#Evil Key Beast
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Evil Key Beast
A much darker version of the Key Beast who currently resides in the timeline Dark Jess came from. Originally it was thought DJ destroyed that timeline, but recently disruptions of the space-time continuum has revealed it has reformed likely from the power of the dark forces who dwell within it. Thankfully it hasn’t managed to escape its place..Yet.
Evil Key Beast created the Evil Key Trio, but Dark Jess escaped the timeline once she awoke. Unlike the trio of her world, she still has a soul and has the same power as Jess herself. But her creator still seeks her, and DJ knows this. That is why she keeps track of the rifts that are opened at every tip of the branches that the tree has. She is waiting.
And she is watching for his return.
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they put me in resident evil no way
#doodled these all after my state test 😭#freakfangz art#traditional art#pencil drawing#doodle#resident evil#resident evil 4#resident evil 4 remake#re4#leon scott kennedy#ashley graham#resident evil oc#self insert#sopping wet beast#scene#scene kid#mall goth#visual kei
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tid bits about serpent's resident evil verse !!! i will most likely focus on "village" for present days threads simply because it's in this timeline that she lamentably loses the last bit of humanity that she had left.
an orphan with neither name nor heritage to claim as her own, serpent is one of the countless orphans that live in the shadows and cower in both fear and terror on the sides of the streets. but there is something wrong about her, there is something uncanny about the pallor of her skin and the colorless irises of her eyes, whose sea of whites and grays is rimmed with blood red. while some lost children are indeed saved from this poignant life, serpent does not attract the attention of any savior and soon enough, at the mere age of five, she is kidnapped by a group active in the black market to be sold as live food for a rare serpentine specimen that has to be transferred to its new owner.
the little girl has no idea of what is happening [ ... ] all she knows is that the back of the truck is painfully cold and dark and that the black snake is now tightly coiling around her smaller frame, suffocating and strangling her, making her frail bones crack and digging its fangs into her bruised skin. she swears that she can feel it ... the venom that now courses through her veins, alongside blood that has always been deemed unholy and impure. but the little girl does not die, the little girl still dreams of sunlit skies and blossoming flower fields and warm arms that will one day welcome her ▬▬ the venom suddenly awakens something within her, a visceral corruption whose source she will never discover ( who is the specimen of past experiments ? is it her, or is it the snake ? ) .
few are the scientific explanations for what happens next: the same snake that was trying to devour her, is now cowering at her feet in submission. it is an odd feeling that she does not know how to properly articulate but the little girl hastily swears to her captors that she's now able to communicate with the snake and demonstrates it by forcing the snake to obey to her every order. unfortunately, this does not lead to a happy ending ... she is sold alongside the rare snake to a wealthy family and it is here that she will spend the next fifteen years of her life.
the little girl is no longer a shadow, the little girl is now a tool. she is placed within a small cage beside the giant one where the rare snake resides and her abilities are employed by her owner to film horrendous movies that are then sold for huge sums of money in the black market. the little girl is thus introduced to bodily horrors and violence at an early age, which ensures that she eventually becomes unsensitized towards the cruelty of the world. she behaves, she obeys to every order that she is given, she does not even complain about her hunger or her agony at staying in a cage that soon becomes much too tiny for her growing body ... she does all that she is asked to do, for the unique purpose of one day reaching that happiness that she has never ceased to chase after. it is in this period of time, that she is given the name SERPENT.
eventually, this nightmare ends. her impatience and unhappiness towards this situation escalates once her dream is openly mocked in front of her. the whole family is killed by her serpentine companion, no trace of them is left [ ... ] only a case that will never be solved.
after some weeks spent wandering aimlessly through the streets of the metropolis, she is found by the manager of an entertainment industry who seems to be awfully familiar with the movies that she took part in. with countless promises whispered against her ears, serpent decides to join their company of performers and easily becomes the most sought after performer by the wealthiest of clients. her shows, embellished by hypnotizing dances and dramatic songs and by the presence of her now gargantuan snakes, attract customers from all over the world and compel the greedy company to start touring the world in pursuance of earning even more fame and money.
and thus, the years go by ... the legend of the woman capable of speaking with snakes spread far and wide, paints her in an aura of eerie beauty and mystery. it is during this period of time that the company receives an invitation to visit a village hidden amidst the mountains and although the journey is indeed a treacherous one the amount of money offered by their patron makes it worth it. unfortunately, what awaits the troupe is not a village brimming with glee and excitement for the circus performers [ ... ] what awaits them is a nightmare. serpent is deemed a fit vessel for eva by mother miranda initially and is thus mercilessly taken away from the rest of the poor troupe, to be used against her will as a test subject for the cadou parasite. ultimately, due to the poor results of the experiments, mother miranda is forced to give up on her ... although serpent has indeed survived and has been blessed / cursed with greater powers than she could have ever imagined, the parasite has twisted and transformed her much too greatly to welcome the little eva.
no longer human, not even a monster ... but a venomous snake in the shape of a beauteous woman. after weeks of isolation so that she may grow accustomed to these new powers and learn how to control the violent instincts awakened in the depth of her soul, serpent is allowed to return to the troupe [ ... ] a troupe that she instantaneously slaughters, feeding their mangled corpses to her snakes and officially closing a chapter of her life that never brought her any happiness.
time goes by, but serpent is still there. settled within what remains of the circus trucks, surrounded by countless snakes that have come to serve their mistress, still dressed in the colorful garments of the mischievous jester and still embellishing her visage with a dulcet but fanged simper. from time to time, she even performs for the villagers, for humans and beasts both ... but happiness is still out of her reach, which brings her closer and closer to madness after every passing day.
#• ⸺ ﹙ -`♡´- ﹚ › verse : golden - fanged ┊ ( resident evil ) .#hi :)#i finally wrote down my thoughts !!#i wanted to maintain some key elements of her canon#of course !!#even if the main timeline is in village#she can fit in the rest of the games too uwu#she will just be more human than beast in those cases ehehe
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What about an eyeless monster who's love has to lead them around like a guide 🥺 something something putting their entire trust into their partner to control where they go safely
(this one ran away from me story-wise)
a woman, a prisoner of war and disgraced concubine (as in, wouldn’t let the prince lay a hand on her willingly), is sentenced to lead the blind god wherever he is needed. though he sent the last king to his death, the god gives good advice to those not of the royal bloodline; farmers, merchants, and others of humble origin and noble intent may seek his counsel and receive good luck.
a god of foresight of wisdom was captured by an evil king to aid him in his conquests. in a vulnerable moment, the god was forced into shackles and dragged to the capital like the cattle he resembled.
the god, after gaining the king's trust, advised the ruler to go to a peace negotiation with a rival nation, promising that he’d be successful; it was a trap, and the king was slaughtered. the kings' son demanded the gods' sight be taken, though he couldn’t afford to outright kill the old beast lest a curse fall upon him.
bound to the creature by holy brand and magiked golden lead, the woman learns of every misdeed and injustice the rulers of the land are guilty of, and plans to help the god regain his sight and power in order to overthrow them. she becomes his high priestess, and as his most loyal follower, the key to his re-ascension. he’s among the very few who will speak to her in her native language; she’s the only one who knows of his true name, and he of hers.
together, they will bring the kingdom to its knees.
#click for quality cause mobile is stupid#semisolid ocs#monster boyfriend#monster husband#exophilia#not exactly what you asked for#but the story hit me and i needed to make it
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On The Bottom Of The Ocean
English is not my first language, please be kind
Masterlist
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•Warnings: smut, piv, degradation, slapping, chocking, dub-con, belt-play.•
Ghost!Aemond x Modern!Reader
Harrenhal, was the center of the story of Prince Aemond’s tragic fall.
Harrenhal was key to Prince Aemond Targaryen’s downfall in the Dance of the Dragons. Stationed there, Aemond took it as a base for the Greens. When Daemon Targaryen arrived with Caraxes, he lured Aemond into a fateful aerial duel. The two fought over the God’s Eye lake, where Daemon killed Aemond midair by plunging his sword through Aemond’s eye. Both riders and dragons fell, marking Harrenhal as the site of Aemond’s tragic end.
Aemond’s character has always intrigued you, and you always craved to find his skeleton in the bottom of the ocean, his and his beautiful dragon, a beast of a massive size, and power.
You have read all the stories about Aemond’s life, the loss of his eye, the murder of his nephew, the starting of the war, his attempt to murder his brother, his period as Prince Regent.
When he was sent to Harrenal, his secret relationship with Alys.
His death.
Your parents were never enthusiastic of your fixation with One-Eyed Aemond, his evilness was known to them as well as all the people who studied history.
Yet, you believed there was more in him than simple evilness.
So you knew you had a one chance in life when your parents had to move in King's Landing for a few weeks because of your grandma sickness.
It was the moment to make good of your scuba diving lessons.
𓂃𓂃𓂃 𓆉 𓂃𓂃𓂃
You took a few breaths as you looked at the water as you sat at the edge of your boat.
The water was deep blue, it was almost scary.
But you were determined.
You had studied the position with precision, considering the current of the water over the years.
You were miles above the position you believed Aemond’s skeleton was.
You took a few deep breaths, exercising yourself before diving into the water.
You knew this was dangerous, even more since you were alone but you felt like you had to do it.
You needed to see him with your eyes.
With one last deep breath you put on the oxygen mask and let yourself fall into the water.
It was cold. Colder than usual, and it sent a shiver down your spine.
It was like the water itself was trying to tell you to emerge and go back home.
No. No, you had to see him.
You kept swimming, pointing the light to check you were safe, and heading in the right direction.
You distracted yourself only a moment, and your chest suddenly hit something.
You gasped and immediately jerked away, startled as you moved the light to point in front of you.
A bone.
A rib.
A massive rib. The diameter was probably over five inches, and the curve was way bigger than the one of a human.
You lightened around, then you caught the glimpse of her.
Vaghar.
You were right.
You were fucking right!
Aswam towards the cranium, getting closer to her mouth, your height covered maybe the length of one of her teeth.
You quickly took off one of your gloves and placed your hand on her skull, smiling, as you started to swim around her skull, caressing the bones.
You looked around, moving the light to accommodate you right, when something reflected the light against you.
Something blue.
It was right in the middle of the remains of the large dragon.
