but it’s only a front for what comes after. Little white spurts spill from the tip of your shaft, sufficient evidence to prove her point. “See?”

“Mm, are they like this all the time?” Wonyoung remains unconvinced. 

“Not always, but you’ll find one someday—someone who’ll beg on their knees to fuck you.” Her stranglehold on your cock loosens, finally giving you some actual breathing room—at least in your groin. “Didn’t you have that Korean government official sending you birthday ads and flowers?”

“Too ugly for my taste.” The younger woman grimaces at the reminder of that particular man, wishing he never be brought up in conversation ever again, much to her friend’s laughter. “I would never.”

Yujin nods along in agreement. “You’re too pretty for him. I bet he doesn’t even have a big dick like our little friend over here.”

“True.” Suddenly, both pairs of eyes turn in your direction, stare you down with a malicious smirk, full of purposeful intent. You would meet them halfway with your own confidence, but not when you’re in such a powerless position and with most of your strength sapped.

“Come up here.” Yujin gestures to her keen friend, hopping off your lap to make room for the lighter woman. Hiking up her equally short shorts, she hovers above you, giving you a peek of her splayed out pussy—the one you’ve craved for so long. Meanwhile, Wonyoung occupies the space previously occupied by Yujin, smothering you in a sea of soft, creamy thighs. The older woman spins around to face her untrained partner, hanging her cheeky flesh atop your face—a perfect view and obstruction.

“What are you gonna do to him?” asks Wonyoung, eyes wide with curiosity at Yujin’s seemingly awkward and strained position.

“Don’t pay attention to him.” Yujin promptly rests her ass against your face like a pillow, followed by her thighs muffling up your ears. “Get on top of his cock.”

Wonyoung complies, gliding her hips down in a graceful manner until she hilts herself down to your base, impaling her cunt with your hard dick. The inviting, suffocating heat that surges throughout your sensitive body makes you violently tremble. What a position you are in, something that most people in the country could only dream of. Two beauties in the prime of youth, desired by everyone, sandwiching you with their perfect, goddess-like figures. At this point, you were simply an outlet of pleasure to two wanton, hot bodies and nothing more. 

“O-oh God—” Yujin lets out a prolonged, tense whine as your tongue licks between her glistening folds, indulging in the sweet taste of her wet juices. Her thighs tighten up in response to your stimulation, closing spaces where you can breathe, but that doesn’t bother you. You craved her more than a drink in a dry desert with the way you lapped up her slick, and her suffocating legs were nothing but practice to hold in your deep breaths. For once, it was nice to have some form of control in the situation.

“You okay?” asks Wonyoung, clambering her palms against your thighs, looking hesitant.

“More than okay. This feels so fucking good.” Yujin’s confident expressions gradually melt away to make room for pleasure to take over. Before long, her slender, hourglass-shaped hips ride against your face, maximizing the areas your tongue can dig into. Her hands cling to your clothed chest for support, unable to remain balanced while you continue to feast on her. Miraculously, she’s still able to formulate a follow up, albeit with a string of stammers and stutters. “S-see? You’ll w-want your guy to be l-like this.”

“C-come on, ride h-his c-cock, d-dear. I-I-i’m s-sure h-he won’t mind.” Yujin reassures her friend with a weak smile that immediately folds under the helpless, blissful sensations her body feels. 

Fueled by newly found courage, Wonyoung glides and slams her hips against yours in delicate, graceful motions, still testing her limits. Your primal instincts take hold of you and you thrust upwards in kind, making her thin figure move atop you in smooth waves. It doesn’t take long before their collective moans form a harmonious symphony that you wish you could hear perfectly, if not for the two layers of silky, thick skin blocking your ears. 

“F-fuck!” Wonyoung whines, clutching at your waist, but the overbearing pleasure coursing through her body almost makes her fall off multiple times. Thankfully, her closest friend is there to keep her on her toes. “O-oh my God, o-oh God—”

“Feels good, doesn't it?” Yujin rests her hands on her junior’s shoulders while grinding her ass against your face, allowing you an endless fill from her slick fountain. “Just hold on. I’m here, okay?”

Wonyoung nods. Unsatisfied with her limitations, her hips increase in pace riding you. She wants to prove she can handle it, and that she’s ready for more of it. Soon, she grows comfortable, fully adjusted to your length. No longer needing Yujin’s help, she helps herself to her own lewd pleasures, using your cock roughly as her conduit. 

Not a single second passes by that you feel your body split in half, moving in two different wavelengths: one half preoccupied with eating Yujin’s delicious pussy, and the other slowly pumping into Wonyoung’s tight, sopping cunt. You’re a quick learner. You know all their sweet spots to hit and create the most satisfying sounds from their lips. Subtlety is the least of their priorities—a point proven when they’re loudly cursing and passionately declaring how good you feel, echoing across several rooms. The rooms might be soundproof, but the entire mansion may as well hear you three fuck.

Between clean licks of Yujin’s wet folds, when she lifts her ass out of your view, you can barely make out her and Wonyoung’s pleasure-ridden expressions. The two friends have begun making out with each other in between lewd moans and whispers, while never letting up the pace they ride you with.  

You’d love to lay in this position forever, as the complementary piece for two of the most beautiful girls you’ve ever met to pour out their pleasure in. But you knew deep down it wouldn’t last long, especially with Wonyoung, freshly recovered from your first session with her. She was always a ticking time bomb with a shorter fuse, accelerated by the now vigorous rhythm she rode your cock. It was always on your mind that this was her first, but she was fucking you like she had racked up a significant body count.

“S-so c-close,” whines Yujin, huskily, the first spoken word in a while that isn’t either your name or some kind of profanity. 

“M-me too,” adds Wonyoung, breaking sequence with a deep kiss of her partner’s lips. There might be no competition, but the twosome’s intensity rises even higher as they desperately chase after that climax. Your body is close to falling apart, cock throbbing wildly, also on the cusp of sweet release, but you’re merely a silent witness with little to no say. You’re just a channel for them to bask in bodily, sexual pleasure. 

It’s all but inevitable at this point. The real question is: who would be the first to cum, the first to start a chain reaction?

Their cries bounce loudly against the walls of the bedroom, past opened rooms as they lose control of their bodies, fucking themselves on you until the dams finally break. Yujin’s muscles spasm and crush you between her thighs. For a moment, you’d think she could snap you in half like a twig. A waterfall and a lake forms on opposite ends of your powerless body, creating two sticky pools on both sides. The powerful double surge of their climaxes is enough to bring you to a full stop, allowing them to drown you in their orgasmic bliss, creating one last crescendo as a swan song to their peaks. 

The wave of Wonyoung’s orgasm washing over your cock should make you orgasm too, urging the tightness in your balls to burn up. Thank your lucky stars you grinded to a standstill right as they came, giving you enough time to put up some form of resolve not to cum in her right then and there. You’ve been holding the impulse for so long, but you wanted your load not to belong to her first.

To your regret, Yujin clambers off you, parting her bountiful ass away from your face and bringing you to the light. Similarly, Wonyoung gingerly slides off your lap, rolls over to the side, wrapping an arm around your body, completely zapped of all her energy. Yujin rests opposite her junior, not as fatigued as she is. She can’t resist giggling when she sees the aftermath done to you, your entire face a canvas for her cum, which you clean with your tongue. 

“You did a number to her. Good job,” she says, darting her eyes over to her tired friend. She plants a finger on your groin, collecting a sampler of Wonyoung’s juices to taste in her mouth before gathering more to put in your mouth as well. Licking her wet digits, she adds, “Tasty.”

Her words barely register in your brain, and so does the little slick she places in your mouth. Your mind only focuses on one particular thing you’ve always wanted to do the whole night besides fucking, and that is to undress both girls and fuck them.

“You okay, Wony?” You turn over to face the worn out Wonyoung, who shoots you a weak but satisfied smile. She lifts her tired arm to give you a thumbs up, as if her beautiful beam wasn’t enough of a reassurance. “You know Yujin and I fuck more than once, right?”

“I know,” replies Wonyoung, coming out as little more than a faint whisper, mirroring her exhaustion. “Give me a minute. Maybe two.”

Eager as you were, you needed a breather, too, and there was no better place to rest than in the middle of two hot girls, lovingly resting their arms around you like they belonged to you.

—————

You take a beat to wipe the nonexistent filth off your chest as the two beauties stride ahead of you towards the desk table. With the way they walk, it doesn’t look apparent that they were railed to oblivion minutes prior. An insignificant detail that quickly becomes forgotten when your eyes take in the seductive and inviting manner they present themselves to you. Two sets of mouthwatering cheeks peek through their particularly short shorts—the most intrusive thing between you and them.

“Come on and fuck us, sweetheart,” says Yujin, looking over her shoulder with that sultry, near-impossible to resist gaze to entice you with sweet, dirty pleas, as if you weren’t already intending to fuck them hard. You always loved to hear those two words, but it’s a lot more special that she’s not alone. 

“You still owe me your cum, baby,” adds Wonyoung, trying but cutely failing to mimic her friend’s motions and sexy voice. There’s still an air of elegance and cutesiness in her projection that almost makes you giggle in amusement, but you wouldn’t dare—not when Yujin’s there, eying your little every move, growing impatient and testy, likely because she would pick her over you any day. 

Count your blessings.

It’s not difficult to get hard again, especially with the delicious sight in front of you. You finally rid the pesky dress shirt they’ve never removed and expose yourself down to your barest essentials. Positioning yourself between their legs, you stroke your cock with your hand, paint flecks of precum on their round cheeks, warming yourself up to embrace their heat. It’s impossible not to give their flesh a good smack as a reminder that their clean image is nothing more than just that—an image, a facade. You know them more intimately than anyone else.

“You two are so fucking hot,” you say, peppering their asses with a palmful, first to Yujin, then to Wonyoung. “And so naughty. I wonder what those people would say when they see you looking like this?” 

“What did I tell you about kissing ass during sex, sweetheart?” Yujin shoots pointed daggers in your direction, unamused. Wonyoung’s not innocent either, following her senior’s eyes with an intrigued gaze. “Put it in already, babe.”

And that was all she said. 

It only takes a moment before Yujin falls back to earth. All of her confidence instantly crumbles as you line yourself between her folds, then promptly invade her tight, welcoming pussy, foregoing all manner of pleasantries. She’s as warm and divine as you always wanted her, made easier and slicker by all the juices dripping and flowing down her toned legs. Her face rolls and slams against the surface, yet it can barely contain her strained cries of pleasure. Frantic nails scratch against the board’s edge as her body reacts to every little jolt, surrendering herself to your every whim.

You don’t leave Wonyoung unattended either. You slip a finger between her soaked lips, watch as her sweet, innocuous face crumbles into something lewd, something corrupted. Her eyes immediately go shut and her mouth goes wide with a whine a pitch higher than her senior before they melt into the desk. She’s a bundled mess, moaning into her friend’s ear as her pussy graciously coats your fingers with thick sheens of slick.

“P-please, o-oh God—”

“F-fuck, f-fuck, aaaaah—”

Their combined voices of strained, distorted bliss, dripping from their pleasure-laden faces spur you on and motivate you to ruin them some more. It’s unbelievable how they present themselves out there with a clean image when they have the most salacious, lewd tongues in private. None of it makes sense, how they could wear skimpy clothing in the sight of the most esteemed and well-regarded people in the room and no one would bat an eye, and they certainly wouldn’t raise an eyebrow with how loud they are as they’re being pounded from behind.

None of that ultimately matters to you. You don’t see two big celebrities in front of you. You don’t see your girlfriend and her partner asking for sex. You only see two of the hottest girls you know demanding pleasure, and you’re more than willing to give them everything.

With one hand gripped on Yujin’s ass and two fingers on the other deep inside Wonyoung’s cunt, you dive in and indulge into their overwhelming wetness. This is the kind of sex you always preferred—without any banter, without any further demands, just mindless submission into each other’s heat, filling the air with only the most pornographic sounds and nothing else. There’s nothing the two can do in response, especially when their bodies are squirming and vibrating beneath you, tightly clinging on the desk for dear life, growing wetter with each pump into their wanton pussies.

Without any voices in your head giving you directions, you have free reign to toy with them, use them as your outlet of pleasure now. So you switch your position behind them, sliding your wet dick inside Wonyoung’s pussy and replacing your cock inside Yujin’s cunt with your fingers. Even as you skip a beat, they’re too enamored in their own pleasures to realize your sudden absence, and far preoccupied by the new presence in their loins to care. 

That’s the sequence you follow: mindlessly stroking yourself deep into their hot, drenched cunt while fingering the other, back and forth, ignoring the discomfort you feel in both your legs and fingers from this disruptive cycle. Your only regret is not being able to see the twisted expressions in their stained features without a mirror to revel in their perfect, pornographic image, but the chorus of moans accompanied by your flesh slapping against their flesh are more than enough of a validation. 

“Going to cum, fuck,” you quietly announce, not wanting to let one seize demand over the other, but their ears catch wind of your little words. They tilt their heads slightly upward, still in the throes of bodily pleasure.

