#the sacrificial lamb has had enough

[final-act]

#the sacrificial lamb has had enough #chainshipping #saw #saw fanart #adam faulkner stanheight #artists on tumblr #myart #i need sleep #badly

[another-lost-mc]

Imagine Vampire Lord!Diavolo receiving a sacrificial human as a gift. He's delighted but pretends to act horrified and sympathetic to the poor little thing's plight. Blood tastes horrible if the human is terrified. So, for months he lulls them into a false sense of security. Lavishing them with care, gentlemanly behaviour, and isolation for their safety of course!

Let the human delude themself into thinking they had a choice. Vampire Lord!Diavolo mouth waters at the thought of their favourite pet voluntarily offering their blood to him. By then, the trap has long snapped shut. Pleaseee we need more gilded cage, manipulative Diavolo because the potential is limitless!!

A/N: I might've gotten a little carried away with this one.

Vampire!DIAVOLO x gn!Reader, 2.3k words, nsfw, dark themes/content.

Content warnings: canon-typical vampire behaviour including biting/blood drinking, predator/prey dynamics, kidnapping, coercion, manipulation, implied isolation/imprisonment, minor violence, pet names, some sexual content.

more from the vampire!au

Vampire Prince!Diavolo who hosts monthly gatherings for the other vampire nobles. The abducted humans, like sweet sacrificial lambs, are brought to the castle for the vampire lords to prey on. It’s an archaic practice, but tradition is important to his people.

Vampire Prince!Diavolo who doesn’t usually participate in these events himself—Barbatos ensures that all the humans he needs for consumption are delivered to the castle dungeons regularly—but he catches a whiff of an unusual scent in the air.

Vampire Prince!Diavolo who finds you huddled at the edge of the room while several nobles leer at you, taunting you as they delight in your torment. Underneath the acrid scent of fear pouring off you in waves, he detects the hint of something scrumptious. It makes his mouth water and he’s overcome with the temptation to claim you for himself.

(He’ll need to do something about the bitterness currently tainting the blood in your veins if he wants to enjoy you properly.)

Vampire Prince!Diavolo who murmurs instructions to Barbatos and slips away from the party. He sits on his throne in the empty council chamber and waits.

Barbatos finishes his tasks and returns to the prince's side quickly. “Everything is as you requested, my lord.”

“And our guest?”

“Frightened but unharmed. It won’t be long.”

There’s a scuffle outside the door and then a loud, pounding knock. Two guards push the doors open and escort you inside. One of them shoves you forward and you stumble to your knees before the prince.

“Enough,” Diavolo orders as he rises from his throne. You try to crawl away from him, but you're paralyzed by fear. His impressive frame towers over you, and there’s an angry glint in his eyes when he snarls at the guards who skitter away with hasty apologies to their lord.

His face softens as he kneels down on one knee before you, hands held out in front of him as if to show you he means no harm. He’s careful not to touch you; you’re still trembling like a pitiful little mouse.

He almost feels guilty that you ended up here—a tasty morsel for beasts much stronger than you—but then he wouldn't have this chance to have you for himself, would he?

“You must be cold,” he says apologetically. The thin material of the simple robe you were given to wear—similar to the other human guests—leaves little to the imagination. Diavolo unclasps his cloak and drapes it over your shoulders.

You stare at him dumbstruck; you’re too scared to move, too scared to breathe.

He leans forward and scents the air discreetly. The foul stench of fear is stronger now, but so is the undercurrent of your natural scent. He bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from licking his lips.

Vampire Prince!Diavolo who promises that no harm shall come to you, so long as you are respectful and follow the rules you are given. He insists that you’ll be given a spacious room of your own near the finest library in the castle.

(You don’t need to know that it’s his own private library in the royal quarters where only you and he reside.) 

Vampire Prince!Diavolo, who asks you to call him by his name, escorts you personally to your new room. He had Barbatos prepare this for you once he decided you would be his.

Vampire Prince!Diavolo who hopes you’ll appreciate the luxuries he’s giving you: a large bed with the finest silk sheets, a private bathroom, a writing desk and record player. There’s an empty walk-in closet that the prince intends on filling with tailored clothes to accentuate your lovely features, in all the colours he thinks will best compliment your eyes and complexion.

(You’ll be beautiful for his eyes alone.)

Vampire Prince!Diavolo who spends as much time with you as he can. He wants you to get used to his presence in the hopes that one day you'll crave his company instead of simply tolerating it. He makes time in his schedule so he can join you for each meal Barbatos brings to your room.

Your hand shakes nervously and the cutlery scrapes unpleasantly against the china plate. Diavolo pretends not to notice as he takes a sip from the chalice of blood he’s brought with him in lieu of eating food.

“If there are any particular foods you enjoy, please let me know. I’ll see to it that Barbatos prepares your meals especially suited to your tastes,” he says as he lowers his glass, licking a stray drop of blood from his lip.

You glance nervously at the glass in his hands and back up to his eyes, and you sit up in your chair like you're trying to muster enough courage to speak your mind.

(My brave little mouse, he thinks as he tries not to grin with amusement.)

“You’re not…you’re not going to kill me?” You guessed your true purpose for being here. Memories slowly returned to you of the night you were abducted, how a stranger’s whisper in your mind commanded you to sleep. You woke up here, surrounded by other scared humans like yourself and thrown into a crowd of vampires of all things.

You were certain you were going to die when you were nearly dragged from that ballroom by those brutish guards. You have no idea what a vampire prince could possibly want from you, except to kill you himself after he bleeds you dry.

Diavolo chuckles and shakes his head. His eyes glitter brightly with amusement, and he smiles when he raises the glass to his lips again for another sip. “If I wanted your blood, don’t you think you’d be dead by now?”

Dead like the rest of the humans you were brought here with hangs unspoken in the air between you.

You finish eating in silence as you contemplate his words. Barbatos clears the dishes away when you're done and leaves you alone with the vampire prince who seems determined to be your friend.

Diavolo stands from the table. “It’s a lovely evening, and the night-blooming roses in my private garden are exquisite. Would you like to join me?”

He holds his hand out to you; you hesitate for a moment before resting your hand in his. You see the tips of his fangs when he smiles.

You make very few requests at first, but as days turn into weeks, you grow comfortable in the new home he has made for you. You abide by his one very simple request: not to venture outside this wing of the castle.

(“For your own protection,” Diavolo told you in those early days.)

Your days are lonely but comfortable, passing by in a blur of endless books from the impressive library not far from your room, and the growing collection of new music for your record player.

Sometimes you wake up in the mornings and things are not quite how you left them the night before. You assume it’s the work of Barbatos, the only other vampire you’ve met since that first night. He tidies your room discreetly when you're in the library so he doesn't disturb you. He also passes his master’s greetings and well wishes to you each morning when he brings you breakfast.

“Do you clean my room at night when I’m asleep?” you ask him one morning before he leaves. “I feel terrible if that’s the case—you don’t need to do that.” You want to tell him it's creepy and invasive, but you find the vampire prince's butler even more intimidating than the prince himself.

Barbatos glances at you as he tidies your breakfast dishes on a tray, and he almost looks annoyed and surprised by your question. He huffs out a quiet sigh of exasperation. “It seems that my lord wants to ensure your comfort and safety, even in the darkest hours of the night."

Vampire Prince!Diavolo who dotes on you lavishly, who ensures everything you could ever want or hope for, is yours.

Vampire Prince!Diavolo who realizes that genuine feelings of affection have begun to bloom for you deep within the chasm of his hollow heart. He enjoys your quiet laughter when he tells you amusing stories about his fellow nobles, and he misses your thoughtful advice when he’s too busy with official duties to visit you.

The first time he has to leave the castle for an overnight excursion, he’s fraught with anxiety about leaving you behind.

He can’t bring you with him, either. It’s too risky—he doesn’t want any of the other lords near you. Your once-foul stench has dissipated over time, and the nectar flowing in your veins is starting to bloom like the aroma of the finest wine.

He comes to your room to say goodbye, but when he backs away towards the door to leave, you lift your hand like you want to stop him. The truth shines in your eyes when they mist over with too many emotions to name, and you choke out a stuttered farewell of your own.

(You’re scared of being alone for the first time since you were brought to this strange, dark place. You have no one else but him, and he knows it.)

He leaves the castle with a hint of a smile on his face, satisfied with the revelation that you are going to miss him too.

Vampire Prince!Diavolo who returns to you after only a few days apart, and you nearly fly across the room into his arms when he greets you warmly. He doesn’t disguise his longing for you, or his happiness to be with you again. (Have you always been this lovely?) He holds your hands in his as he inquires about your well-being. He sits next to you and answers your questions about his trip as Barbatos brings you tea.

Vampire Prince!Diavolo who scents the air while he visits with you. Your fear and sorrow has all but disappeared, leaving nothing but the fragrance of your delicious scent. It’s even better than he hoped for. He’s been so patient and waited so long for this moment.

Vampire Prince!Diavolo who reaches for your hand and strokes your wrist with his fingers as he leans closer to you. Your eyes darken with anticipation and your breath hitches, and his eyes dart down as you lick your lips nervously. He’s hungry for your blood, but he’s starving for the rest of what you can offer him—your body, your companionship, your unwavering devotion, your love. 

Vampire Prince!Diavolo who decides with absolute certainty to keep you by his side, the little mouse he shields from a world of monsters. Tomorrow will be a new beginning for both of us, he promises with a soft kiss against the back of your hand. His eyes linger on your neck when he pulls away, and you tilt your head slightly in submission.

Vampire Prince!Diavolo who wakes up in the middle of the night when he hears you shout his name. He rushes down the hall and into your room, and he sees someone standing near your bed. He grabs the disguised intruder by the throat and pins him against the wall, fangs bared menacingly for daring to touch you. When Barbatos arrives, he offers to take care of the intruder so Diavolo can take care of you. 

Vampire Prince!Diavolo who picks you up despite your protests and carries you to his room. He tucks your head against his shoulder while he murmurs soothingly in your ear. He knows you’re not afraid, not anymore. In place of fear, all he can smell is your gorgeous aroma, laced with gratitude and love because he came when you needed him most.

(The intruder tried to convince you he was saving you from the wretched prince, but you don't want to be saved—not anymore.)

Vampire Prince!Diavolo who lays you on his bed and holds you close, but your hands fidget nervously against his bare chest. Your eyes are blown black with lust and he can’t resist kissing you, not when your lips are so close to his.

(His little mouse looks even better trembling with desire rather than fear.)

Vampire Prince!Diavolo who covers your body with his own, and he sinks his cock inside you when he finally pierces your neck with his fangs. You clench your fingers in his back and his hair like you’re afraid he might leave you.

(He’ll never leave you, and he’ll never let you go.)

Barbatos sniffs as Diavolo walks past him into his study. His nose wrinkles at the overpowering scent of sweat and arousal and copper that clings to the prince. “I take it that things went well?”

Diavolo hums as he sits down heavily in his seat. “My little mouse is resting, but let’s make this quick.” He’s whet his appetite for your blood on his tongue and your body clenched around him, and he’s nearly overcome with how badly he wants more of you.

Barbatos leaves his office and returns a few minutes later with one of the vampire lords. “Lord Mephistopheles as you requested, my lord.”

Diavolo gestures towards the empty chair in front of his desk. “Sit down, Mephisto.” He leans back in his chair. “I hope I didn’t hurt you too badly, but it had to look convincing.”

(You'll never know the deadly consequence that awaited you if you failed Diavolo's final test of loyalty.)

Mephisto sits up stiffly in his chair. “Of course, I am but your humble servant, my lord. But if I may speak freely, your intended mate put up a more of a fight than I imagined.” He holds up one of his gloved hands gingerly. “I didn’t expect to be bitten by a human tonight.”

Diavolo subconsciously rubs over the slight indents of your teeth in his shoulder; you bit him to muffle your scream when you came on his cock. “Neither did I,” he murmurs, fangs bared when his lips curl into a wicked smile.

Obey Me! Masterlist

#obey me vampire au #obey me diavolo #obey me x reader #omswd x reader #obey me diavolo x reader #diavolo x reader #obey me smut #omswd smut #diavolo smut #obey me diavolo x mc #diavolo x mc #obey me diavolo x you #diavolo x you #obey me yandere #yandere diavolo #obey me fanfic #omswd fanfic #x reader #someone dropped this 🚩 #gn!reader

[franzkafkagf]

ever thought about how aegon was alicent‘s first and her last left? your house is burning and your children are gone. except him. except him. he came back to her, unrecognizable, burnt and twisted, but he came back to her. she has him still.

i have done everything you’ve asked me to. i try so hard but it will never be enough for you. and it wasn‘t. she asked him to save their family, save the realm, save her. he didn‘t, he couldn‘t. he did come back to her. he had cursed her on the day he was born.

do you love me? you imbecile. i love those bones of you. i love you so much i have sacrificed everything to see you on the throne. i have sacrificed my youth. sacrificed my decency. sacrificed my oldest. i have sacrificed you. i love you. my oldest, my firstborn, my sacrifice.

and as he walks towards his mother like an animal to his butcher she plants a kiss on his forehead. her little sacrificial lamb, he came back. came back to her. did i do well mother? did i do enough? no. i love you. you came back.

i wonder who he thought about when the poison touched his lips.

#i am unwell and so very normal about them. #alicent hightower #aegon ii targaryen #aligon #house of the dragon #hotd #olivia cooke #tom glynn carney #asoiaf #alicent x aegon #ales.txt

[deceitfuldevout]

Blessed Be The Fruit

Soft!Dark!Sergeant!Tommy Shelby x Maiden!Reader

Word Count: +1,620

Warning(s): +18, Non con, Hints of misogyny, Loss of virginity, Mild gore (blood), Cunnilingus, Mentions of past kidnapping.

Author's Notes: This is a one shot. It's a fanfiction that has a few ideas from the handmaiden’s tale that are altered cause it's my fic lol.

As the population decreases, the government has no choice but to intervene. Every citizen is now required to marry past a certain age. Those who were part of the military or government, were given a registry of approved wives to choose from. Often the families of the women were forced to participate. Yours was one of them. It was a week after you turned twenty when an officer knocked on your parents' door. He will inform you of the news. A husband has finally chosen you.

You read the profile of your soon-to-be husband, Sergeant Tommy Shelby. He'd served in the British army for a few years, returning home as a decorated solider. His first wife had been murdered, the second divorced. Your eyes rake down the list. A widower who'd been married twice. He'd lost his youngest daughter to an illness, his first son in a local gang's crossfire. Charlie is his last remaining heir. He can't risk losing him, what Tommy needs now is a spare. 

You remember your earlier days of scouting. Should any family find themselves under bankruptcy, their daughters will be forced into the draft. A law passed by the government to decrease the poverty line. You along with the other women were kidnapped and forced to attend months of dreadful etiquette classes.  

Training you on how to walk, talk, behave, and care for the home. In simpler terms, you had to learn how to sell yourself as someone interesting enough to marry. You were a brand, put on display for any eligible bachelors. Only at the graduation ceremony did you feel relieved. Finally allowed to return home.  

Every family that had been in the registry was part of the working class. They'd been forcibly placed in the registry because of debt or bankruptcy. It was the government's solution to decrease the amount of poverty. Their daughters would be used as sacrificial lambs. Otherwise, they'd be rounded up and forced into imprisonment, or worse. How could you say no with such a severe punishment?   

He has given you a week. A week to come with him willingly or face the consequences. It rained on the day of the wedding, the ceremony itself was cut short by how dangerous the weather became. Your now husband wastes no time dragging you away and into a car. He wastes time returning home. Tommy led the way to the bedroom. There were certain things to expect on your wedding night. A contract that now legally binds you to him.  

There is a list of conditions that the each of you were to follow. One being him taking care of you and your family, as long as you promise to give him an heir. However, many it would be. There was one last thing to seal the contract, marriage consummation. Mandatory by law, punishable by imprisonment. You remember the advice given by the elderly women who worked for the registry program. As soon as you spot the bed, covered in white sheets, your breathing hitches.   

Tommy faces away from you, stripping himself of his coat. You remove each strap and let the dress slip off. You approach the bed, now splayed in only a white lace set, relaxing on your side. You tilt your head. Now gazing at your new husband with a playful smirk. If only he knew what was going on inside that little head of yours. How badly you wanted to break free.   

A happy husband means an easy life.   

That's what the elders had taught you. He turns around, taken aback by your sudden eagerness. His cold eyes rake your figure. He starts to approach the bed. Your seductive expression starts to crack. You find yourself now trapped under his cold, hard gaze. Still, there was too much at stake.  

Appeasing your husband is what keeps the house in order.   

This wasn't just a marriage consummation, it's a test to see if your husband wants to keep you. Everyone you love and care for will pay for one mistake, and that terrifies you.  

A good wife must tend to all his needs.   

That's when he gave the orders, "Present," to which you immediately began removing the rest of your garments. A procedure all the wives had practiced for. You feel a calloused hand holding your hip in place. Both hands digging into the soft blankets below. It takes everything in you not to burst into tears. Because good wives hide their pain well. He spits into the palm of his hand, spreading the slick on his length. He starts to pump himself, tugging on his cock a few times. But only enough to get it hard.  

Tommy doesn't want to waste any more time. He presses his tip against your entrance, dragging it up and down your slit. He spits at your entrance before pushing in. Tears form in the corners of your eyes. You held back a scream, digging your nails into the bed. He places an arm to each side, shifting his bodyweight against yours. A grunt of discomfort broke from your lips. It felt like he was breaking you in.  

There's only one thing that Tommy needs from you. Tonight, he's going to make sure it happens. If not, then he'll breed you every day until you take. He doesn't want to stop from there, no. You'll give him another one, then another after that. As many as he can make from that tight cunt of yours. Just the thought of it has him moaning, "Fuck...so good for me...my wife..." he juts his hips, finding a rhythm, "You will obey me," he fastens his pace, with both hands now grabbing your hips in a firm grip, "Your only job is to give me an heir," Tommy starts to lose himself in the pleasure.

It had been a while since he's had a good fuck. His brows furrow from how hard you were squeezing him, "Fuck...such a tight cunt..." he groans, he hovers over your naked form. His body heat spreading to your back. A thick wall of muscle traps you against the bed. He growls in your ear, "It's going to be like this every day...every day until this womb gives me an heir," a promise he's going to make sure comes true.  

Tommy's grunts became louder as he was close. Sweat trickles from his body to yours, the intensity of it reduced you to a whining mess. He splays his body flush against yours. A stray of curse words escapes his lips, "Fuck...fuck so good...so good for me..." he dips his head in the crook of your neck, muffling one last moan before bottoming out. He doesn't remove himself, no. Tommy kept you plugged with his spunk. He pushes his length in as far as it could go before pulling out.  

He flips over right next to you to catch his breath. When he hears sniffling, he turns his head. What made his little wife upset? He turns you over. Your eyes are red, there are tear tracks that trailed down each cheek. Spit had dribbled down your chin and onto the bed. Tommy had a gift for reading people. It was obvious you were trying to keep a plain expression. He hovers over you now with a stern look on his face. Tommy is determined to find the source of your worries.  

That's when he felt it, the small wet patch on the bedding. Blots of crimson were in stark contrast to the white sheets below. You cower under his gaze. Frozen by fear yet still, you try to please him. But Tommy could see it clearly, and he wouldn't have it. He reaches below your knees, pulling you closer towards him. He lifts your lower half, until your bare slit is close enough to his mouth.  

Suddenly, an unfamiliar sensation has you gasping. Tommy flattens his tongue against your core, dragging it up and down your slit. He takes his time, suckling and kissing at your sex. Practically smothering himself in it as he thrusts his tongue inside your spent cunt. You press a palm flat against your mouth, muffling any whimpers that would escape. Now this wasn't something you were prepared for.  

Tommy wraps his lips around that bundle of nerves you whine. Your hole twitches with need, he'll fix that. Tommy slowly stretches the now slick opening, collecting any slickness he would need. He latches his mouth around your bud while thrusting his fingers in and out. Faster and faster, until a wave of pleasure has you arching your back. A gush of arousal splashes his chin, but he doesn't stop. Not even after you're pumping at his fingers in a vice grip. He keeps thrusting them at a rapid pace, until you've come undone again. He retreats from your drenched sex with a triumphant 'huff'.  

You were exhausted, trying your best to catch breath. All you could do was stare at Tommy though hooded eyelids. He's sporting a cocky smirk, "I'm sorry dear wife," he interwinds his fingers with yours, holding them in place, "Do you forgive me?" licking up the slick on his lips. A flush of pink is spread across his face and ears. His icy blues are now overpowered by the large iris'. You could only give a faint nod, too tired to react as he pulls you in.  

There the two of you lay, sprawled naked across the bed sheets. Your head against his chest as he brushes his hands though the locks. Tommy lets you rest for now. He sighs, "understanding now that you weren't a willing participant. All for the sake of 'societal standards'. He won't give you a harder life than it already had been. "Blessed be the fruit," he announces, marking the end of the night.  

#dark!tommy shelby #dark!tommy shelby x reader #dark!tommy shelby x you #reader #reader insert #dark!fic #dark!fanfic #dark!fanfiction #dark!smut #dark fic #dark fanfic #dark fanfiction #dark smut

[circuscountdowns]

Crude Timeline/Breakdown of my goofy Cult of the Lamb drawings if you’re interested:

The whole premise for this i guess au? Started during my first run, I already knew the game was about kill god become god, but Did Not know you could Marry the god youd betray??? Or indoctrinate him???. Like I didn't even choose the Marriage Doctrine cuz I'm like boo r u kidding me I'm choosing violent Battle Pit always. Which Lambert wouldn't know any of this in the beginning either but the big deciding factor is: 

Lamb is going into it with the mindset of Kill All Gods for what they've done to the sheep (sorry my benefactor, ur included <3) Kratos style lets go, none spared.

That being said, they have a lot of devotion towards Death, I like to think the Sheep folk prayed to The One Below for quick passings knowing they're a huge sacrificial species, and because sheep with their huge herd mentality, the worship flowed heavily which is a threat therefore that plus prophecy equals Slaughter. 

So with TOWW, they play along and genuinely mean they're serving death because they worshiped Death as a concept, a divine entity. They believe when they “kill” TOWW they'll still be “together” because Death is unkillable right (and the lamb would never have to be alone again right). Something new will be written thats the both of us as one.

So in between crusading Lamb and TOWW get closer (i am going to take your throne but that doesn't mean we can't have fun banter or that i don't really really enjoy ur compliments and attention ((because I love kittys…))) and that's when the comic about tanking happens. 

But oh no! Through their journey Lamb discovers that TOWW is actually a Bishop, chained for a petty family squabble??? Has a name and it’s Narinder???? 

The revelation kinda breaks something in their head. it upsettingly humanizes the Bishops, trivializes the death of their people, and takes TOWW off the pedestal they'd placed him on. Uh ohhhh how does this change things i mean I'm still gonna kill all the gods but what does it mean to be a god is it just a crown whats going to happen to Narinder is it actually Narinder I like ?? (And i had a comic for this time planned but idk if ill get to it)

Meanwhile Narinders opinion on the Lamb has so far just been Wow im so proud, I chose good yay I'm gonna be free (why do I feel like I could be free from their devotion alone?) (why are they just like me fr?) 

When Narinder is defeated and they have the choice, the lamb feels they betray both their people for not keeping their promise to kill all gods, but also their Faith and Narinder, v conflicting. 

After indoctrination, Narinder does his typical Isolation, depression, and Lamb mourns what they'd had. In their loneliness, they stop allowing their cultists to die for long. They do all Narinders quests, and when it comes to the resurrection he's like Haha I remember why I liked you. But also he can exploit this. That's the time of the Resurrection comic.

He tries to micromanage from there, if he can't be the god being worshiped rn he's going to control the god. Starts off with whispering insecurities of Your cultists will find a way to leave you, be firmer. Gods should do this, have this, they'll leave if you don't. Lamb knows what he's doing and mostly humors him to keep him around but over time they've just both started to build a proper relationship again. He successfully ironically becomes their right hand.

This goes on for a sec before Mystic Seller knocks on da door like Hello do your joobbbb. And thats a kick enough to get Lamb out of their misery shit to really consider their original plan of killing gods and what exactly they want Death to Mean. (Comes to a conclusion that death is a peace that has to be earned. Through living.)

Bringing Leshy back brings a rift and arguments between Narinder and Lamb. That's when the Narinder Confessional comic happens and he lets out just how hurt he was by Lambs betrayal (cuz that seems to be all anyone ever does to him lol except for his sons)

So as a sort of reconciliation! Lamb brings back Aym and Baal. Yay! That's that comic, where Narinder tries to say it doesn't affect him so Lamb forces them to be together. Aym and Ball stay in the cult for a good while as Lamb works to free Heket, but Narinder is still super giving Lamb the cold shoulder. When Heket is indoctrinated Narinder gets angry again that he has no say on the matter. 

Lamb starts sneaking off to sit in the confessional booth at night and it gets Narinders attention. He follows them in and hears them speak about essentially their motivations and beliefs described earlier. I have a half finished comic of this to partner with Narinder’s confessional, with Lamb’s being more down to earth and kinda just explanatory of the whole timeline but who knows if ill finish it tbh

Narinder reassesses his feelings for Lamb after that.

Right after Lamb's confessional would be when the Baal and AYm comic happens, and Narinder asks for his last request of going on a mission, fully committing to living a life.

Cue big ambiguous gap of time where Lamb gets the other siblings, yada yada healing and dealing. Shamura in the pillory comic happens, the bishops are Not happy about it, but Shamura's only locked up for a night.

Probably takes a hundred or two years for the siblings being comfortable enough around each other and theres a lot less venom being spat out. Idk gods grudges be lasting forever sometimes. Eventually They can start having family game nights, cue that comic. Everyones tired of the shit Lamb and Narinders got going on. 

Lamb still thinks Narinder doesnt have romantic feelings for them. Best friends til the end me and my god, never mind the tense flirting. Lamb does that with everyone. (cursed with flirty asexual disease) For Narinder its that he shouldnt have to say anything everyone should just know that the Lamb is his. Straight up if Lamb asked him, do you love me hed say yes in every sense, but though he is aware of how he feels and would be honest on approach, an immortal relationship/marriage?? It is a lot to ask of the lamb, that has to be a decision they make. Hes content as is.

but No Way could Lamb ask that without a safety net.  So when Lamb realizes Oh its like. romantic jealousy? Interesting lets see how far i can push it, announces they will be choosing a spouse (due to a wager lost they reason, depending on who asks) (the siblings who know of Shamura’s deal, watch in mild amusement at how absolutely wired this gets their brother. No one helps him.) fine for narinder If they get married thats up to them but hes gonna make sure theyre worthy of his vessel first. Marriage is just a title compared to what he and the Lamb have. 

Cue comic i have planned that is Such a funny idea to me but im not liking how its turning out so who knows. But they get married yay! 

Some years later kudaai has offered to make the lamb their own weapon. They go on a little trip to the spot they were sacrificed, now very overgrown and forgotten, and find their chains to make their weapons. 

far future comic

many many many years later Lamb death comic.

that’s it for now. I’ll add more if ideas come but this is context if you’d like. Feel free to ask questions, I’m rotating these fellas in my head

#Here are tags for navigating my blog-> #cotl art #narilamb #remediesdnd #That ones for my party.

[meanbossart]

its funny looking between his former fixation (orin) and current one (astarion) and noticing he has a very obvious 'type'. what made him so taken with orin, though? what did he like about her? did he not have any initial misgivings? was he ever concerned she might turn on him?

B)c Please know how happy it made me to finally have someone spell this out lmao. It's absolutely true, at least within the dynamic that DU drow shared with each of them; there are a lot of parallels to be found between Orin and Astarion.

The tough part of this question however, is that I have a very difficult time pinning Orin down. She's easily the most elusive character out of the Chosen, and while I understand this Is likely a consequence of being underwritten, I also see a certain charm in a character who's lack of development is part of their tragedy - whose story is very much about not being allowed much individuality of their own, and having no resolution. I think this is a space worth playing in.

I couldn't tell you what the hell Orin likes, what she was like besides blood-thirsty and deranged. I can barely fathom her sitting down to have a conversation with someone. Think about it - she was raised from childhood in the Bhaal temple, both her parent's were faithful servants and she was essentially groomed from birth to be either Bhaal's Chosen, the Dark Urge's consort, or a sacrificial lamb. Nobody had ANYTHING to gain from allowing her to develop any humanity.

Of course, this doesn't mean she doesn't have any, deep inside. We see glimpses of it in fairly difficult-to-get dialogue regarding her origins during act 3. My very vague take on Orin is that she was a determined and persistent person who learned to make her circumstances work for her as best as she could, who had a strong sense of her boundaries but a horrifically difficult time differentiating between negative emotions - this is why I personally don't even know whether she """"led DU drow on""" our of malice or self-preservation. Perhaps she didn't know either - I think whenever Orin felt sadness, discomfort, anger or even happiness or love, she found a way to turn it into bloodlust and sadism, every time.

And it's in part this elusiveness that would have attracted DU drow. What did Astarion have to do to get DU drow to pursue him? He had to feign disinterest, he had to pull away - the fact that Orin never allowed DU drow to get close enough to truly know her plays a significant part in how unhealthy his attachment for her became.

That said, this was a long game - he did become infatuated pretty much from the moment he saw her when they were both teenagers. This is a much simpler concept to understand - he was profoundly emotionally inept and neglected, and she was probably the prettiest thing he ever laid eyes on, not to mention the only other person in the temple close to him in age.

Truth is, they did have a lot in common on the very basis of having been so thoroughly stripped of their humanities, but It was a closeness born entirely from circumstance - the implied vulnerability in the type of life they shared together, even if they never spoke about feelings or shared what normal people would qualify as a "sweet" moment. They didn't really use their words, and when they did, they were like daggers - twisted murder sibling banter.

But when they had to work together it was very different. They played off each each other like match and friction, like two fitted cogs turning a wheel. There must have been nothing that swelled DU drow's heart more than when they killed together, perhaps even more than when Orin hurt him. He loved seeing her in her element and yearned for nothing more but to be let into the joy she found in it.

He Never had any misgivings. He always thought she would come around (to him) eventually. He was completely and entirely blind to how much her resentment towards him grew throughout the years, how he lost a sister through wanting a lover.

#ask #du drow lore #orin the red #bg3 spoilers #durge/orin

[historiaxvanserra]

Ruin

Pairing: Azriel x reader

Summary: Velaris is beautiful but under all the pomp and ceremony it is a den of hedonistic desire. Since you arrived you have tried to hide from that desire. But tonight, Azriel just might be your ruin.

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: drinking, dirty talk, teasing, unprotected sex, pinv, public sex, rough sex, slight blood kink if you squint and I think that's it.

This is the first part of a 2 part fic but they can be read separately. Part I here.

The room is ablaze with electricity. It’s humming and pulsing and coming alive with the movements of the patrons. It’s palpable. The air is thick and sweet, tainted with something darker. The marble floor is awash with dancing bodies and you find yourself entranced in the sway of the waltzing sea, the people pressed against one another twisting and contorting, like columns of technicolour seafoam. Your body moves in similar a similar fluid motion as the current sweeps you up. For a few moments, you allow yourself to get lost in the primal give and take of the dancing tide and the sound of hypnotic music is enough to calm your jittering nerves. 

The lavish reception at Rita’s seems exhume decadence. The glittering chandeliers cast the room in an amethyst glow and as you wade through the crowds the eyes of males and females alike seem to stand in silent judgment, lingering over the curve of your hips and unusually low neck line. In makes you feel exposed. As though you are a sacrificial lamb and they hungry wolves baying for blood. 

The world of The Night Court is a world away from your home; a colourful oasis into which you had been welcomed with open arms.  But, under all the grandiose and ceremony of Court life, Valeris was a den of iniquity. One you felt compelled to avoid lest you surrender yourself to your most base desires. Tonight, though you had acquiesced to Mor’s pleading and Cassian’s knowing glances and agreed to be initiated into the seedy underbelly of Velaris’ nightlife. 

Or as Cassian so eloquently put it to Nesta, We need to get her laid.

In reality, you don’t think that their goal is to get you laid at all. Only to tear down the walls you had built so tall that no one could seem to climb. It’s touching really that your friends want you to feel comfortable enough around them that no want is too taboo to confide in them but growing up where you had untamed desire is a dangerous vice and lust a short-lived fire that threatened to burn those walls to ash. 

The mirrors are hung in a long line along the back wall of the club, their reflections felt like a taunt. Like holding up a mirror to your own perverse desires. 

Looking at your own reflection you hardly recognised yourself; the chandeliers shadowed light becoming entangled in the siken tresses of hair that is usually tightly braided, now falls freely, and the dress that Mor had selected melts into the curves and contours of your body in a way that leaves little to the imagination. This woman before you is not the lamb she is the wolf. 

In your inebriated state, you press your empty glass flush against your chest, the cool glass drawing the fire to the surface of your skin, as you observe the main room from your spot in the corner. By now, the rest of the Inner Circle has trailed one by one into the private lounge next door looking for a reprieve from the glare of neon light and the rhythm of the music. The alcohol had done its job in setting your throat ablaze and the fae wine pressed its burning kisses against your skin, staining your cheeks with a gentle blush.

It’s then that your eyes find Azriel. He’s standing against the bar with a Female whose face is concealed from view, she’s lithe and willowy and you try to fight the feeling of jealousy that burns through you then. Try not to think about him taking her hips in his beautiful hands as she thrusts lucidly in his firm grip. Or what her garish cobalt dress will look like on his bedroom floor. 

You’d been a goner from the moment you arrived in Valeris with Feyre and Lucien. For months you have hidden away from him. Played the meek and studious exile all the while longing from afar for a man who you think you could love if only he’d let you.

Tonight though, you feel as though your inhibitions had been utterly compromised. Perhaps its the alcohol running hot in your veins or the way he looks at her under his darkening amber gaze but it’s a deadly combination of wanton desire and weeks of  unspoken longing and the threat of ruination lingers on your mind. 

Azriel is handsome in the way an angel might be; lust incarnate and devastatingly beautiful, with an almost sordid quality to him, that hinted at unspoken sacrilege. He looks at home here, in the thick of it, soaked in the neon glow, his signature sly smirk ghosting his lips. In these indulgent moments, you think that he is the only thing in this room worth looking at. In the cool light, he looks almost ethereal. His onyx hair is tousled purposely, the longer strands of hair curling away from his face and his eyes look like molten gold in the shadowed light. He has since shed his outer tunic and was left in a white undershirt, his sleeves pushed up to his elbows and in the summer heat, it clings to him like a second skin. 

It’s hard not to think about him like this; he’s sex personified. He’s built like some great Adonis with a face that could launch a thousand ships. But he’s not just beautiful. That’s the complicated part. He’s more than meets the eye; he’s dark and brooding, with a kind heart and sad eyes. He makes you want to sink to your kness and pray to him in reverence until he sees in himself what you see in him. 

You find yourself turning over Rhys’ words in your head. Azriel has a great many lovers. He’s just better at hiding it than the rest of us.

Okay, so maybe he isn’t that lonely but none of them ever last that long. Of that you are certain. 

It’s Cassian’s laughter that rouses you from thought as Mor motions for you to follow her into the next room. You trail behind her somewhat reluctantly as she takes your hand in her own. You venture deeper into the masses of bodies as Mor tightens her hold on you. 

You cast your eyes over to Azriel once more only this time he is looking back. From here he is only an arm's length away as he shouts over the music. Only it’s futile and  his shouts fall on deaf ears. Instead, you gesture to him that Mor is here. You point at the entrance to the private room and he seems to nod in acknowledgement before holding up a finger to you. Only before he can finish signalling to you, Mor’s gentle tug on your arm sees you gone from him once again.

Having reached the other end of the bar you and Mor separate before venturing further into the private area of the club. 

“There you are,” Rhys says, opening his arms to you and drawing you into a friendly hug, “we wondered where you might have gotten to.”

The private room of Rita’s is reserved just for the Inner Circle only. It’s smaller than the main room but more inviting. The chandelier casts the room in a honeyed glow and the walls are hung with rich oil paintings and portraits rather than the mirrors and cold, neon light of the main bar. It’s quiet and cool and the frosted glass doors offer some privacy from the club beyond. 

You shift uncomfortably as the group looks at you expectantly for an explanation for your absence but you offer none. Your throat seizes and the familiar heat of embarrassment pools in your stomach. 

“Never mind,” Nesta says reassuringly as she pats the empty seat next to her, “you’re here now.”. 

Cassian casts you a sidelong glance before opening his mouth to speak. 

“We’re going to play a game,” he says, the devilment clear in his voice, “do you want to join us or just stare at Az all night?”. 

“Sure, I’ll play,” you say opting to repress the thought of Azriel from your mind lest you look like even more of a lovestruck fool. 

The booth in the middle of the room is a large, crescent moon shape, the seats are upholstered with emerald green leather and the table is a complimentary black. The table itself is high and round and set with enough drink to supply an army. Rhysand and Feyre are seated in the middle of the booth, his arm draped over her shoulder in a lazy show of affection and they share one cup of wine. Cassian and Nesta are sat to the side of Feyre and Mor, Amren and Emery pile into the opposite side next to Rhys. 

You pay them little mind as you slide into the spot next to Nesta, who presses herself closer to Cassian as the group settles in.

“Right, the game is Truth or drink,” Cassian announces happily, the perverse implication clear from the look in his eye, “Mor you can start.”

Just as Mor begins to open her mouth to speak she is interrupted by the double doors swinging open unceremoniously. In the doorway Azriel leans languidly, he’s covered in a thin veil of sweat and he has forgone the first three buttons of his shirt, exposing the taut muscle beneath.

“I brought a guest,” he says in his cool tenor as the beautiful Female from earlier strolls in, with an air of confidence, verging on arrogance that irks you to no end. 

You avert your eyes feigning ignorance until his commanding shadow looms ominously over you. When you crane your neck to look at him he’s already staring intently at you, his eyes meeting yours; soft ochre and flecks of molten gold. The booth strains under his hulking mass as he slides in beside you. You’re nearing delirium when his sculpted thigh presses against yours and the beautiful Female takes her place perched on his knee. 

You cast him a sidelong glance and you swear he’s smirking at you. He brings his cup to his lips, drinking deeply before speaking to the group. 

“Shall we play?” his voice is dark and laced with menace. 

Mor clears her throat before turning to Nesta and asking her first question which Nesta answers with ease. 

The group has been passing their questions back and forth along the row and at some point you let the inebriation take hold. Letting go of your inhibitions has you confessing to playing truant to practise with Cass, cheating at game nights and having your own small collection of dirty books stashed away in the library, much to the amusement of the group. 

 ‘Not so innocent now, eh?’ says Mor over a glass of wine. 

‘And to think!” exclaims Rhys, cluthicng at imaginary pearls, “I thought you were the good one”.

‘Dirty girl’.

At your side Azriel stiffens against you, his calloused hand sinking beneath the table, his fingers accidentally ghosting the exposed skin of your thigh. You try to catch his attention and in silent protests but he is not looking at you, his eyes are trained dead in front of him as Rhys asks the question.

“Come on then Az,” he starts with a jovial chuckle, “Have you ever had a sex dream about one of us?”.

“I have.” Azriel admits, his voice is loaded with indecency. 

Mor sends you a smirk as she points to you and one by one, seven sets of eyes turn on you as you drink.

Azriel still will not look at you. 

“Truth or drink,” Mor starts, “Have you ever imagined anyone in this room when reading your one of your books?”.

You swallow hard then. Mor isn’t playing fair at all. You had confided in her your most shameful thoughts and now she was trying to play matchmaker while the object of your desire sat at your side with another woman in his lap. 

The eyes of the group linger on you expectantly. You know their game and you don’t care to play it tonight. 

“Um I-i,” you start, your voice wavers with uncertainty. You drink deep again and hang your head low in lieu of confession. 

As the game continues your mind begins to wander and you abandon yourself to the thought of Azriel. His hands were deliberate and rough against your thigh. His chest and how its all taut muscle and raw power. His low growl as he sinks into you for the first time.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, hm?” the whisper comes low in your ear, his voice is laden with transgressive desire.

Your eyes seek out Mor’s in the small room but she seems all too interested in the game that they are playing now. Instead, you will play him at his own game. Your eyes are trained forward and Azriel turns back.

“Tell me, darling,” he implores you, “who is it you think of?” his voice is measured as he slides his big palm to your thigh.

“All those late nights in the library,” his breath is hot and accusatory against your neck and he sinks hisa calloused finger along the soft flesh of your thigh, “I wonder.”

He lets the implication hang in the air unanswered as the female on his knee draws his attention back to her. She’s fussing with her dress and saying she wants to dance. The commotion draws the attention of the Inner Circle and it’s then you catch Mor’s eye. You must look thoroughly frustrated as she raises her eyebrows at you in question. All it takes is a glance in Azriel’s direction and Mor seems to grasp the situation. She slips from her place between Amren and Emery and begins to move in time with the faint hum of the music next door. Her body is beautiful, graceful and tempered as she turns to the stranger hanging off Azriel’s arm and holds out her hand to her. 

“Dance with me, sweetheart.” it’s not an invitation but a command to which the woman obliges happily. You send Mor an apologetic smile as she backs out into the darkness of the club next door. 

As the door closes on Mor the group quickly resumes their previous conversations and once again you stare ahead at the paintings hung on the wall, trying your hardest not to look Azriel in his eyes lest he see the truth. That he will be your ruination. 

“Is it Cassian perhaps?” he asks, eyeing his friend as he laughs loudly at something Rhys is saying. 

Looking at him through half-lidded eyes you shake your head and attempt to put distance between your body and his. He only laughs to himself leaning in closer. 

“Mor?” he presses, inclining his head to the door, “Rhys even?” he continues. 

“Amren?”, there’s amusement in his tone.

 “No?” His hand resumes his assault on your thigh daring to climb higher and higher with every heaving breath you take. He buries his head in the crook of your neck breathing in your scent like it's a lifeline. 

“Feyre? Nesta?” you’re silent, as his finger finally reaches the apex of your thigh under the material of your dress. 

You look at him now. His eyes are like wildfire and his pupils are blown wide; he looks like a fallen angel. Divine and annihilating. And there, in the sulk of his bottom lip, you are reminded of the pull of your body to his. It’s instinctual. A need. 

 “Then that just leaves…” you cut him off before he can finish. 

You stand abruptly drawing the attention of your friends who all look between you and Azriel confusion written on their faces as you push past him and slip out of the booth and into the night. 

It’s witching hour and the club is saturated in hues of inky blue and indigo. The floor is awash with dancing bodies. The atmosphere is oppressive and the smell of lust lingers in the air. It’s savage and indulgent. You brace yourself against the wall, pressing your forehead against the cool surface of the mirror, looking at yourself through dark lashes; shame and arousal still hot in your veins. Your breathing is deep and slow, your cheeks are flushed and your hair falls in haphazard waves around your shoulders. You are no wolf, little girl. 

You feel his presence before you see him. He cuts an intimidating figure in this light. He’s tall and hardened by rejection and white-hot fury burns through him. He meets your eyes in the mirror; they’re glinting and profane against the black. He stalks towards you with a resolute coolness entirely his own. His approach is unchrateristically lax. Feigning surrender. It’s a trap. This you know; one you will let yourself fall into. 

He’s a wolf and you are a lamb being led to the slaughter. 

He reaches out a sculpted arm to cage you between the mirrored wall and his rippling frame. He smiles then as he slides in behind you. He’s all potent power and brute strength that encircles you completely. Shrouding you from view. 

His head sinks into the junction between your neck and collarbone and drags his teeth along the skin there. A threat. A promise. 

The neon lights colour you in shades of pink and blue and over the blaring music the sounds of drunken whispers are a savage rhapsody in the stilted air. In the reflections the bar is littered with glasses and bottled of wine and at the far edge of the room you can see Mor and the girl that Azriel has long forgotten dancing by the bar. 

Suddenly, his hips thrust sharply into your ass and you have to brace yourself against the mirror as you’re pressed flush against the wall. Your shock comes out in a sharp inhale. Azriel chuckles darkly at that. 

His hand gently brushes the hair out of your face, gathering it in his fist before tugging at it gently. Turning in his bruising grip you look up at him like you look at the sun. Reverence and agony. 

He takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger and forces your gaze forward.

Arousal pools between your thighs and you press them together desperate for some semblance of release. 

“No, darling,” he says, “I want you to watch.” he elaborates tapping the mirror with two sturdy fingers for emphasis. 

You make eye contact with him in the reflection. Your gaze is unyielding and defiant as he comes to whisper in your ear again. 

“Do you think you can do that for me pretty girl?” your consent is all her needs. You can’t utter a single word but a look passes between you that says what words cannot. 

Please. 

“Fuck” he says, “I can smell you from here.” 

The thought sends rippling waves of pleasure right to your core, the friction of your thighs doing nothing to quell the dull ache for him. 

Despite the layers between you, you can feel the hard length of his cock pressing against your ass as he roughly thrusts against you. You angle your hips away from him as he pushes you against the wall a second time, the cold railing digging painfully into your hips. 

Azriel frees you from his grip, taking his free hand to tear his member from his leather breeches. The sound breaks through the haze of lust and suddenly you are painfully aware of the people around you. Although, no one has cared to notice any of the depravity that has passed between the two of you. If they have they haven’t said as much. 

“Azriel-I” you stop yourself as he looks at you, taking his hardened length in his hand and stroking the head, coating it in the first beads of sticky pre-cum.

 Azriel hisses sharply, throwing his head back in unbridled pleasure before taking you in his rough embrace again, searching your eyes for a hint of protest and when he finds none he uses one arm to spin your around so that your cheek is pushed up against the mirror held in place by the pressure of his fingers tangled in roots of your hair.

He hurriedly gathers the swathes of fabric that separate you and in one swift movement presses his naked hips flush to yours. You feel his cock like cool marble against the bare skin of your ass. He lets the material of your dress fall freely now, covering your sin. He uses the same hand to snake under your dress, his hands pressing odes into your thighs as he had before under the table. Only now his hand doesn't stop only climbing higher and higher until-

“Fuck Azriel,” the gasp tears through you as he reaches your pubic bone before sinking lower, spreading your folds, gathering your wetness and drawing it up again to rub slow circles into your most sensitive parts. His circling is deliberate and poised, his fingers knowing what you body craved almost instinctively. It sends electricity through your body, enough to bring you to your knees if not for Azriel holding you upright. 

The ghost of a smile graces his perfect face and he presses a kiss to your pulse point. 

“I need you to be quiet, y/n,” he sighs into your shoulder as he peppers kisses along the exposed planes of skin, leaving a trail of angry red marks in his wake. 

“Can you do that for me?”, he asks, raising an eyebrow in question through the mirror. But it’s not a question. It’s a dare. 

You take another look at yourself in the mirror; you’re pressed against it, your eyes veiled with this a desperate ache. It’s almost tangible. It’s intoxicating and all consuming and any notion of shame or self-respect had been abandoned the minute you laid eyes on him tonight. 

You could be quiet. 

Your vow of silence is all he needs to continue.

He continues down to the curve of your shoulder as his mouth roams freely now. His teeth on your neck feel like divine absolution. Or maybe damnation. All the while the scarred pad of his thumb presses deft circles between your thighs, the contours and ridges of scarred skin providing all the necessary friction to send you into delirium as your orgasm rages like a tempest through your body. His name, one fierce on your tongue comes out broken. You whisper it. Like prayer. Azriel. 

“I thought I told you to be quiet.” he reprimands, it comes out in an almost broken pant pressed against the clammy skin of your shoulder. 

“If you are,” he offers, “I’ll let you come on my cock.” his voice is different now; no longer the cool, low tenor he wears so well. It’s filled with the dark promise. 

That this will be your undoing. Your ruin. 

His movement is hypnotic as he takes your delicate throat in his hand, his fingers nipping cruelly at your jaw and the flesh of your cheeks so that your mouth opens for him. You moan gospel around his fingers as your eyes meet in the reflection. 

So you will let him ruin you. 

He touches you with urgency now as he gathers the shroud of fabric about your waist, letting the cool air fan the tops of your bare thighs. He uses your hip as leverage, angling your body away from his granting him access so that his long fingers trace a agonising line down the seam of your aching cunt. 

His length is hard and punishing against your tightness as he sinks into you for the first time tonight. Azriel burns. It’s blasphemy but the thick tip of him fills you in a way that, when he is gone from you, you feel hollow. 

He growls in your ear as he is sheathed to the hilt, your walls a velvet vice that flutters around him so beautifully and he swears no one could have foretold that bliss could feel so profane. His hazel eyes blaze golden as he sucks at the skin of your throat. His kiss is vehement, devout, fervent. His relection watches yours and you swear that when his eyes meet yours at the same moment his teeth draw blood from you, you see a God looking back at you. The bite is ravenous and your blood pools like rubies in the valley of your breasts. He moans into your neck, your blood staining his lips and you know there is beauty in the bite. 

Then he starts to move and oh Gods!  

He fucks like a seraphim. All pleasure and pain; brought together in perfect unison, melting into one another as he begins to seek his redemption in the flutter of your walls around his cock. Scarred hands kiss hymns up your sides. He sanctifies your body. Worships you in the way a devil worships sin. It’s hedonistic and pleasure-seeking. Greedy and his. 

“That’s it, pretty girl,” he whispers it like a vow into your skin, bringing a hand to flex around your throat before dropping it again, “so good for me.”

You feel the pad of his thumb pressing sharply into your folds, drawing moisture upwards from where his cock threstens to split you in two. His circles on your clit align with the punishing pace that he is fucking you; it’s savage and feral. 

“Look at me when you cum on my cock.” he commands. 

You crane your neck to look at his face. Devastating and elegant. But he only laughs cruelly, twisting your back towards the mirror. Your mouth forms a perfect ‘O’ as his reflection meets your gaze. 

So you watch him. He’s surrounded by shadow and framed by the neon light of the club; his hair falls in raven tresses, the longer stands, becoming damp and curling away from him, his jaw is set like perfect marble and he stands tall and statuesque behind you. He bares his teeth to you, nipping at your ear as he resumes his assault on your clit. 

Through the reflection, you can still see the dancing sea as it rages into a tempest as if goading you to reach your peak before the wave breaks against the shore. The liquor runs hot in your veins and your gaze hardens on the woman at the bar and her vulgar cobalt dress. 

Azriels breath in your ear comes in sharp rasps that cut through the haze of jealousy as he buries himself in you again. 

“Takin’ my cock so well.”

“Azriel I-” The words dissolve like sugar on your tongue as his wild eyes bore into yours. 

“You need to come, baby?” he coos in your ear. It’s perverse the way it sounds on his lips. 

You nod in his direction, it's desperate and any altruistic desire you may have had is long gone. You’re drunk on his touch and chasing your release above all else. So you surrender yourself to him completely. 

“Then come for me.” 

“Want to feel you come on my cock, darling” It’s all the permission you need. 

Coming undone around him is a fall from grace. It’s desperate; all teeth and tongue as he presses his lips to your bare shoulder blade with an ardour akin to worship. In those moments where your world melts away like some psychedelic fever dream you are reminded of the fervid desire that holds you both in thrall as he fucks you through the waves of your orgasm as it comes crashing down around you. 

Muscles spasm and contract and Azriel refuses to yield to the orgasm that tears through you, setting synapses on fire and leaving wildfire in its wake. You brace yourself against the mirror once more to stop your legs from giving way. He takes you firm in his arms, one hand kneading the skin of your hips roughly and the other holding you by the throat as his orgasm begins to take root. 

The world frays at its edges as he buries himself so deep in you that you feel the thread that runs from his body to yours go taut. It snaps into place as the hot ropes of his come spill into your tightness. 

In the quiet moments that follow he says your name; whispers it. Recites it like poetry. You cast your eyes onto his reflection. He’s looking at you now and there, through dark, romantic eyes you relish in a heaven that only exists when he is looking at you. 

You’re not sure how long you stay this way, wrapped around his softening length, as fingers rub delicate circles into the swell of your hips and his lips leave almost kisses running from your ear to the tip of your shoulder. 

And then he is gone from you, pulling out of you with a pained growl, as he lets the material that once separated you fall back into place. He smooths the fabric of your dress, his hand firm and calculating as it grazes over the sensitive skin of your hips and ass. 

The remnants of your shared orgasm pools between slicked thighs as Azriel comes behind you again, taking you by the shoulders so that you are facing him now. 

His smile is easy now and his voice is filled with his usual careful tenor he twists a loose curl in his finger before brushing it from your face as he starts to speak. 

“Let's get you home now, darling”

He takes your hand in his and places the other on the small of your back as he guides you through the winding crowds and out into the cool night air. 

Velaris at night is beautiful; it's alive. The stars are hung in the sky with care, each a brilliant white that glints against the canopy of twilight and pearlescent cloud and the moon is ghostly and annihilating. From here you can see the House of Wind as it stands monumental on the distant horizon. You could get used to this.

The stirring of the body next to you draws your attention back to Azriel. He’s looking at you again. Like he wants to ruin you. Like he wants to love you.

So you will permit to him put his lips upon yours once again, and let him learn to hold your throat in one hand and your heart in the other. 

You know then that he has ruined you. 

#acotar #acotar smut #acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel x female!reader #azriel headcanons #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel smut #azriel acotar #a court of silver flames #a court of wings and ruin #a court of mist and fury #a court of thorns and roses

[izvmimi]

“Have you ever thought of becoming a teacher?” 

Clack goes the knife loudly as it hits the cutting board, and in the subsequent quiet, the sound seems to elevate the importance of the question. And now when you really think about it, maybe it is more of a serious question than you had initially considered.

Yuuji hasn’t yet answered. You put down your knife, and turn, wondering if he’s even in the room with you still. He isn’t, and you resolve to not ask again, but in a second, he reappears again in the kitchen doorway, this time with another paper bag full of groceries which he sets on the counter.

“Oh, did we forget those?” You pivot. You’d gotten so excited with the prospect of making sure dinner was ready in time for your friends to come over that you’d started preparing the side dishes immediately, the produce quickly washed and thrown onto a cooking surface.

“Yeah,” he says. His voice has softened, and you can tell he’s thinking. He draws closer to you to get to the sink, washes his hands, then smiles to himself for a moment. For a reason you don’t understand (well, really you do), your heart flutters as he softly huffs through his nose before turning off the faucet.

“You know, I really did not plan to live this long,” he says finally, his hands drying on a towel. You take that in, and he moves to stand beside you, grabbing the knife gently out of your hands.

“I’m not done yet,” you whine.

“Let me take over,” he says back, mirroring your voice in a singsongy tune. You acquiesce, but lean back, wondering if he’ll say more. There are things to put away, and you move to do so, watching his back carefully as he works. You’ve watched him for so many years now, since you first met, but as clear as he speaks his mind, and as pure his intentions are, you always worry about his heart. 

Sometimes when things are too obvious, they become suspicious, and you feel like it’s always been this with Yuuji. The fact that he liked you so earnestly since high school gave you pause, that he’s always been there for you made you fear abandonment. Right now you wish he would offer you anything more than the truth, which is that he really wasn’t meant to escape his fate as a sacrificial lamb.

“I could,” he muses. He turns, and his smile is brighter than the sun. “Do you think I could be like Gojo-sensei… or Nanamin?” 

It’s such a simple question, childlike and innocent. Not something you’d expect for someone who has lived horrors, has been a horror himself.

“Probably better than Gojo. Catching up to Nanami might take some work,” you joke. His eyes crinkle. You put away the last few things in the pantry and wrap your arms around his waist, resting your head on the space between his shoulder blades.

“There are a million other things you could do, you know, if you really haven’t thought about it,” you offer.

He sighs but it’s light, and you waddle with him, still holding on tightly as he moves through the kitchen to the fridge to grab himself a soft drink. He opens it and offers you the first sip, twisting in your loosened hold to face you properly; you shake your head no and he takes a sip before responding. He’s leaning against the counter now, and you look up at him tentatively. He basks in your interest, making an exaggerated contemplative gesture.

“Being your boyfriend isn’t enough, huh?” He teases.

You roll your eyes.

“Please.”

“Mmmm…” he leans in, eyes sparkling. “How about househusband?”

Your cheeks warm.

“Are you proposing to me, Yuuji?” You break away, taking a step back, your arms crossed as you quiet your flustered emotions.

He laughs and presses a kiss to your forehead. 

“Not yet.”

You blink, but he’s already returned to his task, and you find some other way to busy your hands before you ask another question for which answer you may not be prepared.

#yuuji x reader #yuji x reader #yuuji itadori x reader #itadori x reader #mimi's notes #daydreams: jjk

[sky-kiss]

Dying female tav with Raphael

“Ah, what’s this?” The devil folds his hands at the small of his back, walking a slow circle around his prey. The little creature is curled in on herself, both hands pressed over her belly. Blood trickles over her fingers. And oh, she’s so deliciously pale. “No lion, no mouse, but a sacrificial lamb.” 

She tries to laugh. There’s fluid collecting in her lungs, and it the sound is unpleasantly wet. “Good to see you too, devil. Going to ask me to bleat?”  

Raphael surveys the scene. So many dead. It’s an admirable showing, certainly, but the lives of bandits had less than no value. An aspiring hero, on the other hand? Room to negotiate. The cambion screws up his nose, kneeling in front of her. “I’d considered it. Though, I advise conserving what little energy you have left, pet.” 

“Noted.” Tav winces. “Is it too much to hope you’ll help me?” 

“Mm, it springs eternal.” The cambion taps his chin in consideration. “Unfortunately, I have a reputation to maintain. What would it look like? Raphael, playing favorites?” 

Something is charming in watching frustration play across her face. The devil can see her hold on life slipping away, her soul blackening around the edges. It's tied to her flesh so tenuously, the threads snapping one by one. Tav coughs. A worry trail of blood trickles from the right corner of her mouth. “I’m your favorite?” 

“But of course, lamb! And I do so want to help you,” he leans forward, lifting her hand from the wound. The flesh around her belly has begun to blacken, angry red lines licking outwards and stretching up towards her heart. Poison. An effective, if boring, solution to one’s adventurer problems. “We have only to discuss terms. I promise they shall be ever in your favor.” 

“What do you want?” 

“Oh, don’t be like that. No fun at all!” He rocks back on his heels. “The joy is in the process. The give and take…” 

“I’m bleeding out, devil.” 

“Simplified, then. For your benefit, pet.” Raphael smiles, shifting to kneel beside her. Close enough to hear her stuttering little breaths, feel the sickly feverish heat from the poison roiling through her veins. “I will play savior once more; in return, you will answer my call when and if the need should arise. A mutual exchange between friends.” 

Tav hisses, chewing her lower lip. So pale. Fading so fast, so mortal. “Give the devil a favor? Carte blanche?” 

“You are free to make your decision. But your time.” He touched her side. “Grows short.” 

She purses her lips, tipping her head back. And while he is fond of the little creature, in his way, he will not deny the innate pleasure in watching the dawning realization cross her face. There is a sweetness in that final moment: the trap swings shut. The only viable option is Raphael. 

“Save me then.” 

“Oh, my dear. I thought you’d never ask.” 

#bg3 raphael #raphael x tav #asks #my fic #to everyone who sent asks: thank you #i will work on them throughout the week!

[duskyashe]

NaNoWriMo Day #2

[masterlist] [part two] [part three] [part four]

Prompt found here

=============‹«⟨·•★•·⟩»›=============

The thing about being the half-ghost protector of a small Midwestern city whose rogues gallery consists of both the inhabitants of a parallel dimension intrinsically linked to the "living" one as well as goons from the government, is that you tend to get a bit lonely. There's never any representation for him or others like him among the well known heroes of the world, he's really got no one to model how he should fight his city's crime. Sure, Superman has a lot of powers that are similar to his own, but he's a beloved alien not a hated eldritch entity. And sure, Danny loves knowing there's other sentient life out there, but when the government is one of his rogues, it's kinda hard to look up to government approved heroes.

Though Captain Marvel was pretty cool, not gonna lie.

But his point was, as far as Danny knew, he was the only eldritch being/cryptid to have taken up heroics, ever, and that… that hurts sometimes, that he was the only one out of a rather large cast of possible "other" beings in the world to decide that protecting others was worth more than his own potential safety. He was both the frontrunner and the sacrificial lamb. If he succeeded in changing the narrative, in convincing humanity that supernatural beings and entities couldn't be defined by a few really well known bad nuts, then others would publicly fly his banner, but if he didn't, if he failed, then, well, no ectoplasmic skin off their metaphorical noses, y'know? It was isolating.

Danny honestly expected the rest of his existence would be defined by that loneliness, by being the only hero to be of a supernatural flavor others were actively terrified of. Until, that is, Sam and Tucker nearly broke his bedroom door down one Sunday morning, breathless and beaming, which was so out of character for Sam that Danny was kinda expecting his ghost sense to go off signaling she was being overshadowed. But no, she wasn't. She was genuinely excited about something, enough to act like the daughter her parents wished she was, not the down-to-earth goth beauty they actually had.

"Woah, guys, what's up?" Danny asked, sitting up from his sprawled out position on his bed. Tuck shut and locked his door while Sam pulled her phone out and showed it to him. He stared at the screen in shock for a few minutes as his friends got their breathing under control. "Is… is that… is that what I think it is?"

Sam nodded, grinning like a loon. "Tuck double checked everything. There's multiple cases with enough correlation between them, buried deep enough in the web, that for it all to be one big hoax or just a huge coincidence would be functionally impossible. This is real, Danny. You're not alone anymore." On her phone was a website, which looked like a newspaper of some sort, with a headline reading, "The Cryptid Known as Batman Strikes Again! Twoface Back in Arkham!" It was posted just last week. Danny took Sam's phone and looked through the open tabs. There were articles and blog posts and Reddit pages and YouTube channels dedicated to what seemed to be a whole clan of cryptids who made Gotham City their home. All of them praised the elusive clan. Thanked them for protecting them. For saving them.

Danny started tearing up. He couldn't help it. Here was proof that what he was doing wasn't all for nothing. It was possible to be a hero loved by those he protected while being a member of the supernatural, part-time though his membership may be.

It was at that point that fourteen year old Danny "Phantom" Fenton decided the entity called "Batman" was his hero, his idol, the being he looked up to most of all. His method of fighting crime was a tad too violent for Danny, but his style was perfect. He couldn't change who or what he was, not without some serious side effects, but if "Batman" and their clan could turn the public's favor to their side despite being so obviously not human, something even literal aliens didn't attempt to do, then screw it, Danny was going to do the same thing. He would embrace his ghostliness as Phantom, instead of trying to pretend he was still human in that form. Maybe that was his problem, anyway? Could others tell he was pretending to still be human as Phantom? It didn't really matter at the moment, but it would be interesting to test that going forward…

=============‹«⟨·•★•·⟩»›=============

In the end, a year and a half is all it took for everything to completely fall apart. Danny would say he was surprised, but honestly, he'd seen this coming as far back as that incident with Pariah Dark, which ended with him ascending the ghostly throne. The way Amity Park reacted to that whole ordeal was rather telling. Although a number of the younger crowd had started shifting their views of Phantom, too many of the adults still saw him as a threat and vilified him, even after he saved all of reality.

Living in Amity Park had quickly become too dangerous for him and his team—Sam, Tucker, and Jazz—, but while Jazz was fairly easily able to get custody of Danny and get the two of them away from the boiling cauldron of tension, Sam and Tucker didn't have that option. His core protested leaving members of his fright behind in such a hazardous situation, but with no idea how things would go down where Jazz and Danny were running to, they had to leave them for the time being. If everything went to plan, then Jazz would call the rest of their fright to them.

Thankfully, with him being the ghost king now, his ghostly rogues had cut back on their attacks on his haunt during the past year, instead scheduling time with Jazz to teach him more about ghost culture, as well as other supernatural beings and their cultures. Due to these lessons, Danny, Sam, and Tucker would often debate what kind of beings Batman's clan had and how many beings the clan contained instead of finishing their homework.

Batman was obviously an entity loosely tied to shadows that had ascended to minor divinity over the past few years, while Robin had to be some sort of fey being, considering their eternally youthful appearance. This theory was backed by Robin's ability to mimic the voices of seemingly anyone. Raven, the next oldest member of Batman's clan, had to be eldritch in origin, though it was interesting that they claimed a name so closely related to death and prophecy. Danny and his friends couldn't quite agree on what kind of eldritch being Raven was, just that they were one.

Condor was an interesting being to debate, as the name also had strong ties with death, as well as rebirth. Sam thought that meant Condor was a Phoenix that wanted to stay on theme with the rest of the clan, while Tuck thought Condor was some kind of zombie. Jazz was actually the one to propose Condor may have been a lich, which honestly kind of made sense. Condor was known to have looser morals than the others in the clan, which fit with the general idea of how liches come into being, especially if those they killed came back as undead servants like some rumors claimed.

Around the same time Condor showed up, whisperings of a being named Oracle started showing up within the forums Tuck had hacked. While there was no confirmed record of appearance for her, there were multiple accounts of the other members of the bat clan sending words of thanks to her, so she might have been the actual spirit of the Oracle of Delphi, which would be so cool.

Ibis was definitely some sort of trickster spirit, possibly even a kitsune. With their tendency to dance around an opponent until victory was assured and their tenuous grasp on the humanoid form, they couldn't really be anything else. Black Bat had to be another entity loosely tied to shadows, though they seemed more eldritch than Batman was. Starling could literally only be a banshee, what with her death shrieks every time she attacked. Weirdly enough, Signal seemed to already have a supernatural theory attached to them, said theory being that they were the bat signal given sentience and humanoid form, though Danny thought they might be more of a vengeful spirit.

There were likely others, those not as well known or even ever seen. There always were. For Danny's fright, that was Ellie, who was constantly on the move, especially now that she'd mastered teleportation and portal making. While most of his former ghostly rogues knew of Ellie, the only humans that knew of her were members of his fright and Valerie.

At the time, spitballing ideas about the members of the bat clan in Gotham was just all fun and games, a way to practice the knowledge they were learning in a more practical and entertaining way than just bookwork. Now, though, Danny couldn't be more grateful they had spent so much time on those debates, countless nights they stayed up late trawling through the deep web to stay up to date on the latest on Gotham's guardian deity and his clan. Because they had such solid guesses on what beings made up the bat clan, they'd be able to appeal for sanctuary in a more appropriate manner than if they had no clue at all.

As his and Jazz's bus drew closer to Gotham on the horizon, Danny anxiously checked that the duffle with their offerings was still secured. He hoped the bats liked their gifts; they had barely any concrete info on any of the more public members, let alone the lesser known ones. He wasn't sure what they'd do if Batman refused their appeal; with the schematics to rebuild the Fenton portal within easy access of the GIW, they couldn't risk hiding out in the Infinite Realms for fear of drawing Danny's subjects into a fruitless war.

Please, he prayed to Gotham's guardian deity, please don't turn us away. You're our last hope.

=============‹«⟨·•★•·⟩»›=============

As Bruce was getting ready for patrol that night, he felt the creeping rise of anticipation. Something was going to happen tonight, something extraordinary. He just wasn't sure if it was going to be a good thing or not. Like usual.

For the past year and a half, Bruce had noticed an odd trend. Whenever something big was going to happen, something that would affect the entirety of his city, he'd feel antsy all day, right up until whatever was going to happen happened. It certainly helped cut down on the number of times they'd been caught with their metaphorical pants around their knees, but not being able to tell if the nebulous something was going to be good or not was annoying. Though, to be fair, there weren't a lot of good things that had happened since he started noticing his new sense.

"Listen up," he sighed as he stalked over to the conference table in the cave. "Something's going to happen tonight, something big. As usual, that's all the information I have, so you know the drill; if you see anything unusual, call it in." Bruce looked over his brood of children, most of them adults in their own right by now. Goodness, the years have flown by fast. "Try to stick relatively close to each other tonight, please. I want to be able to watch each other's backs in case whatever it is manages to get the drop on us."

Dick nodded with a grin. "You got it, B," he said, slinging an arm over Damian's shoulder. "C'mon, baby bird, let's run through our stretches one last time before heading out, yeah?"

"Tt, it is Todd who needs those stretches most, was he not the one to strain his knee last week?"

"You listen here, you little—"

"He's not wrong, Jay. You sure you don't want my stretch routine? It'd do you wonders, y'know."

"You mean your torture routine, Replacement? How you can get your body into some of those shapes and still call it stretching, I'll never know—"

Bruce shook his head, a small smile playing at his lips. He wasn't quite sure when that change had happened, but he'd be forever grateful it had. It pained him when his sons fought each other.

A small hand came to rest on his shoulder, drawing him out of his thoughts. He glanced down at his daughter and smiled at her look of concern. "I'm alright," he reassured her, "just thinking."

Cass looked at him thoughtfully before nodding. "It will be alright. Tonight will be good. We will stay safe. You stay safe, too?"

Bruce was nodding before she finished speaking. "Of course. We should head out, any longer and Stephanie will try banshee striking the first shady person she sees," he said, an amused glint in his eye as Steph cried out in indignation from over by the batmobile.

An hour into patrol, and Bruce's anticipation skyrocketed. Whatever was happening tonight was happening soon. "Everyone, check-in."

"Raven here, checking in, all clear here." Dick.

"This is Condor, everything's normal on my end." Jason.

"Robin, checking in, nothing is out of place." Damian.

"Starling here! Just some run-of-the-mill muggers, currently crying for daddy!" Steph.

"Black Bat. Clear." Cass.

Where's—? "Ibis here. B, I think I found the source of your feeling. Sending Oracle my coordinates now." Tim.

"Understood. En route now. Do not engage without backup, understood?" Bruce demanded, taking off toward the beacon indicating Tim's location.

"I'll try, B, but I get the impression they know I'm here."

The anticipation rose again. Whoever Tim was watching definitely knew he was there. "We'll hurry."

=============‹«⟨·•★•·⟩»›=============

Tim clung to the gargoyle overlooking one of the many rooftop shrines to the Bats and the Birds. There, sitting cross-legged about a foot in the air next to the shrine, was a glowing teenaged boy with snow bright hair and Lazarus Pit green eyes. He was wearing a black and silver armored suit, similar to the suits he and his siblings wore, with a flowing cape that blended into the night hung from his shoulders and a greenish black crown floating just above his head. In his lap was a black, gray, and green duffle bag that looked to be rather full, and in his hand was a beat up looking photograph. He couldn't make out what it was a photo of from this angle, but he'd recognize a well-loved photograph anywhere.

"In position, IIbis, you may initiate contact." Bruce said over comms. Tim didn't bother acknowledging he heard and instead carefully unwound himself from his hiding place in the shadows. Carefully, he danced down the side of the building he was on, contorting himself into inhuman looking positions as he went, until he could silently drop onto the roof with the shrine. He slowly slunk forward, keeping low and accentuating his curiosity. That was the key, here, he really was curious about this kid. That was what sold IIbis as something other, something not human.

Tim was about five feet from the shrine when wide, glowing green eyes suddenly found his own, covered though they might be. Tim froze, holding the slightly exaggerated pose he'd found himself in, crouched and arched in a way that screamed wary curiosity. Cautiously, he rolled his head to the side and chirped slightly.

"You really do exist," the kid breathed in awe before he shook himself and straightened, grabbing the duffle from his lap before letting his feet meet the rooftop. "Hi, um, I was wondering if I could possibly meet with your clan leader, Batman?"

Tim stared at the kid for a long moment as Bruce silently made his way to the shadows of the shrine. At Bruce's signal, a soft tap on the comm, Tim shifted and rolled and contorted until he was standing in a much more human-like fashion, then purposefully turned only his head to look directly where Bruce's beacon said he was. The kid whipped his head around right as Bruce seemingly melted out of the shadows, his size and sheer presence seemingly dwarfing the kid, who sucked in a surprised breath but barely moved an inch. Impressive.

"Yes?" Bruce growled softly, not the unpleasant, gravelly growl reserved for criminals, but the warm, gentle rumble reserved for kids and victims.

The kid's awe only grew more pronounced, but somehow he still managed to pull himself together enough to speak. "H-hi, my name's Phantom, I'm not sure if you've heard of me or not. I'd like to ask for sanctuary for myself and my fright-mates. Our previous haunt has become rather hostile towards us, and I'm not strong enough to keep them safe. Um, I've got some gifts for you and your clan, I wasn't sure how large your clan was, so I'm sorry if I offend you or anything with the lack of gifts for everyone. M-may I pull them out?" He asked, lifting the duffle slightly to indicate what he meant.

Bruce was silent as he waited for the rest of the bats and birds to form a loose circle around Phantom, stances mostly non-threatening, and stepped forward into the glow coming from the kid. At this point, the kid's awe was nearly palpable, glancing at as many of them as he could but always facing Bruce and not moving more than his eyes.

After a further moment, Bruce tilted his head slightly and nodded, causing the kid to outright beam.

"Right! Well, first, for yourself, I have a set of ghost steel batarangs, enchanted to return to their case once they leave a hundred yard radius. They're tied specifically to the case, so you can lend them to someone else, but it's recommended you be the only one to use them for the first ten uses in live combat. Next, for Black Bat, a cloak made by the best undead tailors this side of eternity. Made from the shadows themselves, whoever wears it becomes functionally invisible in low light conditions and beyond. I was also told it grants slight shadow manipulation, as well. For Robin, a shape shifting sword from the fey realms themselves, fitting for a changeling child. All curses and tricks were totally removed, as we weren't certain you wouldn't share it with some of your clan mates, and we didn't want to accidently cause any problems that could have been averted—" Phantom kept going, pulling something from the bag, naming who it was for, and explaining a little about it, before putting it back in the bag and moving on. But what drew Tim's attention, time and time again, was the fact that Phantom seemed to be under the impression they were actually members of the supernatural—he all but called Tim a kitsune, and definitely implied Damian was a changeling! It was both amusing the kid honestly thought they were members of the supernatural, and rather concerning at the same time. They were all human, weren't they? They were method acting every time they suited up, heck, Tim was nothing more than a self trained contortionist that could mimic a few bird calls and knew a bit of self defense. Why did this kid, who was possibly an actual ghost, think they were supernaturally inclined? Were they really that good at method acting? Or was there something more to it than that?

=============‹«⟨·•★•·⟩»›=============

Hey, guys! I literally stayed up working on this until midnight, so already in pushing my self proclaimed boundaries (⁠；⁠^⁠ω⁠^⁠）I had so much help from my friends on the @batpham-discord-highlights discord server, I'll look into tagging everyone that helped in the morning when I'm not struggling to stay awake (⁠´⁠-⁠﹏⁠-⁠`⁠；⁠) I hope you enjoyed this long fic, guys, cuz I was NOT expecting to write 3,266 words today! Good night, good morning, good day!

#danny phantom #batman #dc x dp #dp x dc #dp au #dp crossover #fanfiction #danny fenton #crossover #fanfic #cryptid batfamily #they're method acting. but it's working #a little too much #Danny is ghost king #it doesn't really come into play much #but he is #Batman didn't help found the justice league #Batfam sticks to Gotham #Dick Grayson is called Raven #Jason Todd is called Condor #Tim Drake is called IIbis #Damian Wayne is Robin #Stephanie Brown is called Starling #Cassandra Cain is Black Bat #Duke Thomas is Signal #of course Bruce Wayne is Batman #nanowrimo 2022 #NaNoWriMo Day 2

[kachowder]

What if Larian created a secret “ending” for the game?

“The Sacrificial Lamb” in which if Tav has high enough approval with all their camp members, then they are able to perform the “heroic” act of self sacrifice to ensure their companions happiness.

None of the characters get a truly happy ending. This would free them of their burdens at the cost of their dearest companion.

Maybe with even an end scene of them all gathered around Tav memorial, to pay their respects. Possibly with some of the characters Tav had saved or helped too

Just a bit of a tragic take on “nothing is truly free” etc etc

AND IMAGINE AT THE VERY END YOU GET A “disapproval” RATING FROM ALL THE CHARACTERS

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 astarion #bg3 gale #bg3 karlach #bg3 tav

[figsandphiltatos]

look,,,, i think the bad kids are understandable for being as pissed as they are at kipperlilly copperkettle. but i'm on my 'it's all love now' bullshit so hear me out:

what the bad kids read about klck were files from therapy. Before she was coopted by literal deific rage, she was only talking about perceived unfairness and her jealousy of riz in therapy/counseling. that's literally where someone is supposed to work through their darkest, worst parts of themself. and she was only a kid.

i can relate to her, even. as a teen who had real bad mental health, i absolutely had moments where i coveted other people's trauma because i didn't feel that my life situation was bad enough to justify my mental illness being as unmanageable as it was. so i get it. i feel where klck is coming from. and again she wasn't preaching this on the street. she was sharing it, in confidence, with a counselor. she might have been bitching about it to her friends. but honestly? do i think that justifies hating her? nah not really.

and then, if theories so far are correct, jace stardiamond dug into her counseling files, invaded and violated her most personal, least flattering thoughts, and took advantage of them. fed her like a sacrificial lamb to a dead god of rage, used her and the god to twist each other into the worst versions of each other.

all i'm saying is: ankarna has been corrupted. through compassion and reuniting her with cassandra, maybe the bad kids can save her. kipperlilly has been corrupted. maybe through compassion and reuniting her with lucy, with her best friend and voice of reason, the bad kids can save her too.

#kipperlilly copperkettle #im actually loving her more and more the more we learn about her #like y'all please she's my poor little meow meow #yes she killed those people and tbh i think she's a more interesting character for it #like yes girl slit another sacrificial lamb's throat #continue the cycle of violence that's been enacted on you because you don't know any better #it's either this OR all of this was intentional on her part #and in that case she's a conniving bitch and i love that for her too what can i say #'Sandra lynn... messy.... i love her' but about klck #fhjy spoilers #fantasy high junior year #fhjy

[the-garbanzo-annex-jr]

BY ISHA BANERJEE AND APURVA CHAKRAVARTHY 

#EndJewHatred hosted a protest in support of Business School assistant professor Shai Davidai on Wednesday, calling on University President Minouche Shafik to resign for allegedly not doing enough to protect Jewish students.

The protest came hours after Shafik testified before the House Committee on Education and the Workforce in a hearing titled “Columbia in Crisis: Columbia University’s Response to Antisemitism.”

The protesters gathered at 5:30 p.m. at 116th Street and Broadway with Davidai and members of #EndJewHatred, a movement “centering on Jewish liberation from all forms of oppression and discrimination.” The protest drew over 200 Columbia and non-Columbia affiliates.

Davidai decided to host the protest with #EndJewHatred after it “became clear to us that the University is not going to allow us to organize a protest for the community,” he said in a speech at the protest.

He called for Shafik to “do the decent thing and step down” after repeatedly saying that Shafik had lied in her congressional testimony. He also stated that he would work with whomever came after Shafik to “make sure that the Jewish community, the Israeli community, and the non-Jewish community that believes that Hamas is bad will be safe.”

Gabi Schiller, one of the speakers at the protest, also condemned Shafik’s testimony, saying that she threw Davidai “under the bus.”

“Now we finally see the tip of the iceberg of this institutional rot of antisemitism thanks to these congressional hearings which Columbia President Shafik showed with absolute clarity that she is a moral failure to this institution,” Schiller said. “President Shafik, we will not allow Shai Davidai to be your sacrificial lamb.”

Photo by Judy Goldstein / Senior Staff Photographer

Protesters hold signs that read #EndJewHatred.

In regard to a recent petition to fire Davidai, which has garnered almost 9,000 signatures as of Thursday night, as well as other complaints posted on social media and sent to Columbia, Davidai said that he is not concerned for himself but rather for the Jewish and Israeli community. He emphasized that the protest was not about him but instead in support of the “Jewish fight” and “the decent American fight against terrorism.”

“Columbia thinks that it can take these complete lies, turn them into investigation, and silence me or fire me and then I go away. Like no, I don’t go away,” Davidai said. “You can fire me, but you can’t silence me.”

Davidai outlined the outcomes he hoped would result from the protest, implying the first to be the resignation of Shafik. He said he wants the Columbia chapters of Students for Justice in Palestine and Jewish Voice for Peace to be expelled and removed from campus. Davidai also stated that “all these indoctrinators,” referring to certain professors and faculty advisors, needed to be “sanctioned.”

Davidai ended his list of demands by saying that every organization that has signed on to Columbia University Apartheid Divest should have 24 hours to denounce CUAD, and if they do not, they should be disbanded and removed from campus.

#shai davidai #columbia university #endjewhatred #end jew hatred #marina shafir

[issa-pheonyx]

Yandere-sub!Plaga!Krauser&Leon X Fem!Agent!Reader🔪🌶️

𝗛𝗼𝘄 𝘂𝗻𝗳𝗼𝗿𝘁𝘂𝗻𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗶𝘁 𝗶𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗔𝘀𝗵𝗹𝗲𝘆…𝗻𝗼 𝘀𝗵𝗲 𝗶𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗱𝗲𝗮𝗱. 𝗦𝗵𝗲 𝗺𝗮𝗱𝗲 𝗶𝘁 𝘀𝗮𝗳𝗲𝗹𝘆, 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗱𝗶𝗱𝗻'𝘁. 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝘀𝗮𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗳𝗶𝗰𝗲𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗹𝗶𝗳𝗲. 𝗡𝗼𝘄 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗜𝗹𝗹𝘂𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗱𝗼𝘀 𝗵𝗮𝘀 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗵𝗼𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗲, 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗼𝗻𝗹𝘆 𝗱𝗶𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘀𝗮𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗳𝗶𝗰𝗲𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳, 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗹 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗮 𝗳𝗮𝗶𝗹𝘂𝗿𝗲, 𝗯𝗲𝗰𝗮𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗼𝗻𝗹𝘆 𝗞𝗿𝗮𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗿 𝘀𝘂𝗰𝗰𝘂𝗺𝗯 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗰𝘂𝗹𝘁 𝗟𝗲𝗼𝗻 𝗱𝗶𝗱 𝘁𝗼𝗼. 𝗬𝗲𝘁, 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗱𝗶𝗱 𝗮 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝘀𝘂𝗮𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗼 𝗸𝗲𝗲𝗽 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺𝘀𝗲𝗹𝘃𝗲𝘀~😈👀

▌│█║▌║▌║ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ ║▌║▌║█│▌

"GET IN THE HELICOPTER, ASHLEY!!!" You yelled as you grab her hand to guide her in. You grab the handle of the door only for Ashley to stop you,"NO, (Y/N)!! We both can make it!" Her eyes teary eyed and her bottom lip quivered. "Ashley, your safety matters to me. Go tell your dad that it's been fun." You forced a smile as your throat had the dry lump you attempted to swallow. Ashley had to be pulled away by one of the crew inside. "NO NO NO!!! STOP-" The door was closed and you crotch down to avoid not getting slashed by the rotor blades. "Alli esta!" The villagers pointed at you and you just put your hands up, going down on your knees. "I surrender." You said, the villagers look at each other as they were stunned by you throwing in the towel like that

They all nodded and went up to you as they grab your wrist, putting them behind your back, and tied them. They all surround you like a pack of dogs. You expected them to kill you at any given time. Instead they walked you back to the church. Saddler was there,"Ah, well if it isn't the special agent. You may have saved the president's daughter, but to be a sacrificial lamb yourself is enough for us to finish the ceremony." You scoffed and one of the villagers behind you kicks your back making you fall forward eating shit

You were then picked up again and slammed on the table, Saddler towers above you by your side. "May the sacrifice...begin!" Everyone cheers as a masked bloody man came with a huge ax. You didn't give in fear-no reaction. 'I completed my mission. That's all that matters.' You closed your eyes and thought about the times you actually had a normal convo with Ashely. Just something normal with another person other than dealing monsters and the governments bullshit. A tear stream down your temple,'I'm sorry, Ashley. It was the only way for you to be safe. Like a little sister I never had.'

Opening your eyes you see the ax already at a good distance to your head. Then an arrow was shot through his head. "Krauser!?" Saddler exclaimed glaring at him. You quickly roll back off the table as the ax pierces the table causing it to collapse into pieces. Your first instinct was to jump out the window and roll. Saddler looks out the window,"Get the girl!" He yelled and you just smirked thinking you were going to make it out of there. Only to have a tendril grab your ankle pulling you down to the ground and dragging you. "What the hell!?" You try to grab your knife that was by the other ankle, but you were now being held upside down. Eye to eye with none other than-

"Leon!?" His eyes were red and his body paler-dead like to say with veins revealing. "Hello, agent~" He said. "Y-You're losing it, Leon." You couldn't believe your eyes to see him infected. The plaga has already took control of him. "I'm still me, (Y/N). Always have." He gets close to your face only to stop when Saddler calls him out,"Mr. Kennedy, I would highly advise that you bring her back. She will be of no use for you or Krauser." Leon gives him a look and gently puts you down,"If you want to keep her then try to."

Leon grabs your hand signaling you to run. Saddler angrily yells his name, but you both ignored him. You followed whatever Leon was leading you, you can worry about fighting him off later. Eventually, you both stayed in an abandoned shed that was neglected or used for any other junk from the villagers. "Why are you doing this?" You asked him. He smiles,"Because I like you." Your eyebrow furrow as you slowly back up to bump into the table that was in the middle of the room. "If you're going to kill me just fucking put me out of my misery. I'm tired of all of this."

You move around the table still backing up as Leon just follows you around with a creepy smile on his face,"Why would I? After everything we've been through? You can't just back away from that." Your cheeks blushed and stop,"I-I don't know what you're talking about." He giggles and walks close to you, bodies inches away from each other,"I can show you~" He kneels down, keeping eye contact, uses one hand to grip your leg, and the other free hand caressing your hip,"Please, agent. Please...just tell me what to do." You gulped at the sight. It's been one hell of a mission you couldn't catch a break. This was so tempting~

The door slams open as you whip your head up thinking the worst of Saddler, but it was Krauser. "Leon, you got hell to pay!!" He marches in, slamming the door behind him, and stays in position. However, Leon has an irritated look on his face hearing Krauser. You budge Leon to move and he didn't. He's got the death grip. "Get out, Krauser!" Leon yelled and Krauser witnesses the sight, seeing Leon knelt down having his head nuzzled against your leg

You didn't know what to do. It was an awkward moment with them bickering back and forth. Acting like toddlers. "How about you get off of her first!" "Go find someone else, Krauser!" "She's mine, not yours. I'm taking her!" "I'm not letting you take her to Saddler." "Who said I wanted to!?" Wait...they're not going to take you to Saddler. Is there some kind of arrangement going on? "The fuck am I doing here then!? Just do what you both have to do. I'm tired of this shit!"

Seriously, though you were so done. They both look at you wide eyed from your scary yell. That's when they both look at each other and then at you. The boys smirked and all of a sudden you were placed on the table. Confusion and concern triggered your fight or flight. Flight was the first on mind, but when you did Krauser had his arm locked under your pits,"Let me go!! LET ME GO-MMPH!?" Krauser grabbed your jaw to turn your head to kiss you. He was strong that for sure. Moving your legs wouldn't do shit since it was distinctly not hitting anyone. "(Y/N), it's okay. We don't want to hurt you." Leon said

After being able to pull away from that lil makeout session, you heavily breathed,"Hah, w-what-AH!!" Leon's tendrils coming from, assuming, his back went under your clothes making you squeal in disgust. It felt slimey and gross. Like slimey snakes slithering under your clothes roaming around. "You're scaring her, Leon." Krauser warned. "Shut up, I know what I'm doing." That's when your shirt lifts up, revealing your bra, pants and shoes removed. "H-Hey, what are you-NO!!" The tendrils rip your bra and underwear off easy revealing your bare chest and cunt. They boys look in awe judging from how quick Krauser was fondling your boobs making you gasp and Leon spreading the lips open down there

Krauser massages and firmly pinches your nipples, pulling them out as they bounce when the grip was loose from them,"Mmm~" The slimey shit from Leon's tendrils made your body glisten and easier for him to glide his hands on you. "Please, moan. I wanna know if I'm doing better than him." Krauser whispered in your ear and Leon glares at him and he kneels down. "L-Leon don't." You gasp when Krauser wraps his arms around your waist pulling you back, laying on top of him. He managed to pull down his pants as his cock was hard already, you sensed it behind your ass,"I'm not taking any chances. I'm going to make her cum first." Krauser said and he shuffles a bit now his dick was under you

It was...pretty big. Well, very appealing to say the least. Leon sees from down below as Krauser reaches for his hard on and rubs against your clit then down to the entrance, he bucks his hips making it push inside. "Ahh~" He starts thrusting into you making you moan and Krauser hum in pleasure. Your tits bounce from the impact of his pounding,"Oh fuck, Krauser! Ohhh~" Krauser start picking up the pace, but Leon's shadow towers both of you and he had his pants down revealing his dick leaking precum,"I'm going to make her feel good, Krauser." Krauser stops and laughs,"I don't think so comrade."

That's when you felt Leon's cock try to push his own inside of your pussy,"Wait, no!! Leon, he is big as it is. You can't fit-ooohh god!!~" He did it anyway. Leon and Krauser let out a moan feeling themselves stretching you more. "Holy shit!~" They said in unision. That's when they both start moving. Two big cocks inside of your cunt. The pleasure was amazing, but the pain of being stretched out was overwhelming. Tears stream down your temples as Krauser kisses your behind your neck,"Yes, yes, I'm doing much better right? Right, (Y/N), urgh fuck!"

Leon heavily pants as his hands was holding your legs open,"No, I am! Those are tears of joy for me, right, mmm god!~" The pain was going away now and all you felt was the wave of an orgasm coming,"Ahh, b-boys, please. Y-You're gonna, ah, make me cum. S-So hard!!" You pick your head up to look down seeing how they were both pounding you, this time more faster. It made your eyes roll back letting out a scream. Leon and Krauser both pull out cumming on top of your pussy, your juices splashing out. Krauser sits you up and he reaches down to finger your pussy and Leon rubs your clit fast side to side,"Cum for us. Cum for us, please!~"

Another wave of an orgasm hits you making you growl and your hips twitch, the squirts forcing itself out. They both reacted in a perverse manner like "Oh fuck yes" "Oh yeah, that felt good?" and now the three of you, taking a breather. Krauser has his arms wrapped around your waist holding you in place. Leon laying his head on your inner thigh caressing your other leg. "So, that is why, hah, you didn't kill me? I don't understand."

"We both agreed to take you in for Saddler, but we both secretly plotted your rescue. But, not until everyone is dead then we can go home." Leon explained causing you to be puzzled,"But, Leon you're infected. They will know." He looks up at you and smiles, his red eyes going back to blue and the veins disappearing-back to normal. "They won't." Krauser chuckles,"Same with me. Just more experienced than Leon, of course. In more ways than one~" Leon glares at Krauser and going back to his infected self again,"Alright then. Another round it is." "WHAT!?"

▌│█║▌║▌║ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ ║▌║▌║█│▌

𝗧𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗸𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴! 𝗜 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝘁. 𝗠𝘆 𝘂𝗽𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗲𝘀 𝗱𝗼 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗮 𝗳𝗮𝗶𝗿 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴. 𝗦𝗹𝗲𝗲𝗽 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗹~🖤🫣

#resident evil #leon s kennedy #yandere #yandere male #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon x reader #mdni #re2 #resident evil 2 #re4 #resident evil 4 #re4 leon #resident evil leon #major krauser #re4 remake krauser #krauser x reader #re4 krauser #resident evil krauser #jack krauser #re4make #re4 remake #re2 remake #re2make #krauser smut #leon smut #lemon #lime #smut

[httyddragonfox]

Lucifer's Banishment?

At the end of episode 1x05, Lucifer says he could get Charlie the meeting (which means he's still in contact with heaven), yet he says "I won't be able to go with you?"

This has me confused. Does he mean A) He is physically incapable of leaving hell, despite his power or B) He could go to Heaven, but if he did it would cause problems (like a war).

It could be the first one, but Heaven is afraid of a war between Heaven and Hell, wouldn't they be afraid of Lucifer being apart of it. He was very powerful and he has beef with them. Also, there's a chance he could go to earth, as in his song he mentions deals he's made in the past costing "a sacrificial lamb," or was that just his power he was lending out and he didn't actually go there?

Is he stuck in Hell, because he can make portals to teleport places? Or is it just "This is your punishment Lucifer, and if you break it worse things will happen."

They seem to respect Lucifer enough to still have contact with him and listen to what he has to say. He told them to spare the Hell-born in the exterminations (probably saying that because he lost faith in the souls that have sinned, felt he couldn't stop heaven anyway, and to protect his Hell-born daughter), and they listened to what he had to say and are respecting it. He still has some respect from heaven and maybe also because he's a powerful angel and they don't want to piss him off.

They could have done the moved up extermination in secret, but no, instead they have to tell Lucifer and whoever's in charge about it. So some respect, or some fear.

Adam sounds like he wants to ignore the pardon on Charlie's soul, but if they hurt her, Lucifer is going to be pissed. He probably wouldn't mind a war with heaven after that. Of course if he couldn't leave, it would mainly be the people of Hell fighting for him. If he could leave, Heaven would have to deal with the power of one of the most powerful seraphs against them.

(Speaking of, he's one of the most powerful angels, how'd they get him down there? Was it a group effort?)

It's just an interesting question? If he is stuck, that's just sad. If he's staying there for political reasons, he must really not want that war, showing he cares a bit about heaven and the sinners, but especially his family.

#hazbin hotel #lucifer #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer #charlie morningstar #Lucifer's banishment #angels #seraphim #heaven vs hell war

[kishibei]

CONSUME — SUGURU GETO X READER (≤1k)

KINKTOBER DAY 3: olfactophila, cunnilingus, teasing, edging, (very mild/implied) body worship, 18+.

you don't deserve it. and you almost feel guilty with the way he's taking his time with you.

he starts slowly, just barely dragging the tip of his nose along the length of your leg. you're aware he's smelling you, the long inhales are primal, like he's trying to take in every bit of you before he's ready to pounce. the distinctive scent of arousal is just dripping off you, it’s deep and ambrosial, like nothing he’s experienced before.

you know it's coming, the part where he advances and stakes his claim over you. it gets your heart jumping, and the once steady thrum of your chest grows irregular when he pauses at your core.

the tension of the moment is thick and palpable. everything about the scene has you holding your breath, the sight of him between your legs alone makes your head spin. your heart is in your throat and the sound of blood rushing to your ears is so loud that you almost don't hear what he's saying. past your heavy lids and through your lashes you can see his mouth moving, but the words he's spilling don't quite reach you yet.

it sounds something like, "still with me, doll?"

he practically purrs it out to you, and you notice he licks his lips before he says it. you dont think too much of it at first but the way he's stringing words like honey and silk, it's clear he does it just to tease you. and knowing that simple fact doesn't help to ground you at all.

geto doesn't quite care for a response to his question and you're aware he doesn't expect one either. he was the kind of predator who liked to dress himself in sheep's clothing, asking silly things knowing he didn't even listen past his own voice. he plays his role well and if you were dumb enough, you'd take his false concern for what it looked like. but you’d always known full well what the things he said meant, even when he didn't state them explicitly.

your boyfriend doesn't play fair, and he never really has. except he's been dragging this little game on for over an hour, and now his usual teasing is starting to border along the foul lines of torture.

the small breaths he offers your glimmering sex have you writhing, and he laughs mockingly. you couldn't run from him and even if you wanted to, he knows you wouldn't. his normally sturdy hands ghosting over the flesh of your hips were proof of that. he inches closer and closer, stopping just when the tip of his nose bumps against your clit.

geto thinks you're desperate, he knows you'll accept just any bit of contact, so he immediately looks up to catch your response. as expected, you’ve halfway lost your mind at the action. bucking your hips wildly, you wordlessly beg the man for a small amount of friction. and just like that, he pulls away.

“suguru...” you cry, trying to pull him closer.

the whine you offer is pathetic. and when the sobs reach your ears, it doesn't even sound like your own voice. its really a shame how much control the man has over you, just how unrecognizable you become once he's split your thighs and situated himself between them. your patience has worn thin and any bit of pride you'd once had has dissipated with it.

the only thing that exists is him. only him and the need to be his perfect sacrificial lamb. to be patient and dedicate your body to him, maybe just then he'd give you what you'd so desperately wanted. and as if he’s read your mind, geto’s on you.

it's the complete antithesis to his methods before. his lips latch onto your cunt, pressing sloppy wet kisses to it before he finds the sensitive bundle of nerves at the top. the way his tongue explores your folds borders along violence, and when you finally build up the courage to look down, you immediately tear you eyes off the sight.

geto is fully a mess when he meets your gaze. his face is dripping with your fluids, so much so that the hairs escaping his ponytail have stuck to the sides of his chin like they'd been glued there on purpose. heat creeps up your body and you shut your eyes hard. its only the vibrations his deep laugh offers that has you opening your lids again.

"c'mon, look at me," he teases, readjusting to grip your chin, pulling it down to focus on him. "don't tell me you're thinking of someone else?"

"i'm not..." you manage to sputter.

"so look at me, or i might have to stop..."

his empty threat snaps you back to reality and you give him an affirmative nod, lifting your hips back to his face to push him to continuing.

geto's stare is dark, and once he goes back down on you, he makes a big deal of collecting what dribbles down from your cunt to your other pulsating hole. he's obnoxiously loud, and he's doing so on purpose. even as you cry, moan, and whimper his name, the embarrassing squelch of your pussy always seems to be louder.

intense eye contact, the assault of his tongue on your sore clit, and finally the feeling of him slotting his fingers into your sopping hole push you over the edge. shaking and wildly bucking your hips, tears begin to cloud your vision. before you realize it, you're violently coming on geto's face.

"that's it," he mumbles between licks. picking up on your cues, he quickly replaces his fingers with his tongue, beyond willing to savor every drop of your release.

geto doesn't let go until you're panting and gripping his head, pulling him off your poor overstimulated pussy with an exaggerated pop.

you're sure you're spent, but your boyfriend's next line has you ready to get back at it again. wiping his chin with a smirk, he looks up at you.

"so when is it my turn?"

©2022 HIROUIMI do not repost, modify, dist. or translate.

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