You swam towards the blue, finding a saddle, chains, and other bones. As the realization hit you, you started swimming faster, extending your uncovered hand, ready to touch the sapphire.
Aemond Targaryen.
As soon as you touched it, you felt some kind of electric shock run through your hand up your arm and chest.
You scanned the bones with your eyes, before returning to the sapphire. It almost seemed to sparked of its own light, it almost felt like it was alive.
The skeleton was still chained to the saddle, even if it was covered in kelps.
You wanted to stay longer, study the surroundings better, but your oxygen tank was slowly reaching its limit.
You sighed and quickly swam back towards the surface, reaching your boat.
You had to buy another tank and go back down there.
You had to.
𓂃𓂃𓂃 𓆉 𓂃𓂃𓂃
You were thrilled, to say the least, about your discovery.
Even if in a dark sort of way, you could finally say that you met Aemond Targaryen.
As soon as you reached home, you let out a little scream and started to jump from the excitement, that you didn’t feel it containable.
During your shower you sang your playlist loudly and shamelessly, you were too happy to care about anything.
You made it.
You still had a smile printed on your face as you walked back in your room, your hair dried, your body covered only by a towel.
Then you heard the doorbell.
You looked back towards the door, confused.
Who could it be?
You weren’t expecting anyone, but maybe your parents returned home earlier than scheduled.
You tightened the towel around your body and you walked to the door.
“Who is it?” You asked through the door.
“You know me.” A male voice said from outside. Your brows furrowed, confusion written on your face, the voice sounded like no one you knew.
“What’s your name?” You tried again.
“You visited me today.” He said with a sigh. “I have your wallet, you lost it.” He added then.
You walked over the door and opened slightly.
White hair, sharp jaw, prominent chin.
“Who are you?” You asked as you felt your heart pumping in your throat. The man turned his face, a devilish smirk on his face as his eyepatch came in your field of view.
“Aemond.” He took a step forward, slamming his hand on your door, making you fall back, the door opening completely. “Aemond Targaryen.”
He stepped inside, closing the door behind him, glancing down at you.
He was tall. You’ve often imagined it, but seeing him towering over you like this, surely made him taller.
You shook your head, confused and terrified.
“That - That’s impossible. You’re dead.” You saw his smirk growing wider at your words. He raised his hand and looked at it.
“I don’t look so dead to me. What do you think, slut?” He took a step forward, but you immediately crawled back.
“This is a sick game.” You shook your head. “You think it’s funny to dress up like him?” Your hand immediately flew to your towel as you felt it loosen slightly around you.
“Dressing up?” He bent down in front of you, so you could see his face perfectly.
The scar, the shape of his face, his hair, even his clothes.
They were perfect. What made you truly believe him though, was when he took off his eyepatch.
A blue sapphire instead of his eye.
And you’ve seen that sapphire, from up close.
It was him.
“N-no… it’s impossible.” You shook your head, completely in denial.
Aemond rolled his eye, his hand moving on the back of your hair, gripping them tightly in his fist.
You whined as your hand flew to his wrist, trying to get him off of you, but he seemed irremovable.
He used the hold on your hair to lift you up from the floor, and he kept his arm raised as he studied your face.
“You want to see just how real I am, whore?” He smirked as he started dragging you back.
“Stop! I’m not a slut, or a whore!” You tried to free yourself, but it all seemed useless.
“Sure you are. Who else would welcome a man dressed like that?” He nodded towards your towel. You whined loudly as he shoved you on the bed, your hands immediately fixing the towel to cover yourself.
“It's not a dress, it's just a –” He gripped your cheeks in his hand, squeezing them harshly, growling annoyed at your talking.
“I’ve had more silent whores than you. Shut your mouth.” He pressed your head against the mattress as he hovered over you. “Even if…” His hand trailed over your body, over the towel, shamelessly, his eye sparkling with desire. “Not as pretty as you.” He grinned as he started to move the towel.
“No-” You immediately gripped his hands, but he let go of your cheeks and gripped your wrists, using his eyepatch to tie them together over your head. “No!” You squirmed, regretting it immediately as you felt the towel losing even more, letting him see more of your skin.
His eye darkened, his pupil dilated as he looked down at you, keeping your wrists pressed against the bed with one hand as his other hand moved to his belt that was keeping his black leather coat closed. He quickly unbuckled it, taking advantage of your squirming, your head raising to slip it behind your head and closing it around your neck.
You immediately froze as the belt tightened around your throat, making it hard to breathe.
Your gaze immediately fell on him, your eyes widened as you looked at him grin.
“I know, I have quite questionable tastes.” He gave a tug at the belt, the material tightening even more, making you cough and move your hands to the belt to loosen it up enough to breathe easily.
Aemond didn’t stop you, he watched closely as you struggled beneath him.
“You know, the one I had before you was older.” He smirked. “She didn’t like me on top.” He pulled away to take off his coat, then his shirt.
You would have lied if you would have said he wasn’t incredibly sexy.
His muscles flexed at every move he did, as he folded his coat and shirt and placed them on the table, as he took off his pants. His bicep flexed deliciously as his hand wrapped his cock, pumping it to full hardness as he walked back to the bed.
You should have run.
But it was too late anyway. Aemond grabbed the belt again and opened your legs with his hands.
“No, I-I’m not a whore!” You raised your voice, but the sound that came out of your mouth the moment Aemond fucked his cock inside you, was even louder.
It was big.
Big enough to fucking hurt.
You cried out and tried to close your legs, push him away, anything to get him away from you, but all you’ve earned was him pulling the belt, the string wrapped around his gist to make it easier and faster to choke you whenever he wanted.
You arched your back as you gasped for air, your fingers trying to get under the belt, your nails scratching desperately your skin.
Aemond groaned as he stood still for a moment, enjoying the tightness that your spa smile, violated walls were giving to his cock.
“Fuck…” He groaned. “I haven’t felt like this for… Gods I don’t even know how long anymore.” He pulled back for a moment, only to trust back in harshly.
He moved slowly, but deep, and hard.
And you hated it.
You hated it because it was so fucking good.
He finally stopped pulling the belt, so you managed to loosen it again.
You took a deep breath, that one of his thrusts quickly took away.
You moved your wrists down, you pressed them against his abdomen, a weak protest against his movements, but Aemond was quick to yank them away.
“Fucking stay still, you whore.” He growled as he gripped your hips from under your legs, and started thrusting faster, pulling your body back to his, forcing you to meet every one of his thrusts, forcing you to take his cock inside you, his painfully, deliciously long, thick cock.
You could feel your insides begging you to push him away, to make him let go of you, but at the same time, the stinging stretch was becoming pleasurable, your walls slowly coating the skin of his cock with your fluids, making it easier for him to slip back in.
“Starting to like it? Uh?” He chuckled darkly, speaking with arrogance.
He knew he was good.
“Fuck you!” You whined as your back arched, the movement stretched the belt, that tightened slightly around your neck again, but it wasn’t enough to make it impossible to breathe.
It only made your eyes roll back, you head dizzy, and suddenly, the only thing you could feel was him, fucking you like a doll, bringing you a pleasure no one, not even yourself has ever been able to make you feel.
“You’re tight for a whore —” He panted. “So tight —“ He looked down at his cock, how it disappeared from his sight as he pushed inside you, he watched how your cunt would suck him in.
You moaned loudly, the sound half strained by the belt, as Aemond pulled it again. You knew you had to be ashamed of how much you were enjoying it, or about your expression, of how your mouth hung open, of your tongue falling out. The belt cutting off your breathing was just the cherry on top.
Your head was dizzy, your mind obfuscated by pleasure.
“Look at you.” He scoffed as he started to thrust harder, faster. “Acting out for not wanting it, but now…” He looked at your face, the expression of pure pleasure written all over your features. “So fucked up you can’t even talk. Or protest.”
You moaned as he kept thrusting inside you, and the sight made something inside Aemond snap.
He immediately leaned over, placing a hand on the mattress beside your head to keep himself up, his other hand slipping under the belt, closing around it in a fist, and tugging your face closer by the grip. His thrusts became suddenly more intense and harder.
“You don’t even want to. You don’t want to protest.” He growled in front of your face. “You like my cock so much?” He tilted his head to the side, looking down at your face. “You like how I fuck you? How I am reducing you into a complete useless, stupid, whore?”
You moaned louder, the tip of his cock brushing mercilessly against a sensitive, very sensitive spot inside you, that you didn’t even know existed.
“Shit!” You whined loudly as every muscle of your body tensed, ready to snap.
Aemond did just that.
He didn’t stop, he kept moving, he kept wrecking you even through the most powerful orgasm you ever experienced.
You cried out as you squirmed beneath him, your whole body trembling and asking for a break, but he seemed unstoppable.
His eye was fixed on your face as he raised back on his feet, letting go of the belt. He slapped your face before grabbing your hips and lifting them from the bed so he could move you however he wanted.
Your walls were still spasming from your orgasm, and Aemond couldn’t think of something in his life remotely as pleasurable as that.
“Now make me come.” He growled as he deliberately moved your body, his fingers digging in your hips.
“Please, wait –” You sobbed. “Aem -” He slapped you immediately as he heard half his name coming from your lips.
“Shut up.” He growled, positioning your ankles on each side of his neck, both his hands wrapping around your neck, not enough to cut off all of your air, but mostly of it.
“A-Aem –” Your hands immediately flew over his as he started moving faster, his eyes closed as he clenched his jaw.
He let out a moan, then another one before letting his head fall back, giving you a clear view of his Adam apple moving, and the prominent veins on it.
He tightened his hold on your neck, effectively choking you as he gave you the last few thrusts, shooting his load inside you.
You hit his hands, wrists, his arms, you scratched him, you tried anything to get his hands off your neck, but he wouldn’t let go.
“I’m keeping you.” Those were the last words you heard before it all turned black.
𓂃𓂃𓂃 𓆉 𓂃𓂃𓂃
You woke up sore, confused, and tired.
What the fuck happened?
Ghost Aemond fucking you was surely a strange dream.
“I’m keeping you.”
A shiver went down your back as you heard those words again in your head.
A dream.
You moved the blankets off of you and sat up on the edge of the bed, and as soon as you eyes landed on your thighs, another shiver shook your body.
Bruises.
The ones a hand would do.