“Please cum for me.”

“Cum inside me, baby.”

Distinct as their voices are, they’re indiscernible to your ears, especially when they’re so husky and strained. Using the last of your strength, you pull out of someone’s pussy, stroke your throbbing cock with your hand, gasping and grunting as you finally let go. Gripping the other hand on someone’s waist, thick streaks of seed stain both girls’ clothes and cheeks, coat reddish spots of pounded flesh, letting it drip down their butt and thighs, to their boots.

The two girls lie motionless on the desk while you cling to their waist, gasping for air, barely holding out after your powerful release. Their legs and ass glow with your freshly coated sheen under the orange lights of the bedroom, and they sparkle brighter than any diamond in the world. 

“You okay, sweetheart?” Yujin’s voice brings you back to reality. She’s the first to catch you in her embrace, cheekily smiling. 

Unable to muster up the strength to speak, you simply nod, head still spinning.

“Is it okay if I ask you a question?” Wonyoung asks, having unlatched herself from the table to join in the embrace, pecking your cheek with her soft lips. Your eyes glaze over the young beauty in response.

“Whose pussy was better? Mine or hers?”

A question you certainly have no answer to—nor do you have any intention of answering.

“I guess he’s still undecided,” says Wonyoung, turning to her senior, smirking. “Do you know?”

“Nope. I have no idea either.” Yujin’s sweet grin turns into the same, wicked smirk. 

Something’s wrong; you can feel it. You feel yourself staggering backward, saved only by their embrace of you. Yujin and Wonyoung kiss and moan into your body while moving you in the direction of the bathroom.

Possession of control swings back in their favor. They have you exactly where they want.

“Only one way to find out.”

—————

(A/N: Holy shit this one was an uphill one to create. I'm not a Wonyoung simp, not in the slightest even after writing this piece, but her SBS Gayo outfit made me feel some kind of way. Then there's Yujin being perfect as always. This is barely my new longest fic, topping out at a little over 12K words, and working on it became a chore at times. I only revisited this universe only because of those outfits and how good they looked together. Thank you for reading!)

[sepheray]

you should totally write finnick angst!!!! Idk if this makes sense but maybe you can write about how the reader was taken to the capitol along with peeta and johanna and when she comes back she’s terrified of finnick because she was shown and told that he was dead

Reader has trouble distinguishing what’s real and what’s not since she was told everyone in 13 was dead

But Finnick does everything he can to help her and eventually gets her back

I HOPE IT MAKES SENSE ITS BEEN ON MY MIND FOR A WHILEEE

Also you are amazing 🫶🫶

Love you better - Finnick Odair x fem!reader

summary: reader is rescued from the Capitol and brought to district 13, where Finnick lies in waiting to welcome his love back in his arms, only her mind is warped and washed and Finnick must fight to keep her.

Finnick Odair who is down in the weapons defence unit, assisting Beetee with designing a new trident when he catches word of a rescue party returning from the Capitol. Of course his brain scrambles to his love. His poor, sweet love who he let out of his sight in what he, at the time, had no idea would be the last hour of the 75th Hunger Games. When he had woken up in the hovercraft, aching all over from the electric volts, he had a bittersweet feeling nesting in his chest. Everything had gone to plan, right? But no… something was wrong. He remembered his eyes darting around the hovercraft, searching desperately for her. But his sweet girl was not here, and sitting down with Haymitch and Plutarch only confirmed his worst suspicions. The Capitol had her, she was not safe, and even worse he felt an inescapable guilt. This was his fault. Snow had taken her to use as leverage against him, he knew it. He had lost track of the days since he had lost her, lost track of the tears and the amount of times he thought of his lovely girl. His mind had drowned in a haze of the colour of her eyes and the little knots he made in pieces of rope; he made sure there was no room for anything else.

He blinked back into reality when he feels a gentle tap on his shoulder; spinning around, he’s greeted once again with Haymitch. The uncharacteristically sober man is sporting a half-smile, something that clears Finnick’s mind slightly. Surely if Haymitch is glad, it can’t be bad news? “She’s safe, she’s alive,” Haymitch’s tone is decisive as if he’s picking his words carefully, stepping on eggshells to avoid Finnick’s newfound distress. “I thought you’d want to see her.” The bronze-haired man finds himself nodding frantically before Haymitch’s gruff voice even finishes his suggestion. Within seconds, he’s panting outside of District Thirteen’s medical unit. He stood straight for a while, chest rising and falling rapidly as he prepares himself for the moments to come. Would she run into his arms? Cower away from him? He hoped not. He thought his heart would break at the sight. He pushes through the doors before he can double think it, doctors recognising him and leading him to one of the private, solitary rooms. This was it. His sweet girl was in here, either eager to see him or broken and disheartened by the Capitol. Finnick took a deep breath and pushed the door open, stepping inside as quietly as he could, and closing the heavy door. She looked terrible. His gorgeous girl with her radiant skin, bright eyes and vibrant laugh barely looked like herself anymore. Her face was almost gaunt, and her skin draped along her, now, prominent cheekbones. She looked up at him, those eyes he loved so very much miserable but with a certain curiosity that made him hope that what they had between them could still be salvaged. The Capitol hadn’t ruined them yet.

A soft and meek voice spoke up, dull eyes analysing him carefully. “…Finnick,” His lips curl up at the sound of his name. God, how he had missed hearing his boring old name pouring like honey from those lovely lips. He took another deep breath, desperate to not scare her into retreat. “hi, honey.” Finnick spoke carefully, his tone gentle as he stood still, the doctors who had consulted him earlier had advised him to make minimum movement as to not distress her further. She stared at him silently for a second, hesitating as her pretty eyebrows furrowed. “I thought you were dead,” it was his turn to furrow his eyebrows. Hadn’t anyone thought to let her know that he was alive and well? He grimaced at her sadly, he had no idea what to say to her. Finnick had planned out their reunion thousands of times in his head over the past couple of months, and yet here she was, sat right in front of him, and he was at a loss for words. He took a few moments to pick out his words, trying to get his point across as simply as he could without confusing her pretty little head further. The man felt his heart swell with all the yearning he had endured for her recently as she reached out for him, wanting nothing but the comfort of his touch. Finnick stepped forward carefully, taking her outstretched hand in his as he stood near the side of the uncomfortable bed. She mumbled to herself, unknowingly breaking his heart as she did. “S’confused, Finnick. Had no idea whether you were alive, all I wanted was to see you.” He squeezed her hand at her confession, wanting nothing more than to soothe her lost mind. All these months he had been so angry at the Capitol for taking his sweet girl from him. Finnick was not angry now, he knew anger had no use. He had to be tender with his love, patient especially when she could not decipher the truth.

He sat down beside her gently, still holding onto her cold hand. She brought her knees up to her chest, gazing at him as if he was the only one who could rehang the stars for her. Finnick rubbed a comforting thumb across her knuckles murmuring sweet phrases of reassurance. “You’re alright now, sweet girl, I’m gonna get you well again” he meant it. He was willing to do anything to make sure that his lovely girl would go back to the sunshine she had once been. Finnick would stand with her through what was the truth and what was the capitol’s truth, sorting through her tampered memories tirelessly. She surged forward, embracing him tightly, saying a million things and yet nothing at the same time. The embrace meant trust, meant vulnerability but at the same time he knew that it would take time to work through this, time that he was willing to put in. He snaked his arms tightly around her waist, supporting her in a fragile moment that Finnick would not let the Capitol take from them. “We’ll get you better, sweetheart. No matter what it takes” yes, he was going to fix this for her. He was going to make sure his sweet girl could bare her teeth in every smile yet again, that she could squeal and splash him, giggling all the while, as he dunked her under the sea’s surface back home in their beloved District 4. He was going to get her back.

[softdykellie]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ ivy | ellie w.

PAIRING: ellie x fem!reader

SUMMARY: although years have gone by, ellie cannot seem to get over the one that got away when a drunk night with friends lead to unexpected past places.

WARNING: somewhat nsfw and somewhat angst

WORD COUNT: 1.049

love, what’s it good for? a neurological con job, an excruciatingly slow but certain downwards spiral towards heartbreak– ellie was painfully aware of the sole two outcomes the feeling could possibly amount to, both of which meant agony ripping at her insides, a flesh eating beast doomed to haunt her ribcage as a lonely heart’s guard. she drowned out the sound of her cries permanently stuck in a lump between the clavicules with alcohol as though it would wipe her insides clean of romance’s remnants. five years was an eternity of time; she cursed the motherfucker who claimed time healed all wounds while hers remained too fresh for scabs. jesse was the one to pull her away from the destructive thoughts, a hand to the shoulder immediately flinched from.

“you know when we first became friends i lost a ten dollar bet ‘cause i was sure you’d be a fun drunk? two cups later you turned into fucking nietzsche or some shit. every time we go out just know i mourn my money”

ellie smirked in response before her body reminded itself why it has become that way.

eighteen year olds with raging hormones smuggling contraband to a half acquaintance’s garage party were the stupidest people allowed to carry hearts on their sleeve, always a truth or dare game away from confessing shakesperian feelings in stutters and chokeholds. your first kiss together was a seven minutes in heaven, where ellie swore she’d moved the empty bottle through newly acquired telekinesis.

she was cocky back then, careless too. entered the closet with a hand by your lowerback and so quickly crashed your lips together there was barely time to catch a breath. it was chapped, and desperate, and golden. she tasted of weed and every shooting star wish you ever made coming true, you tasted of cheap wine and candy rush on a five year old– your bodies pressed so close against eachother the wooden shelves trembled at the embrace. ellie used to be funny and you, god, you used to be made of giggles that put the sun to shame. she remembered your laugh into the kiss, the way it echoed down her throat, and that thought in its pureness lead to less holy memories of your moans, of how she used to rub herself against you till the wetness made you one, and her core ached. another sip of her drink to mask your taste still so effortlessly by her tongue through thought only she was sure to be going insane.

“you just need to get laid” jesse pointed out every attractive girl by the bar that drooled at her sight and blushed under her gaze, all predictable, none you. she wanted to get laid alright, she just needed it to be with you.

ellie remembered the last time you fucked; remembered the airport bathroom becoming increasingly smaller with every finger thrust, remembered whispering in your ear you would always be hers, remembered best of all you agreeing in hushed, choked out moans. you were late and you were wet dripping past your thighs, she licked you clean and savored it.

“found your little miss sunshine” dina struck her out of her thoughts so frantically ellie’s head spun even as she coaxed words to come out.

“what are you talking about?”

“her address. it’s wonders what one can do with a full name and the internet nowadays. it’s a five hour drive, if we get going now we’ll be there by two a.m for sure–“

“are you insane? what the fuck am i gonna do, ring my ex girlfriend’s doorbell at two in the morning half a decade after we last seen eachother and go hey i haven’t gotten over you since you left me five years ago to a new city, wanna get back together?” ellie mocked sincerely.

“i mean you don’t really have to do anything, we could always just stand there and think this whole thing was super funny tomorrow”

half a whiskey bottle in and two road trip! chants that coaxed the entire clueless bar of drunks to join in unknowingly later, it was a mostly convincing idea. that’s how she lost a hundred bucks to an unknown chatty bartender newly designated driver who had nothing to lose but a job shift and spent the next hours of her life being sobered up by dina’s relentlessly flirting towards the girl. ellie wasn’t sure when she had fallen asleep, only noticed jesse’s shoulder beneath her cheek poking her face as to wake her up once the car was at a full stop, anticipation bouncing off of every member of the drive choking her in anxiety now fully soberly aware of her actions.

the neighborhood was different, quiet, green. it was odd knowing your exact house despite never being close to it before– she knew by the garden, infested of dandelions. you called them the wishing flowers and teared up when ellie told you they were actually weeds. you two had planned a dandelion filled front porch together, and there you were, living it alone. she felt pathetic, letting the feeling sink to the pit of her stomach, refused to get out of the car and finally had her arguments interrupted by a loud meowing. and saw you. messy hair left to roam free, mismatched socks, an oversized band t-shirt, her t-shirt, and nothing else.

“joel” you cooed, raising the impatient and loud kitten up towards your arms and it nuzzled onto your tired face “you have to stop leaving in the middle of the night okay? i can’t keep waking up like this”

ellie was frozen in place, watching your every move. your baby voice so soft she barely heard it from parking, the softness of your touch melting even a cat into submission, the way you had not changed one bit immediately transporting her into the past. the spell she had been under to observe you endlessly having only been broken by the front seat window rolling open noisily, though not fast enough to stop the wreckage coming as dina opened her mouth, inconsequential.

“hey, miss sunshine! i got your ex girlfriend in the back!”

your eyes met. the kisses, the taste, the skin, the caressing, the warmth, the words, the foreheads, the flowers, everything rushed back.

“els?”

[v3nusxsky]

Aaa I loved the Larissa x Lesso fic! Could you please write a fic where it's late at night and Lesso's refusing to sleep because she has to do paperwork and Larissa is trying to force her to sleep? Could be smut or fluff it's up to you!

Distractions

*authors note~ I absolutely adore writing for these two women, and on that note, Happy valentines to everyone*

Trigger warnings~ smutty stress relief bratty subby Leo dom mommy Larissa praise kink teasing nudes being sent, masturbation degrading kink, body writing orgasms denial if you squint, use of safe words cause we love consent use of toys restraints the heel of her foot 🫨 dom drop! after care etc

Prompt~see ask^^^^^

Larissa Weems likes things to be on a schedule, to plan her day and leave just a little time in her day to relax. Normally that consists of her red headed wife curling her body into Larissa’s as they just relax on their bed. It’s Larissa’s favourite part of her day and makes waking up early the next morning bearable at most. Only recently Wednesday Addams has got in the way of this time by causing no end of mischief equating into a lot of late nights in her off sorting out the paperwork. Tonight was the first night that Wednesday hadn’t been up to her usual antics and Larissa would have to remember to thank Miss Sinclair for that. No tonight, it seemed her wife was going off her schedule.

Living at Nevermore with Larissa was easy for Leonora, to leave the school for good and evil and pass her title down to someone younger and ready for the challenge. Clarissa Dovey doing the same a few weeks prior to the red head meant Lenora could plan her move. Now a year later she had married her blonde principle and even got to teach at Nevermore for potions. Life being ever so perfect now, until Wednesday came. Now Leonora has no ill wishes to the child, but with Wednesday came Mortica. And that was someone Leonora would have no issues taking to her old doom room for a private chat. However, it’s not what Larissa wants so she stays just on the tail end of civil for her wife. That being said, recently Larissa has been too busy, they hardly see each other anymore so if acting up was going to get her attention then Lesso wouldn’t shy away from the challenge.

The plan was simple, she’d ignore Larissa for a while, it shouldn’t be that hard to drown herself into her marking. If all went to plan they’d be reconciling with one another before the nights out. What Leo didn’t count on was Larissa catching onto her little plan and deciding to play the red head at her own game.

From Larissa hinting at her wife it was time to head to the bedroom from the door way, to some fluffy texts promising kisses and cuddles, to some flirty texts. Leonora was staying strong. It didn’t matter that Larissa had offered what seemed to be a perfect night because Leonora had other plans. That’s when the small ding of her phone brought the woman out of thought.

“Darling🩵” would only be one person and that one person was in the room next to her, so why on earth would she be texting Leonora? A quick glance at the small screen showed and image that was simply heavenly to look at. Larissa adorning an emerald skimpy set of lace that was showing the perfect amount of skin to drive Leonora insane. The set happened to be one of her favourites on her wife. With no response came another picture, this time Larissa adorned a pale blue set which showed more than the first and a hand teasing her right bud, her face just out of view. God damn this woman and her ability to leave Leonora stunned. As her brain tried to form a witty response another text came in.

“If only I had my good little slut on her knees enjoying pleasing mommy”

“Well looks like you’re not interested so I’ll have to do the job myself dove”

Thinking nothing of her threats and a staying strong Lesso ignored all of this until another message came, only this time a video. Hitting play Lesso quickly felt her jaw drop to the floor, Larissa lay there in scraps of deep purple lace hardly covering anything, phone pointed up towards the mirrors that showed all the sinful things she was doing to herself as Lesso sat in the other room. Instinct had the red head making her way to their bedroom just as Larissa mewled out in pleasure.

Panting as she came back from her high Larissa was relieved to see her little show didn’t go to waste at all, half the battle was won, Leonora was now in the room and had turned to lock the door. Unsuspecting falling deeper into the trap Larissa had set. “Nice of you to join me darling” the blonde purred from the bed as she lazily licked her fingers that were coated with her juices.

“I-you pretty fuck” stuttered out of her wife causing a proud smirk to adorn Larissa’s lips. “If I’m so pretty darling, then you would’ve come to bed when I asked you to, instead you ignored mommy. What is the rule my girl?”

“Listen to mommy, look after myself for mommy, communicate emotions” she rambled off not knowing she’s accidentally broken more than one rule here. “And yet you broke all three didn’t you darling? You ignored me, you most certainly aren’t getting enough sleep by working yourself so hard and you definitely didn’t tell me how much the whole Addams situation is bothering you, did you?”

Silence and the slight drop in her wife’s head showed Larissa everything she needed to know. Leonora would submit, but it would be a fight as well. One that she was well prepared for. “Noting to say slut? Or did you just break these rules to get fucked?” Again silence followed so Larissa took the time to strip and tie the red head into her place of kneeling at the bedside. “I’ll get you to talk don’t you fret little girl, you know the rule? Mommy cums first”

And with that Larissa took her time to build herself back up to her height of pleasure while Leonora was forced to see everything in the mirror and listen to Larissa pleading for more. These stupid ties prevented any movement from her meaning the only way she would get to touch her wife is by backing down. Without realising it, she’d began to grind down against her heel, effectively soaking her heel and the floor at the sight of her wife riding out her second orgasm of the night.

“I thought you’d be a good girl for mommy Leo, but you’ve made a mess of my floor” Larissa mocked, “are you ready to behave now darling?”

“Fuck no! You ignored me all week! And now you think you get to remember and just try to punish me for no reason! This is fucking stupid Larissa. I didn’t do anything wrong but give you a taste of you own damn medicine, yet you get to look all sexy on the bed, a goddess at this point, while I’m just the lowly whore on my knees for you!” Lesso raged angry tears cascading down her cheeks.

“Check in”

“Emerald but”

“But what dove?”

“I’m sorry i didn’t mean that it’s just I missed you and now I-“

Larissa stood up to immediately untie her wife and settle her across her lap, face down, ass up. “Why are you here sweet girl?” She murmured rubbing slow circles on Leonora’s back. “Cause I broke rules” she muttered unhappily. “You did indeed my sweet girl, I understand why darling and we will talk about that later, but you don’t get to throw a fit like that” Larissa argued firmly before a couple of test strikes rained across Leonora’s backside. “How many love?”

“5 for each rule, I’m sorry mommy” guilt soaked her words now.

Larissa knows her wife’s body better than anyone else, knowing that it would take exactly seven strikes to have the red head ready to break, thirteen to have her broken down. So it was surprising that she began to cry out her apologises on strike ten.

“Shh sweet girl you’re done, all done, such a good girl for mommy aren’t you darling? All done now love” Larissa murmured readjusting her hiccuping wife in her lap. “Need 5 more” she whimpered causing Larissa to shake her head, “all done for that part darling okay? Check in with mommy please”

“Topaz” her voice wobbled as her sobs began to rise again, “I’m sorry mommy! I didn’t mean to make you stop early, I’m sorry I want to be good just no more spanks please.”

“No more spanks sweetheart, perhaps we can do something different instead of the 5 spanks hmm? Do you trust me Leo?”

“Mmhmm”

“Then go lay down darling get comfy in the middle of the bed I promise you’ll like this.”

Lesso quickly scurried to do as she was asked bring carful of her sore behind and waiting patiently for her wife. When Larissa reappeared to straddle her wife she uncapped a purple pen. “Five words, you don’t wash this off until mommy says so okay?” To which the woman nodded, she always loved wearing any marks Larissa left her with and purple was always so pretty on her skin. The other bonus was of course Larissa had body safe markers. Then Larissa began to write her chosen words on lesso chest stomach and thighs. “Dirty girl, “Bratty baby”, “Pretty whore”, “Mommys slut” and “Little whore” now adorned her body in Larissa’s beautiful penmanship. “Now sweet girl we are all done. Can mommy make you feel good sweetheart?” Consent given Larissa proceeded to provide the red head with the most toe curling orgasm she has ever experienced combining her fingers and little vibrator on her clit.

Next thing Leonora knew Larissa was gently cleaning her messy thighs, gently rolling the redhead over to apply cream to both ass cheeks in a generous amount before fetching a bottle of water and a small snack for them both. “My love? Do you need anything else?”

“No thank you Rissa”

“I’m sorry darling, I was rather harsh tonight, I’m sorry I haven’t been around love, I’ve missed you so much too. All I want is to spend some time with my wife but apparently this school has other ideas recently. I love you with all my heart please know that Leo” the emotion choked the blonde up causing her to go tense beneath Lesso.

“I know dearest. Thank you for tonight Rissa. And this now too, you listened to me when I used my safe words, Rissa that is everything and more and you even listened to my body when I didn’t know what I wanted. You helped me let my pent up emotions go darling, now I’m all light again. Thanks to my lovely wife. I’m okay my love I promise.”

“I hurt you Leo! I hurt my wife” Larissa sobbed attempting to turn away and curl in on herself. She didn’t know why this was happening or that Leonora was now comforting her when it should be the other way round, honestly feeling like a terrible dominant and a terrible wife.

“I’m okay darling, you helped me feel better. That’s a pretty good fucking wife to me, plus I got that sexy video and those pictures from this too. You are perfect my love and I won’t tolerate you feeling so miserable about yourself when you did nothing wrong at all. Now come my love we need cuddles and some rest okay?” With that the blonde rolled to once again hold her her wife, with minutes Leonora could feel her exhaustion taking over so with a sweet kiss and another reminder of her being okay the red head fell asleep in Larissa’s arms holding the blondes left hand just over heart in hopes of further reassuring her. Larissa took some time to reflect and just be before she joined her wife.

Word count 2056

[deconstructthesoup]

Okay, so, this has been cycling in my head, and I don't think I'll be able to rest peacefully until I get it out, so:

Scenario where the Bad Kids are playing Slay The Princess together---obviously, in Fabian's basement, with all of the lights on (Fig really pushed for them doing it with lights off but she got outvoted). Each of them decide to do something different when it's their turn, of course.

Fabian starts ("because it's my house, guys, I paid for the game, I reserve the right to go first") and he goes for the Damsel route, because... it's Fabian. But because he's self-aware now, he asks her what she wants, and, well... we know how that goes. Second time around, he goes for the Prisoner route instead, and winds up getting Drowned Grey'd.

Gorgug decides to go for the "just keep her down there" option. Everyone blames him for their inability to sleep after witnessing the Nightmare route, including the scene that leads into the Moment of Clarity. He abstains from playing after that.

Kristen somehow winds up getting the Beast and the Wild route, and nobody really knows how that happened. There's truly no end to the furry jokes, and she encourages them because "they make me forget that to get to be slightly spoiled on seeing Absolute Reality, I had to fight my way outta Monster Girlfriend's insides."

Fig gets the Adversary and Eye of the Needle. She also gets an idea for a Halloween Costume, and then proceeds to go back and get the Tower and Razor routes. She is, somehow, the only one who didn't scream during the full Knife Woman reveal. Also, she's of course sus of the Narrator from the get-go and keeps on trying to find ways to boot him out.

Riz is pragmatic and kills the princess right away, immediately is disappointed by the lack of mystery, and goes back and unlocks the Spectre route. And then he makes the mistake of triggering the Wraith, which means that he and Gorgug are both responsible for everyone's lack of sleep.

And Adaine decided to take the "not my problem" route and unlocks the Stranger as a result, which makes Fig, Kristen, and Fabian question whether or not they're slightly high. She thinks it's the coolest route, and not just because a vast majority of the others make her hide behind a pillow.

When it comes to the end there is a MASSIVE argument over whether or not they should leave as gods or as mortals, and gods eventually win out due to a surprisingly coherent theological argument from Kristen. Riz screams into a pillow the minute he realizes that you can only ask the Narrator a limited amount of questions, and demands that they play the whole game again just so he can unlock all the answers.

[bestygogirl]

BEST YGO GIRL: ROUND 5, ALL GROUPS

Group C Finals!

please use this as an opportunity to say why you like a character, not why you don't.

Propaganda under the cut!

Anzu Mazaki

the original It Girl, very underrated anzu masaki is stubborn. she’s all about friendship and she believes in you soooo much. she’s the type to give you a lecture while picking you up because she’ll never leave you stranded but you should take better care of yourself. she has dreams of being a dancer and takes that risk in moving to whole different COUNTRY to follow her dreams. vote for anzu!!! This is ANZU. Yugioh's most dedicated friendship philosopher!!! The one who knew the power of friendship before anyone else did!! Always backing up her guy friends even when (especially when) they're up their own asses about card games!! Not the mom friend bc she's reckless and nuts in her own special way!! The girl Yami confided in when he couldn't even confide in Yuugi... who sees through everyone's bullshit into their true feelings.... who said "learning how to love yourself is a game we play our whole lives"..... She is THEE GIRL. Literally iconic. Foundational to the whole damn text!! She didn't haul ass after a bunch of goofy card game geeks supporting them through 343 chapters and suffer through endless early 2000s Anzu-bashing fic to NOT win this tournament!!

Isis Ishtar

gorgeous, very caring sister, strong duelist, and the only woman to ever make Seto Kaiba squirm

anyways. not only as mentioned above is she the first woman to make kaiba squirm, but she was by all means going to beat him if not for the millennium rod's millennium interference. yami marik admits that she's a strong duelist with a strategy that's been working for literal years-- and given that she's not like, a professional duelist, thats pretty impressive

she also recently got some really cool meta bumps and let me point out that an "ishizu deck" now includes obelisk the tormentor-- which we knew she had prior to giving it to kaiba, but i think it only solidifies my opinion that she very much could wield an Egyptian God Card, an exclusive little club for top tier duelists

as a character she presents herself with an amazing amount of poise and grace, shes compassionate and kind and stays with mai and serenity even though she only just met them. shes struggling through living the past 5 years of her life drowning in guilt for her family's tragedy just because she wanted to make her little brother happy and shadi is a fucking liar. shes foretold her own death and marches towards it grimly but with so much love in her heart. and even then shes 20 years old and holds an important position in the egyptian government that typically requires a doctorate degree AND has been dealing with mariks off-and-on bullshit entirely by her lonesome. she also likes to flex her fortunetelling a little which is awesome i think she should do that more that scene where she tells the guy exactly how the stele is being transported was so everything

speaking of shes got such an attitude. "is it your destiny to waste my time?" iconic. never seen before will never be seen again. watch the duel between her va and joeys its so fucking funny

shes excult. shes doesnt flinch in the face of god nor death. seto kaiba and yami marik respect her. shes so sad and so sweet and battle city couldnt have happened without her.

also her parallels with kaiba are what motivate kaiba to give yugi the card he needed to beat marik.

kaiba, in duelist kingdom, was ready to jump off a ledge if yugi didnt let him through to face pegasus while trying to save mokuba out of sheer desperation to save his little brother. he KNOWS what that dedication feels like and the iron kind of will you need to have to make that kind of gamble. isis is being so fucking legit with what shes saying and he respects that and her judgement enough to change his mind and not only watch the duel, but give yugi a card that eventually helps him win, even if he has no real confidence in the odds. but theres a CHANCE, which is the same thing he taught her when he beat her in a duel. the layers its her faith that moves him to act. which is so crazy

anyway vote isis shes my best friend forever and a real rep for all the 20 year olds who honest to god did not sign up for this bullshit

[reds-ultrakill-brainrot]

hiya! firstly, thank you for filling my current brainrot on this game, you are the best

could i get some gabriel romantic headcanons? enjoy your day!

You Were Like an Angel to Me

gabriel romantic relationship headcanons

x reader content (intended romantic)

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- he had never taken much of an interest in having a hobby before, his duties had never given him the time. this changes after he meets you, your passion in your hobbies inspire both affection and interest in him, and it isn't long before he begins practicing in his spare time to share with you - it isn't the most surprising thing that he is incredibly touch starved, however the issue goes further than that. Gabriel was designed to act as a soldier for God's will, a spear against the darkness and a voice for the aimless. the only compassion intended in his design was that for heaven's chosen, not himself. his reaction to comforting touch is shock and immediate discomfort, not to the physical sensation- he could drown in that, but in what it represents. all he had ever recieved were compliments for his actions and abilities, the people of heaven revered him, but they did not truly love him, not like you do. it takes a fair amount of time for him to settle to the idea of intimacy, but once he does he incorperates it into nearly every interaction, wether that be a lingering touch or a short embrace - i imagine his wings aren't corporeal, however this doesn't stop him from wrapping them around you while the both of you cuddle. he sees it as his job to protect you from the numerous threats across both heaven and hell and he knows with you safe in his arms nothing bad will happen - despite his distaste for their inhabitants he does appreciate the architecture and views around certain layers of Hell (such sentiment has never been voiced and never will while he serves the council). if you appear interested in viewing any of the more notable sights around Hell he will volunteer to take you, being that you are willing to go no further than an arm's reach. he trusts you, however he does not trust the wretched beings that inhabit Hell - a majority of his tasks are dealing with the more distasteful tasks such as quelling unruly inhabitants of Hell and overseeing the conduct of other lesser angels. he rarely wishes to recount his day to day activities, much preferring to hear about your own day to day life, mundanity and all. such domestic normalcy is a dream to him, so please humor him with details of chores and unruly hair, nothing would make him happier - he is quite easy to fluster, especially with any particularly forward expressions of affection. he quietly delights in the attention he receives for his reactions; teasing may have a slight sting to it but is much easier for him to digest than soft words - if you ever choose to dress in his colours or in similar attire you will find him enamoured, his gaze unable to leave you for long. he very quickly notices the gesture and the creeping burn of a blush doesn't leave him until he is forced to take a moment to compose himself - he is especially gentle with you. oftentimes he chooses to let you initiate physical contact to allow you to approach it at your own pace and to avoid manhandling you by accident. he is exceptionally strong, and all it would take is him being distracted to grip you too firmly and bruise you, or, Heaven forbid, worse. he has seen the damage that his wrath incurs and would sooner perish than harm you - he (much to his own dismay) doesn't have a mouth to kiss you with, however the both of you have learned to make do with other gestures. touching foreheads has to be his favourite, there is something about having you so close to him that calms him almost instantly. of course you are still able to kiss him, and despite his, at times, inelegance in other romantic interactions he is always quick to respond if you peck his cheek; expect to be swept up in his arms for a hug

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the sneak peaks at the new chapter have been really interesting so far, i am excited to see where Hakita is taking the plot (especially Gabriel's story) next

[darksxder]

Oh darling, I'm super excited for your event! ❤ If I may go ahead and drop a headcanon request: What would it be like to go to the beach with Price (CoD)?

ILY! ‼️❤️thank you for being the first to send in a prompt!! and i love this big burly man so bad help <3

pre-beach

this man is someone who rarely gets leave, and someone who rarely ever takes it either when it’s offered (he is forced to take it lmao)

i think john is so ingrained in a system that strains his own morals so bad that he doesn’t like to be out of it much.

once you have such a taste for blood, the usual comfort of life have a certain tinge to it

i think you would have mentioned it mid mission. in a gasp, swiping dust from your eyes onto to squint at the sun. half delirious and dehydrated “ever been to the beach, captain?”

and he smiles softly. looking perfectly content in all black with the sun beating down on you all. “why?”

it’s said with a soft drawl that has your heart flipping and hands sweating.

“uhh i don’t know. just wondering. thought maybe a team date at the beach would help with bonding?” and you say it like a question, the confidence that you had to line up a shot or take a man down to the ground with a jump and the force of your legs, never quite correlated with talking to price (it never would)

and like you did in early training runs and drills, and under the scream and spittle of your many older male superiors, you dropped it. gave it up. “you know- forget it-“ you start but his deep british lilt had your words fracturing into silence.

“sounds like a good plan. you have quite the knack for team bonding.” he teased

your body flushed with heat, a thousand times the sun deep in the balm of the desert around you. it was a joke. you had never been subtle about the lack of connection you felt between your teammates and many games that usually started with ‘what’s your favourite colour’ were not uncommon to be lead by you

and you forgot about it. not really. but truly you had thought it a joke. him agreeing.

but when you were laying across your couch on leave, bored as all hell, mind buzzing, lower lip worrying between your teeth, he called you.

called you for the first time ever. his voice awash in your ears, a thousand times more pleasant than the ocean as he told you to “get your swim suit private and head down to the blum in’ beach.”

the beach trip

this man immediately complimenting you. even if you’re wearing a cover up. or your clothes are completely on over your bathing suit

with his uncannily good instincts he notices how you can’t even look at his eyes, even avoiding him entirely. facing the side of sand beside him as you spoke.

it was hard not to. he was in simple black swim trunks, all the broad shoulders, muscled and soft curves was ripe to your sight

and he was smirking at you. his stupid bucket hat still on, but now finally matching the setting around him

his hands on his hips instead of on the neck of his vest like you were used to when he was looking over you

you have to chase this man down to put sunscreen on him (we have seen the lovely amount of freckles ofc)

100% picks you up and puts you deeper in the water when you refuse to go past the water sloshing at your hip bones. no matter your sharp gasp and grip, he will dunk you at least once

absolutely is down for any sport on the beach okay- football, ultimate frisbee, a plain game of catch, everything. but especially beach volleyball

and because gaz is a snitch this man knows you played in high school, so he offers you first serve to “see your moves” and “how you set the pace, love”

it’s canon you absolutely obliterate him on every round. every. single. one. and you’re so humble about it

meanwhile soap is losing it, literally slapping at your shoulder and treating you like a god when you spike another hit directly on their space of sand. his scottish yells drowning your ears

and every new round, when you hand price ‘his ass to him ‘- he gets hotter. from exertion or something else, he will never tell

1000% is the person to tell you to ‘c’mere’ then quickly rub some sunscreen on the bridge of your nose and the soft highs of your cheekbones

he spends the entire time holding his breath instinctually. his lungs strained when he saw your features up so close. he counted every scar and mark, every dip in your smile and the butterflies that bloomed from your soft exhale of warm breath on the inside of his wrist, as the pads of his thumbs trace along the seam of your cheeks

you end up staying till sunset

he brings a cooler with his own ‘prissy beer’ as gaz says. but you make him drink many fun coloured sweet drinks that would be characterized as alcoholic popsicles. all of them in chimed glass bottles and unnaturally bright colours (he downs five)

price loves how your filter dissolved with the alcohol and that you apologized for everything, even if it was just walking alongside them

hours later he spends at home, wondering why he can’t stop thinking of you. the burning image of sand slipping past your fingers, the wind carrying tiny grains along your stretched leg, a soft and true smile carved on your face. every part i grace in his chest. it was a small smile. but private, almost secret, sincere. it made his heart flip and ache. both at once, always the case with you

places you in shade and makes you drink water and rest when you almost get heat exhaustion and get all cranky and weak :,)

brought a nice fluffy towel but shared your barbie one ‘for the principle’

saw you laying in the sun and thought you were tanning, but soap was kind enough to point out “nah she’s just not used to feeling the sun. you know, with her hermit habits..” that got him a kick to the shin and a rumbling chuckle from price that had your eyelashes fluttering along with your stomach

you guys building a sand castle because you strayed from the group and found him in his and i quote “old man time”. smoking a cigar perched on a beach chair, a ripe sunburn on his chest that had you sighing and wincing at once. hands itching to take out some aloe and help ease the burn, but he didn’t even flinch

he just sees you drop off your stuff and head to the shallows with a tiny orange bucket and he just kinda follows you. watches for a moment before he feels pulled to trudge through the warm sand towards you

at first only making short and direct comments on your sandcastle architecture whilst taking puffs of his cigar

loving the burn of sweetness in his chest it gave him. it was nearly the same feeling when you laughed mid recom mission in the Arctic. it had been the first time he ever heard you truly laugh. he never forgot it. the hue. the pitch. he remembered he stopped shaking, as if his brain was in too much shock at the beauty of the sound to realize he was freezing. as in that moment he had never felt so warm in his life.

but after you huff and tell him to ‘do it himself’ he folds and basically throws the stub out (you make him throw it out properly after istg) and this 37 year old, 6’2 unit, gets on his bad knees to help you form the damp sand monstrosity

and after a genuine hour of hushed focus and teamwork

“looks like an evil dwelling.” you say it seriously. your hand poised on your chin, eyes catching ever smoothed edge and exaggerated curve and dip on the soft structure

prices lips twitched. “that right?”

“mhm.”

and he took a minute. fingers drawing a moat along the side of the castle that had your teeth biting into your lower lip slightly. “why work so hard on something just for it to wash away?” he asked, eyes on the separating sand drawn from his touch

it’s not about the sand castle. you know that. but this was surely something you should be asking instead and having him reassure you about

“was the work purposeful?” your voice as strong as the setting sun behind you

he nodded. his eyes a bright blue in the bright peach rays of the setting sun. the light catching onto strands of his beard, and framing his mouth in gold

then maybe it washing away was apart of the job. the end of it. we just didn’t know it.”

and he holds your gaze, noting the glaze in your eyes. the sheen.

sometimes he forgot how young you were. but with your hands next to his and covered in sand, knees knocked and pricked with bruises, hair up and secured with a scarf, you looked painfully young.

too young to know the pain of all your hard work washing away. again and again.

and he’s speaking before he’s even thinking

“i’d build a thousand sand castles with you.” he rasped.

you smiled, bright and beautiful. unrestrained. “yeah?”

“mhm.” he mocked.

and you shuffled closer, just a little scoot of your knees in but it has his breath catching hard

“and i’d wait for them to wash away. and truly only be excited, because we could start anew.”

[notthemonthbutmarch]

Hi I just finished the archon quest like an hour ago

Spoilers ahead

Fuck Traveler

Fuck Lyney

Fuck Lynette

Fuck Freminet

Fuck Clorinde

Fuck Navia

Fuck Neuvillette

Fuck Fontaine

FUCK FOCALORS

Everyone can kiss my ass, fuck everyone else except Furina, because OH MY GOD.

NONE OF YOUR DESERVE HER

I’m so ANGRY it’s not even funny

Like I could not bring myself to care about anything but Furina after Focalors revealed everything. I wanted everyone to die for what Furina had to go through. Fucking GOOD RIDDANCE FONTAINE. Furina could have been so much more open if those ASSHOLES didn’t shame her for being herself. FORCING HER TO PLAY UP THE DRAMA LIKE WE DONT HAVE OTHER GODS WHO ARE ALLOWED TO BE BENEVOLENT AND KIND LIKE SHE WAS.

FUCK FOCALORS ESPECIALLY. Separating herself from Furina and the game having the fucking AUDACITY to make it about her.

“Oh but that was also technically Furina she deserves praise too blah blah blah” Yeah all FOCALORS had to do was SIT AROUND in the fucking ORATRICE waiting to DIE. That is not NEARLY AS BAD. And she had 500 years to make peace with it and still had the nerve to be scared.

And just… Neuvillette didn’t do anything wrong, but I’m SO FUCKING PISSED AT HIM. I think it because he’s ascended while Furina gets nothing. I know she gets a vision in her story quest but… just… ugh….

I’m happy with how Act 5 was. I genuinely think this is probably one of the best quests in the game because I have never been this moved by any of the previous quests. Like I cried for Carrihoe but those were happy tears and I could calm down quickly after that. It might also be because it’s late and I need to sleep but just… ugh…

Furina…

The entirety of Fontaine owes you everything. Neuvillette owes you his ascension.

Furina deserves an apology. From the Traveler, from the gang, from Neuvillette especially, from FOCALORS. I know she got one, technically, that little “I’m sorry go be a human🥹🥹🥹” bullshit.

Furina’s story is so uniquely tragic, and this feels like the first time immortality is actually being used as a curse in a heavy way. At least from what I’ve seen, I’m sure there are many other great examples. But the fact that Furina was a human girl and had to lie and never make any meaningful personal bonds with anyone for 500 years. She had Neuvillette but he’s a dragon. How many years did it take before he started “trying to feel like humans did.”

How many years did Neuvillette spend in complete distain for Furina because he was a dragon serving his usurper?

How many letters did Furina send Neuvillette encouraging him to make friends because she couldn’t?

I don’t hate any of the other Fontaine characters. The Fontaine Siblings still have my heart, Navia is still one of my favorites, Clorinde and Wriothesley are so fun, and Neuvillette is one of the best characters within Genshin.

But Furina is on a whole other level. She deserves the world and so much more. The amount of therapy she needs is probably not even enough for the short lifetime she has now. The amount of deprogramming she’s gonna have to endure, as well as the people of Fontaine. As far as I know right know, the story that the people have is that Furina was tried guilty, sentenced to death, the prophecy came true immediately after, no one drowned, and then Furina just left. So while everyone knows she’s not the archon anymore, they’re also gonna have to relearn after generations of seeing Furina as their god to just seeing her as a person.

I want Furina to reach the happiness she deserves. She deserves it the most.

[archieimagines]

vaseline | kuina hikari

Summary: Kuina is more stressed about your chapped lips than the wounds from her death match.

gorgeous kuina. that’s all i have to say for myself. i’m weak. warnings: s2 spoilers, mentions of violence, elements of grief, blood and injury, smoking. a bit of angst, a bit of fluff, maybe a kiss. word count: 1302 requested by: anon (this is the reuniting with kuina/chishiya request. i’ll be writing a chishiya one separately!) written by: archie support me on ko-fi!

The sounds of battle rang through the centre. Cries of anguish, the clatter of metal, screams of the dying. Even just listening wasn’t easy.

You sat against the wall of the sports centre’s atrium, knees parted to rest your elbows on. You’d intended to be in the dojo to search for Kuina but… Well, after hearing it, you couldn’t help being glad you’d missed registration.

You were split from your girlfriend on the run from that damn King of Spades, and after so many days of searching for her, you were struggling to resist your harrowing thoughts. That the King was too good, that she was amongst the litter of bodies on Shibuya’s streets.

But, you’d reason, she’s too tough for that. She’d been through too much, fought for too much. Her own struggles, her mothers’, the things society would hold against her... No, Kuina wouldn’t be wiped out by some nameless, faceless entity. She was far too strong. To worry about her like that was an insult.

So, you searched, game after game. Asked survivors if they’d seen a tall, beautiful girl with dreads, a blue bikini-- they’d only ever shook their head, half of them with pity in their eyes. So many people had lost their loved ones to this land, and they saw you as just another of the bunch. 

They didn’t realise how stubborn you were, nor how powerful Kuina could really be. If anyone were to be left standing after all this, it’d be her, a beacon amongst the dust and smoke. Your beautiful Hikari.

Hell, you missed that face. Somewhere in your search, you’d vowed to carry a physical picture of her in your wallet once you got back home together. But until then, you’d have to close your eyes and remember, as you’d done every time the search got hard.

The way her brows would pull together playfully when you teased her, the way her eyes would scrunch and she’d slap your arm or shoulder as she burst into laughter. The way her whole face would light up when you let her dress you at the boutique, and then that smile when you’d buy it all. God, that smile. You needed to see it again.

After searching game on game, you finally found an ounce of hope.

The Jack of Spades. Yes, her kind of game. You’d hunted out this game specifically just to see if she may be at the registration, and when you saw its setting, your spark of hope burned brighter than ever.

A dojo.

Surely, a dojo game would be the place to find her. Surely, she was behind those doors, kicking everyone within an inch of their life. You strained to hear any scream of effort, any curse that carried her tone of voice, but there were too many to focus on. If she was in there, she was drowned out amongst the masses.

You bit at your lip. The whole place was dark, barely a peek of light from the dojo door. Was it a blind game? Were her ears astute enough to carry her through martial arts blindly? Was she even in there?

The taste of iron seeped into your mouth. Fuck, you’d been chewing your lip too much. If she’d come out of that dojo and see you bleeding, she wouldn’t hesitate to scold you, and the thought brought a bittersweet smile to your chapped lip. You’d give anything for her to come out and scold you, to feel her dainty fingers rub vaseline on your skin like she always did, cigarette hanging from her own mouth. “Look after yourself,” she’d whine around the stick, “No lover of mine can have bad lips.”

Oh, the amount of times you’d plucked the cigarette from between her teeth. “What about this, then?”

“Hey, bad lungs are only on the inside,” she’d give an almost annoyed laugh and take it back. “And smoking looks cool on the outside.”

You chuckled to yourself in the darkness. It was a foreign sound in this land, even to your own ears. The kind of sound that only she could bring out of you.

She had to come through those doors. She had to.

Minutes ticked by, soon reaching almost an hour, and finally the violence from behind the door started dying down. Less screams and less sounds of impact - whoever was left was growing tired.

You squeezed your eyes shut and hoped against hope that she’d be out soon. That she’d come through that door with those bright eyes and pull a face at the state of you.

Shhhhk.

The door slid open.

A few pairs of footsteps trod the floorboards, barely visible until the blimp outside caught fire.

It lit up the air with its orange firelight, the smell of fumes and oil dropping from the skies, seeping in through the windows. It lit the trio that battled the length of hallway, falling forwards on heavy feet, one after the other.

And a pair of those feet clad in platform flip-flops.

The fire lit the side of her face, battered and bruised.

You shot up to your feet, mouth running faster than your mind. All you knew was that you needed her eyes on you. “Kuina!”

And they found you.

Her whole existence changed. Where she was before so visibly exhausted and hunched, aching and bleeding, her eyes lit up and a smile hitched the corners of her lips. She pushed past her fellow survivors and hobbled up the corridor as fast as she possibly could, though she couldn’t possibly match your sprint in her current condition.

You flung yourself at her, arms thrown around her waist as she clung to you, willing the tears not to fall from your eyes, “Fuck, I thought-”

“You thought I was dead?” She held tighter, a disbelieving, laboured splutter of humour parting her lips. “I’m not easy to kill, you know.”

“Not for a moment,” you pulled back with a shake of your head, unable to stop the trickle of a tear that fell from your eye as you held her face, cuts and bruises in abundance. “I didn’t think that for a moment.”

The fellow survivors passed without a word, and she took this time to look over your own face. She was so relieved to see you, her eyes so gentle and pretty-- and then, there it was. That little furrow of her brow, the quiet hint of irritation. “You’ve been biting your lips again, huh?”

A bubble of emotional laughter burst in your chest, raising a hand to wipe over your lip. It must’ve been only a spot of blood, but of course, she’d notice it. “I’ve been stressed without you.”

“What kind of excuse is that?” Her face lightened, gently taking yours in her hands. Those delicate thumbs ran over your lips, wiping away that minuscule drop of crimson before bringing you into a soft, indulgent kiss. She simply took a moment to share your breath with that closeness, live with you once more as if you were her cigarette.

You kept her close even once it’d drawn to a close. Fingers rubbing gently over the bare skin of her waist, careful to not hurt her, but you’re so aware of the slight raises on her skin, the trail of blood that your fingers slip on.

You give a soft sigh. It hurts your chest physically to see her like this, a gnawing ache that you just had to fix. “I saw a bathroom back there. Let’s get you patched up, darling.”

“Wait-!” Her eyes grew as she reached behind her, patting at her back pocket as if to check something. Then with a relieved breath, she nodded, her smile bright. “I didn’t drop my vaseline. I knew you’d need it.”

[glucosehighs]

All his life, Kiyoomi has been told that he is too much.

His first girlfriend breaks up with him in spring, and the raindrops pattering down on the concrete of the schoolyard almost drowns out the edge in her voice as she tells Kiyoomi that she can't be with someone who isn't as committed to a relationship as she is.

"I'm really sorry," she says. "I admire how much you love your club. I really do. But I don't want to spend my life being second place to volleyball. "

Kiyoomi takes it with grace. He forgets her within a month.

"When are you going to stop doing that?" his college boyfriend asks tiredly, years later. 

Kiyoomi freezes in the middle of wiping down the study chair in his room, and turns to find him, arms folded in the doorway of his room.

"Really, Kiyoomi," he says. "You can't expect me to live like this forever."

"Like what?" Kiyoomi asks, even though he already knows the answer.

His boyfriend (soon to be ex) clicks his tongue in exasperation. "Are you really making me say it? You know I'll sound like the bad guy, Kiyoomi."

Kiyoomi has never hated the sound of his own name more. "Yes," he says brittlely. "Just so we're clear."

There is a pause, for a very long while. Kiyoomi flicks his gaze back to the stubborn stain on the seat of his chair, and scrubs a little harder than before. Then -

"Do you think you'll ever get better?"

Kiyoomi turns away fully, then, so he can't see the angry tears gathering in his eyes. 

"I don't know," he says. "But you won't be around to find out."

Atsumu loves volleyball just as much as Kiyoomi does. He accepts gifts from Kiyoomi's fans on his behalf, and steadies Kiyoomi with a hand on the edge of his sleeve when Kiyoomi stumbles in a crowded bus because he refuses to grab on to the handlebars.

So when Atsumu confesses to Kiyoomi with all the bashfulness of a 13 year old girl in the locker room after a big game, handwritten letter and all, Kiyoomi can't quite believe his luck. He accepts so eagerly that it might have been embarrassing if not for Atsumu's own flushed cheeks, pink with happiness.

Of course, being a staunch believer in Murphy's Law, Kiyoomi isn't the least bit surprised when Atsumu shows up one day with a giant bouquet of flowers. Which isn't a problem in and of itself, except-

"Aren't you allergic to flowers?" Motoya's laughter crackles down the line as Kiyoomi pans the camera to the two dozen roses sitting in his bathtub. 

Kiyoomi doesn't own a vase large enough to store two dozen roses, and he doesn't think his lungs are big enough to contain the sheer amount of love bursting through his veins.

"Yes," Kiyoomi replies. "But you're not to say a word of this to him."

"Oh my god," Motoya crows. "You have it so bad, Kiyoomi."

No shit, Kiyoomi thinks, even as he vehemently rubs at his running nose and exits the bathroom hastily.

The problem, however, was that Atsumu had taken Kiyoomi's watery eyes as a sign that he was just extremely moved by Atsumu's grand gesture. Which he was, but Kiyoomi's watery eyes were also, unfortunately, a sign of his allergic reaction. To his horror, Atsumu starts bringing him bouquets every day, giant sunflowers and tulips and forget-me-nots, just because "I love it when my prickly Omi-kun is touched! You look so adorable when you get all sniffly."

Kiyoomi can't bear to tell him the truth, not when Atsumu looks so pleased and endeared every time his eyes turn red whenever Atsumu presents him with a new bouquet. And deep down, he knows some part of him is afraid that if he tells him, Atsumu might just decide that /this/ is the straw that breaks the camel's back. And Kiyoomi knows that for the second time in his life, he's found something he can't bear to lose.

"You could always throw the flowers away, you know," Motoya points out amusedly.

Kiyoomi presses his lips together stubbornly, even as he curls up in his couch, a tissue pressed to his nose, the apartment behind him painted with a sea of floral hues.

"'M not going to," Kiyoomi says thickly. "It'd be a waste of his money." 

Motoya mutters something that sounds a lot like "sap", and Kiyoomi graciously pretends not to hear him.

Of course, just as Motoya predicted, he is forced to call in sick from practice one day, his stuffy nose finally getting the better of him. He's steeling himself to finally clear the flowers from his apartment when his doorbell rings. Kiyoomi feels a sense of foreboding immediately creep up his spine. 

"Omi-kun!" Atsumu calls cheerfully as he pushes past him into the apartment the moment Kiyoomi opens the door. "I brought ya soup for yer flu, and-"

Atsumu stops, his gaze landing on the giant pile of flowers sitting in the trash bag in the middle of the living room.

"I can explain," Kiyoomi says, feeling almost lightheaded. 

Atsumu holds up a hand, and Kiyoomi cuts himself off. He prepares himself for the worst, and curses himself for forgetting Murphy's damn law.

"Omi-kun." Against all odds, somehow Atsumu's eyes are the ones that are filling with tears. "Do you not love me anymore?" 

Of all the things he'd been expecting, Kiyoomi is completely unprepared for this. "What?" he manages to choke out.

"Y-you're throwin' away all the flowers I gave you, and you called sick from practice- oh my god, are you breaking up with me and transferring to another team?" 

"What the hell," Kiyoomi says in disbelief, and then bursts into laughter.

Atsumu blinks at him in confusion, tears still running down his cheeks. "B-but-"

"I'm allergic to pollen," Kiyoomi confesses, the words tumbling out from his mouth in a rush. "I didn't want to tell you because you were so excited about them, and I know you put up with a lot from me already, and I just didn't want to give you something else to deal with." 

"What?" Atsumu looks angry now. "Why the hell would I think that?"

"Because," Kiyoomi says, suddenly feeling very uncertain. "I don't know," he finishes lamely. 

Atsumu jabs a finger aggressively at his chest. "Sakusa Kiyoomi," Atsumu starts. His brows are scrunched together furiously and his cheeks are still ruddy with emotion, but Kiyoomi has never loved the sound of his own name more.

"I dare you," he continues, "I double dare you. I triple dare you. To ever find something about yourself that I wouldn't want to put up with."

Kiyoomi nearly chokes on his own spit. "What?"

"You heard me," Atsumu says, crossing his arms stubbornly. His cheeks redden even more, but his voice is unwavering. "You’re not getting rid of me that easily, you hear?" 

Kiyoomi is too stunned to speak for a moment, and Atsumu takes his silence for disbelief.

"Fine," Atsumu huffs. "I'll prove it to you."

The next day, Kiyoomi finds a giant bouquet of plastic roses waiting on top of his locker. 

"Bit tacky, don't you think?" Inunaki remarks as he passes. "Think Atsumu finally went broke from all the real flowers?"

"No," Kiyoomi says, and shoots a smile at Atsumu's back, where he definitely isn't eavesdropping on their conversation. "I think it's perfect."

[unholywench]

Halloween With Sevika

(I am fully aware that it's August, it's Halloween to me already)

-Sevika probably didn’t have the chance to properly appreciate most holidays growing up (if given the chance to at all) so when you came barreling into your shared apartment with fake cobwebs and enough candy to kill a small child she wasn’t exactly enthused. You listed off all that you could think of when it came to getting in the spirit of the season, special themed treats, fun outfits, eating from a gigantic bag of candy while you marathoned classic horror films, etc. 

Most of her attention was focused on the compartments in her arm, the periodic whirring and clicking barely managing to drown out your incessant rambling on how much fun this time of the year could be, it wasn’t until she was twirling the tool between her fingers in an attempt to make herself look busy that you picked up on the fact she wasn’t listening.

“Could we at least try a few things? If you don’t like any of it I’ll drop it but give it a chance?” You took her hand to emphasize your point, climbing into her lap and giving her the best pouty face you could manage. “For me?” 

At first you thought the long and exaggerated groan meant that it was gonna be a stern "No." but your hope returned as she set her tools off to the side. “Fine.” She didn’t have the opportunity to regret her decision as you smothered her with your appreciation, you were certain you could come up with at least one thing she’d enjoy.

-Decorating with Sevika in any capacity would prove to be a very difficult task but with fake blood, organs, and spiders? It would be a whole other level of complicated. She would put that shit in the most annoying areas possible. There would be fake brains in the fridge, random semi-realistic spiders planted under folded clothes and in the laundry basket, probably even in the toilet if she’s willing to accept sleeping on the couch for a night or two. You’d make an effort to show her all the cute little bats and ghosts you bought to put up together and she’d be casually drawing dicks on the wall with the fake blood. Forget trying to remind her she’ll be the one cleaning it up too because you’d already be covered in bloody hand prints.

-The only enjoyment she would get out of pumpkin carving is knowing that it involves a knife, at least until the idea to chuck pumpkin guts at you pops into her head. You would be so in the zone trying to perfect your design you wouldn’t realize she was up to anything until she asked to show you her carving and all of a sudden there’s orange goop on your tank top. It would essentially end up being the grossest version of a snowball fight imaginable and Sev would definitely shove some down your shirt at some point. Don’t worry though she gets a handful down her shorts so it’s even. You’d spend the rest of the evening mildly annoyed as you clean each other up. 

“I could’ve baked those seeds if you hadn’t decided to be an ass.” You were still frantically trying to get the guts out her hair, it was truly shocking that you were still finding remnants after what had felt like hours of scrubbing and plucking. 

Sevika was still pretty sour about your attempt at playing dirty, in the eyes was fair game but below the belt was just too far. “You didn’t have to pick pumpkin out of your pubes, you don’t get sympathy.”  (I’d say I’m sorry but truthfully I'm not)

“Oh my god, Sev, there was barely anything there-”

-Horror movies would be more like watching comedies than anything else, she’d be calling out the inaccuracies of injuries and making bets with you over candy corn for who she thinks will die first. If you’re easily spooked she’ll lay it on extra thick with the mockery in an attempt to make you feel less on edge while you’re curled into her side. If that doesn’t work she’ll do her best to keep you distracted and hope that you don’t mind periodic screams of bloody murder while she’s on top of you. It would take a decent amount of convincing to get her to watch anything along the lines of Hocus Pocus or Scooby Doo but seeing how content and cozy you look as you munch on your candy and attempt to play off your sleepiness makes her wanna hold you closer.

(Also she would leave them playing when you doze off because she secretly enjoys them-)

-She would definitely have an elaborate prank planned on the night before Halloween and you’d be none the wiser, if anything you’d double check the bathroom for fake insects. She wanted to genuinely scare the daylights out of you and get away with it because it was in the spirit of the season and she knew you wouldn’t tell her off for that reason alone. You both did at least fifteen laps around the apartment before you realized it was her, cornered and pinned to the wall with her signature blade inches away from your face. She was fully convinced that her prank had been a triumphant success until she saw that familiar look in your eye, your breath heavy as you panted beneath her and she erupted into a fit of chuckles.

You averted your gaze as you felt heat bloom all the way to the tips of your ears, it wasn’t entirely your fault, Sevika had a tendency to bring out new sides of you. She already knew you found her attractive when she was angry, this was only minimally different.

The blade was retracted and replaced with her metal hand beside your face, she hadn’t even considered the fact that you’d react in that particular way. She was still very pleased with the results regardless. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me-”

“You look hot when you’re murderous, you can’t blame me…”

-Getting her into a costume could go one of two ways. It’s a costume not too far out of her style or something she deems as cool enough to wear and she won’t mind putting it on at all or you’d have to get creative for her to even consider getting into one with a tail and ears. Halloween night you let her dress up as whatever she likes but when you have the opportunity to go costume shopping beforehand you’re grabbing nearly everything in sight. You shuffle through a few of the sillier ones you grabbed in the beginning to make her laugh, she had an absolute hay day watching you try to walk around in the inflatable dinosaur. You were convinced she tripped you on purpose just to get more enjoyment out of watching you struggle. When the attempts at using the claim as leverage didn’t work you brought out the more scandalous outfits. The costume ended up destroyed and you were incredibly sore but the icing on the cake was that you got to have Dino Sevika saved in your camera roll for all of eternity. 

[iamaweretoad]

Did you maybe get a chance to develop an idea for your Rogue Trader? What are they like? And, perhaps most importantly, how do they get along with the members of their retinue? 😊

I am so glad you enjoy the game, hope you have a great day!! 💜

Thank you for enabling me! 💜

god this game is giving me hella brainworms, so apologies in advance for how long this got!

His name is Mago Vanth, though he goes exclusively by his surname and has for a while now. It's a bit awkward with his fancy new surname tacked onto it (all those v's), but so is he, so.... XD

Crime lord background. Lawful neutral. Loyal to his people (crew/gang/etc) and nothing else. Ruthless when necessary. Fast talking. Pragmatic (until he's not). He has a talent for people and synthesizing information/perspectives. Good at tactics, bad at combat (he's gonna give Abelard a heart attack one of these fights). Be gay do crimes.

He was born in a hive world slum. Orphaned at 9 after his mother got sucked into a chaos cult and tried to sacrifice him and his sibling. Started his life of crime young and by his late 20s he was running a successful gang. Unfortunately the leaders of the larger syndicate that his gang was part of ALSO got involved in some Chaos shit, and Vanth was arrested as part of the investigation/crackdown.

I went with Shadow of Torment from the 'Darkest Hour' section of character creation ("You were arrested and thoroughly interrogated using creative and violent methods."), so.... yeah. He claims he lost his eye in a fight, but in reality it was a result of the interrogation.

He (barely) survives and manages to escape, but by that point he is a complete wreck and everyone he knows/cares about is dead, arrested or wants *him* dead for betraying them. So he runs, as far towards the outer rim (or whatever the in-universe equivalent is) as the money in his bailout stash will get him and begins the process of trying to piece himself and his life back together.

8? 10? years later, he's clawed his way up to being the leader of a successful smuggling syndicate (not huge, but a respectable size) when he gets press-ganged into the Von Valencias dynasty.

He's spent his whole life living/working outside of (and often in conflict with) the establishment. And now he IS the establishment and it's killing him. More than that, though, it's the title that he's really struggling with. Heinrix has that line at the beginning of Act 2, something about if you land on Footfall incognito it will be your last chance to be treated like a person -- and like, he means it in a subterfuge/reconnaissance way, not a existential way, but it's still very much true in an existential way. Vanth isn't a person anymore, he's a title, and it's terrifyingly isolating and lonely and he has no idea how to navigate it.

The only thing that is keeping him from drowning completely is a) he is very good at people, and b) he has never known stability in his entire life and is a firm believer in "no plan survives contact with the enemy" so he is very adept at improvising/adapting on the spot. But the amount of focus and energy this requires isn't really sustainable, and it's only a matter of time before he burns himself out.

***

Re: companions -- I just got to Footfall, so I've only got their Act 1 introductions so far (and haven't met the later companions yet). But in terms of very early impressions:

Abelard: Space Dad. They butt heads a fair bit, but his experience and advice is invaluable, and he's the one person Vanth can sorta lean on for support (professionally if not emotionally -- yet). He also seems unafraid to tell Vanth bluntly to his face when he thinks he's being an idiot, which is an indispensable quality even if Vanth doesn't always agree with his position.

Idira: Sibling energy. Someone else who found a way to exist outside of the system. The only person he can have a normal (to him) conversation with. Basically his reaction to Idira was "oh thank fuck someone sane".

Argenta: nails-on-a-blackboard levels of uncomfortable. She swings wildly between compassion, contempt and fanaticism and he cannot get a bead on her. He respects her skill in combat, but he does not trust her at all, AND she picks on Idira, so she's on thin fucking ice.

Cassia: He is trying to remember that she's still a kid (technically an adult, I assume, but he's in his mid to late thirties, so to him she's a kid). And she's a kid who has been intensely isolated, indoctrinated and infantilized her entire life and who has not, until like a week ago EVER come in contact with any information that challenges her perception of reality/worldview. He is also trying to remember that when someone is actually willing to talk to her about that conflicting information, she seems willing to sit with the discomfort and objectively consider it, and in some cases change her view/behavior in response (which is more than can be said for some of the other party members). He is trying to remember that and not have a kneejerk reaction every time she opens her mouth about commoners, but goddamn it's a struggle. Not helped by the fact that even if he succeeds, she can still tell he's angry because she's an empath. He's working on it. He likes her, he's just so fucking tired.

Pasqal: TBD. He doesn't quite know what to make of him yet. (i feel like Pasqual had a much higher ratio of exposition to personal dialogue than the other companions in Act 1 -- which entirely fits the character, but doesn't give me a lot to work with XD)

Heinrix: IT'S COMPLICATED. They got off on the wrong foot for starters, walking in on him interrogating an enemy. Instant trauma flashbacks for Vanth, and then Heinrix immediately escalated the tension by threatening Idira. As first impressions go, could not have been worse. Luckily there was still a station full of cultists trying to kill them and combat is a hell of an icebreaker. He's still a walking trigger and the way he asks questions sets Vanth's teeth on edge, but things are more or less civil between them for now. Vanth values his pragmatism, and he's been kind to Cassia and he helped Evayne (and even Idira in that last combat). And every so often there is a hint of a person underneath all the dogma and red-tape officiousness, which makes Vanth curious despite himself.

[restless-witch]

better not wake the baby - spring part 2

link to chapter on ao3- ya gotta be logged in though

Fic Summary: Jaskier isn't helpless. He'd been a shepherd before. He'd killed a wolf before. He'll slaughter again if that's the price of freedom.

Fic Rated M: explicit gore/medical descriptions and miscarriage/abortion aftermath, swearing, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, really gross attitudes towards omegas, abusive relationships, references to fucking, brief suicidal ideation, tbh I'll probably write some actual fucking later

This fic was current up and to part 17 of Honey - Sometimes the Tunnel Only Leads to Darkness and after better not wake the baby- spring part 1. You'll enjoy this fic more if you’ve read them <3

Witcher 3 + Netflix / This part is rated T for contains references to sexual stuff and swearing

heyyo @oldandkinky it's a treat for you and me we've got some plot happening

Drown yourself in crocodile tears Curse the gods what made 'ye Pine away for your banner year But it better not wake the baby How long will this go on? How long, indeed? bang a drum 'till the money's all gone- but it better not wake the baby -The Decemberists -  What a Terrible World, What a Beautiful World

He'd spent his first weeks on the lam in the wilds and resolves not to fucking do that again- even now that he's got his pack properly filled. It's easier to avoid Geralt in the woods but the constant trapping of game for supper wore on him as quickly as the misery of waiting out the spring rains did. 

All told, he was lucky to be in this part of Redania, where itinerant work was a little easier to come by and the locals generally still observed the customs of hospitality.

He emerged from Lettenhove in time for the spring plowing and thanked the lone lucky star watching over him that the local gossips were still chattering over the white haired witcher that left weeks ago. 

He was free of outrunning Geralt, for at least a little while.

Geralt was hunting him, he was sure- the scorched garden back home confirmed Geralt's rage even if Jaskier was foolish enough to think the witcher would take his flight easily. Living on the path, however, was not free and Geralt would need to slow his chase for coin. 

Jaskier really hoped he wasn't banking too much on gossip to keep him ahead, or behind, Geralt. 

He drifted between towns for a few weeks, living just a little better than hand to mouth, taking jobs in the fields and hunting for herbs to sell. The cuts and bruises he accumulated on jobs went away as easily as if he'd wiped them off and, more out of boredom than anything, he forms the sign of igni and a sputtering flame erupts from his fingertips. Which scares the shit of him enough that it's another week before he tries again: the signs have mixed success but he's torn between the terror of his foreign body and the desperate drive to take any advantage he can. He feels unsettled by this life- too close to what he experienced on the path, too close to the little jobs he'd take back home- feels like he's stagnating and mouldering even as he pushes his body farther beyond what he knew he should be capable of.

It's outside of Rinde that the grift begins.

It was raining- a heavy downpour through the night and into the day that seemed to follow Jaskier as he slogged through the muddy roads and only the guess-timate of Rinde being a three hour walk that forced his feet all the way to the inn.

Well, he thought it was the inn, but the unamused Ealdorman's clerk quickly dashed that presumption. The clerk mutters a curse into his ledger before asking if the amount on the posting is enough for him to just get on with it .

"Pardon?" Jaskier can't help but be polite.

"One drowner," the clerk enunciated, like Jaskier was some kind of fool, "I understand that's more a nuisance in your profession," he exaggeratedly looked down at Jaskier's chest, "but Kazimierz finally emptied the orphanage."

Oh. The medallion. The lover's medallion, smaller than Geralt's but, proclaiming an allegiance to the school of the Wolf. He'd nearly forgotten he wore it at all and had kept it around his neck merely to keep it safe for when he eventually pawned it. It must have wrested itself outside of his clothes while he hunched from the rain. With Tomek wrapped and strapped to his back and his gambeson worn to protect him from the cold- he can't even fault the clerk for his assumptions. 

Before he can help himself, he's agreeing to the contract.

-----------------------

In retrospect, killing his first drowner wasn't the hardest thing he'd ever done but it was the most frightening thing he'd ever done by choice. The White Wolf killed the others a few weeks back, but the lone remnant had made enough trouble by the bridge that the ealdorman promised him room and board for a week if he'd rid them of it. The room was a barn stall and the board was a meager basket of vegetables and eggs, but he'd been on the road enough that a week with the same roof over his head was plenty. 

He's so fucking stupid- but wasn't like trying to outsmart a witcher had really gotten him any progress. He knew a lot about drowners, for all that the witchers griped about contracts for them- it really was because they were a nuisance to a witcher. Hardly a monster and more of giant rancid smelling pain in the ass that mostly got handled by witchers because a crowd of them would overwhelm a normal human by the stench alone.

This was... doable if he didn't act a complete fool.

He went out the next afternoon when the rain had finally abated and found a gnarled yew tree. He climbed up and tested the boughs- swinging himself from a few of them and settling on the one with the best line of sight. He hung his pack on the branch above him and nocked his bow. He waited-

and waited-

well, fuck maybe he should've tried to track it during daylight hours.

At twilight it dragged itself out of the water- happily munching on a bullfrog. Jaskier loosed an arrow and the drowner squealed when it sank into its foot. It squalled as it tried to yank its foot off the ground- the beast didn't even wonder where it came from. He loosed a second towards the other foot but it sailed peacefully into the water. The third trapped the other foot and the drowner had enough mind to rip the fifth out of its chest.

He'd have to get closer then. 

Jaskier pulled Tomek from the branch above and hopped down: he tried casting igni but panicked and the sputtering flame just alerted the drowner to his presence- the drowners' fins flaring when it turned to claw at him. It lurched forward uselessly with its feet stuck, but it kept screeching and Jaskier wondered if his ears were bleeding. He threw his whole weight behind a clean aim towards its neck.

His swing went wide and when he rolled to the side to try and not trip he ended up just bashing its skull in with the blunt side. It crumpled to the ground but he frantically hacked away at the corpse until the head was completely severed.

He vomited onto the rocky shore. 

The body had stopped twitching: the gills dried out quickly and the revolting smell of rot and fish blood got stronger. Dawn was an hour or two away and Jaskier carefully crept back up the yew and pulled down his pack. He drank a little water and then a little temerian rye when his trembling wouldn't stop. He sat on the bank of the river and by the time daylight had started creeping over the body- he saw that the outside flesh was a mottled blue but the inside of the neck was grey. He stood back up and ambled back to the body, wrenching out his arrows, and kicking it over. It didn't look like a drowned person. It looked like a fish person with fine little scales and fins like a catfish. That-

that made it easier. It didn't really look like a person. if it was once a human then it hadn't been one for a very long time. 

The tongue, he remembered, was the traditional proof of the kill for a drowner. Something that annoyed Geralt because of how long they were. 

By this point, death had opened the jaw of the drowner's head for him and it was quick if very messy work to cut the tongue out. He panicked again. He hadn't thought ahead about what to do with the tongue. He paced the shore and panicked and panicked and panicked and until he was laughing hysterically. 

The great shuddering laughter did make him feel better in a way- it made the bit of flesh in his hand seem so fucking stupid and he did do it, he'd killed a verifiable monster. 

Gods he was so fucked- 

he'd done it though

-behind his heaving laughter he could feel the smallest reluctant flutter of hope in his chest. no he wasn't a witcher but maybe-

maybe he could go along with the hoax better than he thought he could. Most of their contracts were small like this, right? Maybe his grift wasn't as foolish as he'd thought it was.

-----------------------

He'd persuaded the ealdorman's wife to let him use her wash tub and fetch water from their well: he dragged them into the barn and stripped down. It was then he realized his smallclothes were sticky with drying slick. He felt revolted. He hadn't felt aroused but it must've happened when he was slaying the drowner. He'd been so caught up in the urgency and the terror, he hadn't noticed his body readying for what usually followed. Panic and arousal were tied together in his body. He'd known Geralt had ruined his twinges of lust but this was different. He was disgusting. A wretched example of an omega. A wretched example of a lover. He hated it. Hated his body. 

But it was all he had now. His silly dream of being a bard would never happen with his scarred face. Perhaps a wandering worker that occasionally busked, but no true bard could make it without a bit of wooing and he wasn’t feeling so vain as to pretend they were easy to ignore. No good alpha would take him with the bond mark or scarred womb, even if he claimed Geralt's death. He wasn't soft anywhere an omega should be. Not anymore. 

He stood above the bath a long time, avoiding looking at his blurry reflection. He tries casting igni again and his (traitorous) body didn’t hesitate to actually call the chaos this time so at least he was staring into a frothy  steaming bath instead. The minerals in the water filled his chest in a different way than the well water at home: which now that he thought about it, very rarely steamed with as much fervor either. He's told the air by the sea is salty in a good way, the only things he could compare it to are Kaer Morhen's springs and the Pontar, which sounds so strange and foreign he can hardly imagine it. Maybe he'll go to the coast, it's just as good a direction as any, become a sailor, just because he's playing Witcher now doesn't mean he can't try to wheedle a life aloft. 

The water was a bearable temperature by the time he finally calmed his thoughts enough to step in and it was like he cast axii on himself, the hot water sluicing all his thoughts away.  

He made up for the lack of payment by winning a few boxing matches: the smattering of scars on his torso and face were enough to convince the local tavern owner that he'll give a good show. The food in the basket left as payment by the ealdorman's wife dwindled quickly- he honestly hadn't planned on staying for the full week- but Zosia seemed to have a soft spot for him because a few more eggs and turnips and even a loaf of bread rolled in.

He paced the fields some- he killed a wolf prowling around and traded the pelt for a pair of boots and a handsome belt. The belt, regrettably and unavoidably, got traded for a fresh quiver of arrows and a proper sharpening for Tomek and his knife.

All told; a week earned him a purse of coppers (perhaps a lean two crowns when added up), Zosia ladling him a secret pot of milk as he leaves, and pointers to a few towns where he might find a little work.

-----------------------

He stumbled his way through the rest of the spring, mostly making coin helping with the tilling and taking on a contract for a warg which wasn't so different from killing a wolf besides the fact that the medallion that earns him the contract also earns him the missive to take his coin and leave before sundown. The same goes for flashing his medallion when he sells to the apothecarist- less bartering on the prices or the quality, but the same directive to leave the damned town the same day.

Town to town he goes and mingles and meets a handful of people who spot his medallion and ask after their friend Geralt . Jaskier briefly, in a moment of near insanity, wonders if there's a second witcher named Geralt of the Wolf School that just never returns to the Kaer for the Geralt they tell him of is gentle and carries a tome of poetry and permits brave children to ride Roach.

But the details remain the same- white hair, School of the Wolf, and a predilection for plums and brunettes- and Jaskier was forced to hold up the possibility that Geralt was a master manipulator of a caliber he didn't even know was possible to have charmed people in so many places into believing he was kind .

He supposed he too once thought Geralt was kind, for an afternoon, and perhaps they just never frustrated him enough for Geralt to lose his patience. The lone exception is an elf in the market who proclaims Jaskier and the other members of his guild "fine enough" but asks him to spit on Geralt the next time they meet as payback for "whatever striga crawled up his ass and died."

He agreed to do it for the both of them and feels vindicated when the elf elaborates that the witcher had been good-natured enough until their last meeting two years ago.

Jaskier traveled, he worked, he met folk foul and fair.

He survived and, for a time, that was enough.

-----------------------

Towards the end of the day, Nenneke was sealing her correspondence with wax, when Anka informed her that "an acquaintance has come by on an important matter." Anka added that it's a witcher but not the same one as last time, she thought, she's not sure. Anka's devotion to the goddess was admirable but her attention for anything but nurturing plants was rather lacking- Nenneke was surprised Anka noticed a visitor at the gate at all. Nenneke sank into her chair a bit, closing her eyes as she drew in a long breath, because she was getting a little done with Geralt breathing down her neck like she was his errand boy.

"Make sure there's a bed available," she finally said, resisting the urge to just turn him away, "and tell him I'll attend to him when I'm done." 

Done ended up being close to supper, after the postulant's vows of evening silence had taken hold: so she arranged for Geralt to eat with her in the hall outside the infirmary ward. She was tucking into a bowl of pottage when the witcher arrived but it wasn't Geralt that hesitantly strode across the hall. 

It was his little omega who wasn't so little anymore. His frame had thickened out and he was bearing more than a few scars- but the mating mark on his neck was still clear to the world. Anka must have arranged for him to bathe as well because he smelled merely of soap and soft citrusy omega nervousness. She carefully took a long breath and couldn't detect the acrid smell of terror he had last time or Geralt for that matter. 

This was going to be interesting.

"Priestess Nenneke," he said softly, taking the seat across from her, his frame curled small as he humbly bowed his head to her,  "thank you for taking the time to see me."

"You weren't 'the witcher' I expected to see," she said, leaning back and gesturing for him to accept the bowl across from her, she huffed a little laugh, "I'd be a poor priestess of Melitele if I turned away a traveler." 

He gave a little snort and the two ate in silence for a while. If Nenneke were younger, she would've tried to pry more from him: but he wasn't her first battered omega to show up without his alpha and he certainly wouldn't be her last. She wordlessly pressed a second serving on him- he'd bulked up a bit but there was a leanness to his cheeks she didn't like in omegas. 

"Has Geralt come to see you?" he finally asked, eyes trained on pulling the crust off his bread.

"Since we last met?" He nodded, "Yes, once. About a month ago- after Belleteyn." She watched him carefully and, instead of a spike of worry, his smell remained carefully nervous.

"Did he take Essi?" he started to press the inside of his bread flat.

"He couldn't if he tried," Nenneke said plainly, his eyes darted to her face and searched her eyes, "her rearing is in the temple's hands now. Besides," she gave an arch smile, "he can't tell her from Embla," there's no mistaking the relief that floods out of him and she started to feel a real fondness for him when his shoulders go slack. 

"Is she happy here?" 

"Truthfully, I don't see her often," Nenneke gave a little hum, "but we take care of our girls. She's the temple's now and I wouldn't even let you take her."

There was a pause as he took that in, he must have settled on accepting it because he sighed and turned a more serious glance to Nenneke, "Thank you, for taking care of her and easing my mind," he chewed his lip a bit, "I suppose I should tell you I've been traveling and working a bit as a witcher. The Witcher Yulek."

"I don't suppose it's with his permission you are doing this," she said, Jaskier shook his head, "you're too old for Vesemir to try and make a real witcher out of you anyway."

Jaskier swallowed and Nenneke could smell a load of trouble.

"Why are you here, Yulek?" she asked him firmly, "you knew when you signed Essi into our care that she'd not be leaving until she was an adult. Geralt isn't stupid enough to break the peace just to get her away from me."

"Will you tell him I was here?" she could smell anxiety begin to bloom in his scent.

"Is that what you want?" she retorted sharply and wrinkled her nose from his scent bursting with emotions, "I suppose that answers that. My allegiance isn't to him and I'll forgive the insult you'd think it would be," she scrutinized him intensely and saw his hands tighten on his lap like a child getting a scolding- she felt herself soften a bit, for he wasn't yet much more than a child, "my duty is to the people seeking Melitele's help here, now what is it you came here for?"

"My body," he said quietly, "I don't recognize it. Something is happening to me. He was going to kill me: he was going too far. And then I noticed- the changes. You must see-"

He wordlessly took a knife from his belt and cut into the flesh inside his arm- over a spot where she noticed a curious handful of similar scars.

He must have done this before. 

She kept herself in her seat and the two sat in silence as the blood quickly clotted- before he could bleed out- far quicker than should have been possible. She cycled through thoughts- a curse, some sort of latent skill for chaos, the trials-

She still wet her apron and tended to it, wiping away the blood as she'd done so many times to so many omegas.

"It's not the food," he continued, "I've been on my own since before Birke- I don't-" he trailed off.

That ruled out going through the Choice like Leo.

"He used to drink something,"Jaskier said, "some kind of fertility treatment, could that have changed me?"

"That doesn't sound likely," she said frankly, "for a draught to do that, it would need to be very concentrated in his body, not yours." Nenneke looked him over again, new eyes examining the way his shoulders had filled out and the thickness of his hair and the scars scrawled across his face, "is there anything beyond what you have shown me?"

"I can cast a sign," he bit his lip, "sometimes."

"May I touch you?" she asked and Jaskier nodded. She patted along his body, the nodes where chaos was prone to collecting, and felt the latent hum she associated with the witcher adepts.

How strange-

"Did you meet Eskel?" she could recall, many years ago, Eskel studying at the temple with all the other Witcher adepts and massaging a lame kitten back to health, "he has more chaos in his hands then the stones of power."

Jaskier's body locking under her hands was answer enough, "we wintered together," he said through his teeth.

"If that is what is changing you," she said carefully, "I think you need to go back to Kaer Morhen to find out- that's beyond the scope of anyone here. They were secretive enough about that before the school fell."

"Was he always like that?" Jaskier gritted out, "was Geralt always like that?"

"I've never seen him take an omega before if that's what you're asking," Nenneke said. She watched Jaskier seem to collect himself, letting out a shuddering breath as he unlocked his jaw and kneaded his palms into his thighs.

"I've met people," he said, mouth full of piss and vinegar, like each word was pulled from his teeth, "who speak of a Geralt I've never met. Kind. Gentle. Funny, even. I can't imagine you being a friend to an arse like Geralt, was he like that once or are they liars?"

"People change," she said carefully, "he's had his shortcomings. But-"

"But?"

"The summer after Blaviken-" she said, "he changed. Blaviken was bad enough- but the summer after was especially cruel to him."

"It's like some kind of poison in his mind-"

Oh. The basilisk. 

She hadn't even thought of that.

She needed to think.

She invited the boy, Yulek, Jaskier, Julian- whatever name worked- to stay at the temple while she thought.

-----------------------

Jaskier ended up staying at the temple for a whole week: earning his keep milling medicinal ingredients through the day. Nenneke introduced him to the novice Sorcha, a former Temerian Blue Stripes, who gave him a dirty tutoring in bomb making, battle dressing, and making medicine.

He leaves Ellander with a haircut, a silver dagger, and the dread that he must eventually, actually, realistically, return to the Kaer.

-----------------------

A/N- Encouragement and kind words will always make me more excited to write stuff <3 and feel free to dash off a message to me! I haven’t really made any friends in the fandom yet :3c

Thanks for reading, friends!

Rough and tumble ragged drafts on tumblr here: Actual Fic Better Not Wake The Baby

This fic is based on OldandKinky’s Honey-verse and you can also find them here: Honey-verse on Ao3 and OldandKinky on Ao3

and if you like my writing, I’ve also got “Varieties of Exile” 

[itsagrimm]

Research Special

I have been asked to share my notes and references to 'He Who Comes from under the Water'. So here is my ongoing list of myths, fables, tales, practices or customs i have referenced so far.

People from central & eastern Europe are explicitly invited to add, argue or disagree with stuff they are familiar with.

Disclaimer: While I enjoy many traditional stories & practices, this is not a trad life safe space. Regressive misanthropes, fascists, right wingers, racists, anti-feminists and science deniers be gone. Romanticism may be my personal escapism and access to some of my heritage, which I am willing to share with you. But this is not a white supremacists playground in fairy tale costume. You guys are always the evil in my stories. Stay away.

König is a Vodyanoy or водяно́й. It's a re-occurring character and entity in many eastern European and slavic stories. There is not one version of Vodyanoy. Depending on the region and story they are all slightly different with Western Slavs leaning to a more elegant (?) Vodník who might even pass as human, likes tobacco offerings and tea pots to keep souls in, while the eastern Slavs tend to have more stories of a wild king who fears nothing and "enslaves" aka drowns anyone who crosses his kingdom. What most of these stories share is that this very powerful entity, is playful and open to bargains or games. It's possible that many fairy tales and characters stem from old pagan gods and traditions which explain the amount of power and connection to the land. The name Vodyanoy is literally translatable as 'he who comes from under the water'.

The heron & the fox is a fable written by Aesop. I would also like to add that the fox is a re-occuring fable animal in may central & eastern European stories in which it is considered a clever animal. Also in at least Russian the fox often is considered female while the german stories tend to name the fox as male.

Curses and being cursed here in this context is a more central European witch hunt reference. The villager Ivar wants readers property and goes after her, claiming she is cursed and due to being a woman not allowed to own the land of her family. During Medieval times in central Europe many peasant women owned the land in the same way as men did, being bound to the same expectations of service and work. Not saying that peasant women in the central European Middle Ages had many personal liberties bc simply the concept of personal liberties and governance was a different one, but since they were expected to work the land in the same way as men did, it is odd to not allow the reader to work the land of her dead family. Claiming something as unprovable as being cursed, is at least in the historic context more a post medieval attempt to strategically disenfranchise the vulnerable female coded reader by playing up religious, mostly christian fears, to get her land. Witch hunts were not a massive phenomenon in Eastern Europe, but rather common Modern Times occurrences until the 18th century especially in german speaking regions where they noticeably affected disenfranchised groups like women*, the poor, the sick, jewish communities, migrants, ... This is in basically in any german history class book for school. But I can also recommend this or this.

The idea of marriages between human women and male animal/magical beings/gods/spirits/etc is very common theme appearing nearly everywhere on the globe. I concentrated on german tales about animal-human-marriages, especially tales from the Gebrüder Grimm Collection. The Gebrüder Grimm fairy tale collection is a collection of german tales from 1812. Unlike the Disney retellings of fairy tales this german collection is brütäl, meaning it never really got reworded much since the 18th century, mirroring what the brothers considered a fine and acceptable story to tell to kids. In the 18th century. As you can imagine that was very different to what we consider appropriate for kids now. Anyway, I did a closer reading on the german "Froschkönig", "Schneeweißchen & Rosenrot" and the "Eisenhans" tales. They include cursed swamp being, cursed bear and cursed frog. Especially in Froschkönig the princess is the vocal point of the story while being forced into a marriage with a frog. Also, the story has many sexual undertones and especially the early male psychologist carl jung had a blast writing about a young woman's sexuality, ignoring her lack of agency in the whole scenario (wtf carl.). Eisenhans is different for it is about a prince and is essentially the male, more action including version but it includes a dangerous but also somewhat helpful underwater being which drowns whoever comes to it. Finally "Schneeweißchen & Rosenrot" shows a bear as a protector for the then later brides. As you can guess I draw a lot of the psychological impacts especially from Froschkönig for the Reader perspective. Also, lot's of food references.

Female owlets cry ‘Kowitt!” which sounds like the german ‘komm mit’ / ‘come with me’. Therefore, it is said in German folklore that the owlets are birds of death wanting to take a soul with them or warning of the impending death of those who listen to it because it was heard so much around the dead and dying. Owlets and many other nightly birds of prey were hunted because of that in German speaking regions. The real reason for owlets crying around the dead is a different one: the lights of the wake for the dead drew the birds in at night.

Herbs might be something we consider magical now during an honestly odd revival of new age mysticism. But it likely wasn't magical per se in the same way for European central & eastern people in the undefined past. Of course there are stories and legend about magical herbs like the herb 'Moly' in the Odyssee. But the use of herbs just to flavour food can be found in the Edda the same way teas and foods are used to help with flavouring food, keeping healthy and curing sickness till this day without being magical. It's just practical to use what is at hand. Reader drinking a sage tea, which is a wild plant widely available basically everywhere is exactly that. If you want to try it, i recommend adding some honey. But please don't buy white sage just to make tea from it. That's wasteful considering the importance white sage has in other practices I am not familiar with when one can use Common Sage.

Because hair in whatever length or form is beautiful but requires work, many traditional hair styles for longer hair from the especially the eastern European region include ‘косы’ or braids/plaits. It's a very practical way of keeping your hair tidy and out of the way during a days work. Head coverings for female presenting people from the region also play an important role. The most known ones are head scarfs known as 'платки', they are beautiful scarfs with often flowery motives. Depending on the region of origin the patterns will be different. Платки used to be associated with being married and being older but not so much anymore as it can also be just worn as protection against the elements or as an accessory. Платки also play a role in various religious practices for both christian and muslims as well as cultural pride so I recommend doing serious research before just wearing this type of head covering just because you find it beautiful. I remember being called names for wearing this traditional dress so for someone just to take it and 'play' with it without learning more first, feels off to me. Another important head wear I plan on referencing is the 'кокошник' which is something like a crown or tiara worn by mostly married female presenting people. I remember seeing the кокошник drawn on basically all queens and princesses in my fairy tale books as a kid so you bet I will give reader one.

The swamp light's are another staple in many parts of the world where swamps exist. The German folklore know them as 'Irrlicht' or 'Sumpflicht' and consider them evil doers trying to lure wanderers into the dangerous swamps or just off the road. Slavic tales also associate the lights in the swamp with something bad. There is the entity of the 'боло́тник' who lives in the swamp and likes to lure people in by lighting up those fires, making animal noises and confusing wanderers by intoxicating them with gas from dangerous herbs. The боло́тник is not as common and I only read up on this creature as research for HWCFUTW since he does very similar things as the водяно́й and more stories are about him as the generally associated being ruling all types of waters.

At last:

Generally speaking I noticed a leaning in especially english speaking media to see everything slavic as culturally Russian, and everything German-speaking as from the whole of Germany. That is a dangerous simplification. If you want to learn and research more on your own about those regions and their traditions & stories i have to stress the importance of local culture and complex diversity in those regions.

Also, if you liked this I can do a follow up post about my references in my writing once I have introduced a bit more.

@thesinsoflust @kdkj122920 @die-prophetin @lillianastuff @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore