demonwebs

[demonwebs]

go follow vhaal's arch nemesis mr pebbles... and his owner is cool too ig

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drow men give major "could a depressed person do this???" energy i will not be convinced otherwise

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just a regular day in menzoberranzan

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[demonwebs]

THAT IS THE OTHER REASON, OF COURSE. He's not selfish... or so he tells himself. He just doesn't want anyone looking at Serkan, or touching him in any way, shape or form; that wasn't selfish, was it? He could still touch himself. Wasn't that enough? It wasn't as though anyone else was deserving of it; his silly little God, letting just any pleb touch him in such an intimate way. And pain was an intimate matter to Serkan. More so than sex, by far.

Surely, he was entitled to his jealousy?

The drow pushes his fair brows into a knot, shrinking himself into the mold of something innocent and wounded. "Nonsense..." he leans further into that bruising grip, letting his spindly fingertips crawl up his arm languidly. "Do I look like someone who would deny you, my love?" Yes. He looks exactly like someone who would deny him pleasure, for fun. It was a win-win, really; Serkan's beautiful body remained unharmed, untouched by another, his little god didn't get off, and, as a bonus, he even got to make him a little jealous, which was new and exciting territory.

He needs to do this more often.

A toothy smile bares his fangs, tiny, sharp canines catching the light as mischief dances in the vibrant red hues of his eyes. "It is my duty to keep you safe, of course... I fear I have been careless, haven't I? Worry not, from today on, I will be making sure no arrows cut through your skin, ever again." A touching, heartfelt sentiment shared between any other two—but in Vhaal'krin's syrupy tongue it sounded awfully like a threat. The consolation prize was perhaps, despite his antagonism, only one thing was on his mind: Serkan—same as it ever was.

If you had asked Serkan, he would consider this to be a war crime. A crime against the universe even. Against him personally, at the very least. How many hours had he spent, spinning fantasies about taking the drow apart, ripping his life from him only to bestow it again, and again and again and again--

A fantasy meant for them alone. No one else was allowed to determine Vhaal's fate.

Did that make him... jealous? That he disliked the thought of someone else spilling Vhaal's blood? He'd thought the drow to be the jealous one, the way he glared daggers into anyone who gave the bhaalspawn an ounce of attention.

Maybe it was the same thing, in a different form. A lesser form. Serkan didn't care, afterall, if Vhaal ever decided to stick his tongue down another mans throat. He knew Vhaal would always come back. He was secure in that one, universal fact. Maybe he'd be a little upset, perhaps, if Vhaal denied him a kill because of some attachment to the target. But that wasn't a hypothetical he dwelled on. Vhaal always let him have his way.

Except about this, apparently.

Serkan gives him an almost appraising look then, still gripping his jaw even after he'd finished healing him. "So, if it wasn't out of a desire to be impaled, then what? To deny me the pain? You don't want to me to have a wound that doesn't belong to you? To know someone else made me feel good?"

His voice comes out in that teasing way it always does when he intentionally tries to make Vhaal jealous. This is the only other option in his ruined mind that makes sense. It couldn't just be that Vhaal was afraid a single stray arrow might kill him. That was stupid. And any non-fatal wound could be easily remedied with magic.

So clearly Serkan simply had it backwards. Vhaal just didn't like that Serkan got too into his battlefield wounds sometimes.

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"Does it start with an A? or was it an S..." He doubles down, naturally; a dulcet hum on his tongue as the drow taps a sharp talon against his pale cheek in feigned thought.

And yet,

For all of his thinly veiled nonchalance, Vhaalkrin's grip refuses to budge, keeping a hold of the little elf as though he might slip from his fingers (and yes, it does take conscious effort not to squeeze him until something pops)

Better yet, not at all.

The corner of his mouth twitches responsively. Unpleasant. That is what he labels the feeling it evokes, in immediate retaliation, he bites into his arm like an overstimulated animal trying to subdue its prey.

"I'd hunt you down."

The fizzy bubbles of lighthearted playfulness pop and his expression flattens into something far more predatory. "Let them die and come back sooner next time..." he tells him, an underlying possessiveness to his tone, even as it borders on pleading anxious. It'd take great persuasion or remarkable skill to get rid of him now.

“ you've "forgotten" it? ” astarion balks at the terrible excuse. that, or his dear drow has suffered one too many knocks to the head. regardless, there's little room for him to protest, as hands shake him like they're trying to shake some sense into him.

astarion scoffs, arms pinned to his sides as vhaal'krin all but glues himself to his front. his head is forced back and he looks to the sky, the lurking grey clouds forewarning a later downpour that he has no intention of getting caught in.

“ is that so? well, had i realised i was so forgettable, i might have come back sooner. or better yet, not at all, ” yes, he is a little miffed, and no, he will not be overlooking the audacity of such a statement... it's just that his arms are starting to hurt and there's an overgrown puppy whining in his ear to consider.

“ we were busy trying not to die, which i suppose isn't off the table yet, ” he can't say he's ever been squeezed to death before, but first time for everything.

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COMFORT DOESN'T EXACTLY COME EASY TO HIM. Death was a looming, constant presence back in Menzoberranzan, and succumbing to it was seldom seen as anything but weakness. "They were a shame to the profession... you don't have to keep looking so sad."

@demonwebs liked for a lyric based starter !

❛ i know there are worse ways. ❜ battle hadn't exactly gone as planned. ambushed by thieves , all over in minutes. more blood staining her hands. when did it stop ?

[demonwebs]

slides this casually u should go follow this hot single in your area and tell her dragonborns are hot

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she's running her clawed finger through a strand of his hair. "you are pretty." she says, as if he's good enough to eat.

THE DROW'S HEAD SUBTLY LEANS HER WAY, lulled into an agreeable demeanor by the gentle stroke of her fingers; a hum ripples inside his throat, almost like a purr, but not quite. "Why, thank you... Have only just noticed that?" the scolding feels playful on his tongue; but didn't she always think so? He's certain she had, otherwise he would've been stripped of his skin many moons ago. He'll chalk it up to the amnesia leaving her a little scattered. "So, are you going to play with me, then?" he leans in, practically laying his head down on her palm, eyelids falling heavily against the perilous red of his eyes.

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i'm slowly but surely starting to realize vhaal has a thing for pink hair

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she's going to stare. disapprovingly. it could be for a number of reasons.

BONY JOINTS POP as his long, spindly fingers unfurl to rest under the delicate jut of his chin; a sharp nail taps against the sculpted bone of his jaw, and he hints a smile, amused to hold attention their attention, whichever form it may take. "Undressing me with your eyes, again, my barovian friend?" It's only half jest; Vhaal'krin's inflated ego finds it hard to believe one wouldn't, if presented the opportunity. What better things are there to stare at other than him, after all? "I suppose I can't fault you for that... but if you're going to stare so shamelessly, you could at least peel my apple for me." and hand-feed him the fruit, of course.

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when am i ever gonna have an excuse to use this huh?? HUHHH???

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just "hmphs" >:(

VHAAL'KRIN STARES BACK, quietly for once; his head tilts to the right as he ponders, and after a moment of complete silence—

"We'd have very beautiful, but very petulant children."

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vhaal'krin , of noble house symryvvin . ( the eyes of lolth )

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A PALE BROW ARCHES IN DISBELIEF; his lips pop open, and he presses his honed tongue to the inner lining of his cheek in an effort not to look too amused. "Big word. I'm impressed." the honey of his voice thickens in his throat, lacquering the taunt in cloying praise.

He could craft a heartfelt apology, if he wanted to—he has spilled many; but what's the fun in that? "Mm, yes... but you're my favorite mangy mutt." A smile points itself outward like a dagger aimed at her; she'd have more luck wringing milk from a rock than reaping an apology from his treacherous lips. "And we both know you like men like you like your enemies... on their knees, or in pieces, whichever comes first."

you weren't supposed to hear that.

༘⋆｡ stirring the pot starters / @demonwebs

"HEAR WHAT VHAAL'KRIN?" Katya asked, looking unimpressed as she used his full first name.

A rarity. More oft' than not she would simply use his nickname, or some other name she made up for him because she thought it was fun. But here they were, face to face - well, as face to face as they could be, given their difference in height.

"I didn't hear nothin'. Certainly not anythin' worth hearin'. Definitely not about how you thought flirtin' with me was funny but at the end of the day I was nothin' but a mangy mutt! Nope, didn't hear a word of that," she drawled sarcastically, arms crossed as she glared at him, silver eyes narrowed.

She was furious, but doing her best to hold back. It wouldn't end well if she lost control here. Not in the middle of camp with all their companions around. But gods, she wanted to rip his throat open with nothing but her teeth.

"Even if I did hear that - why would I care? I mean, obviously I don't give two shits about you either. You're just an annoyin' little damsel that can't even get himself out of a tree on his own. I prefer my men with some dignity-" a lie. She loved her men with no dignity in sight, but she was pissed and wasn't letting this slide so easily.

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HE PINCHES HER CHEEKS HARD, and they're so soft he's half convinced she is made of pink, sugary dough.

If she doesn't want to be eaten, she should, you know... be less edible.

Pat, pat. "...Good girl." he'll seal the little puncture wound with a kiss-she deserves a reward. "You're so cute, I could just eat you up, you know?" Has she ever ran from a hungry drow? Because she might have to.

gnaws on her ear "OOhh tasty~~"

      ❝ Eeeeeeeek    !  !  !    Vhaalie    !  !  ! ❞         How  dare  he  nibble  &  gnaw  on  her  cute,  sensitive,  yummy  ear    !    But  he  would  NEVER,  EVER  really  EAT  her  .  .  .  right   ?   Babette  will  suffer  through  this.  No  fight  or  flight.  Just  submissive  prey  behavior  (tm).

❝ Ouch  .  .  .  Ouchie  .  .  .  B-be  careful,  okay  .  .  .  ? ❞       Thank  the  gods  ;  should  the  drow  happen  to  actually  commit    &    bite  something  off,  it  will  regrow  tomorrow.  A  free  buffet  every  day,  yay.

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part of playing vhaal is forgetting the random shit i send people at ungodly hours when he possesses me body and soul and waking up to the replies, horrified