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#aemond fanfiction#prince aemond#aemond fic#ewan mitchell#aemond smut#hotd s2#hotd aemond#aemond targaryen#aemond one eye#hotd season 2#prince aemond targaryen#aemond x reader#aemond x y/n#aemond x you#aemond x oc#aemond targaryen fanfiction#house of the dragon#house targaryen#house hightower#hotd fanfic#hotd#hotdedit
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Neptune’s Angels🐚🪽
beauty, love, planet energy astrology observation✨
Neptune in the 1st House, Neptune in 2nd
Neptune Ascendant Aspects
Neptune Sun Aspects, Neptune Ruled/ Dominant
Pisces Sun, Venus, Moon, Mars
Pisces Ascendant, Pisces Rising
12th House Placements, esp. Pluto, Neptune, Sun
🐚“Ethereal, but beheld. She was absolutely magical. A changeling. The moon danced in her wet eyes, beckoned by her pure heart. Then like the tide.. she was gone.”
Do not copy any of my original work. All rights reserved. © 2024 The Siren Isles |
🧿BEWARE OF ENVY🧿
esp. 12th housers, 1st housers, and Pisces Asc & Venus
You never have to do too much. Your siren’s tune announces your presence before you enter the room. Gifted with the siren’s stare and the mermaid’s heart. In social settings, you will find many people push their projections upon you, envious of your ethereal energy.
In example,
POV: You are engaged in a conversation about a niche topic you possess extensive knowledge of (with your philosopher’s soul lol). The person you’re speaking to is mesmerized, completely entranced by your eye contact.
Usually a particularly miserable, (insecure, mean girl type) bystander who witnesses this energy exchange, picks up on this. They see the genuine glimmer in your eyes and can easily deem it flirtation, flattery, and even worse…arrogance to others. This can create negative clouds of gossip, fueled by your natural mystery.
This lack of clear energy, the child-like purity you possess is a key theme of Neptune. This Neptunian energy makes for a juicy meal for the beasts called Envy and Jealousy.
I believe it’s worthy to note the distinct difference between the two.
Jealousy is anger towards the thought of losing something to another, whether that’s a competition, person, or admiration.
Envy, of course is wanting to possess exactly what the other person has. Envy calls upon an evil fouler beast… the coveting.
Coveting is perhaps one of the most dangerous forms of envy and Neptune seems the perfect victim to a covetous green eyed beast.
Why is this?
Neptune’s energy to its core can be compared to the archetype of Persephone, in my opinion. The paramour to Persephone is Hades.
Hades, God of the Underworld rules Pluto.
Per the mythology, he falls deeply and insatiably in love with the young Persephone. She is pure, loving, and adored. He is the broken protector and she is the healer.
He is scorpio and She is pisces!
Side note: Any couples with significant pisces and scorpio placements… I know you feel this. The PASSION!
However, as it pertains to envy... Pluto rules over these obsessive and destructive energies. Others possessing bad aspected Pluto or Mars… even Mercury *cough* Gemini’s… can be really put off by the grace of an ANGEL.
The obsessive digging of a Plutonian, aggressive courting of a Martian, or excessive gossiping of a Mercurial is inevitable as they try to define you or figure you out.
But, you are an enigma! A changeling, always shifting shape…
At first, they will adore you. This adoration will lead to coveting as they try to possess what you have or even worse, YOU. They can become fiendishly obsessed.
This healer dynamic can also get a bit toxic within a relationship if badly aspected or if the broken person does not wish to grow.
protect yourselves, queens!
NEPTUNE’S 🔵 ✨GIFTS
While the energy can come with baggage, ultimately your energy manifests several beautiful gifts. The first and most obvious gift is YOUR BEAUTY!!
You’re the type of person people just stare at… simply in awe of such a uniquely beautiful and out of this world face.
Neptune in the 1st house is a well-known models placement. A gorgeous innocent with a siren-like gaze. Everyone wants to possess you! Some even want to BE YOU.
Immediately what comes to mind is Ms. Marilyn Monroe (Pluto 12th house). So many have idolized and mimicked her energy because she was sexually attractive, but she was most likely even more intoxicating in her private spaces where she felt comfortable.
Nobody oozes sex appeal like the siren, Rihanna. (Pisces Sun) Countless celebrities have mentioned how entranced they were by simply her presence. This is not a beauty that has to be symmetrical like Venus, but ever-changing. You’re everybody’s cup of tea. You have OPTIONS! Some women really just got it like that.
🐚 However.. as I mentioned, people adore your innocent energy and some will expect you to be vapid. They will expect you to be a push-over with a pretty face.
On the contrary, Neptune (and Big Daddy Jupiter for those with pisces placements) blesses you with a vast knowledge, which surprises those who underestimated you… enticing them even more!
🐚 But, My dear Angels… Do you truly KNOW how special you are?
Do you know that your very being consists of magic and Angelic healing energy? The 12th house and Piscean influences are not of this earth, but of the metaphysical. This means that your energy is literally unexplainable to the 3D. It is literally magic connected to spirit!
This energy gifts you with a mermaid’s heart… bigger than your body. The gravitational pull of your heart’s energy is so powerful. Within you is an infinite amount of love for literally all beings. (No joke, it’s giving animals are attracted to you and babies love you vibes. Disney princess vibes! PURR.) Esp, Pisces Venus
However, this includes those who hurt you. (Because your heart is just so pure, it empathically understands why they did what they did and you actually sympathize with your attacker!)
STOP THIS IMMEDIATELY. It is totally stopping your evolution and glow up.
🧿Please protect your angelic energy.
Please take the time to fully isolate and recharge that energy. That is a luxury you MUST afford yourself to maintain or achieve optimum health and vitality. Neptune is the higher octave of Venus, a planet that thrives in self indulgence through the means of the human senses. Pamper yourself. 💅🏾
Think of yourself as a rare silk. You wouldn’t let just anyone trample all over your exquisite fabrics with dirty shoes, hands, or their outside clothing.
The same goes for you, your aura, and your PRESENCE! 🪽
The mere presence of your energy is like fresh Filet Mignon to those starving of true self love.
🐚 An undeserving or broken soul will seek you out like a wayward sailor in a dark storm… hearing your siren song.
You MUST be handled delicately. People love to project their issues onto you. They will paint you in the colors of their own pain, trying to define you.
But, your privacy is GOLDEN. Keep it.
Thank you for reading. Wishing you blessings! 🪽✨
PLUTO AVAILABLE ♏️✨ MERCURY AVAILABLE ♍️♓️✨ MARS AVAILABLE ♈️✨ VENUS AVAILABLE♉️♎️ Other planets coming soon.
@thesirenisles | masterlist |
#divine feminine#neptune in the 1st house#neptune#astrology#girlblogging#pisces#12th house#pluto#pisces venus#pisces rising#pisces moon#mercury in aries#sirencore#siren#mermaid#tarot reading#neptune aspects#model aesthetic#water signs#scorpio#cancer#moon#dark feminine energy#black girls of tumblr#coquette#coachella#poseidon#greek mythology#hades and persephone#persephone
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— THE OWLS ( YOUR GUIDE TO KEEPING SANE DURING EXAM SEASON )
˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ . ★⋆. ࿐࿔
OWLs—the stuff of sleepless nights, whispered complaints, and ink-stained hands—are coming for you whether you like it or not. here’s what’s in the tea leaves: preparation is key, panic is optional but heavily practiced, and your ability to survive depends on cleverness, caffeine, and a slightly (for some, VERY) unhinged sense of determination
★⋆. — THE EXAM SETUP.
˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ . ★⋆. ࿐࿔
LOCATION … the Great Hall, stripped bare of all its usual charm—no enchanted ceiling, no fancy food, just rows of wooden desks, looming professors, and energy as stiff as a petrified mandrake
SUPERVISORS … professors plus a handful of Ministry examiners (who look like they were brewed in a cauldron labeled “evil.”) they’re watching you like hawks—no cheating, no spells up your sleeve, and Merlin help you if you sneeze
FORMAT … you get two parts for each subject:
no.1 — the written exam : essays, tricky multiple-choice, and fill-in-the-blanks about everything you’ve (hopefully) learned. expect brain busters that make you question your life choices and every single class you’ve ever dozed off in
no.2 — the practical exam : here’s where your wandwork is scrutinized. think Charms cast on demand, Defense Against the Dark Arts duels under examiner supervision, and Transfiguration spells that can’t afford a fumble
★⋆. — THE SUBJECTS YOU’LL FACE.
˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ . ★⋆. ࿐࿔
TRANSFIGURATION.
— expect : turning porcupines into pincushions, teacups into toads, and zero room for error
— pro-tip : precision is the name of the game here. showoff moves will backfire, and no one wants to see a toad halfway stuck as a teacup (ew)
CHARMS.
— expect : summoning spells, levitation charms, and intricate wand movements that require a steady hand
— pro-tip : practice non-verbal spells—they’ll hand out bonus points like candy
POTIONS.
— expect : brew a tricky potion under timed pressure—one misstep and you’re cooking up a classroom evacuation
— pro-tip : read the instructions twice, prep your ingredients like you’re prepping for war, and for Merlin’s sake, don’t spill
DEFENSE AGAINST THE DARK ARTS.
— expect : dueling simulations and counter-curse demonstrations
— pro-tip : quick reflexes and confidence sell it. a well-timed Protego will earn you a lot more than panicked flailing will
HERBOLOGY.
— expect : repotting aggressive plants, identifying magical herbs, and dodging venomous vines trying to choke the life out of you
— pro-tip : gloves. always gloves. and don’t scream—it riles the plants
CARE OF MAGICAL CREATURES.
— expect : feeding, identifying, and handling creatures that may or may not want to eat you
— pro-tip : be gentle, know your creatures, and keep snacks handy—both for bribing beasts and calming your own nerves
HISTORY OF MAGIC.
— expect : essays about goblin rebellions, dates, names, and enough dull facts to knock a troll unconscious.
— pro-tip : memorize key events, and for the love of Merlin, don’t fall asleep during the exam
ASTRONOMY.
— expect : sketching star charts in the dead of night and pinpointing celestial bodies under pressure
— pro-tip : coffee beforehand, steady hands, and a cloak because midnight chills will be the thing that takes you out if you aren’t prepared
DIVINATION.
— expect : interpretations of tea leaves, crystal balls, or dreams (bonus if you actually predict something !!)
— pro-tip : make it sound convincing. a little flair in your “visions” goes a long way
ARITHMANCY.
— expect : complicated magical equations that make everyone want to die
— pro-tip : if numbers scare you, study harder. there’s no winging this one
★⋆. — THE PANIC TIMELINE.
˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ . ★⋆. ࿐࿔
2 MONTHS OUT … the studious ones hit the books. everyone else starts to think about hitting the books
1 MONTH OUT … libraries turn into battlegrounds, textbooks become pillows, and caffeine dependence hits the damn roof
THE WEEK BEFORE … fears, existential crises, and the desperate hunt for last-minute tutors. study groups form out of thin air, and everyone’s all of a sudden best friends with the top students in their year
THE NIGHT BEFORE … cramsville. you’ll see students muttering incantations in their sleep, surrounded by half-eaten chocolate and ink stains. sleep is for the weak
★⋆. — TIPS FOR SURVIVAL.
˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ . ★⋆. ࿐࿔
SNACKS ARE SACRED . chocolate frogs, pumpkin pasties, and licorice wands can fuel the studying like you wouldn’t believe. bring some to exams if you can, for the morale boost
STUDY SPOTS . the Hogwarts library is a blessing and a curse—full of knowledge and unrelenting Ravenclaws hogging every desk. stake your claim early or find an undiscovered nook—behind the Herbology section works wonders
TAKE BREAKS . when your brain feels like mashed mandrakes, step away (you’re not a house elf, you need to take five.) grab a butterbeer, take a walk on the grounds, or sit by the lake and yell existential questions at the giant squid—it’s weirdly therapeutic
FIDGETING . carry a worry stone enchanted with calming runes, or mess around with a stress-relief charm that makes sparks dance between your fingers
SELF-STUDY SPELLS . a mild Calming Draught or a Focus Charm won’t hurt, but don’t go overboard. no one likes a jittery potion accident
DON’T SKIP SLEEP . use a mild Dreamless Sleep Draught if you’re prone to anxiety-fueled nightmares about flunking Charms and accidentally turning yourself into a hedgehog
LUCKY CHARMS . wear something lucky—maybe your favorite socks, a brooch, or that enchanted bracelet that Auntie Freya swears boosts brainpower. confidence comes from the little things
KEEP PERSPECTIVE . keep the big picture in mind: your future career doesn’t rest solely on your Arithmancy grade, and life goes on even if you confuse aconite with asphodel (it happens)
★⋆. — THE AFTERMATH.
˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ . ★⋆. ࿐࿔
once you’ve handed in that final exam parchment, it’s out of your hands, so don’t spiral. sleep for three days, binge chocolate, drink yourself half to death under a strobe light and celebrate with your friends—party like it’s a victory (whether you aced it or bombed.) when your results arrive, just remember: OWLs are a big deal, but they’re not everything. you’ve got magic, and magic finds a way :)
˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ . ★⋆. ࿐࿔
#hogwarts dr#shifting to hogwarts#shifting motivation#reality shifting#hogwarts scripting#shiftblr#shifting antis dni#shifting blog#shifting script#shifters#shiftinconsciousness#shift#shifting consciousness#shifting realities#shifting#shifting community#shifting to harry potter#shifting diary
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I just gotta know...how do the ancients keep making yn come with them to face the beasts after going through BS with them. Do they have a super secret plan Z bribe? Like a bribe y/n can never resist and that's how they keep doing it? The snack to y/n's Scooby-Doo? Lmao!
Like now I can't help but imagine the cookies know about a treat y/n adores so much and they usually just give y/n the treat but since the cookies on both good and evil sides know y/n loves it so much and want y/n happy, they all made like a secret agreement to never use it as a bribe to bribe y/n because of it being so tempting to y/n...it's practically cheating using it. So they only do it in the most dire/desperate situations...
Ancient: come on y/n, you have to come with me/us to face [beast]
Y/n: NO! you can't make me! They are too scary and powerful and I already had my fill of them!
*after multiple different attempts to get them to come...*
Ancient: then you left me with no choice
*they go off...and then come back with the bribe.*
Y/n: wait...wait is that-
Ancient: would you do it for a [insert bribe here]
Y/n: OH YES YES YES!!!
or if you wanna add spice...imagine if it's treated very seriously like dead serious but then it's anticlimactic like...I'll use a bag of chips as a place holder for ultimate bribe...like it's a type of treat or object or idk but again gonna use place holder for example:
The ancients, the legendaries, dark enchantress, the beasts...all gather into a secret and hidden location. Each one of them held a key and all inserted it into the various key holes hidden all around the area but close by. With a single nod to time it, they all turn their keys at the exact same time. A thing rises from the ground...and after scanning finger prints...and a verbal satement spoken by the one who claimed they needed the bribe:
Pure vanilla (as an example): I, pure vanilla, have tried everything to get y/n to do what we really needed them to do...but all else failed...this is the final option and I choose to use it. I once again swear on the secret order of the y/n bribe that I will only use this bribe in dire circumstances and never use it to selfishly against our precious y/n. May y/n live happily!
(Or do some declaration along those lines lol!)
...it opens...and out rises a single bag of chips...which the cookie takes. The others nod then head off. .
(Just a secret society of the ultimate y/n bribe Lol!)
Instead of a bag of chips...
One million Rainbow Cubes is very much enough to bribe you on going back to Beast-Yeast.
#cookie run kingdom#cookie run x reader#cookie run x you#crk x reader#cookie run kingdom x reader#cookie run
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Long Live Evil has me by the throat and I made a Key playlist
(I don't have a spotify account so it's on Youtube Music don't hate me) find it here
Take Me to Church - Hozier
Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies, I'll tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife
2. I Love You Like an Alcoholic - The Taxpayers
One last kiss, I love you like an alcoholic, One last kiss, I love you like a statuette, One last kiss, I need you like I need a broken leg
3. Oceanographer's Choice - The Mountain Goats
Look at that, Would you look at that, We're throwing off sparks, What will I do when I don't have you, To hold onto in the dark?
4. Howl - Florence + The Machine
The saints can't help me now, the ropes have been unbound, I hunt for you with bloodied feet across the hallowed ground, And howl, Be careful of the curse that falls on young lovers, Starts so soft and sweet and turns them to hunters
5. From Eden - Hozier
Honey, you're familiar like my mirror years ago, Idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on its sword, Innocence died screaming, honey, ask me I should know, I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door
6. Bad Things - Jace Everett
I don't know what you've done to me, But I know this much is true, I wanna do bad things with you
7. It Will Come Back - Hozier
Don't let me in with no intention to keep me, Jesus Christ, don't be kind to me, Honey, don't feed me, I will come back, It can't be unlearned, I've known the warmth of your doorways, Through the cold, I'll find my way back to you
8. Pumped Up Kicks - Foster The People
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks, You better run, better run outrun my gun
9. Hurt - Johnny Cash
Everyone I know goes away, In the end, And you could have it all, My empire of dirt, I will let you down, I will make you hurt
10. We Will Commit Wolf Murder - of Montreal
Something's terrorized my psyche to get even, Lately, you're the only human I believe in
11. Get Busy Living Or Get Busy Dying (Do Your Part To Save The Scene And Stop Going To Shows) - Fall Out Boy
I used to obsess over living, Now I only obsess over you
12. Fever - Magpie Cinema Club
Romeo loved Juliet, Juliet she felt the same, but when she put her arms around him, He said, "Julie baby you're to blame, Thou giveth fever"
13. Seven Devils - Florence + The Machine
See, I was dead when I woke up this morning, I'll be dead before the day is done, Before the day is done, And now all your love will be exorcised, And we will find you saying it's to be better now
14. Dust Bowl Dance - Mumford & Sons
There will come a time I will look in your eye, You will pray to the God that you always denied, Then I'll go out back, and I'll get my gun, I'll say, "You haven't met me, I am the only son"
15. Monster - Ron Pope
Make me a monster, Make me a beast, Prey on my weakness, Become my disease, I've been lovesick and empty, Cold and I'm trembling
16. Dirty Little Animals - Bones UK
It makes your blood run hot, It makes your spit taste sweet, It makes you feel more alive, Than you have ever been
#I know there's a lot of Hozier#But if it fits ¯\_(ツ)_/¯#long live evil#sarah rees brennan#let's all pretend that every time a gun is mentioned#they actually mean a knife#Anyway#I love Key so much#I support Key rights#but more than that I support Key wrongs#I am unwell about a fictional man
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Updated reference for the Evil Key Beast~
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Blood in the Mortar
Pairing: Ascended Astarion x Vampire Bride Tav
Rating: Explicit (Smut!!)
Key Tags: Vampire/Blood Bride Lore, Service Dom Astarion, Sexy Use of Telepathic Bond, Evil Power Couple, Torturing a Captive, Choking, Biting/Blood, Masquerade, PIV, Cunnilingus
Summary:
“I wanted to see you right where you belong,” Astarion whispers, the sound as sheer as the lace he wrecked. “So beautiful on your throne.” It started on Naomi’s knees, this new life of passion and pleasure unbridled. Astarion didn’t know he’d be hers, just as much as she’d be his, when he bit her thrice, bled her dry, and gave her just one drop of his ascended blood.
Cross-posting from my AO3 account. This is my first BG3 smut fic. If you like it, I'd love to know! Click here if you'd prefer to read on AO3.
“To whom can a vampire bare its soul and admit its fears? From whom can it receive consolation for the past, comfort for the present, and hope for the future?...The vampire is drawn emotionally to a mortal and decides, because of the strength of this emotion, to make her his bride…The happiness of the vampire becomes tied up with the prospective bride, and its well-being depends on hers.”
-Van Richten’s Monster Hunter’s Compendium, Vol 1
Astarion twists the stem of his wine glass, idly tilting the contents within. His assorted guests warp in the bulb of it, swaying between rosy red and clear crystal.
A gravelly voice interrupts his game. “Quite the menagerie you’ve gathered here, Lord Ancunín.”
Astarion doesn’t bother to stifle his sigh. There’s no mistaking him as the lord of the house, even masked as he is. Astarion’s ensemble this evening is pitch dark velvet swirled in crimson thread and snaking silver. His mask glimmers in the same shade of scaled metal, set to complement the curve of his cheekbones, with only miniscule, twinkling rubies encrusting the edges. Nothing meant to outshine the searing color of his eyes. The mask might be silver, but it’s a red dragon Astarion embodies for this particular masquerade.
This party’s for more monstrous company, after all.
No expense was spared for the ‘menagerie’. A grand piano, polished to an opalescent white, plays under spectral hands at the heart of the ballroom alongside a string quartet. A starlit Baldur’s Gate glistens outside the windowed east wall, framed in gold drapery to match the shimmering flecks in the white marble floor. Lavish wine and better blood pour freely; his guests have only to lift their empty glasses to have them brimming again.
Even with all the ornate masks, in the shapes of creatures exotic or fierce, none of the fangs in the room are fake. All the titles are, save for his and his consort’s. Astarion’s lip curls with distaste.
This masquerade was meant for nobility of a supernatural stature. Vampires, warlocks, lycanthropes. Those who lead them. But what his doors received were lowly spawn. Servants sent in their masters’ stead to get just a glimpse of the one and only vampire ascendant, and then to scurry back and tell tale of him. Cowards.
There’s only one human here who’s just human.
Astarion offers him a well-practiced shrug of a laugh. “I do hope you don’t feel out of place among us more…colorful sorts. Lord…? Forgive me, what was it again?”
“Isn’t the point of a masquerade not to bother with such trivialities?” The stranger chuckles hastily. “In any case, I am not lord. Only a humble apprentice to the most renowned wizard Waterdeep has to offer.”
Ah, yes. The invitation was sent for the newly named archmage, filling the god-shaped hole Gale left behind in the wake of his own ascension. Astarion’s eyes flit over the lanky, unkempt apprentice who addresses him instead.
His hair hangs in honey blonde waves past his shoulders, like the mane of the beast he seeks to imitate. It’s a lion’s mask the apprentice wears. Perhaps a poor attempt at humor. The effort would’ve been better paid towards penance, and a sheep’s head would’ve suited him far better than the guise of a predator. Anything would’ve been more fitting than the baggy business he calls a shirt.
Astarion clicks his tongue. “That still doesn’t give me a thing to call you.”
“I am Enrik, if it pleases you.”
“No surname?” Astarion asks with an arched brow.
“None of consequence, my lord,” he replies with the uneasy edge Astarion’s entitled to.
“Well, Enrik, I hope you find our masquerade pleasing.”
“It has certainly been enlightening thus far.”
“And how’s that?” Astarion asks brusquely. He never did like wizards.
He doesn’t like the look on this one’s face, either. The lion that should be a sheep surveys the room with a pitying expression, like he’s watching some petty amusement. A zoo. Gods, or a circus. And what would that make him, Astarion the Ascended, if not a clown? Astarion’s fingers tighten on the stem of his glass, an imperceptible change to any eyes not keen enough to catch it.
“Why, it’s been only a year since your ascension,” Enrik says. “You’ve accomplished much in short order. It’s quite remarkable.”
Astarion’s nose twitches. Praise. From cattle. How quaint, and ill-fitting.
His expression abruptly eases. A refined, familiar scent carries to him from across the crowd. A note of lavender, twined with his favored bergamot.
“And you’ve already enthralled some truly magnificent specimens,” Enrik carries on, oblivious. “Take this fine creature, for example. What a pretty thing to have strung along on your leash.”
Astarion feels her before he sees her. She wipes a palm down the sheath of her skirt, smoothing out some infinitesimal wrinkle. The music smooths, too. With that one simple motion, it bends and blends into something deeper, fuller. All of the lesser spawn of Astarion’s making straighten their slouched shoulders.
He feels the tug of her in his head, and then the cool stroke of her hand to his back, the soothing feel of her fingers combing through his hair, and the gentle scrape of her nails against his scalp. It takes a concerted effort to suppress the pleased groan that bubbles in the back of his throat. All this from across the room, without so much as a glance, let alone a touch.
Hello, darling, he thinks, and she hears it just as if he’d spoken aloud. Aren’t you ravishing?
Her skirt is snow-white crepe that clings taut to her shapely hips before fanning out at her feet. It’s the same lovely shade of ivory as her hair, twisted in a braid like a crown around her head, with the rest falling sleek down her back. A black lace bodice sets just off her lilac shoulders, with gloves to match. Floral stitching vees down from her waistline. The same embellishments decorate the skirt’s edges.
His dark consort, his Naomi once-Tavriel-now-Ancunín, weaves leisurely through the partygoers. The thorny prickle of Astarion’s irritation inspires a little lift at the corner of her mouth.
I’ve been called so much worse, she thinks. It sounds suspiciously like a laugh. I think you called me ‘creature’ just yesterday. Should I not have taken it as a compliment?
Astarion’s scowls. He should be grateful to have your name in his mouth. To even set foot in our home. Let alone speak to me like that. Or at all.
But think of how much fun he’s started, she answers, chipper. You were so bored before.
She’s not wrong.
If they’re not the guests you wanted, Naomi continues, cool and calm, then they’re intruders, aren’t they? Whatever should we do with them?
A slow smile steals its way onto his lips. Just when I thought I couldn’t love you more. Miracles never cease.
“Do you know what they call her?” Astarion says aloud, to worse company. “Other than mine, of course.”
“She was the hero of Baldur’s Gate.”
Astarion waves a manicured hand irritably, as if swatting away a stray fly. “One of them, true, but isn’t there another name that comes to mind?”
The man swallows thickly. “The Siren of the Sword Coast.”
"And yet here you are," Astarion sneers, "ready to dash yourself upon the rocks like a little ship blown astray. I can hardly blame you."
His eyes soften, just past the shoulder of Enrik’s gaudy doublet. In the low flutter of candlelight, he spies the sheen of amethysts set among delicate feathers wrought from silver. He'd had the mask made for Naomi with the likeness of a swan in mind.
Still, as pretty as it is, his favorite gleam is those eyes. She still kept the kiss of violet in them, even in death. It mingles with the red in her irises, like a rich, dark wine.
"She is captivating, isn’t she?" Astarion sighs, a faint smile grazing his lips. "My beautiful bride."
“Forgive me my lord, I meant no offense,” Enrik says, eyes down with deference. “I’m merely an admirer of fine things. And a messenger for my fine master.”
“Do your duty, then,” Astarion says tersely, his smile evaporating.
“My master understands that power is the only currency that holds any weight for men of your making. He has much of it to share, if you're likewise inclined.”
Astarion laughs coldly. “And what does your master wish for me to share with him, exactly? I don’t bite just anyone, after all.”
A swallow bobs in Enrik’s throat. “He only means to make mutual use of your shared arsenal. Like you mean to make of his, my lord. He could work wonders with even just one scream. He could bottle it--”
Astarion clenches the wine glass in a chokehold. He could kill this wretched cretin here, now, bare-handed. Or have him drawn and quartered. Or--
No one knows their manners these days, Naomi sighs inside his head. But if you want to play along and see what this archmage would pay, I’ll--
Astarion’s jaw clenches. You won’t be screaming for him, little love.
It earns him an eyeroll. It wouldn’t be like that--
It won’t be at all. Astarions sends his answer with the weight of a stone.
He sips his wine, boring into Enrik with a hard stare. “Don’t you know swans make the most achingly beautiful music?”
Enrik’s eyes dart anxiously over Astarion’s burning ones. “Only just before they die, so the stories go.”
“Before someone does,” Astarion drawls, as the vintage seeps sweetly down his throat. “You see, my beloved, oh, she’s a monster, too. She so does love the taste of blood in her mouth, now that she’s supped of mine.”
Enrik edges back, shoulders hunched small like the prey he is. “I-I’m just a messenger my lord. Killing me after you’ve so graciously offered your hospitality would be the same as breaking a mirror. It would only cast ill luck on you and your house.”
A gloved hand wraps Enrik’s shoulder. He shirks from that delicate grip like it's scalding. At long last, he finds the decency to shut up.
Naomi’s fangs gleam like the bottle in her hand. “More wine?”
The white marble of the ballroom shimmers like freshly fallen snow. All the curtains are drawn back, cinched aside for good measure. Shadow and sunlight slice the floor in slanted strips. Gritty ash piles where the light lies, coils of rope strewn among the gray dust of guests gone for good.
Only one remains.
Sprawled motionless across the floor, Enrik lies nose-to-nose with the knife edge of day and darkness. It’s only a silhouette that keeps him from being swallowed by the glow. Only Astarion’s grace shades him.
The vampire ascendant cuts a sharp shadow before the arched windowpane. Brightness clings, soft as clouds, to his curls, his lean edges, and his jaw. His velvet coat crumples at his heels as if it were nothing more precious than the ash heaped around him. He’s blessedly bare from the waist-up, resplendent in the sunlight while he surveys his domain awash with it.
It calls to mind the man who took Naomi out into the woods all those months and nights ago. What he looked like when she woke and found his back arched, chin tilted skyward. What she’d do, and what little she wouldn’t, to see Astarion slip into bliss every day as easily as slipping out of a coat.
It’s Naomi’s grace that finally rouses their disheveled company. A rolling melody, played on piano, pours from her fingertips and crests with the morning birdsong drifting in. Enrik groans against the grain of it.
At once, the music cuts to quiet. Naomi’s hands hover over the keys, knuckles twitching in faint longing. Then, she turns on the bench and turns her attention towards her restless audience.
“Good morning,” she says brightly.
Enrik squints up at her. His brown eyes leak with the light, even though he’s sheltered from it. They dart across the room, skimming like stones over water, before they sear into Naomi.
“You.”
“Who else were you expecting? You’re in my home.”
Rope binds Enrik’s hands and heels. He tugs at the ties, or tries to. He hasn’t yet figured out it’s all for not.
Naomi stands, her heels clicking staccato to the tile. As she goes, she paints a palm over the piano keys, stroking each octave from root to rise. Music flows freely again all on its own, even when her hand falls away.
She comes to loom over her captive, lips pursed. “I hear you said some very rude things to my husband.”
Enrik folds against the floor, panting for breath.
“You should be so grateful for our hospitality,” she says. “Should have been. That’s all behind us now, isn’t it?”
Feral noise rips from his throat. Like a dog, he lunges, snapping for her ankles. She side-steps into the light, not bothering to flee any farther than an inch. He freezes, ogling the shiny toe of her shoe now parallel to his nose.
“You don’t fear the sun?” he gasps, quivering.
“I need not fear anything.”
Naomi lifts her head, meeting a scarlet stare brimming in equal measures affection and amusement. Sunlights melts over the bare of Astarion’s chest, spurring her tongue to wet her lips. He leans against the glass, head angled back, eyes slitted in satisfaction. A slow smile unfurls on his face.
“You should be grateful, too,” Naomi says with a sneer, “to lay here and not just a little to the left.”
“W-What do you mean? What did you do to me?!” Enrik’s eyes bulge. He squirms in a sudden panic, to no avail.
Naomi tilts her neck to the side and taps at the scar Astarion’s teeth marked her with. Her fingers fan down on her own throat, savoring the shape of that succulent memory. Of the last bite he gave her in life. Of his lips swirling comfort into her skin before sucking her down to the last drop. Of the look on his face, the awe he had, when she next woke.
The faintest leak of breath, soft as down, passes from Astarion’s mouth.
“You--you--! You turned me!” Her hostage sputters. Naomi frowns darkly.
“Oh not me,” Naomi snaps, incredulous. “I’m only a weak little spawn puppet, according to you. According to you, the only good thing I can do is scream. How could I manage to turn you without choking on my own leash?”
She gags for good measure. He doesn’t get the joke. He hasn’t caught on to the other joke yet. Which means she’s safe as can be, even this close. So long as she stands on the other edge of Astarion’s shadow.
Astarion turns. His silhouette twists with his movement. Enrik shrieks like a swine.
“Oh, that wasn’t good at all. You can do better.” Naomi presses out a strained sigh, crouching down to fist a hand in his hair and yank his head upright.
Enrik bares his teeth as if they aren’t dull and flat. “Filthy bitch!”
The insult doesn’t so much as chip Naomi’s serene composure, but it puts a twang in her head, along the invisible string that links her and Astarion. His anger lashes in her mind like a restless tail.
“What a vile little ingrate,” Astarion snarls.
She lets her hostage’s head roll from her palm, cheek smacking the tile. Enrik writhes against his restraints. Naomi clicks her tongue in reproach. I’ve barely even touched you yet.
Green magic threads between her gloved fingers, glittering. She snaps them and says, “Scream.”
And he does. Loud enough to drown out the crescendo coursing from the grand piano. Inside of Enrik’s skull, the song isn’t nearly so sweet. His back jerks up and away from the floor, head bent back, eyes torn wide in terror.
His cries pitch with the slink of Astarion’s shadow stretching nearer. Sunlight clings close behind his heels. Naomi’s fingers flex and the spell recedes.
Her magic leaves Enrik sniveling, inching like a worm away from the slice of light between Astarion’s legs. Astarion huffs softly. With a wave of his hand, a ghostly one apparates behind him and snags the curtains closed.
Astarion’s scent sweeps with his sleeve -- the sweetness of brandy, mingled with the woodsy smell of rosemary. His knuckles gently brush the side of Naomi’s cheek. Instinctively, she leans towards the touch.
“Precious thing,” Astarion chides with a pout. “You’re being far too sweet to him. Here I thought you only had room in your heart for me.”
Naomi inclines her head, eyes narrowing by a hair. “My sire would see me be crueler?”
Astarion’s thumb grazes her lips. At once, she parts for him, teasing the pad of it with her tongue while he toys with the tip of a fang. He presses in, watching his skin bend to near-breaking, as if to test her sharpness. Before any blood’s drawn, he draws his hand down to cradle her chin. His voice is smooth as satin, though his stare is a hardened one.
“Your sire would see you spoken to with the respect you’re owed. And he needs you to kneel, dear one.”
The words are a weight to her shoulder, easing her down. But the heft is a comfort, not a compulsion. He could compel her, if he wanted to.
He hasn’t yet.
One day, she thinks, he will. And he’ll feel the weight of whatever chains he’d wrap her in through the bond that binds them tighter than the tadpole did. He won’t do it without good reason. Naomi doesn’t need a reason to kneel for her lover. That he wishes it is enough.
When her knees meet the ground, she feels the shape of Astarion’s smile pressed against their bond like it’s pressed, wet and wanting, against her mouth. She feels the dainty tug of his teeth coax her lips apart. Tastes the coppery tang of her own blood and the velvet undercurrent of his within her veins. The heat of him, still such a novel thing in his ascended body, bleeds from his skin to hers, fanning the newfound ache between her thighs.
In her mind, and his, his lips pour down her bare shoulders. His fingers fist in the fine fabric of her dress, ripping it to ruin. He leaves none of her untouched. To anyone else’s eye, they’re not even touching.
Naomi’s eyelids flutter. She downs a hard swallow. Good girl, he says, just for her.
To their captive audience, he spares no such kindness. Astarion raises his foot above Enrik’s ankles, letting it dangle for a moment. It drops like a hammer to an anvil. Enrik bucks with a fresh scream and a sickening crack.
“I’d never give a miserable little wretch like you the gift of immortality,” Astarion spits. “You wouldn’t know how to appreciate it.”
Confusion flits between the pain and panic in Enrik’s eyes.
“That’s right,” Astarion seethes. “You’re not a vampire. You aren’t worth my consort’s teeth. Or mine.”
Crunch. Another ankle shatters. Another shriek claws the air. Astarion strolls, leisurely, to Enrik's hands next. He grounds his heel into the pop of fingers breaking beneath his boots. Their hostage heaves a broken sob.
“Sh, sh, sh, oh, it’s all right,” Astarion croons. “I happen to have just the knife for you.”
Astarion crosses back to his coat piled near the window and draws a dagger from its folds. Rhapsody. Cazador’s blade. Naomi hasn’t seen it since they claimed the Crimson Palace for themselves.
Brightness glints off the twined edge, a match for the harsh and singular focus gleaming in Astarion’s gaze.
So that’s what Astarion was smiling about, as he basked by the window. What had him so peacefully quiet and content. Murder was on his mind, even then.
Not the only thing on my mind, little love. She feels the slant of his smirk in her head, as if it ghosted past the hinge of her jaw. There’s no trace of it on Astarion’s stony exterior.
He plucks the crystal wine glass from the sill while he’s there, rotating the stem as he saunters back over. Blood flecks the fine leather of Astarion’s shoes. He plants them on either side of Enrik’s torso. He seizes Enrik’s collar, yanking harshly until he’s kneeling, too.
“Fuck you,” Enrik spits. “Fuck you both! My master will--”
“Darling,” Astarion trills, grip unwavering, “Would you..?”
Magic swirls sticky across Naomi’s tongue. “Ad Lapidē.”
Violet runes blaze to life beneath their captive’s knees, capturing him in perfect stillness. His mouth hangs agape with unspent vitriol. Astarion’s hands recoil, twisting the dagger in one, and the glass in the other.
“Your master,” Astarion sneers with a dark laugh. “Too much of a coward to show his face, so he sends you. His sacrificial lamb, sent to speak to me about sharing my dearest treasure, like he isn’t the scum beneath her shoes. He had to know I wouldn’t hear of it. But he didn’t care enough about you to even taint your blood. That’s right. My lesser spawn sampled you just like they would any cattle. But my beautiful bride hasn’t had one bite, not yet. Not until I was sure you were sweet enough for her palate.”
Astarion strokes Rhapsody down the man’s outstretched neck. The barest streak of blood leaks from the scrape. Astarion’s eyes skate over the ash piles around the room, wistful.
“All it took was a sleeping potion,” he muses. “Just a few drops. Now all of the spawnlings sent by all of my lessers are dust. You’ll wish to join them, before this is done. And you will. When I decide we’re done.”
Naomi’s eyes fasten to the blood beading down Enrik’s pallid throat. Astarion digs in ever-so-gently with Rhapsody’s tip, just enough to start a stream running. He presses the cup beneath it. Slowly, the crystal fills red to the brim. Her mouth waters.
Astarion looks up abruptly, eyes wide and soft as his malice dissolves to fondness. “Darling, you do look famished. Open up for me, dear.”
Naomi’s chin lifts, lips parted. Astarion tilts the glass to meet her with the utmost care.
“I won’t have your grime and sweat on her lips,” Astarion hisses in Enrik’s ear. “Only your blood. You don’t deserve that…” He sucks a sharp breath in. Naomi watches with rapt attention as it stutters through his chest. “...pretty little mouth.”
Blood, rich and smooth as cream, slips across her tongue. Her eyes slip shut with it. With each swallow, syrupy warmth spreads slowly through her chest, down her legs, through arms, to her every inch. Too soon, it’s taken from her. Naomi’s eyes flutter open. She’s taken all of it, already.
“More, my love?” Astarion hums happily. “You only have to ask.”
“More,” she says at once, lips still wet.
Astarion carves. The insolent apprentice bleeds without a sound. Again and again, the cup fills. He tips it to her lips, and Naomi drinks until her eyelids grow heavy.
Her body thrums like it remembers the pulse that used to play through her veins. She’s warmer than a dead woman should be. Even the air itself feels like the kiss of steam tingling against her skin.
It’s then that Naomi feels Astarion’s lips in her head again, sucking little marks down her throat that match the rosy flush heating her cheeks. She pants out of habit, out of instinct, and not of need. Out of want for him to watch what he does to her. As if he doesn’t already know.
One twist of Astarion’s wrist turns the little leak of blood from Enrik’s throat into a fountain. Naomi’s spell dissipates in violet sparks. His body slumps over, lifeless. Blood runs from him in little rivers, rushing to fill the grout lines between the tiles.
Astarion cradles one last glassful in a delicate grip. His face clears of any clouded rage as he gives the glass an experimental swirl. Wordlessly, he tilts the cup to her mouth once more.
Naomi gasps. Wetness paints her chin. It streams down her neck, drips down her sternum and between her breasts, still bound in lace. Astarion drips with it, down to his knees in fluid motion. Somewhere behind him, the wine glass shatters. In her periphery, she sees the shards glitter like frost.
“Oops,” he says, low and shameless.
Barely any blood made it to Naomi’s mouth this time, but she doesn’t mind one bit. Astarion crawls to her, catlike. She’s only spared a moment to admire the lithe muscle flexing through his naked chest before he leans into the hollow of her throat. Silver curls brush soft beneath her chin. And then, she feels the tip of that devilish tongue take a tentative lick of the mess he’s made.
And gods, what a mess she must be. Blood smears from her neck to her navel, near-black on her blue-gray skin. Dark like Astarion’s eyes, with pupils blown wide and hungry. A flare of heat twists low in Naomi’s stomach. Her thighs shift, wet with it.
Thread rips in her ears. Rhapsody drags delicately down her side, scratching faint like a quill. The lace of her gown splits without resistance. There's none to be had against that mouth of his, just as busy as his nimble hands.
Astarion laps, dainty, down the path of her swallow. His coy smile curves with a petal-soft laugh against her collar bone. Naomi laughs, too, breathless as his tongue chases lazily after the spill. Breathless as the day he took the last breath she needed.
Ever since, Astarion’s given her everything she could want, without leaving her wanting for more than a moment. Now, her knees will never grow numb, no matter how long they bend against the marble. The chill of it can’t phase her, either. Even if it could, Astarion’s drawn the curtains wide. When she kneels for him, it’s only ever on sun-soaked stone.
Astarion treasures her. Cherishes her. Lavishes her with love and pleasure and wealth and power. Preserves her like prized silver, polished with such devotion so she’ll never know the tarnish of time. She’s his spawn. His wife.
But above all else, she’s his pride. The very thing that rules him. The only thing that still does.
Naomi wants to be in ruins with him. To be the last pillars of a broken world already so far beyond repair before they were dragged through it. Aeterna amantes. Until the fall of everything.
Until then, this, the low groan he gives her while her fingers stroke red through the plush white of his hair, the heady hum in her blood, the bloom of someone else’s waking color in her cheeks, the way Astarion looks at her like there’s nothing else at all, the way he tears into a dress he paid a fortune for, the hand he knots through her braids to wreck them -- this is everything.
Astarion tosses Rhapsody over his shoulder to join the broken wine glass, just like any other worthless trinket. His deft hands curl into the tears in her bodice and tug. At once, it gives way to his grip. She would, too, were it not so binding. Naomi grounds out a gasp. Her skirt pools at her knees, leaving her bare but for the warmth of Astarion’s roaming hands and the daylight pouring over them both.
“Do you know why I wanted you down here, pet?” He asks softly.
Astarion’s eyes latch to hers while his teeth toy at the curve of her breast. His tongue slicks over to soothe where his fangs grazed her, and then it melts against a pert nipple, taking it in with a lewd suck.
Naomi paws for a coherent thought, but all she finds is a pleading hum. He nips her again, just enough to see her tit tremble from the pull when he draws away. He leaves her nipple glistening and the underside of her breast peppered in pink before moving on to the other.
“To torture me, clearly,” Naomi pants. Her hands still tangle in his hair. Amusement glimmers in his gaze as he plants a chaste kiss to the inside of one of her wrists and sets them both back at her sides.
“Oh no, my sweet. I would never,” he says, chin resting flat against her navel. He looks up at her with wide, doey eyes, full of faux innocence.
He slinks lower, laying a line with his tongue that ends in a kiss just above where her skirts still shield her. He shifts them aside, ripping where he needs, until it’s only one little piece of black lace covering her cunt. Astarion growls against it, nosing at its edges, his back bowed, stomach brushing the floor. His teeth find the waistband and tear that, too.
Hot breath fans across the other mess he made. Naomi wavers on her knees. From that minute motion alone, she can hear how he’s soaked her.
But Astarion doesn’t disprove her theory; he leans back abruptly, straightening up to his knees again. An arm loops slack around her waist as he circles around to her bare back. Naomi’s lips twitch. If this is the game he wants, it’s too soon to beg. The thought inspires another needy flex through her cunt. His other hand slides to cup the heat of it, and Naomi whines. Reflexively, her back arches. Astarion pulls her still.
He catches the side of her jaw, angling her back into a biting kiss. It’s over before she wants it to be, his lips red and glistening with what he stole from her. Without him, her mouth burns from the cut.
“I wanted to see you right where you belong,” he whispers, the sound as sheer as the lace he wrecked. “So beautiful on your throne.”
For a brief moment, he draws away entirely, leaving her with nothing but a lonely chill. And then, his back comes flush to the floor beneath her. His body splays behind her. The heat of his mouth crests against the heat of her cunt, his face fitted between her thighs, his lips hovering so close, but not close enough. His breath alone snags the one halfway through her throat.
“Oh,” her realization comes out quivering.
The tip of his nose nudges, just barely, against her clit, spurring her hips to roll. But all she gets from that mouth is mischief and a quiet snicker. He shifts his cheek, laving a long stroke of his tongue to the tender crux of her inner thigh before sealing it over with a tight suck. When he bites down, he draws out her blood with a rough moan.
Astarion pulls back, his smirk glazed in her, his eyes aflame. “Oh, darling, I’ve barely even touched you yet. And you’re so very wet for me.”
“Touch me, then,” she hisses between her teeth, raking her hands through his perfect curls and fisting them there.
His eyes spear into hers, hard like the way he clenches her ass and pulls her hips down. Even as it sets her on fire, his mouth gives her mercy. Astarion’s tongue melts hot across her cunt, swiping slow and dexterous. Not for the first time, Naomi thinks she might like to die like this.
It’s not so different from how she died. It started on her knees, this new life of passion and pleasure unbridled. Even then, Astarion already knew the shape of her body like he knew his own hands. Every curve, every intimate bend, how to make her speak in noise instead of words. The hidden language behind every whimper she makes, every shiver.
So he knows exactly what he’s doing while his tongue teases gentle circles around her clit. He knows, by the time his timid little laps blend into a needy suck, that she’s so, so sensitive. Astarion’s hungry groan seeps into her slickness. She feels him like a current and clenches again, just as hungry.
Every feeling he gives her gives him an echo back just as strong. Every thought in her head is in his head, too. He eats her cunt and feels fed by her pleasure curling in the tips of his toes. He didn’t know he’d be hers, just as much as she’d be his, when he bit her thrice, bled her dry, and gave her just one drop of blood back.
But Astarion knew her body before she was his bride. Now, he knows her mind. A part of him lives there, as she does in his. As he drags his pale, elegant fingers between her folds, he drags her head through a dozen depravities. Filling her with nothing but thoughts of how he’ll fill her properly.
He could have her against the arched windows lining the east wall, body pressed so pretty to the glass so he can see the imprint of it even after she peels away. She could feel the heat brimming off the sun outside, washing over their empire. He could taste her sunbathed shoulder while he fucks her senseless. His little love, dipped in honey. So what if someone else sees. Later, he’ll see to them not seeing anything ever again.
He could take her here, on the ballroom floor. Pull her down just as she surfaces from the pleasure he’s paid her, and roll her beneath him to bury her in it all over again. Make love on the marble streaked with the blood of their enemies, where hundreds of dignitaries have danced and dined on countless evenings before. But none of them were ever blessed with such a fine feast as he. The stone would be hard and unyielding against her back, and he would be just the same, driving into her, relentless. At least it’s far prettier than the dirt they used to fuck in.
Or--
A new picture snaps from Naomi’s mind to his, with the dip of his tongue to her entrance, a staggering spike of pleasure, and an unbidden whimper.
The piano. Pearly white with jet black keys, so pristine, so gorgeous with blood spilt red down the sides. Naomi poured over the side, ivory hair tinged with crimson, cascading over her bare, bent back. Astarion’s fingers buried in her hips, planting the promise of bruises, his body bucking wildly into her as he finally--
Naomi’s moan hits the high pitch of the ceiling. She grinds, needy, against the pair of fingers he crooks inside of her. His thumb spreads her slickness back and presses to the pucker of her ass.
So eager for me to fill you up. His voice in her head is a caress. Her hips roll with the sound. His thumb dips inside her ass with the motion, and Naomi gasps as she eases into that delicious stretch.
But darling, I haven’t fed all night, Astarion pouts, mouth moving with agonizing slowness as his eyes flutter shut beneath long black lashes. Naomi’s eyelids grow heavy, too, as she’s lost to that lovely, slick click of his lips. A meal like you is meant to be savored.
He fucks her holes leisurely, with the air of someone who knows he’ll be back for more before long. It brings to mind those long, lithe fingers, folded between the pages of a book to mark his place. All it takes is an effortless flex of them to keep her coaxed open like this. Her body draws taut as he leans her over the precipice of her own pleasure.
If you need more, my dear, by all means. Take it.
He growls into their bond like he’s the one devoured. Like he can plead ignorance to how he’s taking her apart with his hands, his mouth. Naomi catches a whine between her teeth. Astarion’s free hand cups her ass, urging her into the thrust her body bends towards. She parts a hand from his hair to brace flat to the floor beside his face, the other knotting anew in his silver curls.
Desperately, she rides against the flat of his tongue, against that long, refined nose, fucking herself back into the curve of his fingers. Every pull of them pulls her under, deeper into her own ecstasy. Her body grips him back like she means to drown him, too. The tip of his tongue flicks her clit in relentless rhythm, starting off a shudder she can’t stop.
“Don’t stop,” she begs within and without, the jerk of her hips growing frantic.
His mouth is mercy. When she comes for him, she’s wreathed in heat, slick with sweat, every nerve in her body alight with the most blissful burn. A strangled cry breaks in her chest. It buries the song now trembling from the piano. Naomi shivers out a sigh, and the keys shiver with her.
Astarion wraps his arms tight to her thighs, anchoring her through the aftershocks. When she stills again, her body throbs with a heady rush of blood, pleasure, want. Every part of her is limp with it, save the pulsing, rigid press in her mind and in his trousers. She’s putty in his hands even as his fingers leave her. Naomi twitches back towards the touch he takes away, body aching with his absence.
Naomi’s knuckles unfurl, stroking soft through the tangles she wrought. What a sight he is, his hair in utter disarray, his mouth a mess of blood and lust and her. An ease settles into his graceful features, not so different from that quiet contentment he wore while leaning into the light by the window. His eyes simmer with it, lips drawn in a soft smile.
Without warning, his grip tightens. Naomi stifles a huff of surprise as she’s taken down, marble kissing smooth to her spine. A pale hand cradles her head, cushioning her fall. In a blink, he’s hovering over her bare body and dipping down to catch her in a fever of a kiss. It’s a needy, sweltering latch of lips, tangy with her own sweetness as much as his.
“Here?” She purrs to the seal of his mouth.
She lets him feel the way the word alone makes her body tense. Waiting. Wanting. Their bond curls with it, crooked and beckoning in his head. The way his fingers bent a few moments before, buried in the heat of her.
A long breath passes out through his nose, his eyes sliding half shut. A smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth. But his cheek turns by just the barest hair, and Naomi’s attention follows after his.
Music flutters, breathy, off the black and white keys. The piano stays a pretty picture of perfection, among the deaths little and large they’ve littered throughout the ballroom.
His teeth trace the angled edge of her ear. Naomi keens with the sting of it as she’s swept from the floor.
“There.”
She’s caught in his kiss again as he carries her. One swipe of his tongue to where he bit her lip before has her quivering. Has her a world away from the one still around them. Vaguely, she’s aware he’s somehow rid her of her gloves and shoes. She hears a dull, wooden clatter, and then a resounding thud. The piano plays on, but it's muted.
Astarion doesn’t bend her over the way she mused. Instead, he seats her on the polished wood of the piano’s closed lid. His hands leave her back to push her knees apart, scoop beneath them, and pull her spread legs to the strain trapped in his trousers.
Naomi grins, her fangs snagging his lower lip as he tries to part from her. Astarion’s answering groan is rough like a scrape of sandpaper. It leaves her mouth raw, tingling, alive with a pulse that plays to the tune of his pleasure. She wants more of that noise. More of the happy purr it pours into her head from his. One drink of that sloppy, slap happy look on his face sates her more than blood ever could.
You’ve given me everything, he told her, once. But now, all she can think is more. Take more. Take everything.
Astarion grinds his hard length against her in answer. The sweet friction makes sweeter music in their mouths as Naomi moans with the motion, too. Still, there’s far too much fabric for her liking.
Astarion’s fingers make fast work of it. He unlaces his pants only enough to free his cock, parts from her only enough to push her back and clamber up after her. Then, he’s on her again like a second skin. Her cunt throbs with the press of his cock, the tip of it wet and seeping against her thigh. She tries to fit a hand between them, to wrap her palm around his girth and feel with her hands, not just her head, how badly he has to have her. Astarion doesn’t leave her space for it.
It’s not his hands that put her flat on her back, against the body of the piano. It’s the sudden swell of his adoration ballooning from his brain to hers. The weight of his affection pins her there beneath him, utterly paralyzed, as the music flows on under both of them. He’s brimming with it, and it washes over her in a wave, a cup overflowing.
His curls hang down in his eyes, wild with the look of a man starved. “You’re going to scream for me, little love,” he says with the slightest slur. The thought smears from him to her, burning in the back of her mind like a pull of liquor. He brushes her snarled hair back until it tumbles over the piano’s edge, white over white. “I’m going to make you. And I want to see that beautiful face when I do.”
“Please,” she starts to say.
But barely any of it makes it past her lips. Astarion never leaves her wanting for more than a moment.
“O-Oh,” she stammers instead, as her soaked cunt splays to his cock sliding home. Astarion pushes out a moan as he pushes into her. He hooks her legs with his arms, folding them up and back.
“That’s my girl,” he pants, forehead heavy against her own. His thumb circles her cheek, a feather-light counterweight to the thickness he seats inside her. He watches her intently, fixated. Hypnotized. “My good, good girl.”
Kisses and praise tumble from between his teeth, down her cheek, to her throat. Naomi’s head rolls back while she relishes the wet, smacking mantra that’s the mess of them. He’s not tender with his tempo. He doesn’t have to be. You could ruin me. I’d let you ruin me, she thinks again.
And how beautiful he is, in ruins with her. No more composure. No more restraint. Sweat streaks his brow as it bends beneath his focus. All there is is the blend of them, the slow rock of the piano underneath them, and the scattered, stranded pieces of a melody left in their wake.
It could break. The thought cracks through her, through them, with the wooden whine of the piano legs taking the shift of their weight. Astarion crushes her worry beneath the thrust of his hips, any notion of it lost to the head of his cock pressing just where it needs to make her see stars.
Naomi bites down on her own lip, grounding herself in fleeting pain and the tang of blood. He’s not even touching her clit; he doesn’t have to. He floods her with how it felt when he did, when his tongue rolled against the swell of it, just the tip of it teasing that sensitive little bud. How she felt to him, so silky and slick in his mouth. How amazing it feels to finally fuck her, to take what’s his and have her take him so, so tightly.
He could ruin her. Snap her like the creaking legs of this instrument, not long for this world. It would be almost as effortless as the way she spreads for him. But instead, Astarion fills her. Every shift prods the crown of his cock against the sweetest spot inside her cunt.
Naomi’s fingers claw into Astarion’s back as he bucks wildly. Tears sear in her eyes. The tell-tale pressure in her pelvis builds near-blinding.
“Scream for me, darling,” he growls against her neck, out loud this time.
Her cunt throbs with his command. But she doesn’t heed it. Astarion lets out a low, steaming hiss.
“I said scream, dear,” Astarion says, his velvet voice edged in warning. The sparks of his indignation spit flinty in her head alongside a flicker of excitement at her defiance.
He wants to feel the rush of her own power with the spasm of her cunt as she comes undone. He wants her magic to spill into him as he spills his seed inside of her. Wants to taste it with the rest of her. If Naomi was nothing to him, she’d still be the siren; it’s not a power Astarion gifted to her. It was hers without him. It is her. And she’s his.
“I might break the glass,” she whispers, wary of anything louder.
“Oh, my love,” Astarion says tenderly, a husk in his throat as his hand wraps loose around her neck. “You can break everything.”
Astarion kills her hesitation. She’s never felt more whole. She feels holy, feeling her own perfect squeeze around his cock, feeling herself fucked in his body and her own. Feeling what she does to the man who already has everything, but will never have enough of her.
When Naomi screams Astarion's name, it’s everything else in the room that shatters.
Glass crashes from the windows. They burst one after another in quick-fire succession. Astarion buckles against her body with the sudden, decisive snap beneath them. His hips jerk, rutting erratically. Warmth spurts into her with every shudder down his spine, every pulse of his cock.
He cuts her cry with his teeth buried in the crook of her neck. Naomi clings to him as her cunt convulses. It’s the bite that takes her apart, knowing he tastes his own name in her throat and thinks--
Mine, mine, mine.
Naomi’s head drops limp. Astarion’s grip on her neck gives way to soft circles stroked against her cheek again. Mine, she thinks, as his ruby eyes watch her keenly, awash in the soft glow only she knows.
Even after Astarion stills, the room spins dizzy from her upside-down view. She blinks it all back into place, but some pieces won’t fit together again so easily. They’re far closer to the floor than when he slipped inside of her. The piano legs splay at odd, splintered angles. The floor glitters with glass like crystalline teeth, ready to bite the heels of any who dare tread their hall.
Astarion slides out, and she shivers with the fade of his warmth. He sits up, his gaze sweeping the shattered windows, his smirk smug and wet with her. “Perhaps all of the Gate heard you. The gardener did for certain.”
Naomi sits up, too, leaning forward and letting his shoulder take her weight. Her forehead comes to rest against his collarbone. She finds an easy smile while relishing the way his heart still hammers his chest. She did that, in multiple senses. Absently, he tucks the hair sticking to her cheeks back behind her ears.
“I guess I’ll have to kill her,” he adds, chipper. “I suppose, for now, we can spare all the others.”
“She’s already dead enough, dear,” Naomi sighs.
A tiny, discordant note of sadness plucks in her chest, among the pleasant haze settling over her. Astarion stiffens against it, as if she reached out and pinched him. She doubts he’d be so eager to slay one of his spawn for the same crime of hearing her come for him.
The gardener is hers, of a sort. Not a vampire -- Naomi can’t make those. Before Naomi sang her awake again, the gardener was just a sad stack of bones collecting dust in a closet. Now, she rattles along to Naomi’s tune, keeping the flowers trimmed to her liking.
“I suppose you’re right,” Astarion murmurs. His expression softens with fondness, the sort that’s rare to surface unless they’re alone, but never fails to make her chest light and fluttery. “Are you tired now, pet?”
“We stayed up all night,” Naomi laughs faintly.
“Hm,” he nods with a pitying frown. “Let me see to you, my treasure. Don’t you move.” His lips curve, coy, as his eyes flicker back to the wrecked windows. “I wouldn’t want you to strain yourself.”
He saunters back to where his coat lays, now tattered. He returns to settle it around her shoulders, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead.
“You’re such a staunch defender of my honor,” Naomi says dryly, even as the leftovers of their lovemaking start to seep down her thigh.
“Ha,” Astarion shakes with a rolling laugh. “I rather think I’m the thief of it. You were quite the heist. It wouldn’t do to have some debaucherous upstart happen by and think they can make off with what’s mine.”
“I wouldn’t let them live through it.”
“Aw,” he clicks his tongue, “you’re such a romantic.”
Astarion leaves her with her legs strewn over the broken piano, relacing his trousers as he goes. Glass crunches beneath his heels. He stops to ring the bell near the door. A few seconds later, it creaks open a hair. She catches his curt commands to the servant she can’t see on the other side.
“...yes, here, in the ballroom. My consort and I wish to take in the view, and see none of you.”
His lesser spawn are quick to make good on their orders. The door swings open once more a short time later, and in floats a claw-foot tub without another soul to be seen. Magic clings, cloudy, beneath the porcelain belly of it. A pleasant, floral scent curls with the steam from the water within. The tub drifts to the heart of the ballroom and settles with a soft thud before the yawning window panes.
Astarion returns to her as her toes touch the ground again. He frowns tightly, eyes narrowing.
“There’s debris scattered everywhere, my sweet,” he says, saccharine even in reproach. “I wouldn’t want to see you hurt.”
Naomi sniffs a laugh, picking her path carefully. “If I can’t handle a little sharpness here and there, it’s a wonder how I’ve managed to handle you.”
“Oh, it’s simple,” Astarion says, catching her wrist with an effortless flourish. “We were made for each other. By each other, really.”
And Astarion’s made up his stubborn mind that she’s not to take another step, it seems. With a soft huff, he sweeps her off her feet all over again, strides to the tub with her legs dangling over his arm, and delicately deposits her there.
Water laps at the tub’s edges, splashing as she situates herself. She shrugs from Astarion’s coat, shucking it away to join all the other debris they don’t have use for. