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thecampjuicebox · 16 days

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Glorious Suffering Pt. 2

Pairing: Abdirak x Tav(f) x Astarion x Shadowheart

Rating: 18+ NSFW, Minors DNI

POV: 2nd person

Warnings: SMUT, sadomasochism, blood, choking, bruising, spanking, biting, voyeurism/exhibitionism, orgasm denial, oral, fingering, p in v penetration, minor game spoilers, multiple partners

**If you missed it, you can read Part 1. here!**

"You thought we were going to let you cum? Little love.. How naïve."

His words sting like bees. Little Love. The degradation should upset you. Should ruin whatever arousal you have left. But it doesn't. If anything, it adds oil to the fire. You're more wet than ever. Heat rises in your ears and the tips turn a bright red, your fists balling up behind you in frustration as you try and wiggle out of his grasp. Through gritted teeth, you growl. A pathetic performance, on your part. Abdirak stands before you and circles his index finger over both of your nipples, smirking at you with half lidded eyes as each one perks up.

The half elf across the room giggles in amusement.

"Positively cruel."

"Patience, dear one.. You'll meet your end soon enough."

Every nerve ending on your body burns - Sizzles and crackles like a freshly lit torch, a beacon of light illuminating your discomfort. It hurts. Gods, it hurts. You can barely hold yourself up now, your legs and ankles weak from your climax being so cruelly ripped away from you. Tears sting the corners of your eyes and you let go, waterfalls of salty fluid making streaks through the splatters of blood and smears of dirt along your cheeks. A pathetic display. The "fearless leader" showing so much weakness. Shadowheart huffs in the distance and you can almost make out the faint shuffle of clothing sliding off of her soft skin. The way the fabric and armor hits the floor. Her careful footsteps. Then the warmth of her hands on your aching back, her soft breath against your ear.

"You sweet wounded bird.."

She licks a hot stripe against your cheek and it's enough to earn a groan from your raw throat. The gentle touches to your overstimulated flesh are somewhat comforting. So soft, so sweet, so very unlike Shadowheart. Astarion grins at the sight and cards a hand up through your hair to yank your head back, forcefully straightening your soiled back against him, his sticky seed covering the front of his tunic now.

"Mm. I've made quite the mess, haven't I?"

"I think we could get messier." Shadowheart purrs, moving to the front of your trembling body now.

She slides to her knees before you and stares up with her piercing green eyes, almost asking for permission. For what, you have no idea. A slight nod gives her the go ahead, not from you, but from Astarion and your breath catches in your throat. You squeeze your eyes shut and wait. Wait for whatever sensation Shadowheart decides to bestow upon you. Sharp nails dig themselves into the plush meat of your thighs and your mouth falls agape with a yelp. After what seems like hours of waiting - agonizing waiting - hot breath coasts along your pulsating mound and your knees buckle beneath you. Astarion tuts behind you with amusement. He's so cruel. This is all so cruel. Beneath you, the raven haired half-elf moves her warm tongue over the nearly gushing slit between your thighs and a breathy moan escapes your parted lips.

If you could burst into flames in this very moment, you damned well would. Body, mind, and soul, all igniting with waves of white hot pleasure that wrack your body with uncontrollable trembles and whines as Shadowheart dips her tongue further. She's much more skilled than you'd anticipated; a lovely surprise you'd thank Shar herself for. A hungry moan slips past Shadowheart's lips as she begins to ravish every inch of your soaked cunt with her mouth - tongue, teeth, and lips all working together to drag you toward the precipice of earth shattering ecstasy. She looks so pretty on her knees beneath you. In any other circumstance, you'd be the one on your knees at her feet. Serving her. Sighs of amusement break through the strained whines and whimpers that force themselves from your tired throat, the two men still watching every move. Astarion keeps a firm grip on your arms to keep you upright while Abdirak palms at himself through his garb, the rough fabric scraping back and forth over his skin with each pass of his hand. "Such a good girl.. Making me so hard again."

Astarion coos in your ear as a cold hand moves itself skillfully around your side to your stomach, each muscle contracting and shuddering from the frigidity of his skin. He digs his nails into the flesh there to earn a sweet yelp from your swollen, parted lips. It's too much.. Yet, it's not enough. Your cunt aches to be filled again and again and again, the stimulation against your clit simply not enough to get you there. You want to scream. Want to sob and cry and beg for something, anything, anyone. Shadowheart's tongue moves in mind numbing circles around your entrance and you keen at the sensation, mouth hung open as you pant heavily. Air evades your lungs. You can't breathe, can't see, only feel. Every sensation heightened by the echo of disgusting noises ringing all around you in the small stone-brick room you stand exposed in. Astarion's coos and praise, Abdirak's grunts of pleasure as he works himself to his own end only to deny himself just as his knees give out and he topples to the ground before you. Shadowheart's little slurps and whines at your taste raise goosebumps on your skin by the millions. A symphony of vile sounds and sights that would make any normal person recoil. Not you.. Gods, not you.

The tadpole nestled comfortably behind your eye wriggles with excitement as your deepest desires are projected loud and clear to your lovers, Abdirak excluded of course. Something clicks and the vampire spawn stares down at the half-elf over your shoulder, both exchanging a single nod before Shadowheart moves herself away from you, leaving you whining loudly. Instead, she takes up a spot next to you against the wall - hip to hip. She places her hands firmly against the brick and taps her fingers there, feet spread to match your stance. Astarion releases your arms and instructs you to place your hands beside Shadowheart's. You obey, side pressed tightly to Shadowheart's to absorb any warmth you possibly can from her, every limb trembling. "The two of you look so lovely for us.." He mumbles, helping Abdirak back to his feet. "Your choice, human. Pick one."

Abdirak eyes the two of you for a moment, fingers tracing over the globes of Shadowheart's ass and across to yours, earning a wince as his fingertips graze over the still agitated bruises and cuts from his previous assault. He purrs with elation as his fingers pass back over your cuts and your back arches inward at the burning sensation.

"P-Please.." You whine.

"I choose her. She'll cry so beautifully for me, just as she did before."

Abdirak moves behind you and presses himself firmly against your ass, a careful and skilled hand crawling its way up your back and into your hair. You can feel the steel firm erection hidden beneath his garb and Gods, he's larger than you anticipated. Your hole aches to be filled by him in that very moment. Now. Now, I need it now! It's as if Abdirak can hear your silent please to be stuffed full, for without warning he slips his index and middle finger deep inside of you and wiggles them around, spreading them to stretch you open. To prepare you for what's to come. He, himself, lets out a strained grunt at just how wet you are; By the Gods, you're dripping. Abdirak's name slips past your lips like a prayer, over and over and over until it no longer sounds like a real word. From your side, Shadowheart giggles at your desperation, a sweet symphony of her own moans echoing through the chamber as Astarion kneels behind her and works his tongue into her soaked cunt.

A gentle hand slides over the rough brick and on top of yours, fingers intertwining at the back of yours to both hold you against the brick and to keep herself steady. The sounds she makes.. The way her back arches and her chest heaves as Astarion's tongue plays her like the finest harp.. She's heavenly. The princess of darkness glowing in the dim lanternlight of the dilapidated Selunite Outpost; how ironic is that? You can't help but grin at her as you watch her fall apart at your side.

"You sing so well for me, Princess."

Astarion moves to his feet again and lands a loud smack to Shadowheart's ass, an immediate handprint raising on the pale flesh. A trophy. A reward for her beautiful noises and how well she behaved as Astarion devoured her where she stands. The display beside you only makes you yearn for more. Yearn to be filled and pressed into the brick until you're a sobbing, drooling mess. To test the waters, you push your ass back against Abdirak and wait for his reaction. He responds with a smack of his own, much louder and most definitely harder than Astarion's, a soft sob forcing itself from your lips from the painful sting. Another follows, and then another, and another, until you've lost count and your skin is numb to the touch; bruised and begging to be kissed and nursed back to its normal pallid tone, not the alarming hues of reds, blues, and purples it exhibits now.

"Such a masterpiece of blood and bruises, you are. Loviatar is so proud of you, dear one. Let her hear you one more time, hm? Surely you can handle more."

Your mind screams "No more!', but your body gives you away. You ache for more. More pain. More Abdirak. The vampire spawn and the half-elf can see it in the way you rock your hips from side to side for him, putting yourself on display to coax him to ruin you again and again. Abdirak's hands find their way to your hips and give you an affirming squeeze, nails digging into your skin as a simple little way to inflict yet more pain. His cock throbs against your backside now and a sudden wave of confidence (more like desperation) wills you to grind yourself back against him, earning the softest and sweetest moans from the human's lips. Astarion growls at the sight and lines himself up with Shadowheart. With wine colored eyes locked on you, he slides his cock agonizingly slow into her ready and willing cunt, his tongue laving out over his dry lips to wet them and taste the remnants of Shadowheart's slick. She lets out a sigh of relief at the stretch and gives your hand another gentle squeeze before Astarion is ravenously thrusting into her.

Abdirak groans and lines himself up with you next, cock swiping back and forth to collect some of your slick before he eases it inside of you with a heavy sigh and a firmer grip on your hip. The half-elf to your side grunts and pants with each thrust of the vampire spawn behind her and you can't help but watch as her body is jostled around with the pure force of Astarion's movements. Her cheek presses firmly to the brick and she flashes you a drunken grin. Abdirak slides a hand back into your hair and grips it tightly, pushing your face against the wall to match Shadowheart's stance, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest as he matches Astarion's speed. The filthy sounds of skin slapping against skin echo all around you, moans and soft squelching overwhelming your senses as both you and Shadowheart are fucked senseless. Normally you'd be appalled by the conditions you're allowing yourself be exposed to. The dirt. The grime. The blood and gore scattered around you. But now.. Now there's nothing else to focus on but your building climax and the pretty woman beside you whose lips utter your name even though you have no hand in her pleasure.

"Tav.. Tav.. Tav.." She mutters, and it almost sounds as if it's right in your ear. So close, so gentle, so.. Intimate.

Abdirak's unyielding thrusts continue and that very familiar knot begins to tangle itself in your belly. Shadowheart pulls her hand away from yours and walks her fingers down your torso and thigh, reaching between your thighs to give some much needed attention to your swollen and aching clit. The sound that slips out of you is almost startling, pressure building and building in your abdomen as she circles her fingers skillfully. "Oh god.. Oh fuck!" You cry, tears stinging in your eyes again as you're held just at the edge of your orgasm. A loud sob escapes you and Abdirak groans in response, his thrusts only getting faster and harder. Harder. Harder. Harder. Shadowheart's fingers work themselves toward your entrance where Abdirak and you meet and she slips one inside beside him, reaching carefully so that her palm still works against your clit.

"Oh, you filthy things.."

Astarion coos, still pumping himself roughly into Shadowheart, loud gasps for air showing that he's dangerously close to his end. You're barely hanging on now, the combination of Shadowheart's hand, Abdirak's cock, and Astarion's praises pushing you so so close. Again, Shadowheart utters your name softly, this time even closer to your ear. "Tav.. Tav.. Tav.. Tav!" With a shudder, you let out a guttural yelp. So close.. It's coming.. I'm cumming! I'm-

Your eyes shoot open, star filled sky above you in a haze as you blink the sleep from your eyes, a very confused half-elf and a very amused vampire spawn knelt by your side. You reach a hand up and wipe the beads of sweat that formed on your brow, chest heaving as you prop yourself up on your elbows, suddenly aware of your surroundings.

"Interesting dream?"

Shadowheart asks with a quirked eyebrow, Astarion sat right behind her with a hand over his mouth to stifle the laughter just ready to burst from his lungs like water behind a dam.

"Interesting is certainly a word for it."

Astarion lets out a howl of laughter, head thrown back as both hands move up to cover his face. He nearly topples backward as he cackles and Shadowheart can't help but let slip a few giggles of her own, her fingertips pressing to her lips to try and hold them back, to no avail. The air suddenly feels so thick. So heavy around you and you want nothing more than to shrivel up and disappear. Your face burns a painful shade of red and you quickly turn over onto your side, laying your head down in hopes that this was the bad dream, and you'd wake up again with no recollection of this encounter. Or maybe.. You'd wake up in Abdirak's grip again.

**I hope you guys enjoyed!!! I'm so sorry it took so long to pump out.. I've been dealing with a ton of mental health issues and my living situation isn't the best currently, but I am doing my best to get back into the swing of things! Let me know what you guys think! 🖤 **

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #abdirak x tav #astarion x tav #shadowheart x tav #abdirak smut

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dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice · 1 year

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To the Shadows that Cry Witch /// Chapter 7

Hello again! I just want to say thank you so much to those who have enjoyed the story so far, your support has given me the confidence and motivation to continue writing, and I really hope you all stick around for the rest. If you're enjoying it so far, do message or comment to be added to the taglist. Enjoy :))))) <3

Summary: So uhhhh...... Magic is real. Middle Earth is real. Shit goes down. Bon Appetit.

Tags: Kíli x oc/reader - Fíli x oc (POV to be written soon) - Thorin's company x ocs/reader (platonic) - fluff - angst - SUPER slow burn - crack - Bagginshield

Word Count: 1060

Warnings: Mentions of Minor and Major Injuries from last chapter, Nothing else really, just Bilbo being Bilbo.

Taglist - comment or message to be added!

PLEASE START FROM THE BEGINNING IF YOU HAVEN'T ALREADY OK LOVE U

Want some background music? Check out my Soundtrack Playlist!

Now available on Wattpad and AO3 (please let me know if links aren't working)

< Chapter 6 // Chapter 7 // Chapter 8 >

PART 1: Chapter 7 -

This is why you don't socialise

Bedlam (Definition): (Noun) A scene or state of wild uproar or confusion.

Bilbo expected to hear something, whether it was yelling or preferably a quiet conversation, but when he woke early the next morning to nothing but silence from within his home, he felt himself let out a breath.

After rolling out of bed and stretching himself out, he tied the straps of his quilted dressing gown before tiptoeing down the hall. Gently pressing his ear to the door, he listened for any signs the two girls had awoken. When nothing answered, he slowly turned the handle, cracking the door ever so slightly and peeking his head through.

The lantern had died down, so the room was bathed in only a faint glow from the cracks of light peeking through the closed curtains. Peering at the bed, he let out a silent sigh of relief. Two lumps still laid there, and he could make out the slow rise and fall of their breathing.

Bringing the door to a close, he returned to comically tiptoeing down the hall, quietly opening the curtains throughout the various rooms of the house as he made his way to the kitchen. To his relief, the weather had finally returned to normal, with the morning sun warming his face as he swung the front windows open, letting in the bird song whilst the breeze tussled his curls, the rays highlighting his dark blond tresses. He could still smell the rain though, since the ground was still very damp according to the occasional puddle dotting the path outside.

He made the unfortunate decision of looking down at his garden, and he let out a quiet ‘gah’ of complaint at the sight of a few of his bushes half squashed, the morning exposing how much damage had really been done last night.

Turning away from the carnage to prevent himself from mourning his garden any longer, Bilbo spotted the now dry clothes on the rack by the hearth. Snapping his finger, he reminded himself that he now had two guests who, by the looks of it, had one hell of a night. He then proceeded to busy himself in the kitchen, preparing breakfast for three before the hand hit 7AM on the hefty grandfather clock stood tall up against one of the many walls of the house. Happy that everything was cooking and sizzling away, he set the kettle on the stove to warm up and made his way back through the house to retrieve his – hopefully awake – guests.

Arriving back at the door, he took a moment to prepare himself, also praying slightly to Yavanna that they would not be unpleasant. Leaning his ear towards the door, he brushed the wood with his knuckles and gave it the lightest knock.

Silence.

He knocked again, slightly harder this time.

Nothing.

With a huff, he shuffled on his feet and let his eyes dart over the wood before letting out a quiet “Hello?”

After receiving no answer for the third time, he tightened the strap on his gown before he, much like last time, slowly but surely cracked open the door and peeked in, this time letting out another slightly louder hello.

The fall must have really taken a toll considering they hadn’t moved an inch since he checked up on them earlier this morning. Opening the door wider, he cautiously let himself in, because these girls were missing out on breakfast, if the whistling kettle from further in the house said anything. He made sure to leave the door open as wide as it could go just in case anything went downhill and he needed a quick getaway.

Padding up to the edge of the bed on the left side, he fiddled with his fingers. Several times he went to tap the shoulder of the copper-haired girl, but pulled back before he did each time, his nerves getting the better of him. Gnawing his lip, he came to a decision.

Striding round he opened the curtains wide and swung open the window, letting in the morning sounds and breeze. That had done something, one of them letting out a groan as they turned away from the light. Marching back to the foot of the bed, Bilbo swung his arms slightly before landing them on his hips as he went with his last resort to wake them up.

“GOOD MORNING.”

That had done the trick. Though he hadn’t prepared himself for the reaction.

The copper one shot up with a wheezing gasp, eyes as wide as saucers, causing poor Bilbo to stumble back slightly with an almost identical expression. She blinked rapidly, and her grey eyes quickly came in contact with his unsure ones. She let out a shriek at the sight of him, flailing around to rid herself of her covers, kicking her companion in the process as she ended up crashing to the floor in a tangle of limbs and towels. This was certainly the last thing Bilbo had hoped for.

Her kicking had also done the trick of waking up her friend, who, to Bilbo’s relief, rose from her slumber in a much calmer (though still uncomfortable) way. She sat up on her side with a groan of pain, eyes still half closed. She faced over her shoulder towards where her friend had tumbled with a frown, and with another huff, made the move to fall back on the bed.

Bilbo quickly stepped forward, opening his mouth to get her attention, but it seemed the creaking floorboard had beaten him to it.

The brunette made a double take at the noise, leaning back up before also widening her eyes at the sight of him at the foot of the bed. She made no movement, only stared, as her friend clambered up, the towels pooling at her feet. All Bilbo could do for a good moment was stare right back, his mouth opening and closing like a fish, until he finally strung words together.

“I err—break- breakfast is in the kitchen, just down the corridor annnnd take the fourth right.” Bilbo waved his finger in those directions, suddenly finding the floorboards very interesting whilst being under the scrutiny of the two now voiceless girls. He patted at his robe, awkwardly slipping his hands in the pockets. “Tea will be ready in five… and I—yep” and with a sharp twist on his heel, he was out the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

< Chapter 6 // Chapter 7 // Chapter 8 >

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Can't wait to see you on the 5th May for Chapter 8! Also please comment if you want to be added to the Taglist <3

Taglist:

@opheliasdrowningg @mrsdurin @g1gglef1t @qmabailor @jupiterrdarling @emstar07 @geewoo-ko

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#the hobbit #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit x you #the hobbit x oc #kili x reader #fili #kili #fili x reader #hobbit x reader #fili x oc #kili x oc #thorins company x reader #thorins company #To the Shadows that Cry Witch #big soup #kili durin

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metanoiamorii · 3 years

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❛Falling for her wasn't falling at all. It was walking into a house and suddenly knowing you're home.❜

♧ Title: Coming Home [CH]

♧ Status: Drafting, honestly

♧ Point of View: Most likely third person, with two, three povs it can jump between

♧ Genre: Fantasy, Adventure, Romance

♧ Warnings: Nudity, violence, attempted murder, eldritch beings, gore, witch hunts, using religion to commit atrocities, deaths, tragic endings, star crossed lovers, tragic romance, mention of past abuse, mention of past torture; I'm sure I'm missing some.

♧ Featuring: A cottage witch and her two eldritch idiots for a good start.... Diverse LGBTQ+ characters, enemies to begrudging allies to friends to lovers to enemies, complicated relationships, morally grey characters, complex and complicated world-building, slow-burn relationships, plenty of symbolism, witches, fantasy religions, found family, cottagecore, character redemption arcs, character corruption arcs; I'm sure I'm missing some but you get the picture!

♧ Setting: Honestly? It's kind of ambiguous as I can't make up my mind where it's set. Overall it's a cute remote cottage these three share. With mention of other places.

♧ Tease: Just because you are feeling lost, it does not mean that you need to go back their way, even if they were the only home you've ever known. You left it for a reason, remember? It is best to stay lost and search for a better home than to return to the home that was never really a home. Build your own home.

♧ Synopsis:

Liraz lives a simple life. Her days are spent alone, with her companion Blodeu. Together they live in seclusion in a cottage in the middle of nowhere. It is as they prefer, for their own safety.

In the mornings, Liraz wakes. She cooks herself breakfast and plans for the day. Until noon she tends to her cottage and her gardens. In the evenings, with Blodeu she ventures into the woodlands nearby and enjoys nature and all she finds. Before she sleeps, she leaves offerings to the spirits and to the gods. She wakes. The cycle repeats.

One night, however, the cycle is interrupted.

First comes a hailstorm as never witnessed before. When she stirs from bed to investigate, the wind calls her by what she is: witch. The next night opposed to a hailstorm and wind, there is a fire that blazes across the entire mountain. The flames too cackle in greeting by what she is: witch. The next night, she meets the spirits that have been interrupting her sleep.

Or so, she had expected spirits. She may have bargained a bit more than she could handle. But she isn't a woman that rejects a challenge.

Ultimately, Liraz comes to an arrangement with the two. Soon, they all fall into a pattern that involves a reliance and acceptance of each other. The company they provide, the cottage is no longer quiet and lonely, and Liraz... Liraz doesn't mind it as much as she should.

♧ Excerpt:

[this is one of the few times I write first person, so enjoy it. This all started since I was writing a journal for this woman in a dnd campaign]

I admit, I must have fallen asleep waiting. It's to my surprise, it did not come during the Witching Hour, but after, in what could be in the early morn, before the suns and moons would chime five. And it was not an it, but a they. It would make far more sense, than it being one entity. Their presence, not such a show as the night before, stirred me from my slumber.

The first clad in dark with skin to rival ice. Off the ground they walked, glided I believe is the right expression, on the wind. And in hand carried a gnarled staff made of ice. The second donned the head of a bird (more a vulture than a raven, I would say), with eyes made of ember and cloaked in a dark mantle of feathers. And they carried a gnarled staff made of fire opal and flames. One singed the earth where they walked, and I knew it was the one that came last night; the other chilled the wind when they breathed, and I knew it was the one that came the night before.

At the boundaries, where the wards began, they stopped. To me, they greeted, in voices that tasted older than anything I have known, "hail witch."

As I moved forward, to stand within my safety, but before them, I returned their greeting. "Hail spirits."

And how they laughed a laugh, one that chilled the air and my very bones, and another that ignited the blood in my veins and sent my heart racing. "We are no spirits."

"Hail daims then." I corrected myself.

And again, they laughed that very very laugh. When they settled, they replied, "you have not a name for what we are… some would call us—"

Although they spoke, I caught not what it was. It felt like a blow that hit hard and forced me back a step. In I took a breath and my ground I stood.

"What do you want from me?" I asked them as I held their eyes.

♧ Characters: Surprisingly, I only have four main characters for you this time. Sure there will be others, but this is their story. Get a taste of simplicity with me.

Ekaterine Liraz, The Cottage Witch

Afab • Genderfluid • She/They • Witch • Asexual • Demiromantic

Liraz is the known witch who lives on her own at the top of the mountain. She lives around and comes to town only for supplies once or twice a month. Her only companion is the owl she keeps and she keeps to herself. She has secluded herself atop her mountain and in her cottage for her own safety, against the urge of he nature for adventure.

Blodeu, the Horned Owl

Male • He/Him • The familiar of Liraz

Blodeu is the faithful familiar of Liraz. He's moody and overprotective of his witch. With his unnerving eye, he keeps away any of the townsfolk who wish ill against Liraz. In return, he enjoys chin scritches, being able to fly the open sky, and being able to accompany his mistress on her endeavors.

Kregznic, or En for short, The Eternal Flame

Agender • They/Them [they will have days in which they will align She/Her and He/Him, but overall it's They/Them and you need permission for anything else] • Great Old One • Asexual • Aromantic

The Keeper of the Flame, En is well known amongst their own kind as a ruthless individual that holds no affection for anything except their other half. They're withdrawn and antisocial, and quick to set anything aflame. The few capable of becoming close to them get to see the unwavering loyalty and support they place, and their devotion to ensure the happiness and security of what they love.

Marzomme, or Moro for short, The Eternal Frost

Genderfluid • He/She • Great Old One • Asexual • Demiromantic

The Keeper of the Ice, Moro is well known by his own kind as a childish. He lacks the care to understand human concepts, but he does enjoy learning their traditions and cultures. Very airheaded, Moro carries a light attitude about him. He's immature and enjoys pulling pranks. Rarely does he share in En's indulgence of ruin and damnation, but when he does... most prefer the Flame.

Taglist: @little-boats-on-a-lake, @zielenbloesem, @cecilsstorycorner

If you would like to be added or removed, feel free to send in an ask, shoot me a dm, or reblog this! 💕

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