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cheesus-doodles · 11 months

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Star-Crossed by Choice

Yandere Raihan & Leon with Champion Darling

Pokemon SwSh and SV Crossover

Masterlist

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been a hot minute since i've posted, so please enjoy this brainrot that has been eating away at my brain - i know its not the usual TR but gotta get it out somehow. next on the menu would (finally) be A Friend in Me!

cw: use of female pronouns twice

The pokeballs hidden deep within the depths of your bag wriggled impatiently, and you giggled at the sensation against your back. You couldn’t blame them for wanting to escape from the confines of their balls, not with the hum of life that filled the air of the small town of Cortondo. But this was neither the right time or space. It had been some time since you dared to let them out for a breath of fresh air and to stretch their limbs after all, and you silently promised both them and yourself that you would the moment the opportunity arises.

The evening was a welcomed relief from the scorching heat of the afternoon that had left you drenched in sweat - the air was crisp and fresh, just dry enough to lift the sweat from your panting skin but not enough to suck all moisture away. A far cry from the humid day under the blistering sun; much unlike what your usual day would be like spent wandering and exploring new grounds, you instead had been forced to duck into the air-conditioned shops for a break. Strolling down cobbled pathways, the little colored flags that stretched from rooftop to rooftop waved invitingly at visitors from all corners of Paldea, the calls of shopkeepers adding to the general hustle and bustle as the town came alive once more, the sun sinking ever lower towards the horizon.

Your heart wrenched, the pain in your chest sharp. Despite your urge to shrink away from the masses of people, all the eyes you could feel watching you, there was no denying that you missed this. You missed being free. Just being able to walk through town without a care in the world, without anyone hovering over you, one arm slung tightly around your shoulders. Not having to constantly worry about your Pokemon friends getting hurt because of something stupid that was your fault. You never thought you would have ever been able to get a second chance at freedom, to start all over again from scratch; that brazen escape you had risked your life and limbs on seemed to have paid off, though you had to turn your thoughts to the present to stop the tears from welling at the thought of everything and everyone you left behind.

Amidst the crowds of students all dressed in the same Uva Academy uniform as you, out and about and eager to discover when their own ‘Treasure Hunt’ leads them to, you felt secure. You felt like you blended in for once. Maybe it had been worth it, changing both your hairstyle and color, making sure to dress down and look down. Maybe you could be safe here.

“Hey!” A call of your name cut through the commotion of the crowd like a knife through butter. You jolted as one hand came flying down to smack you on your shoulder. Whirling round, you came face to face with those excited orange eyes framed by three signature green strands of hair. “I thought you’d never come!” The president of the student council was as enthusiastic and energetic as ever, not seeming to have noticed your startle, instead beginning to shake you by both shoulders as she all but shouted her questions at you. “Which gym have you defeated? How strong are your Pokemon? Do you want to battle?”

You opened your mouth, but as usual, no words seemed to come out. Perhaps it was the crowd, everyone else around the two of you that is. You had managed a few words to the friendly Nemona previously, back when you parted ways at Mesagoza; a rare and unusual occurrence, given how your throat usually opts to clam up in front of anyone but your parents, but it just goes to show you have come to trust the loudmouth girl. Your social anxiety didn’t quite show around her like it did everyone else.

Lifting both hands in a surrender and placating manner, it was beyond you how you manage to calm the other down, before reaching into your pocket to shyly show your friend the two badges that you had obtained so far in all the days you had been wandering. It wasn’t much you knew, and it wasn’t much on purpose. After all that had happened to you back in Galar, you were afraid to go down the League route again, let alone touch anything that had the word ‘Champion’ in it with a fifty-foot pole.

To your surprise, Nemona was elated. “WOW! You already got two? I knew you had potential!”

You blinked, confused. Wouldn’t she have expected more badges? Was she just hiding her disappointment? The Champion-ranked trainer didn’t give you even a minute to breathe though, hooking one arm through yours and starting to drag you towards the nearest restaurant. “I want to hear ALL about it, you understand?” There was no time to finish your thoughts as you had to scuttle to keep up with her incredibly quick walking pace, and the two of you disappeared from the streets and into the depths of some place you couldn’t catch the name of.

‎

Outside, a different story was unfurling, a pair of teal eyes was fixed firmly on the doorway that you had just disappeared through from beneath the shade of a hoodie, a frown pulling at his usually upturned lips. From across the street and with most of his deceptively lean self hidden behind a wall, there was no doubt in his mind that it was you. A restaurant was no place to cause a commotion, Raihan knew; who knows what you could resort to if cornered? You had escaped once, what was going to stop you from running again? He had waited and waited for this moment despite not being a patient man, but perhaps it wasn’t a bad idea to let you enjoy your last hour of freedom. There would be the rest of eternity with you after all, and he didn’t intend on letting you run wild again.

One tanned hand reaching up to pull his hoodie further down his face, Raihan leaned back against the wall, bringing his cold drink up to his lips. Soon.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl, with each second feeling more like years passing by. The crowds of students of varying ages, all clad similarly in that signature purple uniform, drifted past where he stood like a gentle wave, the town slowly clearing of people as the minutes ticked by. The sun that had once ruled the sky had now fully set, sinking past the distant mountain horizon with a grand burst of colors; the evening rays had been the herald for the star full of skies that now twinkled above. Yet the Galar Dragon gym leader kept waiting. Even if his eyes drifted away from the building, to gaze at the empty distance and wonder of the different Pokemon that wandered this region, or to scan the throngs of people for threats, there was no activity in or out of the restaurant that he missed. All the while, all Raihan could do was recall the night you had disappeared again and again in his head as he glared down at anyone who dared venture too near: the sheer horror of finding you missing from your room in the morning, your confiscated Pokeballs gone from their secured box. The feeling of his gut dropping straight out the bottom when he couldn’t find you after tearing the entire estate apart, his own Pokemon returning empty-handed after he had sent them out to track you down in a sheer moment of desperation.

Never again would he let himself feel that way. Never.

‎

You finally reappeared through the doorway long after his patience had worn out, but instead of the usual annoyance turned anger, the tanned man felt his breath hitch. You looked so very different yet at the same time, so very familiar. What a sight for sore eyes. The way you stood beside your new friend, huddled as close as you dared go, those doe eyes of yours fixed on a random spot on the ground. Small smile pulling at your lips as you fidgeted with the hem of the shirt of your school uniform, listening carefully to everything your energetic companion was spewing at you.

There was nothing you could change about yourself that would be able to hide you away from him: not changing your hairstyle, your hair color, the type of clothes you wear or even the color of your eyes.

But all his joy at seeing you once more was instantly wiped away when he had to witness you lifting your eyes to meet the other’s. And the anger that raged in his chest igniting once more at the sight of your lips moving - almost as if you were speaking. Sure there was no one else but the two of you lingering on the porch of the now-dark restaurant, but you never spoke to anyone but Hop. Not to him, not even to your Pokemon in the presence of another. Selectively mute, was what your all-too innocent mother had happily informed the gym leader when he had paid her a visit to collect some clothes from your house. Even Raihan himself never had the privilege of hearing your sweet voice in person.

So who was this bastard?

Watching as you stepped off the curb and back onto cobblestoned streets, there was no time like the present - with the dwindling masses and the shops closed or closing. Raihan pushed off the wall, both hands sliding into the front pockets of his jacket, each stride bringing closer and closer to your little duo. You never even noticed.

‎

The unease you had in your gut had been growing for a while. You couldn’t quite pinpoint what caused that feeling, but it certainly was shared by your Pokemon, their balls having wriggled restlessly all evening where you had hidden them in the depth of your bag. But being out with Nemona gave you a sense of security, and despite your better your judgment, you had pushed the nagging voice to the back of your head. It was probably nothing.

Until it wasn’t.

“So there you are, lil champ,” came that all too familiar drawl. You froze mid-step as a long shadow fell over you. You knew that voice, and you knew it too well for your own liking. The hairs on the back of your neck instantly stood on end as the smile fell from your face. “Never thought you’d go all the way back to school just to hide from me.”

There was no answer from you, but Raihan just kept speaking as if he didn’t notice. “Have to say you fit right in though. You do still have a lot to learn, don’t ya?” You didn’t have to turn to look to know who it was standing behind you, cold sweat already beading at your forehead as you stared down at the pavement, your eyes quavering. No way. There was no way he could have already found you. You thought- you thought you had made it far enough. You thought you were safe.

“You thought you were safe?” It was as if the man in the dragon hoodie towering over you could read your thoughts - no, in his presence, there was no doubt that your mind was like an open book. “That we would never be able to find you because you ran overseas?” Those deceivingly downturned eyes glared a hole into your back, his lazy smile deceptively kind. “Aren’t ya going to say anything?”

Your new friend seemed to have taken notice of the sudden fear that washed over your entire posture, and in an instant, you were pushed behind her back, Nemona’s gloved hand going almost threateningly to the Pokeballs that hung by her belt. “Excuse me, but who are you?” The usually bubbly voice you had come to know was suddenly firm, every bit of enthusiasm having faded away into this serious side you had only encountered once.

The Galar Dragon gym leader was hardly intimidated by those orange eyes, ignoring her as his dragon-like gaze continued to stare you down, the pressure alone from the fixation enough to force you to freeze. “Can’t even look at me, huh? Rude.” He knew you couldn’t. Raihan of all people knew better than most you couldn’t meet his gaze. The only response that left your lips was a whimper, your figure starting to quaver as the tears welled at the corner of your eyes.

But the annoying girl with the three strands of green hair butted in again, this time withdrawing a Pokeball to fully hold in her hand with the other arm wrapping comfortingly around your shoulders. “You are scaring my friend, and I do not appreciate that. Please leave.”

Raihan’s eyes finally slipped to the little insect, that razor-sharp gaze losing any and all interest. “And who are you?”

“Nemona, president of the Uva Academy student council and Champion-ranked trainer.” She announced, and the tanned man almost groaned out loud. Of all the places to possibly find you at, of course you had chosen the company of another champion.

‎‎‎

Though it was a third voice that finally shattered your heart and any hope of escape you had left. “Champion?” The voice rang out from the darkness of the unlit side street. “I thought you were done with champions.” The pounding of heavy footsteps, and that unmistakably mob of long purple hair emerged into the dull light of the overhead streetlight. Just when you thought your heart couldn’t sink any further, your poor beating organ simply opting to fall straight out from your chest. Leon.

If Leon was here...

Nemona’s grip on you only tightened. “Who are you?” She demanded again, putting herself directly between you and the two men. You wanted to thank her, to say something, to say anything, but all you could do was tremble, your feet rooted to the ground no matter how much you screamed at yourself to move. No way - no way. How did they find you? “What do you want?”

There was no escape. You were trapped.

Her question was answered by the whispers of the gathering stragglers that still wandered the otherwise quiet streets of Cortondo, though the growing number of eyeballs didn’t help you feel anymore at ease.

“Isn’t that… Leon and Raihan?”

“From Galar?”

“World number 1 and 7?! But what are they doing here?”

“Who’s that with Nemona?”

Your stomach churned, and you could feel the bile starting to rise through your throat. Leave. You wanted to leave. To run. To be anywhere but here.

The student council president was quick to realize that there was a lot more to you that she didn’t know, and that orange gaze, slowly but surely, turned on you. The reassuring grip she had on your shoulders never left, and Nemona gave you a tight squeeze. “What’s going on?” She whispered to you, but in the dead silence that suddenly fell over the night, everyone could hear her loud and clear. And what do these Master-Class trainers want with you? Was the unspoken question you heard loud and clear.

A single heartbeat of silence.

“Turn around, Galar Champion,” Leon ordered. There was no room in his tone for anything but absolute obedience, and against your will, you obeyed. Hesistantingly, shuffle by shuffle, you turned to face them, though your eyes remained firmly fixed on the ground, trembling hands gripped so tight that your knuckles were white.

Nemona’s eyebrows shot through the roof, and her voice pitched. “Galar Champion?!” And the growing crowd broke into a new round of frenzies whispers, every eyeball now on you, scanning you up and down in disbelief.

A little thing like you? Champion?

“Never told you huh?” Raihan crowed. “That she had an entire team of Pokemon that could run at Champion League levels?”

Leon only continued to study your form mutely as Raihan continued to taunt Nemona with his knowledge, those once-friendly yellow eyes now almost seeming to glow in the dare as they peered straight into your soul. Taking a single step in your direction, it was enough to have you shrink away, your eyes flying shut and your shoulders hitching up. Almost as if you were expecting to take a hit from the former Galar Champion.

“So you have our Champion, and we’ll like her back. Please.” Finished the tanned man. Baring those sharp teeth, the smile that pulled at those lips was anything but friendly, Raihan once more turning his gaze back on you.

“Are you ready to come home?”

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chaoticbardlady99 · 6 months

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Lethal Woman- Chapter 7 (Astarion x GN! Reader) MDNI 18+ Only

Synopsis- You and your rag tag team of heroes barely escaped the Githyanki with your lives. You and Astarion grow closer as you learn about each other’s traumas and have a heartfelt conversation about what you both want out of this situation.

CW: Smut, mentions of violence, mentions of SA, mentions of trauma

I put a start and stop for the smut just in case anyone does not want to read it 😀 thank you for reading! I have had posting paralysis and task paralysis for a week so this has been completed for a hot minute now lmao

Chapter Eight

You cough and sputter as you slowly begin to come back to life- your head is throbbing and you hear a familiar voice frantically screaming nearby. The iron, sweet smell of blood hits your nose- Astarion.

It slowly comes back to you now. You had all been running out of the crèche- you, Lae’zel, Astarion, and Karlach- trying to escape the murderous Githyanki (you did demolish their inquisitor so you understand- still sucks though). You had split off from the group with the Blood of Lathander so that they could get to safety faster while you used the weapon to destroy the Monastery and keep the Gith off your tails. You remember the way the magic had moved through the Mace and the blast shaking the ground- the monastery collapsing in on itself.

You had been running away- nearly to safety when the floor beneath your feet gave way. You had felt your heart stop in your chest as you felt gravity begin to pull you down, then something hits you- hard- and you go flying to a more stable part of the floor. Strong, hands wrapped around your arm, pulling you upright, and dragging you behind them in the growing darkness- you barely make out Astarion in the dust. Right before you were going to exit the building- it collapsed in on the two of you- Astarion was on top of you within seconds to shield you from the rocks, then you don’t remember much else.

His blood is in the air- not a lot, but more than you are comfortable with. You sit upright too fast- the world is spinning, but you need to get to him.

Astarion is not that far ahead of you. You survey the room- grateful you were born with Darkvision- and recognize that you are stuck pretty tightly up against the wall where you had found the old rusty Mace. The ceiling had caved in, but the rubble that had fallen first had allowed a tight little room to form- the wall showing the front of the monastery has air coming through it, but it’s pitch black and there is evidently no way out. You have both been buried alive.

Soldier!!!!!! Soldier- I need you to respond. You feel Karlach desperation, Where the fuck are you?

We’re in here! You show her the room and you feel her relief and instant recognition of the area, go get Gale and see if he can’t shrink the rocks down. Wyll should have some smoke powder bombs and please ask Shadowheart how to cast calm for me.

You can feel Karlach befuddlement at the request, Why do you need to cast calm?

Astarion’s feral terrified screams echo through both of your heads as it starts up again. Astarion is slamming his hands against the rocks, cutting into his palms and belligerently begging to be let out.

Got it, Soldier. Karlach’s sadness and worry mirrors your own- not as intense, but it’s there.

Karlach had grown rather fond of Astarion too- they were quick to become friends. Karlach cares for Astarion and you see that in flashes- but you see how her feelings change towards him as Astarion becomes closer with you. She sees ‘undying adoration’ for you in his eyes- you told her there’s no way. You had slept together two weeks ago.

The night after he had asked to meet you again, you agreed, but when you went, he wasn’t present at all. It felt forced and mechanical so you stopped him. Astarion became defensive and has been basically avoiding you ever since.

“Give him a minute, Soldier,” she had reassured you, “maybe you were just that brilliant in bed and he’s resisting the urge to take you all the time.”

“I seriously doubt that, but thanks.”

Another blood curdling scream and Astarion slamming himself against the rocks breaks you from your thoughts.

Tell her I’m having a panic attack. I don’t want Astarion to feel uncomfortable around everyone when we get back.

Roger that.

After Karlach is no longer communicating with you- you cast Faerie Light- illuminating the room in a soft, relaxing glow. Astarion is staring at you- eyes wide with fear and his hands dripping in blood. You slowly walk towards him and he slams himself back against the wall and bares his fangs at you.

You freeze- something in you is saying not to move because that could very well be the end of your life. You don’t think it would be intentional on his part, but it certainly wouldn’t be a fun thing to explain to the group as he pays 200 gold to Withers.

You gently set the light down and take two steps back- giving him more space. You watch as he begins to relax a bit more- his eyes seem more focused. As he begins to relax, he begins to shake and slowly drops to his knees- curling his arms around himself and hiding his face.

The room is not very big- you realize. It’s maybe only the size of a small tent really, but Astarion has told you about Cazador burying him and then being stuck down there for a year. Sometimes Cazador would put him in his tomb for short stints of time. One of the first nights you had spent time together on this journey, Astarion had talked about how grateful he was to know he will never have to be back in his tomb again.

This space must be suffocating him.

You slowly walk towards him making a point of creating some sound for him to know you are coming over. Despite all of Dahlia’s torments, she had been unable to get rid of the parts of you that were reminiscent of your parents. Your father’s kindness and patience persisted; your mother’s brilliance and strong-will had only been hiding under the surface. You also think of Tessa- who gently healed you when she found you bleeding out in an alleyway. The way she had spoken to you- the way she used the Weave to gently bring the skin back together. You had never felt more cared for in your life- more seen.

What if that would help Astarion right now?

Astarion is shaking and sobbing silently- his hands are bleeding while he tries desperately to keep them still again. His nails are cracked, chipped, bloody, and raw.

You are going to kill Cazador Szarr if it’s the last thing you do- you are going to torment him until he feels as afraid as he has made Astarion feel for the last 200 years.

At one point in your life- you had wanted to be a healer. You find it ironic that you are an assassin instead and Astarion just so happens to need both.

You know basic healing magic- enough for this at the very least.

“Star,” your words are barely a whisper, “would it be okay if I healed your hands?”

You wait for what feels like an eternity and then he holds out one of his hands to you, the other one still wrapped around his legs.

You begin to work, slowly using the magic to stitch the wounds together like Tessa had shown you. You find yourself remembering your mother singing Drow lullabies to you in the Mine when you were afraid. You would do the same for her after she had spent countless hours pleasuring horrible men. You would sing the songs to her in Undercommon as she had taught you to.

Absentmindedly, you begin to sing a lullaby under your breath as your hands gently caress his wounds closed.

When I was only, only a boy,

I saw my mother cry.

You turn over his hand and press a soft kiss to the back of it when you are finished and then guide it back to his leg- like Tessa had done for you. You gently coax his other hand into yours and begin tracing the cuts, erasing the bruises, wiping away the blood.

The time had come to pay for her sins,

The price, my friend, was I.

You don’t notice how Astarion is staring at you- watching you with so much intensity and adoration. No one has ever touched him this softly, been so patient and understanding, or extinguished his anxiety like this before. Your voice is soft and sweet. He recognizes the language and the song- Sins of the Mother, one of the old Drow lullabies.

A nest of flowers covers the place,

Where in the ground I lie.

You survey the other hand- satisfied with your work, but begin tracing the lines of his hands.

Now I'm a pile of lonely old bones,

A thousand years gone by.

You are done tracing the lines of his hand by the time you finish the song and when you go to release it, he pulls you into him by the wrist- placing you on his lap. You are stiff because it wasn’t expected, but you caress his silvery blonde locks and let him put his ear to your chest.

“Sins of the Mother,” he whispers.

You hum in acknowledgment through pursed lips.

“It’s morbid, but it’s my favorite,” you admit, “Descent to Light is fine and all, but I stopped feeling inclined to sing it when my mother died.”

“Descent to Light is beautiful, but unrealistic,” Astarion regards you for a second before saying, “I think Sins of the Mother might be my favorite too.”

As long as you are the one singing it.

You don’t think he meant to share that thought with you, but you blush all the same.

You both sit there for what feels like seconds, but is probably more like 15 minutes just in silence. Your arms are wrapped around his neck and his around your torso. Your legs are entangled as you sit in his lap and you continue to play with his hair. Astarion sighs in pleasure every so often- inhaling deeply.

“I’m sor-,” he begins to say and you cut him off with a chaste kiss. Astarion looks at you with surprise- the look on your face tells him you are equally as shocked at your actions.

You had only slept together two weeks ago and HE HAS BEEN AVOIDING YOU SINCE! What are you doing!?

YOU PSYCHO! You think, mentally face palming, but you decide to just roll with it like you actually have some confidence.

“I don’t want to hear it- you have nothing and I mean nothing to be sorry for Star,” you say with intensity, looking directly at him, “Cazador did unspeakable, horrific things to you- I will help you make him pay and I will never, ever allow him to touch you, speak to you, or even perceive you without me by your side ready to help hold him down so you can destroy him- do you understand? I promise you- I will not rest until that man ceases to exist.”

Astarion is looking at you, tears streaming down his face. His expression is open and vulnerable- for the first time, you see all the pain that he has experienced over the last 200 years. You gently rub your thumbs along his cheekbones, wiping away the tears while fighting your own.

“He will never touch you again, Astarion,” you say with a promise of vengeance to come, a finality “I vow to destroy him before he’s even able to try..”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You and Astarion had been rescued hours earlier by Gale, Karlach, Lae’zel, and Wyll- all collectively throwing or destroying the rocks holding you both captive in the ruined monastery.

You are sitting by the fire- laughing with Karlach and Wyll while Astarion turns over everything you said to him in that hellish situation.

Astarion can feel the panic begin to bubble in his chest again when he thinks about when he realized you were both trapped. He was worried for himself, but he had been even more terrified for you. Astarion had only wanted to keep you from dying- not bury you alive with him. Then he spiraled.

Admittedly, he had almost lost all of his wits- barely grasping to the idea that you were there with him and he was not in his tomb- or the kennels. It didn’t matter though- Astarion had felt his brain snap into a billion pieces and he remembers watching himself snarl at you- afraid he might hurt you, but too terrified of the situation to care.

You had responded to his reaction- not in fear, but understanding. You went back a few steps until he had sat down- head between his legs and a sobbing mess.

You came to him- asked permission before you healed his hands and sung a lullaby. Held him while he sobbed and promised him that Cazador would never touch him again or at the very least, Cazador won’t survive very long if he tries. You were there for him without anything in return- Astarion had been avoiding you for the last two weeks because of how confusing his feelings towards you are now.

You sat together and talked around the campfire every night, but he knows you have noticed him slip his facade back on and he doesn’t know whether to take it back off or not.

Astarion wants to have sex with you again, but he also doesn’t want you to only see him as sex which is confusing because that was sort of the point of the plan. Astarion would provide you with irreplaceable pleasure and you would provide him with protection- good sex can be hard to find so that’s the most valuable thing he has to offer. Except he doesn’t want it to be transactional anymore, Astarion wants it to be a way he connects with you intimately- a way to worship you. Astarion makes himself ill with the thought- what the hells is happening to him!? He has only slept with you once!

He also isn’t entirely sure if that icky feeling will ever go away from him- despite how much he enjoys being intimate with you. It’s different with you and it feels more like how old writers describe the activity- a collision of two souls combining to feel like one. Then he remembers what Cazador has made him for- casual sex, prostitution. Astarion wonders if you feel the same and maybe that’s why he’s over here in front of his tent instead of next to you at the campfire- agonizing over wanting to be near you, but also too scared to know if you also see him the way Cazador does.

Today gave him a strong, happy feeling that you don’t and maybe there is some hope there. Maybe Astarion can have more out of this life than he thought he could.

Astarion is being pulled towards you, lost in your orbit, abandoning his book and his spot in front of his tent altogether. Astarion is hopelessly needy for your presence right now.

Suddenly, he’s awkwardly standing behind you looking at the seat next to you- unsure of how to ask if he can sit. Karlach finally pipes up- looking at him with amusement and holds up her bottle of alcohol.

“Hey Fangs!” She says loudly, “come to join the party?”

You whip around and look up at him- your cheeks are flushed from the alcohol and you pat the spot next to you. He can’t help but smile as he sits. Karlach wiggles her eyebrows at you and you throw a roll at her- she cackles as the roll hits her and immediately crisps.

“That’s just a waste of food, Soldier,” Karlach says with exaggeration and a victorious laugh, “GALE! Our fearless leader is ruining your food!”

A distant scream is heard and gets louder as Gale comes storming over, exasperated, “EXCUSE ME!?”

You feign distress, “I know- how thoughtless of me! I just wanted to toast a nice roll to go with my wine.”

“I’ve been reduced to nothing but an oven,” Karlach fake cries and you keel over laughing.

Astarion is a bit jealous of Karlach to some extent. He knows there isn’t a romantic interest there, but if you weren’t with Astarion, you were sleeping in Karlach’s tent. Far apart (he had checked), but still. You often went hunting together, exploring together, and have lots of inside jokes. He is jealous of the emotional intimacy you guys share because he knows you share that with him too. He likes Karlach- so at least she isn’t the worst to share with.

Shadowheart and Lae’zel are very close to you as well, but Karlach is the one Astarion knows he is sharing your heart with. You love her as if she is your own kin.

“I wonder,” you say with a slur, “how hard would it be to kill Zariel or Mizora?”

Wyll rolls his eyes and laughs at your question, “why? Do you plan on storming the Hells and releasing us from our chains?”

Astarion wasn’t surprised when Wyll warmed up to you. You had been kind to him when he was changed into a fiend. You understood that his reasoning for taking the contract was personal- Wyll had briefly mentioned his family. Anyone- Astarion included- who tried to make a jab at Wyll was scolded by you. Now that he knows more about your family, he is less bitter about it and you also rip Will a new one (with much more anger, in fact) when he insults Astarion. When Wyll had made a jab at him and brought up eating rats- you had pushed Wyll into the river in the Owlbear cave and right into a disgusting bit of Owlbear waste floating on the bank. Wyll makes lots of jokes about Astarion, but he has never mentioned the rats again.

You shrug, “why not? I have favors to cash in from Obhark anyway- might as well put them to good use. It’s not like I’ll be doing anything other than working after all of this is over anyhow. The Hells might be an interesting vacation prospect.”

“Or you could leave the Nightmasks and we could all just travel together forever!” Karlach exclaims.

You shake your head at her sadly, “No one leaves the Nightmasks.”

“How come?” Wyll asks, “if you don’t mind sharing some?”

You raise an eyebrow at Wyll and take a long sip from your bottle of wine before passing it to Astarion. Astarion watches your every move- hangs on your every word.

“Well Mr.Monster Hunter,” you tease, “any time someone attempts to permanently leave the Nightmasks, Obhark- the Faceless- calls for a hunt with a boon- a favor that you can cash in at any point- provided it’s reasonable.”

“In what world do Master Vampires give out boons?” Astarion finds his voice again, bewildered.

“Good question, wish I could answer it for ya” you state with a shrug, “he’s had a hold on Westgate for centuries. Although I work for him- I’m not particularly fond of him. He’s horrible to his consort- my Ward. He beats her, rapes her, etc. Swears up, down, left, right, and sideways that he loves her and he buys her fancy things, but….”

You shake your head before continuing, “anyway- if you are the one who kills the individual- you win the boon. He always does that for the ‘suicide mission’ contracts. Obhark will offer them for other types of contracts- sometimes easy ones- if the need is urgent enough. Outside of the Deathbringers- the assassins and thieves rarely participate due to how dangerous these contracts usually are.”

“How many do you have, Soldier,” Karlach muses, “ten? Twenty?”

You pause and you look slightly uncomfortable, “I have 110.”

The silence is extremely thick in the air. All Astarion thinks about is that there was 110 times possibilities that he almost never got to meet you.

“Dahlia started making me take those contracts the minute I became a Deathbringer,” you look at your feet, “I have a 100 percent success rate- obviously.”

Karlach seems to understand that you don’t want to go further on that particular part so she interjects before Wyll can ask more questions.

“Do you have any friends or do you all hate each other’s guts?”

You snort, “I suppose you could call them ‘friends’. Everus is a human shade who steals my shit all the time, breaks into my home, and then wonders why I don’t have anything there. Then there’s Lucia who’s been with the guild for 500 years give or take. She trained me after I became a Deathbringer. Ghost is… the weirdest of them all. He is some sickly man who has a ring of regeneration, but he’ll go from one corpse to the next and just use those to fight. Draegan is a fucking asshole who refuses to leave me alone and likes to show off more than he likes living. I hate when we are assigned stuff together- it’s usually me fixing every fuck up he’s made while trying to drag his half alive body away and keep myself alive.

“There are others like Rinara who I just don’t fucking like on principle alone- too murder happy. I’m the oddball- I actually don’t enjoy killing people for fun. I’m,” you put the next part in quotes, “too ethical.”

“They sound like an…. Eclectic group.” Wyll says with his eyebrow raised, “and if you don’t like killing, why are you there?”

You simply shrug and look up at the stars.

“You don’t always get a choice- I feel like you know that as well as I do.”

Wyll nods in agreement and gives you an empathetic look. Astarion just takes you in- watching the fire flickering across your face- kissing every corner of your skin. He’s never been so jealous of a campfire- he wants to be the one memorizing your skin and tracing your features.

Karlach interjects, “I’m still held up on the whole- ‘House’ thing. You have a house!?”

You, for whatever reason, look incredibly uncomfortable with the question, but you smile at Karlach anyway.

“Yeah, just a townhome in Baldur’s Gate. It’s in the Upper City, but I’m never there so I usually just pay whatever and if I end up in Baldur’s gate I’ll stay there,” you shrug your shoulders, “I was going to sell it after my last contract but I was very rudely interrupted by Mindflayers.”

“Why would you sell it!?”

Karlach is bewildered and admittedly so is Astarion. Upper city Townhomes are beautiful- he used to wonder what it would be like to own one or even just walk into one. Astarion wonders if he’s ever walked by your town home while you were there- did your paths ever unknowingly cross?

“Um well,” you pick at your nails, one of them bleeding as you rip it off, “I bought it because my late girlfriend had really wanted to move there after I had a bit more freedom, but evidently, it didn't last very long. She was the artistic one in the relationship so I only have a mattress in the damn place. I thought buying it might bring some part of her back, but it was a stupid thought.”

This is the third time Astarion has encountered Tessa in a conversation with you. You barely bring her up and if he tries to lead you in that direction- you pivot and shut down. He knows what your last image of her was.

“I don’t think that’s stupid,” Karlach says softly, “what happened to her?”

“ I was allowed to be with her, but it came with extra curricular torture activities,” you clear your throat, Astarion winces at the defeat in your voice, “My ‘mentor’ had one of her assassin’s kill her. It was brutal. Dahlia gave me a fake contract in the same sewer system she lured Tessa to. I heard her screaming and I was the one who-“ you take a shaky breath, “found her. I- I don’t really care to talk about it much. It was halfway my fault- I should have been keeping a closer eye on her. She was trying to blackmail Dahlia so I didn’t have to join the Nightmasks because if you are unwilling- they’ll release you. It’s the only chance you have of getting out alive if someone tries to force you into it- the Nightmasks don’t want to have the reputation that you have to be forced to join. I was just too terrified of Dahlia to say anything so Tessa took matters into her own hands and well, she’s dead so how well did that really turn out- truly?”

You try to laugh it off and Astarion watches one stray tear roll down your face as you take another swig from the bottle. In what world could that be your fault? Astarion doesn’t blame Tessa for trying- if he was in her shoes, he would have probably ended up doing the same thing. Especially knowing how cruel Dahlia is.

“I met her close to the end of my first year living with Dahlia,” you smile softly to yourself, “she worked in her family's local Alchemy shop that Dahlia would send me to while training at a local Warlock guild. I was horrifically smitten and she knew it too. She used to hit on me every time and I would just grab my stuff- turn around and race out of the shop,” your laugh is melancholic, “then she found me bleeding out in an alleyway one time and she somehow was able to get me into her dorm, took care of me, and when I woke up the next morning- I panicked and left.

“I felt a bit bad- Dahlia was not thrilled so I disappeared for a few days,” you say slowly, Astarion knows what probably happened during those three days, “then when I was sent back to the Alchemy shop a week later- I brought this giant bundle of wildflowers. I grabbed every one I could find that even remotely reminded me of her and I don’t know? I guess it just evolved? She always wanted to move to Baldur’s Gate- she’d talk about how beautiful our townhome would be and she had all these plans. I could have given a shit less as long as she was there.”

“Look at you, Soldier!” Karlach exclaims, “how romantic of you! First flowers and then a whole ass townhome? I wish I had met you a few years prior to Gortash selling me off!”

“Oh shut your mouth, it’s not like it was a big deal,” You are bright, bright red and you scoff, “I had just overheard her complain to her sister that all the ‘suitors’ brought her ‘normal’ flowers and she felt like it was lazy. I merely went for a stroll- it wasn’t that hard so I don’t know why they never got the hint. She wasn’t necessarily quiet about it, but she also told me later she had been so loud about it because she was hoping I might listen and do something with that information.”

You are shaking your head and smiling in spite of yourself. He is going to have to add ‘Romantic’ and ‘Thoughtful’ to the list of personality traits you harbor. Astarion is trying to ignore his thoughts wondering which flowers would remind you of him.

“At any rate-“ Wyll says, “at least you now have a few reasons to visit Baldur’s Gate more often now?”

You are practically beaming, “this is true!”

You sigh and look up at the stars with a sad smile, “who knows- maybe I’ll change my mind. There is like four bedrooms so-“

“CAN I MOVE IN WITH YOU!?” Karlach bursts, “if I don’t, ya know, combust.”

You smile brightly at the question, “you can, but I can’t promise Everus won’t try to steal your shit. You are welcome to light him on fire if he does. Fucking asshole keeps stealing my produce at the compound- haven’t caught him yet, but when I do it’s game over for him.”

It’s the most bizarre complaint to have if you live amongst a group of feared Assassins, thieves, and vampire generals. Astarion catches how Wyll looks over at Karlach with hope and smiles- appearing to be thrilled that she asked you to let her stay with you in Baldur’s Gate. Wyll is smitten and from the look on your face when you look between the two of them- you see it too. Karlach glances at Wyll and looks at you shyly.

Adorable, Astarion thinks sarcastically, they’ll be a real joy to live with when this is all over.

He freezes. What did he just think?

Astarion doesn’t know why he’s automatically assuming you’ll be gracious enough to let him live with you when this is all said and done. Why is he already imagining exactly how he would decorate the damn place? You had bought the apartment 5 years prior to him to resurrect the memory of a dead ex-girlfriend and he’s more than likely a fleeting fancy until you realize someone like (and he hates to admit it) Gale or Shadowheart would be a more appropriate choice of long term partner than him. Astarion has managed to inflate and then immediately deflate himself- hope is a fickle thing.

Wyll and Karlach get up, saying they need to go clean their armor, leaving the two of you sitting in silence. Astarion feels like he’s about to start unraveling at the seams being with you alone- it’s like he wants to weave himself into your bones so that he never has to know what it feels like to be without you again.

Today has been… a bit eye opening for him and he is trying to resist the urge to push you away despite how freaked out he feels about his very very strong feelings of adoration for you. Astarion does have a plan to execute (or so he keeps telling himself) and he’s about 2 weeks behind.

“You could live with me too you know,” you say in a whisper, “ I get plenty of contracts in lots of places that make a hefty amount of coin. Silverymoon, St. Carwell’s Vale- they have a pirate cove nearby and they are very fun to drink with or so I’ve been told, there’s the merchants in Melavunt on the Moonsea, Menzoberranzan…”

You look at him coyly, he wants to kiss the look of fear and anticipation of rejection off your face.

“I guess what I’m saying is that I would split the money with you and you could travel the world without any real obligation. With me? If you wanted! That is… or by yourself. I mean the Nightmasks could always use more talented Thieves… wouldn’t be my first recommendation though.”

“Darling, I would love nothing more than to steal from every person in Westgate with you,” Astarion smiles glumly, “but I don’t know how good of a travel companion I’ll be if we can’t be out during the day.”

“I’m not worried about that,” you state matter of factly, “you forget that I’m an excellent assassin and I also happen to know the location for a Ring of the Sunwalker. I have more than enough ‘boons’ to try to haggle for it or at least commission the creation of a new one. If that doesn’t work- I have too much money in the bank anyhow and some favors in different cities.”

Astarion is trying not to gape at you. You’ve just offered him an opportunity to travel around the world, make money, a place to live, and a way to be in the sun when this is all over. Not to mention- you. You are extending him an invitation to remain by your side.

“You don’t have to answer right now,” you say quietly, rubbing your arm awkwardly, “either way, I’m still going to get that ring for you. It’s not right that we are basically going to save the world and you can’t even keep the whole walking in the sun thing.”

“Why? I-“ he starts, “I don’t deserve any of this. What you are offering me is… an enormous debt that I could never repay.”

“You wouldn’t have to repay me and you do deserve it. You deserve the world, Astarion,” you swallow thickly before you look him in the eyes, “I would just be happy to have you there. I enjoy fighting with you and spending time with you- I feel safe for the first time in a long time…And besides, I need someone to rough up some pirates with. I’ve been itching to go, but I wouldn’t even know how to fit in.”

Astarion smiles widely and flashes you a flirtatious look,” I don’t know if you heard, Darling, but I’m an incredibly charismatic rogue with a love for pickpocketing.”

He leans in closer until his lips are barely touching yours- he relishes in the way your breath catches. Astarion basks in what your future together would look like and he lets himself hope for the first time in a long time. Every part of his being wants him to run and not trust you, but your eyes won’t let him go.

“And you,” he breathes, “are the most bewitching individual I have ever met with an incredible prowess for killing. I think we’ll fit right in.”

“I suppose you are right,” you whisper, lips hovering over his, “how silly of me to assume we would need help fitting in.”

“Truly a mistake on your part, Darling.”

“Quite the blunder indeed.”

Astarion presses his lips against yours, gently tangling his hands in your hair to pull you closer- making it more intense and needy. The fire doesn’t begin to compare to the way his body feels when he is with you like this. He doesn’t know how your lips move in sync with his as if the two of you have been exchanging kisses with each other your entire lives.

Time doesn’t feel like it exists right now and that scares him. He feels like he could melt into you and continue to just have you this way for the rest of his immortal li-

“ASTARION AND ROWAN- SITTING IN A TREE!K— I-!”

Nevermind- moment ruined.

“KARLACH!!!!!”

You are up and sprinting after her at a breathtaking speed- a new bread roll in your hand. Karlach is running away with her cackle being carried in the wind.

The entire rest of the camp is staring at Astarion like he’s grown an extra head in the last two seconds. He smiles and waves awkwardly, “Uh hello.”

What in the damn hells is happening? When did he become some shy, smitten school boy!?

“I knew it!” Halsin exclaims with a belly laugh, “ha! The eyes can never truly hide what the soul desires!”

Oh Gods- he might have made a mistake not asking you to just go with him to his tent. Is this how those gross couples in Baldur’s Gate end up in these situations? You just get lost in the fucking moment and the whole world gets to see it?

Lae’zel scoffs, “tsk, if this is going to become a thing- keep your bizarre mating rituals inside your tent.”

Astarion has to fight hard to shove the embarrassment down and puts on his suave facade.

“Oh please, Lae’zel,” Astarion drawls, leaning back on the heels of his hand, “ if you are jealous of me, just say so.”

Lae’zel throws the sword she’s sharpening to the ground and storms off in the opposite direction of Astarion. Maybe he hit the nail on the head a little too hard.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You, Shadowheart, Lae’zel and Karlach are laying in Karlach’s tent- giggly, drunk, and stupid (Lae’zel isn’t giggly or stupid, but she certainly isn’t sober). You had come back to camp and Shadowheart told you that Astarion had run off looking embarrassed after you left. Apparently Lae’zel and Halsin had given him a hard time.

“Tsk, if the spawn cannot be proud of his affections for you then he does not deserve it at all.”

You are burning red, “he does not have ‘affections’ for me Lae’zel!”

“Well whatever he is feeling,” Shadowheart quips, “it’s pretty damn close. He looks at you like you are some kind of walking Goddess in physical form.”

“You guys need to stop,” you pretend to be serious, but you are so giddy at the idea of him being as smitten with you as you are him. Astarion is beautiful in every way- even when he is being a pill.

“No way Soldier,” Karlach clicks her tongue, “I thought I might explode watching the way he kissed you. I wanted to switch places with you even!”

It was a beautiful kiss. You want more time doing that- you don’t care if it goes further nor do you need it to- the feeling of his lips on yours is enough.

“Have you guys…” Shadowheart flashes you a mischievous smile, “had sex yet?”

Your reaction must have been enough because Karlach cheers and Shadowheart looks slightly crestfallen.

“I told you Shadowheart!”

“I’m in shock! I thought I knew them better than that,” Shadowheart sighs, “but you must tell us- what was it like? How was it compared to previous experiences?”

You don’t want to tell Shadowheart that this was your first time having consensual intercourse. You and Tessa had begun fooling around towards the end, but it was cut short before it could go further.

“He was very gentle,” you whisper in embarrassment and dream like bliss, “and caring. It was… amazing.”

Karlach and Shadowheart are chattering excitedly, talking about all the cute underwear you are going to need to buy in Baldur’s Gate. Lae’zel continues to scoff- she doesn’t understand the reasoning behind spending so much money on fabric when the ‘Spawn’ will probably tear them off anyway. You have to redirect yourself from the thought- you do not need to be turned on right now.

Besides- you are still entirely unsure if he is even in the same headspace as you. Shadowheart did inform you when you first came into camp that Astarion is a flirt and that they had had a very wonderful make out session together the first night of camp. Shadowheart had disliked you for a bit when Astarion’s attentions turned elsewhere, but the whole thing had disappeared. Well until now.

“He really is an incredible kisser,” Shadowheart reminisces, “with everything his hands can do over clothing- Shar help me- I can’t even imagine how it would feel to have him touch you naked. I’ve been with men like him a few times- it can get incredibly kinky and never boring. It is a shame that he and I didn’t mesh as well to begin with. Maybe I should try again- I mean who knows, it would give us something fun to share.”

“He’s not a thing to share, Shadowheart,” you say tersely, “and I wouldn’t be open to that, ever.”

Shadowheart’s smile falters for a moment. You realize that she had expected you to be open to the idea.

“He might and I’ll be here. Men like him get bored of the same old thing eventually,” Shadowheart waves her hand around non-chalantly.

Karlach notices you wince and she holds your hand in hers- giving it a gentle squeeze before letting it go. Shadowheart has been in a particularly foul mood since Astarion kissed you earlier in the day. Ever since, she’s been piss drunk and pointing out everything you have ever told her you were insecure about. You are grateful you didn’t tell her Astarion was your first.

You know Shadowheart is drunk, but it still worries you. Astarion is not an object to share, he is a person, but you also know that Shadowheart is beautiful and well versed in sex.

Astarion is also beautiful and well versed in sex.

You are not.

Karlach knows that the Shadowheart thing is somewhat of a sore spot- not because you wouldn’t be happy for them, but because she is so much more- well everything- than you could ever dream to be.

She is also brilliant to look at with her raven hair and blue eyes. Smart, tough, and fluid- cool girl. There isn’t a single scar anywhere but on her cheek and she doesn’t even remember her past so he wouldn’t have to be so accommodating.

I can see you going there, Soldier. She’s just drunk and jealous.

You and Karlach had ultimately come to the conclusion the third week into this journey that Astarion’s flirting towards you was genuine and that he did not seem to have eyes for Shadowheart. Karlach insisted that you spy on their interactions (there hadn’t been a single one and it was a waste of a rest day). You always wonder though when she makes comments like this- Karlach and Astarion being the only two to know you were a virgin up until 2 weeks ago.

“Soldier and I are going to go get more beverages,” Karlach announces, “we shall be back with the goods!”

You follow Karlach out of the tent and she grabs a third of a bottle of whiskey out of her bag- sitting next to the campfire and taking a sip. She pats the spot next to her and she offers you the Whiskey. You take a massive sip- trying to avoid becoming emotional over your frustration and self-loathing.

“I really like him,” you whisper.

“I know Soldier,” Karlach says empathetically, “Shadowheart doesn’t always seem to read the room very well. She is right though- he does watch you flutter about camp and stare at you as if you are a Goddess to be worshipped.”

You roll your eyes at her, “first of all, I don’t ‘flutter’ about anywhere. Second- she has history with him, barely, but enough for her to be pissed. Third- the man has literally avoided being alone with me for the last two weeks!”

Karlach snorts, “oh please. You want to know why he’s avoiding you? From quite literally everyone else’s perspective in camp.”

“Fine,” you huff.

Karlach takes another big swig from her whiskey and passes it back to you.

“Astarion isn’t a feelings guy- he’s a total flirt and to some extent, not overly trustworthy,” Karlach says, “but today? I had tried to hold him back when he went running to get to you. I didn’t know he knew misty step, but it didn't matter- the way he screamed your name when we all saw you start to fall was haunting. I think his feelings for you are just too… overwhelming and confusing for him to navigate. He refuses to leave your side- no matter how pissed off he may be. Hells- that little lover’s quarrel you had at camp that one day looked like it derailed him entirely. Three whole days he was constantly in the background trying to make sure you were safe. I was shocked you didn’t notice- not even once.

“ You are also the only one in camp he actually keeps his word to or does things for and it’s not with a hidden meaning either- I mean you had to have noticed that almost anything you even so much as mention needing you suddenly have. At first all the studying seemed methodical, but it’s changed.”

“I didn’t realize that’s who was getting or doing that stuff,” you say with relief and realization. You thought you were going crazy- did you always have this stuff? Did all of your stuff always have a lack of holes?

“To be fair, I just figured it out because we were stuck at camp together the other day. He must have heard me chastising you for your sleeping accommodations because before I know it- he’s in my tent, telling me not to say anything- embarrassed mind you, and stitched up all the holes in that Gods awful bed roll of yours,” Karlach chuckles to herself, “He wants you just as much as you want him.”

You stare at her as you try to believe her words. You want to believe them, but you are far too scared to. You have been avoiding people- blaming it on Dahlia despite being free of her for almost a year. You know it’s because you don’t know if you are good enough.

Karlach gets up and yanks you up onto your feet and out of your mind- earning a yelp from you from the contact. She lets go of you and offers a sheepish smile.

“Now go, my short but mighty friend,” Karlach says with bravado, handing you the bottle of whiskey, “do not be without any further!”

You leave the campfire (giving Karlach a brief fist bump) and walk to the opposite side of the camp where Astarion’s tent is. Just as you are about to knock on the wooden post, he opens his flap with a knife in hand that he is inspecting. Astarion looks surprised to see you.

Astarion recovers his composure, “hello, Darling! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Oh um- I,” you stammer and ultimately don’t know what to say, “I didn’t realize you were leaving- I can go and-“

“No- stay!” Astarion says quickly, grabbing your wrist as you go to turn around, “I was just going to sit by the fire anyway.”

Where Karlach and I are were? You fight the smile threatening to form on your lips, Convenient timing.

You look at him shyly, “well we could still go sit by the campfire if you want?”

“After today’s events?” Astarion scowls playfully, taking your hand, “I would much rather be able to focus all my attentions on you and not everyone gawking.”

Before you can say anything, Astarion pulls you into his tent and closes the flap. Astarion is fidgeting with his blanket and bedroll before gently guiding you to lay down on them. He looks at you with an awkward, anxious smile gracing his lips. You suppress the giggle that threatens to escape your lips- you are happy that he seems just as nervous as you are.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Astarion lays down next to you and you cautiously curl yourself into his side with your head on his chest- your left arm and leg draped across him as your head lays where his quiet heart lies. Your happy sigh fills him with joy. Astarion traces circles on your back- enjoying the simplicity of the moment.

Astarion waits for you to pull at his clothes, seduce him, or at the very least ask him to fuck you. You don’t though. You lay there, unmoving and content. Weird.

“So- four whole bedrooms?” Astarion ponders out loud, “and you only have a mattress?”

You grumble, “I knew that was going to be brought up.”

“Darling, it’s a town home in the upper city and you only have a mattress! Of course it was going to be brought up!”

“It was the only one for sale- there wasn’t anything small anywhere. I checked at least a half a dozen times,” you grimace, “but I needed somewhere and I didn’t want to set up a permanent residence in Westgate so I just bought the damn place.”

“Where were you planning on moving?” Astarion inquires, “since you were visiting with the intentions of selling it?”

“Honestly? I wasn’t sure,” you say dreamily, “I was thinking of Neverwinter, Iceland Dales, Silverymoon, Waterdeep, Menzoberranzan, or maybe a short stint in Candlekeep. I can’t read common, but I would love to be able to explore their library. I’m sure they have something in Undercommon that I can read.”

“Those are all wildly different locations and climates, my Dear,” he says teasingly while placing a kiss on top of your head without thinking.

You shrug, “I’m just very complex.”

“And apparently travel a lot.”

“I try not to make it a habit of staying in the same place too long. Eventually the loneliness in a familiar place loses its novelty,” you sigh, “I just do whatever work is around the area until I get a contract. Typically I get up and leave after that then start the process over somewhere else.”

“What kind of work in the area?” Astarion says while absentmindedly untangling your hair with his lithe fingers.

“Farm work, guard duty, hunting,” you hmmm as you think, “head hunting, cleaning and bartending depending on if I am able to get a job at a local inn.”

Astarion busts up laughing at the idea of you of all people being a bartender. You hate being perceived- let alone talked to by strangers. You would have easily been Cazador’s worst nightmare.

“What’s so funny!?” You exclaim, keeping your lips in a serious line.

“Oh nothing, Darling,” Astarion quips, “I can’t even begin to imagine you as a bartender.”

You prop yourself up to look at him- you are frowning.

“How so?”

“Darling,” he says snickering, “you looked like you were going to have a homicidal meltdown when that man at the Grove ‘looked at you funny’. You quite literally scared the piss out of him.”

“Because he looked at me funny! Lae’zel agreed.”

“Oh yes,” Astarion says while rolling his eyes, “because Lae’zel is the most reliable judge of social situations.”

“I happen to think she’s the best- I mean you saw how well the crèche went today, right?”

“Sometimes I forget that narrowly escaping death is your definition of ‘well’.”

You shrug, sitting up briefly to take a sip out of the open bottle of whiskey.

“I have relatively low standards when it comes to fighting Githyanki.”

“Ah,” he huffs in acknowledgement, “I forgot- Whalebone Spice blood. I suppose they weren’t necessarily the most attractive creatures to begin with, but to taste like that? How embarrassing.”

You are midswig of alcohol when you begin to snort from laughter and proceed to choke so hard on the whiskey that some of it sprays from your mouth and onto Astarion’s shirt. You are absolutely mortified and you cover your face with your hands, slowly getting up. Astarion doesn’t know whether to be upset or not, but he doesn’t feel like upset is the most accurate term for what he is feeling.

Your embarrassment is way too adorable. Painfully adorable and Astarion would be a fool not to take advantage of the moment.

“Well, on that note,” you keep your face covered, “I should be goi-“

“Oh no you don’t,” Astarion says teasingly, pulling your hands away from your face, “you owe me for this one.”

The mischievous glint in his eye tells you he is up to absolutely no good.

“Oh? And what do you feel I owe you?”

“Hmmmm, well Darling,” Astarion says, leaning in to whisper in your ear, “help cleaning off would be greatly appreciated.”

Your eyes go wide and Astarion playfully pulls your bottom lip between his teeth. A beautiful, whimpering moan escapes your lips and he smiles cheekily. He cherishes the moments when he can make you speechless instead of the other way around.

“Okay,” you say breathily.

“Okay?” Astarion teases, “I’ve never had a more enthusiastic lover.”

Astarion has to fight the smile when you grow an even darker shade of red at the title.

*smut starts here*

“I-I’m sorry-“ you say, looking down at your feet and rubbing your arm shyly, “I guess I’m not entirely sure what ‘helping’ you clean up entails soooo…”

“Well we have established that you do know how sex works, Darling,” Astarion says with a smirk, “but I suppose I could show you again…”

*smut starts here*

Astarion’s fingers dance along the hem of your shirt- pulling it off you in one swift movement. Astarion kisses the junction between your shoulder and your neck, taking a quick nip at the skin before pulling away.

“Typically,” he whispers, “you want to start with the offending articles of clothing- which for you, my Sweet- is anything that prevents me from seeing that beautiful body of yours.”

“Ast-“

“Ah,” Astarion cups your jaw with one of his hands and puts his thumb in your mouth, pressing down on your tongue, “I need you to be quiet, Darling. I’m trying to focus- you do want to learn, don’t you?”

You nod eagerly and he rewards you by pushing your thighs apart with his leg before rubbing it against your clothed heat. Your heart galloping and the smell of your arousal is making Astarion feel like he may go into a frenzy if he doesn’t get to have you soon.

He pushes the gross feelings down- hard- trying to prevent dissociation or at least obvious dissociation.

You wouldn’t go through with it if he didn’t seem to be having a good time and Astarion isn’t ready to have the, “surprise! I’m a prostitute against my own free will and I’ve been using my craft to make you like me, but now I’m horribly confused!” Conversation.

Astarion is snapped out of his thoughts when he feels your tongue glide along the ridge of his thumb before you nick his thumb with one of your canines. Your tongue flicks out to lap at the pin prick of a wound, but it must have been enough because your pupils are blown even wider now with lust and need. Astarion didn’t expect such a simple little action to rile him up so much, but he’s hardly done anything to you and his cock is straining against his pants.

“Cheeky pup,” Astarion praises, “you are full of surprises aren’t you?”

Astarion practically rips your pants off, taking his thumb out of your mouth, but making a point of drawing more blood- soaking in your wanting moans as his blood coats your tongue- as he teases your folds through your underwear before slowly slipping his fingers in between your legs while rubbing your clit with his thumb. Astarion’s plan to continue teasing you quickly dissolves when he adds a second finger, you begin to writhe and beg for him to take you underneath him. Astarion has you right where he wants you and yet he does not feel like he’s the one in control in this situation. You are like an addiction he can’t kick and he is excited to actually be excited about sex for once.

You are helping him hastily and messily remove his clothes- Astarion is caught up in the desperation to be inside you that he flips you onto your stomach- not thinking. You stiffen underneath him with a sharp breath and he snaps out of whatever lustful haze he is in.

It had been too aggressive of a movement- far too similar to your trauma.

“I’m so sorry,” he says quickly, turning you back over and you are looking up at him with fear in your eyes.

His heart shatters- Astarion wants you to feel safe with him and he just threw your trust away. He is so nervous as he takes in your facial expressions.

“I- it’s okay,” you say, trying to smile through the panic, “I just wasn’t expecting it was all. I trust you- I want to try.”

Astarion searches your eyes- he feels his brows furrowing and his face being consumed with the worry he is feeling.

“Are you sure?” He whispers, stroking your cheek and leaving soft kisses along your jaw, “we can do whatever you want, Darling. It’s just a privilege to be with you.”

It’s true- Astarion knows deep down that if he had met you in Baldur’s Gate that he would have begrudgingly taken you back to Cazador to become his meal. He is glad that is not the context you met each other in.

“I’m sure Star,” you gently tangle your hands behind his neck, you sigh into his shoulder,“I trust you and I know you won’t hurt me.”

Astarion works his way up until he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. When the hell did he become an affectionate lover?

“Thank you, Darling,” Astarion says breathily, “you can’t even begin to imagine how much that means to me.”

You allow him to help you flip back over- still wet and wanting from the earlier activities. Astarion positions you in front of the mirror on the opposite side of his tent- he’s not as hard as he was prior to the incident, but the look on your face changes that entirely as he slowly presses inside you.

Pure, carnal desire and pleasure- he groans at how your walls clench around him. Your hands are digging into the fabric of his bed roll and you are practically panting with lust as you adjust to him- yelping blissfully when he pulls back and snaps his hips into yours. Astarion wishes he could actually watch himself doing this to you, but he’s still thrilled by all of your reactions- each one earning a harder, faster thrust from Astarion each time.

You are crying out in pleasure- fighting to not collapse. You are looking at where he would be in the mirror and Gods is he grateful you are. Astarion feels your legs violently shaking as you release around him- your eyes fluttering as you ride out your orgasm. He gently pulls you flush against him by your hair, moving his left arm between the junction of your breasts to hold you in place, and bares you to himself in the mirror.

Your breasts are perfect- nipples hard and sensitive from the cool night air and arousal. Your orgasm is dripping between your legs- where you are taking him so well. You look absolutely euphoric and perfect this way. He traces the lines of your scars up to your breasts- pinching the swollen nubs until you are a whimpering mess clenching around him again. You are painted in your own nectar again- the growing waterfall between your legs causing a possessive growl to leave Astarion’s throat as he nips at your neck.

Astarion is the only one who can make you feel this way and he wants to make sure you never forget it.

“Gods you are a work of art,” he says, moving his hand that was playing with your breasts to rub your swollen, sensitive clit and he snaps up into you. The whimper that leaves your lips is so pitifully blissed out that Astarion loses his composure- thrusting up into you sloppily as he begins coming into you without any warning, grunting through his arousal as he praises you.

*smut ends here*

“You were so good for me, Little Love,” Astarion whispers into your ear, “but I definitely don’t think I am any cleaner than I was before.”

“And who’s fault is that?” You retort between heavy breaths.

Astarion laughs and then rolls you both onto your sides. Astarion wraps himself around you, pushing his nose into your hair and inhaling your scent- the already intoxicating aroma is even sweeter with the scent of you and him mixed together between your legs. Astarion glides his fingers between your legs and licks the combination off his fingers- humming in delight. He can feel the heat crawl up the back of your neck.

I can’t believe I almost lost this today, Astarion thinks, trying to just be in the moment with the warmth you make him feel, but there is also guilt, shame, and self- loathing. It makes him feel heavy- left to wonder if he will always feel this way despite enjoying himself with you. Would you be okay with that? Waiting for him to be okay? Astarion didn’t, however, realize that his “thought” was actually spoken out loud.

“Lost what today?”

Astarion stiffens against you- embarrassed more than anything. Astarion just hides his face in your hair and chuckles breathily.

“Oh only the first real companion I’ve had in a very long time,” he tries to brush it off, chuckles, “our late night trysts- sex included or not- are rather pleasurable. I think I’d go insane if I was stuck with everyone else here on my own.”

You are silent and what he knows is seconds, feels like hours before you finally speak again.

“Is that why you followed me earlier today?”

That is a good question. Why did Astarion follow you when you went to blow up the crèche?

You had all agreed after hastily retrieving the Blood of Lathander that blowing up the building is the best chance you and your companions had at getting out of there alive with no Githyanki to worry about. You volunteered to power up the machine.

Astarion didn’t tell you how much he despised the plan- that hadn’t gone well for him last time and he really would prefer to not upset you- not that you wouldn’t be kind to him, he just wasn’t sure if he would be able to be kind to you regarding your life being on the line.

Astarion has noticed you both seem to have very different opinions on the value of your life, but he tried to keep his thoughts to himself. Anyway, it wasn’t like you weren’t fast enough to outrun a small blast.

Karlach, Lae’zel, and Astarion watched as the monastery exploded and you sprinted faster than Astarion had ever seen anyone sprint before.

The blast was massive- the foundation of the Monastery falling apart at an alarmingly fast rate. The noise was deafening. This was far more powerful than any of you anticipated and he feels the pit in his stomach grow while watching you.

Then Astarion saw that the floor underneath your feet was going to give and you began to dip out of eye sight- Karlach and Lae’zel had the same realization he did- you are about to die underneath all of that rubble.

He remembers Karlach trying to hold him back- telling him you wouldn’t want him to go and just wait until one of you can afford Withers. Astarion didn’t want to have to wait or be without you for however long that would be.

The way his throat hurt screaming for you. Astarion had cast misty steps without much forethought involved and just barely got to you in time. He hadn’t meant to tackle you, but you being mad at him is the least of his concerns. He had only had one goal and it was for you to get out of there alive- it scared him how easily he had been a second thought to himself.

He’s never been more afraid for another person or to lose said person in his 239 years of living (that he can remember)- up until you. Astarion would have hated himself for the rest of eternity if something terrible had happened to you and he didn’t even try to save you.

“I-,” Astarion clears his throat, “I don’t know Darling. We were just watching the tower collapse and I saw that the foundation underneath you was going to give…

“I cast misty steps without even really thinking about it. I’m still struggling to believe it myself… I’ve never really thought about anyone else’s safety before.”

Astarion tries to feel brave despite his vulnerability- he supposes he’ll know if he is just sex to you or not.

You turn around to face him, running your fingers through his hair as he pulls you into him- your faces mere inches apart.

You are reading him and Astarion avoids your gaze. He doesn’t want you to see how intensely his feelings are starting to change, but he also doesn’t want to slip his facade back on- he relaxes when you lean your forehead against his.

“Thank you, Astarion,” you whisper his name like a silent prayer.

“Of course, Little Love,” he releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and then inhales slowly.

You smell like lavender, clary sage, and pine- the three most random things have quickly become his favorite combination of scents. He wanted to bottle up the smell so he never has to be without.

Astarion considers your earlier proposition of traveling together after this is all over. It’s been almost 2 months of you knowing one another and it’s been a wonderful 2 months of fun- minus the being hunted by psychotic vampires and could turn into tentacled creatures at any moment.

He hasn’t dared to think about your offer until just now. Astarion knows that you will inevitably end things with him before the end of this journey when you realize he has little to no worth outside of pleasure, but Gods can’t he dream about a world where that never happens? Even if only for a little while?

“I think Candlekeep would be a first good spot for us to go- if we survive this whole tadpole thing,” Astarion says absentmindedly, “I do love a good book.”

“Oh I know,” you say while wiggling your eyebrows at him, “why do you think I even mentioned it?”

“Darling,” Astarion gasps, “how dare you exploit my weakness for literature!”

“I’m despicable, I know,” you put the back of your hand to your forehead, “my plan was to manipulate you into traveling with me the entire time. All I needed to do was find something that may interest you.”

“I didn’t realize I was so easy to please.”

“I wouldn’t say that- you have very reasonable and accessible hobbies,” you say slowly, “you are just difficult to keep up with sometimes.”

“Whatever do you mean, my Dear?” Astarion says trying to hide the nervous edge that threatens to lace his voice.

You look at him with the same amount of nerves he is feeling on the inside. You are cautious and guarded now- like you were when he first met you.

“Um well- Shadowheart told me that you guys um,” you shift uncomfortably, “almost started a thing before I joined camp.”

Wonderful, how thoughtful of her.

“…it was that first day when we were setting up the tents. She mentioned that you guys made out with a lot of heavy petting. Shadowheart had this whole idea of making you beg for it.”

Oh really? Astarion thinks bitterly.

“ She was actually a little bit pissed when you kind of stopped regarding her completely. She’s moved on now, well I hope or maybe she hasn’t because she brought it up again tonight that it’s a bummer you didn’t mesh… and she started talking about being with ‘men like you’ and how you prefer someone who is exciting in bed…”

Oh I’m going to kill that cleric, Astarion thinks, she will not be derailing my plan nor this- whatever this is.

It had barely been anything- Shadowheart had approached him, he couldn’t tell her no, she got him hard, and by the time he was nicely dissociated- she had pushed herself off of him saying he needed to earn it.

Then he met you the next day and having to force himself to be with Shadowheart was quickly thrown out the window.

Astarion had been grateful if he was honest with himself. Beyond grateful, actually. Astarion can’t imagine being with Shadowheart when he has you- someone who respects him and seems to enjoy his company outside of sex- enough to offer your company before and after at least.

Your voice is a sad whisper now, “and well- she mentioned maybe asking you to also… be with her in this way.”

Oh he is going to go and rip that Cleric to pieces.

“I told her I wasn’t comfortable with that and she basically told me it was a pity I wasn’t- men ‘like you’ eventually get bored.”

You avoid his gaze, looking at where your left hand is settled on his shoulder, “I guess I was wondering if that is something I should be prepared for or if you are interested in being with her in that way. I honestly don’t know if I could still be with you- it would maybe hurt too much, but I understand. She’s beautiful, sexual, smart-“

“And yet she isn’t you,” Astarion says harsher than he intended. You look at him vulnerably and he kisses you deeply before continuing- surprising himself with how romantic he is being.

“Shadowheart did approach me on the third night of camp- right before you joined our group,” Astarion says with resentment, “I- Cazador used to have me go hunt for the most beautiful souls in Baldur’s Gate so that he could feed.

“I haven’t been given the luxury of saying ‘no’ for the last 200 years- not that she would have known that, but I… was barely there by the time she decided to leave. We had only been kissing and it all felt… mechanical. Rehearsed,” he is searching your eyes for any signs of disgust, but all he sees is understanding and encouragement to continue, “I was honestly grateful she walked off. I had tried to flirt back the next day- thinking it would be better for me to make an ally than an enemy. I wouldn’t be able to say no to her advances anyway- I figured I would just embrace it.

“Then I met you- ethereal, eccentric, dangerous, wonderful you,” he whispers as if the moon might hear how valuable you are and take you away, “and I don’t think I’ve looked at another soul ever since. You seem to see me- hear me. You are the only person to respect my boundaries- even when I am not respecting my own.

“Not a day goes by where I don’t enjoy your company- even on our rest days when everyone else is being a pill. You are the first person I’ve ever willingly propositioned as well- something I never thought I’d be able to do.”

Astarion tries to remind himself that this is all part of his act- he’s failing miserably. He really went and fucked up his own plan over choosing the wrong person. Maybe Shadowheart would have been the better choice for the sake of his sanity and his emotions. At least he knew what Shadowheart wanted. Your expression is unreadable and Astarion begins to feel anxious.

“But if you would like to include Shadowheart- I could tr-,” he begins slowly.

“NO!” You shout and cause both of you to jump, “No, Astarion. I definitely don’t want to include Shadowheart. I would like to keep our recreational activities and whatever we are doing to just us. I suppose I was just insecure because I have basically no sexual experience and evidently you do and she does and- nevermind! It was a dumb thought. “I want you to know- I don’t think less of you for everything with Cazador,” you say reassuringly, “you are not broken or a thing to be used. I couldn’t imagine enduring that kind of suffering for 200 years and Gods I hate that wretched man even more!!! But thank you for sharing all of that with me. It couldn’t have been easy so thank you for letting me get to know you more. I certainly cannot wait to parade Cazador’s head around on a stick with you through Baldur’s Gate.”

He lets out a choked laugh at your statement. Astarion holds you closer for a moment- trying to keep you from seeing his tears. You don’t look upon him with pity- every terrible story he tells you is regarded as what it is and you make him feel empowered to talk about these things. You don’t see Astarion as broken- you see him as brave and strong.

“Maybe a little dumb,” he teases, before looking at you softly, “but can I ask- does that mean you are only looking at me too? Or should I be anticipating a conversation about Halsin in the future?”

Astarion is asking in a joking tone, but he is scared to hear your answer. Halsin is the newest member in your weird little camp and he definitely has his eyes on you.

Astarion is positive that, whatever souls are made of- yours and his are the same. You understand him on an entirely different level and he is almost positive he would do anything to convince you to stay with him.

Astarion began talking to you so you would worship him and yet, here he is, worshiping you- as terrifying as that is.

You kiss him and Astarion has never felt more wanted- needed in his whole life. Your lips are soft and necessitous against his. Gently coaxing soft moans from his mouth. You stop to look at him- your face serious.

“I don’t want anyone else,” you say, “asking that was definitely a little dumb.”

Astarion meets you halfway, kissing you over and over again until you are entangled in each other- mind, body, and soul.

That night, for the first time ever, Astarion makes love.

#baldurs gate 3 #astarion #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x you #bg3 spoilers #astarion romance #astarion x tav #karlach #bg3 #astarion acunin #astarion x female reader #Astarion x AFAB! reader #smut #astarion x f! reader #astarion x gender neutral reader #astarion x gn!tav

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vanellopes-mun · 4 months

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Vanellope VS. Turbo: A Mini Analysis!

There are a million reasons why Turbo’s reveal in Disney’s Wreck-it Ralph is such an iconic and memorable scene. A scene that I and many others have replayed ever since 2012 and its impact has never left our minds. It solidified King Candy/Turbo as one of Disney's top villains ever created, surprising and shocking viewers with a plot twist that Disney hasn’t been able to overthrow with their other movies before they abandoned villains until King Magnifico but he sucks so. He WISHES he was as charismatic as King Candy plz-

But this analysis isn’t just about King Candy/Turbo, it’s also about Vanellope Von Schweetz. She’s the most important ingredient to making this scene work and play out the way it does and ultimately why it’s so fucking cathartic. ( More so than Ralph’s fight against Cy-Bug Turbo in my opinion) After watching how it was originally story boarded, the crew behind WiR perfected this scene with a specific detail that they changed. In the early storyboard, Vanellope causes King Candy’s vehicle to crash, causing him to glitch and transform into Turbo in front of the cameras. While I love love love the extended race between Vanellope and King Candy and sort of wished it could have been longer in the actual film, I am content that they didn’t go with the direction. In the movie, King Candy is revealed after trying to beat/kill Vanellope with his horn rod/pole thingy from his kart, she grabs it and glitches due to stress/adrenaline/her emotions, her blue glitch traveling through the cane and making contact with King Candy, finally putting down the facade he had on for 15 years and revealing him as Turbo to the characters in the film and the audience. It’s such a small detail, it only happens in a second, but it’s all it took for the start of his downfall and his eventual demise.

And this is why it brings me catharsis every time I watch this scene. I could never put it into words before, but it’s beyond satisfying that the end of King Candy’s horrible reign starts with Vanellope and her glitch. The very same glitch that he caused trying to delete her code and remove her place from the game. The glitch that he used as an excuse to turn everyone in Sugar Rush against her. He usurped her throne and tried to ruin her life. Despite this, he still had the audacity to shout “Get off of MY track!” earlier. It brings his Roadblasters incident back up, it was his choice, trying to steal the thunder of another racing game that just got plugged in because he couldn’t stand the idea of anyone taking his place, only for Turbo Time and Roadblasters to be unplugged. All of this circling back and biting him in the ass. Vanellope was the key all along and he knew it, he feared her despite never really having a conversation with her as far as we know (Vanellope asking Turbo “What the-?! Who are you!?” leads me to believe that if they did converse in the past, it was not in his true form and he was most likely already King Candy. Plus it just goes to show how fast he hijacked Sugar Rush), but you can just tell by how desperate he was to keep her from racing, he didn’t want anyone to take his place ever again.

So the scene continues and his famous line and breakdown goes as this: “I’m Turbo! The greatest racer ever! And I did not reprogram this world to let YOU and that halitosis riddled warthog TAKE IT AWAY FROM ME!” It’s just so ironic, unfair and hypocritical of him it makes my blood boil! And the way he’s raising his voice, jabbing his finger at her and Vanellope’s trying to shrink away from him as he yells at her face before he tries to murder her I just- So cruel, scary, wicked and disturbing! But Vanellope, this brave WARRIOR, is reminded of her glitch after Turbo calls her for what he believes is the last time. “End of the line, Glitch!” She takes a moment, everything slows down around her as she tries to control her glitch to escape Turbo. She glitches away, missing the wall and It ends up saving her life! I just cannot stress enough how beautiful that is! She used her disability, that everyone thought would simply doom her and the game, and embraced it when she needed it most. Her glitch, while it was suddenly given to her by circumstances she couldn’t control or prevent, she took control back. It’s her beautiful superpower and it’s empowering. After this scene, it’s the “end” of Turbo before he gets nom’d by a Cy-Bug. ( I want to note that he later says “I’m the most powerful VIRUS in the arcade”, part of me wants to believe he said that because clearly Vanellope bested him as the greatest racer ever but I doubt that was their intention lol)

They’re the embodiment of Selfishness vs. Selflessness. While Vanellope had everything taken away from her, she didn’t follow the same path as him. Turbo had everything taken from him, but it was his fault and he only ever thought about himself, never about the destruction he left behind. Hell, all she ever wanted was to be one of the racers, no matter how much they bullied her and ostracized her, she never ended up being evil like him even though it would be a perfect recipe to become a villain, this is also what makes her a mirror to Ralph. (Remember in that one deleted scene where she said she wanted to break the racers’ legs but come on can you blame her!?!?! She was so real for saying that.) VANELLOPE IS MY FAVORITE CHARACTER EVER AAAA.

Before I ramble any further, I will forever love the choices that the writers made for the climax and it just ends up being an absolutely perfect and brilliant scene and I will continue to rewatch for the millionth time.

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sunshine-theseus · 7 months

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Midas' Touch

Cortnee Vine x Reader Summary: It's hard not to fall in love with a girl like that warnings: - not completely proof read. - i haven't written for fun in so long and i suck at knowing if i'm using the correct tense so i'm sorry about that😭

It's hot. Too hot to be doing much more than rondos and some light running for warm up before heading back to change into our kits and hear a few last words from Garrath.

And that's exactly what we do. Well, until I spot flaming red hair out of the corner of my eye as I'm heading back to the tunnel. The feature is familiar on its own, but odd when combined with the sky-blue jersey that adorns her.

A smile that could warm even the coldest of hearts is thrown my way and I stumble over the back of Holly's foot. I quickly apologise before scurrying back to the locker room.

I had only met Cortnee at the World Cup, when I got my first call up for The Matildas. We weren't close in comparison to people like Kyra and Charlie, but we roomed together and got to know each other reasonably well.

This was the first time I'd seen her since our defeating departure and I'm more nervous than I was during my debut. I had admittedly developed somewhat of a crush on her during the World Cup, but I'd managed to forget about it within the whirlwind of transferring back to the Brisbane Roar from Liverpool.

Until now.

~~~~~

I'm lining up when I spot Tameka approaching me with Harley, who is dressed in a number 13 Roar jersey that is 3 times too big for her. Before they get too far, Harley is running full speed into my open arms, giggling as I sprinkle her face with kisses.

Meeks was originally in the starting XI, but Garrath made the decision she would make a good boost after half time when players began to tire. That meant Harley was now my mascot, and I have no complaints because she'd the cutest little thing, unless she starts blabbering secrets. Which she tends to do, a lot, when she's excited.

"Are you sure you're okay with her? She can be a lot."

I smile softly at both of them.

"Of course it’s fine. She’s a sweetheart”, and with that, Tameka says goodbye and walks out to the sub bench with the others.

As I’m putting Harley back down so I can hold her hand on the walk out, I see the same flash of red hair pass by. I’m following her with my eyes when Harley tugs on my hand and whispers “Have you ‘n’ Cortnee kisseded yet?”

I can feel myself burning up, but simply shake my head no before grabbing her hand and following the rest of the team out onto the pitch as she giggles softly beside me.

~~~~~

It gets worse as we begin to shake hands with the Sydney. I’m last, and Harley’s starting to spew random words and facts she knows as we walk down the line. Cortnee is a mere metre away when Harley begins waving to her and jumping up and down, begging for her attention.

I shake Cortnee’s hand and I nearly choke at how beautiful she is up close. Her eyes are brighter than I remember, and her hair is golden under the burning sun, her freckles are like constellations and I nearly reach up to trace them.

But our greeting is cut short when Harley jumps into her arms and asks “is it hard being away from your girlfriend?”

Not a second later, Tameka has Harley in her arms again and Cortnee and I are blushing, but I’m moving onto the next person before we can say another word, trying not to look back at her as she jogs back and forth lightly before taking her position.

I don’t know how I forgot it. The rush of the pre-game had me occupied, but as I plant my feet on the ground, the fact I’m always her marker, even in scrimmages at camp, hits my like a truck and I know this may possibly be the hardest game I’ll ever play if I can’t get her out of my head.

~~~~~

I had been doing pretty well so far if I do say so myself. I’d managed to stay focused on the game and had converted a free kick from Sharn into a goal in the 27th minute that put us in the lead: 1-0.

But now my focus is beginning to waver, at possibly the worst possible moment. It’s the 88th minute and Sydney was just awarded a corner. We’re all gathered at the goal, marking whoever we could, to stop the ball that was about to come flying in, from crossing the line. But as I’m pushing back into the player behind me, I feel her hands on my hips and warm air hits the back of my neck.

I’m turning to tell her off, but my breath gets caught in my throat again. Why won’t she leave me alone. Let me focus on this game before smiling so sweetly at me and sending sparks through my body.

Cortnee cheekily nudges me forward as the ball curves through the air but I can’t stop myself from falling to the ground, my focus has been completely removed from the ball. And yet… I still manage to stop it as it rolls, or more so is kicked into my face rather harshly in an attempt for Sydney to score an equaliser.

A groan resounds across the pitch but I’m standing before the ref can try to call the medics over. I’m not letting a little ball to the face stop the game this close to the end, I’m exhausted and can’t take more than whatever added time we’ll already receive. Well, that’s what I’d like to think.

“Nice try Y/L/N but you know the rules! You’re getting checked for a concussion, don’t try to fight it.”

Such a nice lady, yet suddenly the bane of my existence.

The concussion assessment takes no more than 30 seconds, and by the time I’m running back on, we’ve started the (gratefully) 2 minutes of added time. The medics also add the fact I haven’t broken my nose but I will develop a nice bruise that may scare Harley and my niece and nephew for a few weeks.

~~~~~

I’m standing back in front of Cortnee when the final whistle blows, Brisbane won, we’ve won, 1-0. Before I can take off to hug and celebrate with my team, the bright hair and cheeky dimples are the only things in sight. And before I can try and comfort her for her loss, lips softer than I could have ever imagined, are pressing hard against my own.

I’m not sure I’d ever reacted faster than I had in that moment, grabbing her face while her hands wrap around my waist. But I pull back with a wince and lightly grab my nose.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since our first match at the world cup when you scored your first goal” she whispers softly.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since I first laid eyes on you” In that moment I think about how I’ve never seen someone as beautiful as her.

“Well, I guess Harley knew something we didn’t”.

“She knows to get what she wants. I think she secretly set us up”.

“The three-year-old?” I giggle and peck her on the lips.

“She has her ways”.

“Does this make us… girlfriends?” I quickly ask.

“I’d fucking hope so”.

I grab Cortnee’s hand and drag her over to Sharn, Tameka and Harley, the youngest of which has a cheeky smile as she screams “CORTNEE AND Y/N KISSEDED” and claps her hands.

~~~~~~~~~~

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME THAT IS THE CUTEST FUCKING STORY EVER” Alex screams as we sit on the pitch, warming down from today’s training.

We’re back at camp for the Asian Olympic Qualifiers, and it’s the day before our match against the Philippines. Cortnee had wanted to have the physio check out her leg, the tension in her hamstring seeming to be causing her more grief than anyone wants, so I was sitting with Alex, Mini and Sam. It’s an odd combination but I’m glad to be getting to know more of the girls.

“That was actually fucking sickening. Kristie is going to love hearing it later.” Sam laughs at the mention of her own girlfriend.

“I genuinely think that was what Harper and Harley spent their time on all of last camp because she kept asking about you two as well. But it was about damn time.” The comment from Mini has me slightly shocked. Was there anyone who didn’t think we should get together?

Before I can ask anything, Tony is calling us to gather round to say some words and give us feedback before sending us back to the hotel. I’m standing on the end when two arms snake around my waist and a gentle kiss is pressed to the top of my head. I lean back into her but don’t say anything until we’re told to get going.

“What did she say?” I lean into her some more as we walk back to the locker room.

“It’s just a little tension, I’ll be okay to play tomorrow”

~~~~~

She most certainly was not okay to play. Cortnee was subbed on and within 10 minutes was back sitting next to me on the sub bench with an ice pack on her thigh.

To give her credit, the injury was predominantly from a collision on the pitch, but I was selfishly mad she didn’t tell me. So, while I held her hand as we took a lap around the pitch and signed shirts and took photos with fans at the end of the game, I didn’t talk to her.

Or in the locker room.

Or on the bus to the hotel.

Or at dinner.

Or as I watched her pack her bags and leave back to Sydney because she needed to start healing as soon as possible.

All I did was give her a peck on the lips and watch her uber drive away.

An hour later she texted me about a fan she’d met at the airport, who was shaking so bad she had to take the photo. I liked it but didn’t reply.

But now it was our final match day, and I don’t have Cortnee to have breakfast with, something that had become somewhat of a tradition for us whenever we could.

I have no clue as to why I’m so mad about it, but as I sat with Sam and Steph at breakfast, I knew I needed to at least call her and apologise. So I did.

The phone rings, almost too many times, but eventually the girl I love is staring back at me.

“I’m so sorry for ignoring you!”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you!”

The lines are rushed out by both of us, probably louder than need be as I get weird looks from some of the girls.

“No no you have no reason to apologise Cort, I literally got so mad for no reason, I should be helping you heal not ignoring you!”

“I still should have told you, let you help me. I love you and you just want the best for me.” We’d never actually said those words. But I blurt them out before I can stop myself.

“I love you too!”

Everyone around me is giggling as I blush.

I look back to Cortnee on my screen. She’s out in her backyard, laying on the grass, her hair is splayed behind her, golden, touched by the hand of Midas. Her eyes are as blue ever, her cheeks rosy, dimples deep. Then I hear her laugh and I don’t think I could love anyone more because I’m melting in my seat as we quickly bid each other goodbye.

That night I play for her, and as we celebrate, Sam and I both call our respective partners together to let them know. And when we hang up I turn to Sam, unable to stop smiling.

“I’m going to love her forever.”

#woso x reader #cortnee vine x reader #the matildas x reader

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mdhwrites · 6 months

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Eda's Requiem: The Embodiment of Why TOH's Found Family Sucks

Here are the two plot lines for this episode, with no frills or judgements, and you try to figure out the problems with them: Plot A: Eda, while running from having an actual conversation with King and/or Luz, runs into an old flame who lets her in on a secret criminal group they're a part of that can use her skills. She proceeds to spend the entire episode away from Luz and King, besides small exchanges where she refuses to talk to them due to misunderstandings, until she almost sacrifices herself for her beliefs and the good of the Isles. Raine stops her because of a photo of King, Luz and Eda together showing she has kids. Then she runs off to finally watch the thing that Luz and King have been working on the entire episode. However, she's missed it entirely but she makes up for it by helping King with his goal anyways.

Plot B: King and Luz are preparing for a race together so as to get a chance to broadcast to the entire Isles a message about how King wants to find his family. They also keep talking about a topic that will potentially upset Eda, with heavy implications due to the dialogue that it is him wanting to leave, and keep getting cut off from actually talking to her due to Eda blowing them off because of overhearing parts of these conversations. We then don't get to see the race but find out they lose because King threw up while they were flying. King then makes an impassioned speech to his father about his interests, things he'd like to do as a parent and child and about the symbol on him. He then calls Eda cranky before then saying because she was the one to raise him, he is LEEEEeee-gally changing his name to King Clawthorne, officially making him adopted by Eda so long as she'll have him.

So besides the painful voice acting direction that is the writers admitting to just having straight up lied with their implications as to what King's problem was *eye twitch* Did you see it?

What about this episode is actually about their found family? The relationship between these characters? Especially Eda and King's? Because the two practically do not interact this episode until the very end. Eda spends the entire episode neglecting Luz and King due to her own fears while King's goal ISN'T about Eda. It's about finding his real parents. He even outlines what he thinks a parent/child dynamic should be, what he wants out of it and it's NOT anything we've seen him do with Eda.

In fact, you might expect me to compare this episode to Amphibia's Aquarium episode, which is effectively when the found family there is finalized but there's literally no comparison. TOH doesn't reflect on the relationship or memories that this family has with each other because there's almost nothing there. What, is King going to wax nostalgic about how Eda manipulates him into no win bets and mocks him for his desires and goals in Teenage Abomination? Or how about how Eda, despite living with him since he was an infant, doesn't even try to understand his struggles until body swapping with him? OH! How about when she threatened the eight year old with rent in the second episode? There's the first episode's statement about the two being all they have but there's actually not much else they have done together that ever has them growing genuinely closer.

Then there's simply the emotional focuses of the episode. The things as an audience we are actually told are the stakes of the episode are if Eda and Raine are going to get back together/succeed in their plans and if King is going to win so he can get a message out to his genetic parents. Their goals that they have to overcome don't actually have anything to do with each other or them being a family. Anything about that is just side angst that isn't as important. Even King's speech at the end FAR more heavily weighs on his desire to find his genetic parent than it does Eda. He describes with so much care about what he wants before saying the he's asking to be adopted is because Eda raised him and then stating ZERO other reasons for why he's doing this. That's not a reason to change your name, that's what your mom says to guilt trip when you try to not do what she says.

Found Family is NOT transactional. In fact, one of the big reasons Found Family is so treasured is because you choose it, not because it was forced upon you like, I dunno, some random stranger deciding to take you home from your birthplace because she assumes you've been abandoned. It's because you have such a bond with another person that you would rather them be your own family. It doesn't matter what part or the legalness of it, it never did for Anne, but... When you don't actually show that bond as part of your story, all you have left are labels you can use to tell the audience they have this bond.

And so of course King gets officially adopted because otherwise, why would you ever call Eda King's mom? Because it needs to do SOMETHING to actually sell these people as a found family so people can praise it for having that trope but it also doesn't want to put in the actual time or effort. So... I guess this is all we get alongside King calling Luz his sister.

That's just not enough, not for me at least.

======+++++======

What's rough with this blog is that I actually still like Eda's Requiem. It's not a bad episode as Eda and Raine's dynamic is good with some good stakes to the action which is a rarity for TOH. It's just that thematically it doesn't function which isn't anything new.

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.

#the owl house criticism #toh critical #eda's requiem #eda clawthorne #king clawthorne #Found Family

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sangorous · 10 months

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𝗔𝗧𝗧𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡

word count: 0.9k

genre/warnings: angst?/petty ex's, and whatnot idk tbh

evan buckley x black!fem!reader

It has been a while since Buck has been to the club. The last time he stepped foot in the club was during his playboy phase, which has been gone for almost three years.

Eddie had the great idea of taking Buck to the club. This was the perfect opportunity for Buck to forget about all of the relationships he has had. The idea seemed great at first. When they walked inside, they were drinking. He was talking to other women, bringing out the old Buck he knew. Yet that all changed when a familiar face walked inside.

It was [y/n]. The last thing he wanted was to see her. Yes, she did look beautiful, but he came to the club to clear his mind from her. A relationship that was good that quickly turned sour. He vowed to forget about her, but little did he know that would be a lie.

[y/n] couldn't lie. Buck looked amazing. He always did, but she couldn't fall for him tonight... Or she could. Yes, she was trying to avoid him, but she couldn't help herself from the plan she created. All she needed was a few drinks in her system, and she'd leave her friends behind.

"What is she doing here?" Buck groaned, looking at Eddie.

"Who?" but he answered his question when he quickly looked at [y/n].

"Forget that she's here. You've been on fire so far. So keep at it," Eddie patted his back, while he sighed and nodded his head.

Buck grabbed his drink and downed it before returning to the woman he was talking to earlier.

Their conversation was going great. The talking led to them dancing on the dance floor, and [y/n] wasn't happy. Seeing Buck with someone that wasn't her, did not sit right with her.

If this is how he wanted to act, the two could play this game. He knew that she would win when it came to being the pettiest. No one could ever top her.

Next to her was an attractive guy, she didn't know who he was but decided to dance with him, which was perfect because Wine Slow by Gyptian began to play. She placed the male's hands on her hips and began to wine her ass on him slowly. Feeling his grip become tighter. [y/n] felt a pair of eyes on her and she knew it was Buck, so she decided to keep eye contact with him. She stared him down while she was grinding on this random man.

Buck knew this was [y/n]'s way of getting into his head. He promised himself and Eddie that her mind games wouldn't work, but he could slowly feel himself getting sucked in. Closing his eyes could not help because every time he opened them up? Her eyes were piercing into his soul. Not only that, but she came closer and closer.

How would he move on from her if she was right there in his face? Dancing seductively. Staring into his eyes. Moving closer by the end of each song.

He knew that she didn't want him. Buck knew that seeing him with someone else made her mad. He knew that she didn't want him to move on from her, and if he was going to be honest... He couldn't. He came to the club to get away from her, not to see her again.

Partition by Beyoncé began to play, and that's when he couldn't anymore. Watching her dance on some stranger like he used to dance on him was his last straw.

He excused himself from the woman and walked over to [y/n]. Checkmate.

"Could I talk to her for a second?" Buck gave the male a fake smile while grabbing ahold of her wrist.

"Is this some kind of joke?" he stared at the woman.

"I don't understand what you're sayin'?" she tried her best not to smirk.

"Don't act stupid [y/n]" she heard the frustration in his voice.

"I just came here to have a good time. How was I supposed to know that you'd be here?" she gave him a slight pout.

"So you dancing all up on that guy, who you don't even know... While staring at me isn't one of your petty games?"

"Mmmm..." she trailed off.

"You're just doing this because you saw me with a girl..." he chuckled, causing that pout to disappear.

"I don't know what you're talkin' about?" Her eyes were facing the ground.

"Admit it, you started this because I was dancing with someone else. You wanted the attention on you... You don't like that I was with someone new..." he couldn't believe he had fallen for her trap.

"Don't go all silent on me now. You were just being bold..." He stepped closer to her.

A part of [y/n] didn't know what to do. She didn't think this far into her plan and wasn't expecting Buck to act like this. She was expecting the oblivious Buck who would follow her every move. She could feel herself becoming weak from him coming closer to her.

"You wanted all of this attention... and I'm giving it to you. don't look at the floor now..." his fingers were on her chin and he made sure she was looking at him.

She was sure he could feel her heartbeat as they stared at each other. [y/n] got his attention, and now she completely folded before him. Buck continued to step closer, never breaking eye contact with her. Their faces slowly started leaning in and before they knew it, their lips were against each other.

Buck knew this night would be filled with regrets, but he couldn't help himself. She was like a drug that he couldn't get enough of.

#black reader #black writers #black!reader #x black reader #x!black!reader #evan buckley #evan buckley x black!reader #evan buckley x black reader #buck x black!reader #buck x black reader #911 x black!reader #911 fox

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aquaburst3 · 4 months

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I read a post where OP listed off all of the reasons why they don't see Mallyuu being possible in canon and believes that Malleus would be in a politically arranged marriage to a powerful fae of high status. I strongly disagree with OP. Even as someone who isn't a huge Malleus stan or has their Yuu shipped with him.

Okay, sure. If we're looking at that possibility from a strictly dogmatic historical and realistic lense, then I agree that statement would be correct. But we're not talking about the possibility of a real life marriage for a crown prince here, but about a fictional one in a Disney game. In that case, I think it's possible. Because...

I don't think game has such a law actually put in place. The game never mentioned it. The closest thing are that stupid council, who could be overthrown or put in their place, and Lilia saying that "Malleus can't enter a marriage lightly" during the Ghost Marriage event. (Far as I'm aware, I've tuned out most of Book 7 since it's mostly just one stupidly long flashback.)

If such a law did exist and Malleus was in a canonical arranged marriage, wouldn't the game have brought it up by now? (Yana sucks at foreshadowing and laying down this shit, but come on! That's too much even for her. xD)

Yuu brings some things to the table. They are human. Malleus marrying them would help with diplomatic relations between the fae and the humans. With how isolated the fae are in that world, they kinda need it. They also survived several overblots and would've saved Malleus' life, which is worth something.

I'm pretty sure that his grandmother could pull a Sultan and just change the law if such a thing is in place. She's one of the most powerful fae in the world, so what she says goes. She could easily put that council in their place if she must.

Dragon eggs in canon can only be hatched by true love, either platonic or romantic. (Even if I think that whole thing is silly, but that's beside the point.) If Malleus was in an arranged loveless marriage, he would never be able to produce an heir like the council wants, even if he has an AFAB/cis female partner. If they want any kids from him and he marries an AFAB person/cis female, it must be someone he loves like Yuu. If he marries someone AMAB or cis male, then he can just adopt or use a surrogate.

If we bring mythology/folklore into this, it's even more possible. The fae criteria for marriage is focused more on how talented and attractive the human partner is, that's it. There are plenty of stories where fae "spirit away" normal human women and men away to marry fae royalty. I imagine the fae in TWST are similar.

As for the life span thing, I think either Malleus will pull an Edward and let Yuu age normally or have the human partner drink fae aging potion. (I went with the latter in my own writing in a general sense. Again, shipping my Yuu with Jamil.)

Even if he was in one, he would find a way out of it. One of the biggest tropes that the Disney brand stands for is "true love conquers all". While the form of that love changes, that idea remains the same. The game shattering that by making Malleus be doomed to be in a loveless arranged marriage forever would go against what the brand stands for, so it seems highly unlikely. The fact that the game is also tapping into the otome market makes it even less so.

So, yeah. While I don't think MallYuu will ever be canon, I think a union between them is quite possible. It's fanfiction. Do whatever you want.

#aqua rambles #mallyuu #twisted wonderland #malleus draconia #malleus x yuu

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dialovers-translations · 11 months

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Diabolik Lovers CHAOS LINEAGE ー Laito [07]

ー The scene starts in the forest

Laito: Haah, haah...Bitch-chan, are you alright?

Yui: Y-Yeah...I’m more worried about you, actually...

Laito: I can handle this much just fine...

We have to get as far as we can while Azusa-kun is buying us time..Ugh...

Yui: Laito-kun!

Laito: ...Kuh...

Yui: ( He’s quite shaky in his step. We’ve been running non-stop ever since we left the manor after all... )

Let’s hide in the bushes for now.

It doesn’t seem like Ayato-kun and Kanato-kun have closed on us just yet, so it should be fine.

Laito: But...Uu...

Yui: Look, again...! I believe it’d be better to recover some of your stamina instead of pushing yourself to keep going.

I can’t run for very long either since I just had my blood sucked...

( My head’s been spinning the whole time. But I’m even more concerned about Laito-kun... )

Laito: ...Good point...I guess we should rest up here...

*Rustle*

Laito: ...Haah...

Yui: The dizziness won’t go away?

Laito: Exactly...If anything, I feel as if it’s getting worse and worse...

Yui: ( I’m pretty sure they’re related to his altered memories. )

( He’s trying to remember, yet he can’t...Which is why the inside of his head has become a mess... )

Laito-kun, would you like to rest your head on my shoulder? I believe it’ll help you feel a little better.

Laito: Fufu...Even though you were screaming for me to stop earlier...

Yui: Now’s not the time for that.

Laito: Right...I’ll take you up on your offer, I suppose.

*Rustle*

Yui: ( Seems like he’s not as irritated as he was before... )

( Or perhaps his dizzy spells are just so bad, he doesn’t even have the time to think about being upset... )

Laito: I didn’t think Ayato-kun and Kanato-kun would choose that exact moment to attack...

Yui: Yeah. It didn’t seem like Ruki-kun or any others were with them, so I guess they came alone?

Laito: I guess so? They probably couldn’t get the taste of your blood out of their heads.

Yui: ( Right...They did say that they weren’t satisfied yet when they drank my blood before... )

Laito: I brought this situation upon us...I guess Carla will actually put my head on the chopping block if they manage to successfully take you away.

Selection

→ I won’t be taken away (♡)

Yui: I won’t be taken away. I don’t want to go with anyone else after all.

Laito: Such passionate words. But...Right now, they feel comforting, I suppose.

Right now, I definitely don’t want to hand you over to some other guy...

Yui: ( Eh? ...Does that mean...? )

( Is he slowly changing because his memories are on the verge of returning...? )

→ I won’t let you get killed (🖤)

Yui: I won’t let you get killed. I’ll jump in between again to stop him.

Laito: Please don’t...It gives me a near-heart attack watching you do that. I don’t get a kick out of that sort of thing.

Yui: B-But I definitely don’t want you to die.

Laito: There you go saying that sorta stuff again...

Laito: Say, I understand if you hold a grudge against me...I threw you under the bus so we could escape.

I got a kick out of watching other guys suck your blood...and look at where that got us.

Yui: I don’t hold that against you. Besides, don’t talk as if it’s game over. We just have to get out of this situation.

Laito: You’re too kind for this world...I guess I wasn’t that wrong to call you a Saint...

Aah, I guess that’s not true. A holy woman would never make such lewd expressions while she’s being defiled...

Yui: Excuse me...!? Now’s not the time for that, is it?

...Hey, Laito-kun?

Laito: ...

*Thud*

Yui: Laito-kun!? Laito-kun...!

( He’s unconscious...W-What nowーー )

ー She hears footsteps in the distance

Yui: ( ...Footsteps!? )

Kanato: So this is where you’re hiding. We’ve been looking for you.

Ayato: Hehe...No point in trying to run, you see?

Yui: ( They caught up to us...Now, out of all times... )

( Since they both made it here, I wonder if Azusa-kun is okay...? )

Kanato: ...? Is that Laito collapsed on the ground over there?

Ayato: Haah? He kicked the bucket already? I was so ready to fight him as well. Talk about a let-down!

Kanato: Oh well, this is fine. I only have business with Eve after all.

Ayato: So do I! Come on, this way.

Yui: Kyaah!

*Thud*

Yui: S-Stop...Put me down!

Ayato: Stop screeching in my ear! Shut up!

Yui: Laito-kun...Laito-kun...!!

( I’ll be taken away at this rate. Laito-kun...! )

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts to an open area in the forest

Ayato: There you go!

Yui: Kyaah!

*Thud*

Yui: ( He didn’t have to throw me on the ground... )

Ayato: I guess we should be in the clear after making it this far.

Kanato: Exactly. Well then, I shall be taking Eve now.

Ayato: Aah? The fuck are you sayin’!? Who do you think carried her the whole way here!?

Kanato: Oh come on, get off your high horse when all you did was carry her.

Yui: ( They’re arguing...? I guess they took me here to have my blood after all. )

( But perhaps I can quietly sneak away while they’re quarreling... )

Ayato: ...Oi, you. Don’t be tryin’ to escape.

Yui: Kyah!?

Kanato: Do you truly believe you could get away from us? That’s quite the assumption to make.

Yui: I-I wasn’t trying to run or anything...

( It doesn’t seem like I’ll be able to escape after all...! )

Ayato: Anyway, she just doesn’t look that special to me, no matter how many times I see her.

Kanato: I don’t mind that. Her blood being exceptional is what matters to me. I could care less about everything else.

Ayato: Well, I guess nothing else matters as long as her blood’s delicious.

*Rustle*

Yui: Stop...Don’t come any closer...

( If they manage to catch me, they’ll gang up on me again like last timeーー )

( ...My body’s shaking just from remembering it... )

Ayato: ...Hm? The scent of her blood changed?

Kanato: You’re right. It smells even richer than before. I suppose it’s because she’s frightened?

Fufu, I just had a great idea! I shall take care of all the ‘prep work’. All to make her blood taste even more delicious.

Yui: ( Make my blood more delicious...? What does he plan to do...? )

Kanato: This branch should do the trick.

*Crack*

Ayato: Why did you snap it off? You’re not gonna stab her with it, are you?

Kanato: I’m not you, I’d never do that.

I happen to have a box of matches on me which I brought from home. I’ll set this branch on fire...

ー Kanato lights the branch on fire

Kanato: Fufu...I’m pretty sure her blood will become even more rich if we give her a scare.

Ayato: I get it now.

ー They approach

Yui: No way...S-Stop...

Kanato: Come on, give me your arm? I’ll press this against it.

*Woosh*

Yui: No!!

( It’s hot...The flame brushed against my arm...! )

Kanato: Just as thought, the scent of your blood keeps on growing richer.

I’m pretty sure it’ll become even more delicious if we use this fire to scorch her.

Yui: N-No way...I’m begging you, cut it out, both of you...!

Ayato: You should know your place, prey! In fact, you should be grateful that we’re willing to drink your blood!

Kanato: Exactly, you should be thankful! We’re taking our time to ‘season’ you to perfection after all.

Yui: Hot...! No...Stop...!

Kanato: Fufu...Your teeth are clattering. Are you that terrified?

Of course you are. One wrong move and you could get badly burnt.

However, I won’t let you go. Please offer your high-quality blood to me.

Yui: ( The flame is approaching...If he were to press it against my skinーー )

No...Somebody...

Laito-kun!!

???: Cut it out...

Yui: Eh...?

Laito: Move that hand away...

Yui: Laito-kun...

( He came to my rescue...! )

Ayato: Che, you followed us? You should have just stayed out cold.

Laito: ...Both of you...Don’t take it any further...

Ayato: Aah? And why do we have to listen to you, huh?

You’re stumblin’ ‘bout like a newborn fawn. You want to try and take me on like that?

Laito: I do...Kuh...

*Thud*

Yui: Laito-kun!

Kanato: How pathetic. Why don’t you just stay there on your knees and watch? What happens to this girl, that is.

Yui: Kyaah!

Kanato: Don’t make such a fuss. What if I accidentally set you on fire!?

Laito: ...! Set on fire...?

ー Laito gets flashbacks again

Laito: ...Right, it happenedーー on the balcony...

Ayato: Ah? Whatcha mumblin’ ‘bout?

Yui: Laito-kun...?

Laito: Ayato-kun was the one...who started it all...

Ayato: Hah? Me...?

Laito: Afterwards, I delivered the next blow. Then last was...Kanato-kun.

Kanato: Why are you mentioning me? What are you talking about?

Laito: I don’t know...But I’m positive that in the end, that woman was burnt to ashes...

Right, she went up into flames...That woman...And the one who has her heart is...

*Woosh*

Laito: Uu...Aah...Aaaaaah!!

Yui: Laito-kun!

Kanato: He went absolutely bonkers. Talk about being a nuisance to those around you.

Ayato: But somethin’ seems off, no?

Yui: Laito-kun! Laito-kun!! Please, get a grip!

Laito: Uu...Kuuh...

Yui: Laito-kun!!

( He suddenly started screaming, is he alright...? )

Laito: Haah, haah...Please don’t look so worried. I’m...fine, okay...?

I’m just fine...Yui-chan.

Yui: ( Eh? What did he say just now...? )

Laito: You two...You’re trying to burn the wrong girl...

In the past...We ended that woman’s life...

Don’t you dareーー make that same mistake again with her.

Ayato: Wha...?

Kanato: ...

Yui: ( Is he mad, maybe...? Laito-kun is... )

Monologue

Laito-kun was burning with rage within,

despite staying silent.

I could tell that even Ayato-kun and Kanato-kun,

held their breath at the impact of this.

Amidst still trying understand

everything that was going on,

I thought back to the words which I most definitely heard.

Laito-kun,

he called my nameーー

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #laito sakamaki #chaos lineage #diabolik lovers translation #cllaito7

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nebusokuxp · 5 months

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MISFORTUNE

(In response to the hazbin OC poll that Misfortune is winning by a LANDSLIDE so far.)

Misfortune isn't really that strong in terms of demonic power. If I had to delegate her a power level, she's between angel dust and sir pentious. She's not really that OP

Since she's a robot like demon she can extend her arms and suck them back in like measuring tape, it even makes the little noise too.

Her face is entirely digital, her expressions exaggerated and impossible. If she ever freaks out, error messages will start to pop up on her face.

She actually works for the VVV's. Now, in no way is she one of the bosses, no! She is Vox's assistant who helps deal with mundane things.

She's peppy and cheery ninety percent of the time. And not peppy and cheery like Charlie, no picture Spamton or spinel levels of cheery. Actually, their voice is basically just spamtons with a slightly more gender neutral tone.

With Miscellaneous info out of the way its time to get to the good shit.

misfortune lost her memory when she landed in hell thanks to her death damaging a large part of her brain. She adored tech and vocaloid stuff when she was alive, so that's why she looks the way she does.

She went to hell for scamming people out of their money and cheating litterally everyone when she was alive.

However she basically got her memory wiped when she entered hell so she acted like a completely different person. This led to Vox hiring her after he saw how oddly talented with machinery she was despite her weird airhead demeanor.

About two years into working with the V's she started to get her memories back. And she didn't tell ANYONE.

She basically just used her carefree facade as a way to get out of trouble while she did her own things.

She actually used this to get angel out of work a couple times, pretending he was injured, taking him to a bathroom to patch him up. Telling him to run quick, and purposefully short circuiting her self to make it look like she glitched.

Valentino has complained about this consistently to Vox but Vox doesn't really give a shit. Just thinks Valentino is being dramatic because he doesn't think Misfortune is smart enough to pull that.

If it isn't obvious, Misfortune and Vox have this weird kind of sibling dynamic where they annoy the shit out of each other but also care for each other.

Could Misfortune redeem herself? Probably yeah, she did fucked up shit when she was alive but she has changed alot in hell. And even with some of her memories back she still helps people like angel on occasion.

I'd give her a 71% chance of redemption. Really depends if she's able to break away from the VVV's control.

#oc #oc tag #art #hazbin hotel art #hazbin hotel #vox #valentino #charlie morningstar #angel dust #hazbin hotel oc

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chaifootsteps · 7 months

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In a weird way the show kind of shot itself in the foot if it wanted us to like Stolas when it changed the tone to try to be serious and meaningful. In the pilot there was a tone of Wacky Hijinks and more of a sense that demons just did awful stuff to one another on the regular and it was way more normalized in that setting. Stolas was a 'sex pest' sort of character, but he was also over the top and villainous and fun. Even in Murder Family, it's treated as odd that Moxxie has any qualms about killing a human mother, not as the norm.

but when the show shifted to try and act like it took abuse seriously & simultaneously became just Earth But Colored Red, it caused massive problems for itself. Because that would suggest to any viewer who thought about it for longer than five seconds that Stolas coercing Blitz into the deal was worse than just 'sex obsessed demon behaves callously but isn't that unusual among his kind', it would suggest that what he did was abuse and should be recognized as such. It would suggest that Blitz yelling and demeaning Moxxie all the time is workplace bullying, and should be recognized as such.

But the show didn't want to do either of those things. It takes the view that some characters are Good, some Bad and when a Good Character does bad things they should be excused for it - or they should offer the thinnest veneer of an apology for it while continuing to do the exact same behavior.

I don't mean to imply what Stolas does in Murder Family would ever be OK and frankly I think SA and sexual coercion being treated comedically is a landmine of a topic that a writer far more skilled than Viv would struggle to pull off. There's a big difference in history and cultural context between Murder as Punchline and SA as Punchline. What I'm getting at here is that if the show had stuck closer to the usual notion of Hell having different social mores, they might have gotten away with selling Stolas as 'flawed but with comprehensible motives & sorta pitiable' instead of trying to make him 'a flawed (but not really) and sympathetic (not even close) character you should root for'. We could have had a character study of awful people without having to feel like the show expected us to like or root for them, and in a setting where everyone sucks most of the time, Stolas' behavior would stick out far less.

but all that would require Stolitz not being endgame, most likely.

tl:dr; but if the show wanted to switch gears and act like abuse and exploitation are not supposed to be The Norm in Hell, then it needed to acknowledge Stolas for what he really is: a manipulative abusive crybully who makes everyone's lives worse, actively abuses the underclass of Hell both in their labor and for sexual slavery, and is incapable of ever admitting anything is his fault. Gaslighting the audience into thinking Stolas is one of The Good Ones does not address his lousy behavior or a sympathetic character make, especially since he lives in a setting where even the Sin of Lust places massive value on consent. If Stolas' upbringing and surroundings had nothing to do with why he is the way he is, he doesn't even have that excuse for being such a massive self-piting heel most of the time

It's true. If Vivzie wanted to "fix" Stolas, she'd have to retcon Murder Family, but she can't do that because his coercive deal with Blitzo is so deeply entangled with everything else in this show. So the only alternative is to call him out for exactly what he is and exactly what you said -- a manipulative abusive crybully who makes everyone's lives worse.

But even that will never happen, because Vivzie is a manipulative abusive crybully herself who finds him adorable and his behavior sexy and charming.

#Anonymous #helluva boss critical #stolas critical #vivziepop critical #actual blog post

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sin-sidejob · 2 years

Text

Insidious Inside Job: Halloween pt. 1

Note: Inspired by skoshibuns fanart on instagram + I have songs linked with each segment for the specific portion that goes with the monster, the plot, or both

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Minors DNI, AFAB + GN PRONOUNS, monster-fucking, blood, inhuman creatures, the undead, various Halloween-y phenomena + food mention + cockwarming + literal blatant sex with monsters and creatures of the night + probably more

Content: smut, spooky scary spectral holiday smuttening, monster and inhuman creature fucking, usual debauchery you can expect from me, dicks and puss, inhuman and monster genitalia, reader has AFAB nethers/genitalia and a cunt but I don’t describe about tits so folks are safe, I used gender neutral pronouns all throughout as well. Mentions of underwear and generalized clothing but no bras or gendered articles of clothing except just underwear and general clothing.

! ! ! This is part one, with Gigi + JR + Glenn + a bonus character. Part two, which will be posted and located here, includes Reagan + Brett + Andre + Robotus + Myc! ! !

Gigi Thompson: V A M P I R E

• song: Bloodletting (The Vampire Song) - Concrete Blonde

- She’s quite literally the hottest woman you’ve ever met, even though her body is stone cold forevermore — you and her met by chance, her needing to feed and finding you irresistibly alluring and you thinking you’ve struck the lottery and are about to have the best fuck since — well, ever.

- Gigi kept getting confused, torn with the need to sink her teeth into your neck and taste that metallic sweetness, like copper pennies bathed in honey, but pulled back during every opportunity and opening she had in the cover of darkness to do it. She had watched you from afar for a while, far longer than you had even known her or had her on your radar. You were so naively oblivious, just a darling little thing in the line of sight from Gigi’s reddened irises.

- but the one night she forced herself to just get it over with, make a meal out of you, she kept acquiescing, changing her plan from luring you out and killing you outright to lingering a little longer, playing with her food. Then it shifted to going out, toying longer, and sharing food in some dark corner of a restaurant, to following you home and getting invited in.

- and here you are, bright-eyed and eager, so dazedly star-eyed that you’ve got no clue what her intentions truly are with you. That she could shred you into ribbons and suck you dry if every precious drop of blood within your thumping, steady veins. But she doesn’t. Oh no, Gigi’s body craves more than just the ambrosial vice seeping through your heart, she wants your touch, to taste the other parts you have to offer. She makes a full meal out of you, long manicured fingernails traipsing across your skin as she sheds you of your clothing, letting it slide off your skin to puddle on the floor in a wrinkly, hazardous mess.

- Gigi leaves little marks of deep burgundy lip prints across your collar, marking you a necklace in her kisses around your oh-so-tempting throat, shedding the last of your clothing sans some drenched underwear she peels off. She urges you into your bed, making an idle comment about the poster bed canopy that shrouds the two of you even more from sight. Gigi pries your thighs apart and settles into her hors d’oeuvre, teeth sunken in and hidden away in order to lap at your pulsing clit, sending her nerves alight. She wants to cut you open and leave you raw, eat everything from you until there’s nothing left. She wants to utterly consume you. To know everything about all of your parts, the intricacies of your thoughts, crack you open like a geode that only her undead eyes get to see. Get to feel the crystalline facets within that no one else could have ever uncovered.

- instead of carving you open, she lets you bestow your own offerings, having her touch shatter you anew and burst you open as you cum on her tongue endlessly. she treats your cunt like a blessed goblet, letting her lips and tongue worship the pooling slick that drips forth onto her awaiting mouth to savor all the facets of your taste. It’s so much better than she could have ever fathomed.

- in her latest sprawl of meals they’ve been mediocre, the equivalent of a microwave dinner in the range of quality of bloodletting. But you, the way your slick feels against her tongue and glosses her already dark, puffy lips, enveloping her heightened senses like a murky fog, you’re nothing short of bewitching. and she doesn’t plan to let you go.

- She eats you out with fervor, the pads of her fingers prying your legs apart and being careful with the digits, knowing the glossy nails are pointed and sharp, making sure her thumb against your clit rolls in circles and shapes in a pressure that drives stars behind your eyes. Humming against your weeping slit, she comes up for the air she doesn't need, lungs as still as fake flowers laid upon a grave. "Don't you taste divine," Gigi purrs in the dark of your room, eyes alight in a manner that had your pried open legs wanting to shut an rub together as you squirmed, more than just hot and bothered. No, you were practically steaming and Gigi felt it, her cold skin soaking up your warmth like the last look at a lover.

- She wishes she could just bite her nails down shorter to play with you even more, slide her hand into the warmth of your cunt and play around, finding your most tender spots and drinking whatever you have to offer her. She could live a hundred undead lifetimes in just what you have offered already in this night alone. Gigi doesn't know how or why, but she gives you her attention and care and hopes that all the words she hasn't said come forth in her lips against your heated, still full-of-life skin.

- She cages you in and has you beneath, bare and only wearing the remnants of a button-down top she tore off of you in order to bite and mark up your chest. "Can I fuck you?" emerges from you, and it's not rushed or hurried as it flies from your puffy, swollen, and kiss-abused lips. It's calculated, and your eyes are lidded low and glimmer in the light and Gigi wants to remember the sight until her final days. It has traces of what home used to feel like to her and stutters a feeling in her heart that lay dormant for decades, centuries even. God, you're so darling, so she will continue to call you as such.

_ "You dont have to ask me twice," Gigi utters with a grin so sweet, you taste the sugar in your mouth just from the sight of it, "Be a doll and help me out of this dress?" Your hands hurry to remove her clothing, practically falling asunder when you go to remove her tights and find stockings in their stead, thick bands for her garter belt, and the thin straps holding them together. She could kill you between her legs and crush your skull like a rotten melon and you'd still be beaming from ear to ear.

- Once she's stripped, clad in a lingerie set that clings to her like it was painted on, thin slivers of silk and velvet cup her breasts and have transparent panels that shimmer, making her body lie behind what looks like erotic slivers of stained glass windows. The panties match, thin bows on the sides tying them together. The garter belt emphasizes the sway of her waist and the curve of her hips and is taut lower at the ties to the stockings that make your mouth both dry and flood with too many yet not enough words. Yeah, you would willingly die at the mercy of her hands without concern.

- You get her settled among the pillows beneath the canopy of your bed, feeling as if she was meant to be there, always with her languid form curled and splayed across your sheets and rubbing her thighs together and reaching a manicured hand out to pull you closer, into a holy hell you'd enjoy ever step into the descent of.

- Paused for a moment, you shake back to reality with a sway of your head and reluctantly move away, looking back as you step away at her and cheekily utter "just stay right there, I'll be just a moment," and smile at her gentle laugh. You sort through a drawer, pulling forth a special little toy you never thought you'd get to use, a little double-ended number you'd love to christen with her cunt. Turning back, you nearly drop the toy and the bottle of lube at the sight of her, hair across her shoulders and bra straps lowering dangerously down her shoulders as she shallowly bucks into her hand that's in her panties, moving lazily. Her eyes open and peer up at you, and she grins something wicked when she reaches her free hand across her thigh and pats her flesh, beckoning you forth.

- You practically hurdled into bed.

- Eager hands pry her thighs apart while you busy yourself in darting kisses across her collar, teeth moving to bite at her bra straps and drag them both down before leaning back, settling between her spread thighs to reach back and flick the clasp off of her bra. Gigi shucks off the garment, tossing it aside in the room and enjoying the way you fall slack and in awe of her partially nude, finding her chest nothing short of exemplary.

- "are you even real?" you marvel aloud, feeling as if you're in the presence of a statue come to life as if some renaissance statue woke and wandered into your life, your heart, and your bed. Lucky you.

- "I could say the same for you. Such a sweet thing you are." Gigi murmurs in response, eyes doting in equal to her caress of your side, feeling the warmth of your ribcage and beating heart beneath, seeing the chills sprawl across your body at her ice touch. Her legs spread and she pulls the ties of her panties, silky bows undone as she removes and tosses her underwear, bare beside her garter and stockings. You wish she could kill you, it would be kinder than this.

- She smirks, leaning back and nestling against the pillows, hair sprawled around her head and shoulders as she grins up at you, "Oh but I think living suits you much more." Gigi shucks off your tattered blouse and you toss it out of the way, lowering down upon her and kissing her body, marveling at her breasts and the peak of her perked nipples with your tongue, practically at home and near creaming when she snakes a hand across your hair.

- You make your way down to her cunt and find her clit, sucking and licking with greedy eagerness, hands sliding beneath her thighs to lift them over your shoulders. She takes it from there, locking them at the ankles while she takes your hands in hers, sliding them up her body until she plants them over her tits, and you oblige, palms cupping handfuls and rolling thumbs across her nipples in flicks while you busy yourself with lowering to her lips and licking through them.

- "oh fuck, a little harder," she asks, pleading in a pitch that lifts, voice airier and lighter now that you've got her at your generous, plentiful mercy. You'd give her the world, everything you could reach and beyond. "You need not ask again." you tease, echoing her words from earlier when you nose her clit briefly through a patch of curls and return back to breach your tongue in her cunt, moaning at the taste and squeezing her chest while you did so, smiling against her cunt as you feel her shudder and draw you in.

- "you taste fucking immaculate," you murmur while breaching for air,, looking up at her from between her thighs, taking a moment to tease. One hand stays on her breast while the other lowers to help you part her lips and then slides into her cunt, two fingers entering without issue and scisssoring in her cunt, spreading and then curling upwards. Gigi jolts and arches, lip tugged between teeth you envy. You almost halt when you spot fangs, pronounced and pointed against her lower lip. A normal reaction would be fear, disgust, maybe even some anxiety or paranoia. Not you - you just fuck her faster, better, and want those teeth buried in your neck.

- "holdin' out on me, huh?" you breath against her clit, grazing teeth against it and soothing with your tongue, suckling between sentences to see her shake and tremble, "should've known you were something unearthly, too pretty to be normal." You fuck your fingers into her, sighing in gratification at the sound her soaked cunt makes when you play with it, pinching her nipple and sending her crying out as you feel her hips lift off the bed occasionally,. grinding into your face and you are savoring every single second.

- You've peaked the moment she became interested in you, but you've surpassed everything and everyone when you managed to get her attracted to you and now, rendered into a bundle of high-strung and coiled nerves, ready to snap.

- She comes with a cry of your name on her lips, mouth gaped and enticing with those sharp canines you wanna' toy with. But that's for later. Now, you clean her up and bide your time with the touch of tongue and fingertips, soothing her and ushering her down from the high of orgasm, murmuring her name like a holy prayer and beaming from between her legs, calling out once her red eyes lock upon your grinning form betwixt her stocking-clad thighs.

- "wheres that toy you had? I'll fuck us with it then suck your veins dry and keep you around, you're never leaving if you can fuck me like that and look at me with all that love in your eyes." Gigi promises, like a god laying across an offering bed, handing you the world in a gesture so soft that it wins over the pillows.

- Lucky you indeed.

JR Scheimpough: G H O S T

• song: Ghost Of A Texas Ladies Man - Concrete Blonde

- you weren’t going to let a gossipy rumor of ghosts hold you back from owning a fucking perfect Victorian mansion — listed reasonably and in your price range — in the country, just thirty minutes or so commute from your work.

- it had a goddamn greenhouse, fuck them ghosts.

- you adjusted well, reapplied polish after re-gritting the checkerboard tiles in the main walkway, weeding the garden and scattering oyster shell fragments and slate for the landscape, running gas and electrical through the house to turn on the sconces with those scalloped, filigree light fixtures now aglow. You made that house your home and even that kitchen was amazing. You loved every minute of it.

- until the house began to turn on you. Lights flickering at odd hours, almost seeming to be talking, flickering in response to words or actions. The trees whistling during overcast days in a manner that seemed too ominous for outdoors. Movements in the corner of your eye. Fuck all that.

- you were this close until the breaking point, the crux within the ordeal, to calling in someone to cleanse the house or bless it.

- the master bathroom was nothing short of lavish, marble tiles in ornate patterns littering the floor with cornflower blue ceilings and ornate wallpaper, littered with filigree and ornamental flowers and imagery, pastel greens and blues only further enamoring you with the room. It had a walk in shower, updated with an overhead shower head with a rainfall spout and jets, a bench, and one of those glass window panes. The double sink with the decorative brass faucets, resting below a giant mirror. And the pièce de résistance was the tub.

- a gorgeous oversized claw foot bathtub lay apart, seated in the center of a tri-paned window overlooking the backyard landscape and garden, drenched in sunlight. It was only furthered by the crystals you hung in the windows, fragments of prismal glow dotted around the room, twinkling like a rainbow broke and scattered it’s pieces in your home.

- you’d been taking a break from working on the house this weekend, wanting to just relish in it and let your aching bones recuperate. Bath soak makes the water almost thick, a thin gloss of it sticking to your limbs that peak out from the water. Bubbles are spread throughout the water surface, glimmering with minuscule reflections of the noon-day light from the windows that send them towards your shiny skin.

- your neck is perched on the raised lip of the tub, arched perfectly for your posture and just so that it allows you to rest your eyes. Until the crystals on the window begin to sway and spin, and the large vanity mirror above the sink fogs over with a chill that you don’t feel near you just yet. It fogs over partially, a murky space where one would sit on the sink counter makes you realize those rumors were real.

- stark naked, tub-bound is an unfortunate state to realize you did have spectral housemates.

- “if you’re going to stare, at least let me see what you look like. Even the playing field here fucko.” You’ve got no clue where you found your voice, nor why it spoke of its own accord, but you know you should not have said that but it’s too late now.

- in a shimmer, the form appears, perched in a manner that drips with cheeky and smarmy bravado, displaying an older man who seems all too glad to see a human in the flesh - yet you kinda like his spirit.

- he’s donned in glasses, framing colorless eyes drenched in a void sans the ice-blue irises gazing at you. He’s got on a pinstripe suit, a few decades too old to mean he’s died recently, looking like a Halloween advert for a Mad Men episode.

- “well, isn’t that a warm welcome.” His voice chitters, almost otherworldly with how it seems to phase in and out of your ears, hovering like even sound is trying to decide whether to believe in him. “Hello babydoll, pleasure to finally speak with you. I’d shake your hand but, Y’know.” He feigns nonchalance, gesturing vaguely and you’re not sure if he’s alluding to the fact you’re buckass nude or that he’s unable to touch things – only phasing through them in that spectral nature.

- “didn’t stop’ya from waltzing into my bathroom and watching me.” You pause for a moment, eyeing him warily and sinking lower in the tub before the curiosity creeps inwards, twisting and invading like ivy crawling up brick, “what’s your name?”

- the ghoul’s head tilts, smiling in an amused way that’s both endearing and mocking, eyes shining like ice cubes twinkling in a water glass, “JR –“ he cuts you off as your mouth opens, “No not junior, just J-R.” He trails, eyes locking on you briefly from where they would pretend to find the wallpaper interesting, “yours?”

- and so you utter your name aloud, watching him almost relish in it as if your name was a secret that he’d been searching for. He repeats it, pronouncing it correctly and seems almost casual before he grins, “pretty name for such a cute little thing such as yourself.”

- you’d strangle him is he wasn’t already dead.

- he laughs, and you realize with horror you said that aloud. “Didn’t think you were that kinky, aren’t you full of suprises!” You toss a soap bar in his direction, not expecting the thud nor the sound of it hitting the floor after it landed off his - apparently solid - chest.

- You catch a glimmer in the dead eyes of JR, they flash red — for a millisecond only, just enough to show he’s not just the pretty charmer sitting on your sink. And unfortunately for you, that unnerving danger is just your thing. He notices.

- dark eyes glint and that Cheshire grin returns, JR busying himself with rolling up his sleeves as he notes the dilation in your pupils and the way your legs rub together, water rippling and sending barely-there glimpses of what lies beneath the soapy water of your body.

- “Oh, a mighty kinky thing you are. All hot and bothered for a ghost — pity. But why leave you all to your lonesome here?” He drawls, winking as he steps off the counter and his shoes click at the tile floor, black loafers so shiny they look freshly polished in the midday light. “Why not, keep your lively, darling self company? Hmm?” JR hums a note, nearing the tub and sitting on his haunches, forearms resting on the lip of the tub and teasingly pretending to peek downwards but keeping his attention on you.

- “that —“ you pause, caught up in ice cube eyes that you cannot seem to pry away from, struggling to find the weight of your tongue and get it to work, “that may work.” And he smiles, always smiling, this specter, “what a wonderful answer. Now — how about we get you out of that tub.”

- Y’know what, you would go along with your previous advice. Fuck them ghosts.

- Sitting up, slow enough to let the water adjust and not slosh over the side of the tub and ruin the fluffy bathmat nearby, you maintain eye contact while the suds drip down your chest and expose your torso. You lean up to hover near him, not feeling any chill but just a presence, a wave, that emanates. The closer you are, the stronger it feels, and when you run a sudsy hand over his temple, brushing a stray hair back, you feel him. he’s real. and he’s determined to show you just how much.

- JR’s about to move, most likely kiss you, but you lean back. Completely pull away. And he looks dejected and it’s a dreadful sight on an already dead man. You stand, stepping out the tub and move to grab your towel. It’s gone.

- “missing something?”

- you turn, an eyebrow raised in what is currently the longest moment of you having a complete absence of self consciousness or shame, and fix him with a look and glance around for your bathrobe and towel that you knew you had in there.

- “this is a bit ridiculous,” you roll your eyes at his expectant look, muttering to yourself that this is the most ob-fucking-scene moment of your life, “towel please.”

- “nope. quite like how it’s going without one personally.” JR muses, pursing his lips to avoid smiling while standing and rocking back and forth on his heels.

- “oh sweet fucking christ—“ “I thought I told you my name” you’re this close to abandoning the plan of fucking the ghost but you turn and see he’s got your robe, which was on the other side of the room, in his hands outstretched and ready for you to step into.

- you do, bare feet against tile now sending a shudder than sprawls through you, settling goosebumps across your skin and for you to visibly squirm, only to get enveloped in your plush bathrobe and have him usher you into the sleeves. It’s quite domestic as he loosely ties the robe, large bow barely closing the fabric, still revealing the entirety of your legs and barely covering your pelvis.

- His head hovers around your shoulder, him standing behind you still with hands perched at the tie-belt of your robe, “still want company?” and with his voice, the eerily charming timbre of it, how could you deny yourself the opportunity?

- you murmur your answer before you yourself even process it, nodding and saying a soft absolutely just before you turn around, stepping backwards and grabbing onto cold hands and leading him into your bedroom. You thumb the knuckles and realize they’re very soft and that the chill isn’t so terrible, not overly cold. Warming him up wouldn’t take much if anything at all.

- “darling place you’ve got here,” he jokes, brows raising as he watches you walk then seat yourself on the edge of your bed, “just love what you’ve done with it.” JR continues to stand, fiddling with his tie and buttons before he halts his movements, hiding the hesitation by feigning the intention to move them to his pants pockets. you’re about to ask why, but then you see the glimmer of indentions near his Adam’s apple, pearlescent skin dusky mauve and periwinkle, understanding sinking into your features that he cannot miss. He chuckles, the dark and bitter kind and that red glint almost appears but instead that ice blue turns white then back to the clearish hue.

- “Guess I stuck my neck out for the wrong guy.” And you swallow, knowing that’s certainly a story for another time but you move on seeing that he wants to as well, rising to smooth your palms across his shirt vest and to begin undoing his tie. In a normal circumstance, it’s quite sweet, the image of you wrapped up in a bathrobe and undressing him from the remnants of a suit as if getting ready for bed. But this is no normal circumstance, and you two are far from a normal pair.

- And as you feel at the skin of his neck, bared of his starched shirt collar and tie, you look beyond and thumb at his jaw and lean to kiss at the juncture near his ear. “Well, I’m here now,” you trail off, feeling barely-there hands hover at your waist, “if that helps?” He barely moves and already has you splayed on the bed, peering up at him and seeing him slowly shift from being semi-transparent to completely opaque. Solid. Still ghostly but physically there and it’s a relief, not wanting to voice your concerns of spectral sex and how that really would work.

- “It does.” JR grins, chilled hands shucking off the bathrobe and leaving it beneath your frame until your bare hips lift up and he tugs it out from under, tosses it, then pauses. He leans back, hands flexing and his teeth biting into his bottom lip as he gazes up and down at all of you, admiring blatantly. “Oh honey, it really does.”

- you’re already soaked, which is a relief to you because you didn’t want to navigate foreplay or delve overly so into exploring each other’s bodies. You wanted him, wanted to know how he felt, how he’d feel filling you. JR delivers.

- cold, dead, dextrous hands lift your thighs up and rest the underside notch of your knees on his forearms. His appears shifts, like a ripple rolling over a still waters surface, appearing and disappearing all at once. His shirts unbuttoned and partially tucked into the back of his slacks, belt gone and pants undone. JR almost looks like he’s wearing a thick choker or a necklace and you pointedly avoid looking at it, knowing it’s not the place or time to call attention to a death mark.

- instead you grab onto clothing that feels like it’ll flutter away in your hold, unreal, not there, and tug him closer so he’s looming overhead — and if it wasn’t for the spectral visage, he’d look completely normal. As completely normal as a businessman from the 60’s could look. “Eager little thing, all neglected and alone in this big ol’ house.” JR croons, cheeky and feather light, feeling like a stuffed down pillow yet like a switchblade all the same, “not anymore, you’ve got me, dont’cha honey?”

- that’s the moment he removes his cock, blue tinged and with a weepy, bulbous tip, and slides it through your folds with emphasis. Snake oil salesman. Con man. You never want him to leave. You let out a thick “ungh-huh,” grunting response, squirming at the feel and wanting him in already, petty and petulant and wound up like a turn-dial toy, ceased in your puttering about.

- “Aw kitten, I’ve got you,” he murmurs once more, unnervingly genuine smile on his face. It’s crooked, imperfect. Good. “Easy for me, breathe — I’d demonstrate, but that’s just one thing I can’t do.” And just as your lips part to comment, he slides in, fat cockhead breaching your walls and nestling deep inside. It’s cold, foreign feeling, practically glasslike within you but it sends you clenching and grinding weakly back onto it, feeling your bare hips brush against wool-blend slacks and the weight of his gaze on you.

- “what a perfect, snug little fit this cunt has,” he muses, almost more intrigued than turned on. But he falters as the shift of your hips, eyes flickering like they’re phasing in and out, there one second the next they’re gone. “Fuck, do that again,” he orders after an angled grind while you clench your walls around him, sending his ragged and eyes aglow.

- you do, you clench and he bends you like a pretzel in response. Thighs to your chest, dick now kissing at your cervix which’ll end up bruised by the end of the day, and him even closer now. He’s not as cold, almost as if he’s warmed up. Did you do that?—

- “oohh yes, yes — you feel fantastic, so good to me,” JR babbles, hands splaying across your belly flat while the other is near your head, “so, so good to me.” He whines a bit in his thrusts, overwhelmed with pleasure as you feel the same. The foreign sensation fades as your hot cunt warms him, welcomes him, and stretches to accommodate. His pelvis and slacks brush against your clit, sending nerves alight and twinkling behind your eyes like the fractals from the prisms in the bathroom, rainbow shards scatter behind your eyes as JR steadily fucks into you. it takes you turning your head in an attempt to bury it in the sheets and comforter for you to realize you’re not actually on your bed. Oh, no. In fact, you’re several feet in the air above it.

- That’s hot.

- weeding a hand through his hair, you tug and bring him closer to your frame to press against you, thighs sandwiched between your body and his as his face looms above, eyes now half lidded and sapphire blue. his kiss is so cold it’s warm, tingly up to your toes, almost like spearmint threaded through your bones and body like a puppeteer’s strings. it doesn’t take many more thrusts, many more shifts of his incorporeal form to send you shuddering and gasping, clawing at him and crying out silently in an open mouthed cry as you cum.

- JR follows, unable to not fall under the same petite mort as you do, finding it much sweeter than the actual thing with the view he finds himself surrounded by. Pretty little breather, so eager to take him. He supposes having a housemate won’t be so bad.

Glenn Dolphman: SWAMP CREATURE

• song: It Will Come Back - Hozier

- you shouldn’t have gone this far out onto the boardwalks alone. Should’ve packed extra AA batteries for your flashlight, grabbed the stun gun from the glovebox of your car, sitting stagnant and useless in the National Park’s car lot.

- but now, now you’re alone and the suns starting the creep and inch downwards in the horizon, setting brackish and green water inky blue and drenched in oranges and yellows. It would be gorgeous and ethereal is you weren’t alone, and surrounded by open water and more threats than friends. You’d been there all day testing water and recording data for water pollution, making sure the water clarity was still as high as it was last month. The internship in the park’s department was new, testing your limnology skills and knowledge of freshwater ecosystems. But this place blended just likes it’s water, fresh and salt, murky and clear. And with the sun setting, that line got crossed. You’re in no man’s land, where the gators swim free.

- you won’t see morning.

- shutting off the flashlight allows you to conserve what you can for the night, same with your phone as you pace and try to figure out how far from the entrance you are and how much daylight you have left, gauging about 45 minutes to maybe 2 hours of light. Then, darkness. You feel like crying.

- there’s a tree, thick and stable with roots deep within the mud settled next to the wooden walk you’re on, and you settle against it, back rested on the wood and your legs sprawled on the walks planks, fiddling through your bag and wishing you’d brought more than your your water testing kit and supplies. Like a fucking knife, flare gun, something actually useful. What’s the goddamned chapstick gonna help with, making you look good for the gators?

- moving water unnerves you, the sound heavy and laden with weight, something slow moving underneath you and the thin, wooden slats. It has you getting on your feet in milliseconds and rushing in the opposite direction, knowing it’s at least closer to the beginning of the park. You run until you can’t and it’s already too late, suns gone down and abandoned you in the horizon, the light begins to fade with it. There’s the lurking after light, still hazy and silky in the clouds and it’s clouded the air. And you sit back down, curled in on yourself and trembling, eyes darting around yourself for any flicker of movement in the water.

- you hadn’t heard the water move beneath you as you ran earlier, hadn’t counted the shadows in the depths. Fatal mistakes.

- shadows lengthen then dissipate as they blend with the darkness that surrounds you, and you lean back and groan, practically whimpering as you hold in a cry. The water ripples around you, your form a little dot within a giant circle of ripples resting on the thin plank board walkway of the park.

- chest rattles are all that you feel, shaking like a leaf on a tree is all you can do as you worry about what we’re the last things you said to your loved ones, the last texts you sent, fuck you weren’t going to catch the show premiere for next month. Then the water ripples still, completely unnoticed by you. Again.

- you’ve turned away, looking at the horizon when it emerges, watching wistfully as the light fades and the darkness creeps in around you finally. Webbed digits spread against the wood supporting beams from underneath, it’s head precariously perched beneath the surface and slowly edging forwards and upwards until the eyes are the only lifted feature above the Spanish moss and algae-coated water surface. Golden brown eyes stare ahead, almost hazel if not for the unnaturally shaped pupils and too-glittery irises, reflective and almost iridescent as they flicker light in shades of gold leaf, chestnut, moss, and phthalo. You turn back and lock with them immediately in your line of vision, and your body seizes. You want to cry, want to scream and run, fucking beg. What the fuck is that thing. You want your friends and a blanket and to be woken up from this nightmare.

- but you’re frozen, and this is real.

- the form inches forward, so slowly you almost didn’t notice in your panicked state, creeping in the water in a way that couldn’t remind you of anything human. No alligator moves that way, no snapping turtle shifts like that. It’s too far up for a shark to make it in this brackish water, too fresh for that. Hell, catfish don’t get that big. This ain’t River Monsters. This is your reality. Hell.

- and the hell before you gets bigger until the arms splay across the wooden slats, water dripping down to soak the beams and lifting the body up and out, knees from bulky legs notched at one edge. It looms above you, dark eyes staring down into the very depth and well of your soul, practically toying with the dregs of whatever’s down in the bottom. Your eyes are wide, scream silent and stagnant in the bottom of your throat, tears welling in the corner of your saucer plate eyes while you lean down against the surface of the boardwalk and think of your loved ones and shut your eyes tight.

- It grunts then lumbers forth, head peering down at you with eyes unyielding and unrelenting, as harsh as staring directly into sunlight. It does not move after a few moments, just staying put. When your eyes open and warily look upwards, staring at what you expected to be death in the face, your mind goes blank.

- it still is a beast, a creature of proportions unknown to mankind or otherwise, something for the pages of nautical maps in the old ages to have painted alongside sea serpents and sirens. This, this is unfathomable.

- Whatever it is, looming overhead like death's scythe mid-swing sits still. Bulky arms and legs support the weight, and arms on both sides of your torso with legs kneeling outside of your own. The face is narrow, blunt nuzzle protruding with a murky green appearance all over. There are scars and gashes, all paler pinks and greys with the gouges healed and appearing old. Faded and worn, leathery.

- your attention is drawn back to reality once you hear a deep-pitched chitter, sounding more like a rattle, emanate from its chest and throat. It's almost playful, and then you catch the eyes and they've changed. They look human.

- Before you can say anything or voice a concern, the blunt nose of the beast leans down near your neck, and you freeze, wondering what it's doing. Instead of its mouth opening and teeth sinking into your flesh, tearing your throat and life out, it bumps at your pulse. The softened feel of its nose nudges at your neck, once, twice, and huffs a breath of warm air.

- It leans down on what would be the equivalent of shins and forearms, water dripping from its form and soaking your khaki shorts and your work shirt, underwear growing damp with how drenched the articles of clothing become. Your hands are at your sides, cheek pressed to the wooden board beneath you as you feel its breath and puffs of hot air at your neck. There's barely anything you can see around his form, its size so massive it blocks your peripheral.

- you hear it growl out near your ear, limbs brushing yours, and it repeats the noise then you realize with a shock that it’s speaking, the garbled, drowned tone emerging through its throat like reaching through muck and mud.

- “pretty.”

- your freezing and cold, firghtened and expecting death to soon take you, and yet the sound of the backroad gravel and unearthly, rough voice pulled you forth. Almost like a sirens song, luring the sailors directing the course of your consciousness into the sea to sink to the bottom in ribbons of flesh and tissue.

- you think, until you don’t, when a leg notches between yours and this thing, this behemoth above you, grinds against you. There’s a small, still present logical part of yourself but even that braincell jumped ship the second the thick, pulsing muscle of its thigh hit between your clothed, soaked legs.

- growls and animal-like chitters and coos go unheard as your mind blanks over and you’re lifting hands to feel across its arms, his arms from what you could understand, and dart across jagged tissue scars and roughened, thick skin as you lift your hips up and grind you hips into its groin, rewarded with a hot huff against your sticky collarbone and a thickening fleshy weight growing against you.

- “smell r’good.” Comes out slow and jumbled, but sweet for a horny swamp monster that’s about to fuck you stupid. You almost laugh, smoothing a hand up a shoulder in disbelief and wondering just how truly main character you were until you get your clothes quite literally torn off of you into ribbons upon the boardwalk planks and slats, clad barely in underwear and your shoes that stayed on your feet, your ankles hitched over his thighs. Your legs couldn’t even touch his back let alone lock over them.

- “thank you,” you murmur, grinding against him again and keening when his teeth graze, the creature pressing more weight against you once his dick unsheathes. You don’t see it, can’t with the closeness but you feel it. It’s hot, and a spare hand wanders to toy and find with wonder that it dwarfs your hand. Good for you. “Gonna’ take care of me?”

- where did the real you go and what monsterfucker took your place, fucking a swamp monster in a National Park — and no dinner? Damn.

- it huffs an approving groan, nodding a blunt nose against the slope of your neck and at your mercy as your hand plays with his dick, feeling it move and twitch wildly in your lax grip. You carry on, grazing fingertips over a blooming cockhead and weeping slit, running over ridges and veins until he grows tired and tears your underwear in half down the central seam, prying your legs open and grinding his dick through your slick, the sound echoing almost.

- with a lip tugged between your teeth, hands scramble for purchase as enormous arms and sides, digging in your nails a tad once that blunt, flared cockhead drags across your clit then slinks in, breaching your cunt slowly and stretching it. You take inch after inch in an achingly slow pace, whining and twisting in this things hold and wanting to get fucked already, but it knows better. Cant break a new fuck toy on the first go.

- it’s tedious but rewarding in the end once you get nearly three quarters of its dick in you, pulsing hot and twitching against taut walls, feeling full and warm in contrast to your icy skin from the cold, warming up slowly but surely.

- the creature edges forth in a small thrust, testing the shift then picks the pace up rapidly, hips snapping as a hand lifts your ass up from beneath in order to sink in more of his dick and see it disappear into the warmth of your cunt.

- pressure builds, making your toes curl first and your nails dig a bit into the bicep muscles of the arm your holding onto, another flattened across the back of a shoulder blade and rocking softly back in forth to meet thrusts, voice too broken to scream out, whimpering and moaning out for this monster above thats both the softest and most impressive sex partner you’ve had in a while.

- God Bless National Parks.

- after a while the pace steadies and the continuous brush of his giant dick, making a mess of your pretty cunt and sending slick dripping down your thighs, gets you close to cumming, feeling that warmth spread up the back of your legs and in your belly, blossoming forth in your rib cage and chest, curling around your heart like silken ribbon.

- the steady pat patt patting of his balls against your ass also sends you into a hormonal frenzy, loving how warm and treasured you were in the moment. The pressure builds and you start muttering and crying out, legs shaking around his thighs once it builds closer, a litany of “gonna’ cum gonna’ cum, gonna’ cum please lemme’ cum f’you.” That sends the pace to perk up as well as the behemoth, a shift lifting your ass in the palms of his webbed hands and thrusting you back and forth on its cock, using you with as much ease as one would fuck a sex toy.

- a few bruising knocks of that mushroomy, blunt tip against your cervix sends you creaming around his cock, just in time for him to cum and fill your greedy cunt while you’re agape and shut-eyed as the tremors wrack your body, falling victim to the power of orgasm, wracking your brain like a fog that slowly fades into a haze.

-The once rapid thrusts stutter and fade, continuing until you’re both fully spent and dated and you’re weighted down with a heavy beast that’s the warmest weighted blanket you’ve ever tried, feeling content all plugged up and held. Felt great, fan-fucking-tastic.

- the giant hands holding you tight splay over your heated, damp and sweat-slicked skin and shift, you press a kiss to its cheek and dart more down his neck, nosing it so sweetly he draws you even impossibly closer.

- later on, when you’ll go to work and be unafraid in the dark and cheery and bright in the day, it’ll be due to the rippling force hiding in your shadow as you make your rounds and tend to your tasks, biding the time until nightfall.

- and you feel it’s eyes on you always, but instead of a weight clutching at your throat or coiled between your ankles, it rather lies across your shoulders like a well-beloved overcoat. Warm and powerful and strong. Roughened. Uniquely yours in the best of ways. Especially when swamp creatures are concerned.

— Bonus —

Delaney Whitmore: T H E D E V I L

• song: Personal Jesus - Depeche Mode

- Waking up in the same day, over and over, endlessly for what has been a week now is already getting old. You’ve been shot, run over, electrocuted, and even gutted. Dumped into a ravine. Drowned in the lake with weights and chains, got hit by a train, even got your throat slit. You want it to be over and you’ve got no clue what’s going on. There’s only so much one can learn from Bill Murray in Groundhog Day, and it seems that even he ain’t doing you no favors. You're tired, traumatized, reeling day in and out, and facing death with a chagrin belonging to even the most exhausted reluctant heroes. But you are no hero, no, you are a stranger, a normal person, trapped in an endless loop and feel as if the eyes of ouroboros are gazing down in mocking, chiding laughter. You feel doomed.

- You find answers, or more accurately, a cause to your cruelly violent cycle. She’s been present the most out of all the passersby, with different clothes and different styles of hair, always a bystander and stranger, nearby to watch the fallout behind tinted brown sunglass lenses and a burgundy-lipped grin. God, what a bitch.

- You finally see her up close, spotting and cornering her in the back booth of a dark bistro in town, a flute of something dark and bubbly tucked between her hand and her manicured nails. They match her lipstick. “Having fun? How’s the loop treating you, I’ve tried to make at least the dying random,” she coos, stirring around the decorative garnish that rims her cocktail before turning her body to face yours, “wouldn’t want it to be overly repetitive. That just becomes so redundant, but enough about my little spoils. Introduce yourself, go on, I’ve just been dying to meet you.”

- faltering, you eye her outstretched hand warily, noting the several rings on her fingers and the watch, the gloss of her nail polish in the low light of the room. You shake her hand, noting the firm grip and authenticity behind it, and sit down across from her, shifting against the worn faux leather booth seats and hating the sound.

- “sorry about the surroundings, can’t really alter this stuff unless I wanted to immediately call attention and ruin the game. No fun in that.” She noted the visible discomfort on your face, showing interest and care that seems ingenuine with how real it felt, “now go on, introduce yourself. Treat a lady.” She all but purrs, sipping at her drink and smiling with something wicked and dark in her teeth. Her pointed, sharp teeth. Just the canines.

- and so you do, blurting out your name and watching her process it, and you take her in. Deep brown waves settle down and rest in curls upon her shoulders. She’s got big, Jackie O-style glasses on again, paired with the deep red lip. There’s twinkling gold jewelry dotted around her body, across the collar, several across the ears, her rings, and the watch.

- “what a darling name,” is what pulls you forth from the stupor you found yourself in while staring, seeing her settle her chin in her palm and her elbow upon the table, “usually it takes months or even years for someone to find me, let alone single me out. Clever.” She chimes, sipping once more at something you can’t decipher, maybe champagne with a mixer. “Would you like something to eat, or drink perhaps? They’ve got great appetizers.” Before you can answer she snaps her fingers, the thwick of the sound much louder than you’d expect it, like when hearing someone whistle for a taxi.

- a waiter appears, scattering two menus and place settings quickly before the two of you and topping off her flute with something from a corked bottle, scrawled in looping cursive and definitely champagne, then adds a bit of a syrup that smells like pomegranates. The drops sink like dye does, blooming forth in swirls that resemble the Rorschach inkblots. She catches your inquiring gaze. “I love the taste on its own, but there’s just something about the little dash of syrup I’ve come to love.” She drawls, and you finally catch the locale of it, southern. Not too deep, not too slow to be truly at the southernmost part of the United States, but lulling along enough to be southern. Drips forth like the syrup does.

- “reminds me of those myths and tales of Persephone, those pomegranates that locked her to the underworld for part of the year and to Hades’ realm. Those Grecian tales, so full of woe and death.” She rolls her eyes behind the glasses, unable to see but still noted in the movement of her brows in addition to the gesture of her hand. She asks about what you plan on eating and you’re unsure, not just about the food but about the overall situation. Trapped in a hellish loop, sitting down with the one who’s caused it all, with no clear motive, and yet you can’t feel mad. It’s like sedation, sitting with her, numbing the raw and angry parts of yourself.

- you force yourself to come up with what you’ll eat, getting urged by her for an appetizer too, saying you deserve it. Who is this woman? After giving your answer she calls back over the waiter and prattles off your meal choices and her own, kindly and hands back one of the menus but keeps the other and sidles it against the wall of the table, “in case there’s dessert,” she winks.

- you stare, questions rattling about in your head and overloading you, making you just blurt out what was pressing you the most of all the queries you had. And she laughs. It’s a twinkling, delightful sound. It’s laced with something that warns you to not trust completely. “Who am I? Oh darlin’ I was wondering when you’d get around to askin’ that,” she sips her drink then sets it aside, drumming her nails against the hardwood of the table before grinning with pointed teeth that indent at her lip. She takes off the glasses, thick lashes dusting her cheeks before opening to reveal her irises. Gold, just like her rings. Then she speaks.

- “Babydoll, I’m the devil.”

- there’s the one half of you that’s been expecting that sort of answer, relishing in a way that’s akin to an “I’m right! Suck it!” internal celebration. The other half is in a myriad of what the fucks, wondering what is going on and why you’re talking to the devil and why is she hot?? Confused, bewildered, and utterly at a loss. “Why are you doing this to me?” Is what flies from your lips next, still confused as to why you’re even here and why you’re talking with devil as you discuss your looped-in-hell situation.

- “it’s actually quite interesting, y’see, you’re the offspring of someone that owes me. Big time. The resolution was made, through crossroads bargains — Y’know the black magic, Anne Rice novel typa’ shit — and I’m sorry to break the news Sugar, but you’re the price that got paid. The loop was something I’m fiddling with to perfect it, just unfortunate luck that you were the next contestant. In summary short, your heart, soul, and ass are mine.” The devil answers, in sprawling words that sound like signatures spoken aloud as if the personality of someone’s handwriting was flung into the air to be heard.

- you stammer, words failing again, and then the food gets plated before you along with a glass poured with one of your favorite drinks. “Dig in, food won’t bite. I do on the other hand,” she teases, chiding and amused, “ask any questions you’ve got and I’m happy to answer them. I’m rarely in the company of such gorgeous creatures anyhow.”

- Blinking, you’re reeling from everything, and take a fork full of whatever food is in front of you and chew before you say another stupid thing. You watch her, and she goes about her actions as if this is any other day — and you suppose it is, her being Satan and all. She’s tall, taller than yourself you suppose, with a body that’s curved in ways that must’ve written the rules of temptation and sin, especially lust you think as you glance at cleavage that’s just too alluring. All of her is, it’s unfair. Cruel. It’s fitting. She’s the devil, Satan, the big bad, queen of darkness, etcetera.

- “is it the appearance? Sometimes people expect me to have the whole monstrous look, wings and the tail and hooves,” she prompts, eying you with a curious gaze as she sticks a fork into a piece of fried calamari, “I can slip into something hornier if you’d like.” And you almost choke on what you’re chewing before you realize it was a joke, and you see her laugh. She snorts. Imperfect. “Sorry, sorry — i just love that joke so much, it’s funnier when I make the horns show up. At least sometimes it is.”

- “do you not naturally look like that?” Is how you respond, eating another forkful afterward to stop you from rambling or commenting on her appearance, and how yes, you would like to see her step into something hornier. “I do, there’s just degrees and a range in which I look, this being the original form I was made in. The extra stuff is flair from being the devil I’d assume, and the embodiment of all that is evil,” she trails off, chewing then moving on, “it’s not like I was born and immediately formed into lady of all unholiness, what, do you think my name is just The Devil?”

- “is it?” You expect her to laugh, but she just smiles and sips her drink, eying you while she does before setting the glass back down. “It’s not. My name’s Delaney, but I haven’t heard anyone call me that in a long, long time.” And you think about that last segment, wondering how far back it was since she was seen as a person or a thing rather than just the devil.

- “it’s a lovely name,” you comment, turning back to your food only to glance up and see a subtle flush on her olive-skinned features. “Thank you.”

- you note the reaction for later, but soon enough you feel the time of your meal blurring by you, the time more fleeting than wisps of snow in winter's blanketing season. It’s the end of the meal, and conversation flows while the devil escorts you home, elbow crooked in hers as she walks nearest the road and you’re nestled between her and the buildings as the sidewalk takes you home.

- “soul for your thoughts?” She chimes, sunglasses back on her head but she glances over at you from the lens's rim, smiling impishly and turning once you arrive at the steps to your house. “No, no, just wondering about something.”

“Oh? Do tell, love t’hear what’s rattling around in that skull of yours.”

“Feels like a first date.”

- she blinks, and you watch the processing moment before she grins wicked and lazy-like, eyes half-lidded as she extends a hand in proposition. “Would you like to skip to after the third?”

- you say yes, you’re not a fool, and it’s not as if she walks you inside and fucks you silly. No, within a whirlwind you see hours go by and get your consciousness inserted back until when the third date would be. And you’re in the middle of getting eaten out when this gift of consciousness is bestowed. The timing is nothing short of absolutely glorious.

- she’s got you perched on a marble top vanity in a lavish bedroom, a blend of Victorian or Rococo with the scrollwork and filigree in the wood craftsmanship you garner while trying to prevent your orgasm so you can make it last, staring at the ceiling and an ornate tulip-shaped glass light fixture and thinking of other things to not literally black out just yet.

- “There’s my little one, back to me now, okay?” She breaks up from her assault on your pussy, thumb idly rolling circles and smoothing shapes into your puffy clit, “Let go for me so mommy can make a meal out of you.” She smooths your thighs back open and coos when she blows air upon your cunt, laughing when you shudder. She laps at your cunt and peers up at you from beneath dark bangs and even darker lashes, a knife's point of winged eyeliner making the golden hazel eyes shine. You’ve got the devil on her knees eating you out. Casually. Life unwarrantedly signed away sucks but hey, there’s at least cumming on the tongue of the most powerful demon since ever?

- soon you’re crying out and tugging at her hair and coming against her mouth, gushing around her cheeks and chin. She works you through your orgasm and the over sensitivity. And another venture through orgasm. And two additional upon that, her claiming that oral is just foreplay while she sucks your skin clean as she licks up all the aftermath of you squirting from between your thighs, nipping occasionally with tender teeth.

- she hushes your whines with hands that smooth over your belly and heated skin, calming you down until she rises and her tall form cages you in where you sit perched on the vanity.

- “calm down, angel,” she starts, tucking stray hair back into place and cupping your warm cheeks in her palms, smoothing thumbs across your cheekbones with care. She shifts, reaching to grasp your chin between your fingers as her hand wraps at an angle around your neck, “now, can I play with you for a little longer?”

- Regret was not something you had a lot of, but there was not any present in your response. Especially since you had never said yes so fast in your life. The demon laughs before pressing her lips to yours, murmuring beneath her breath in airy huffs of air that grace your teeth and tongue as hers meet yours in the middle, "welcome then, my little Persephone."

— Happy Halloween —

Tags: @mrsbretthand @mollicutes @radioactivebowtie @cognitosclowns @bluebaronness @carnalcringe

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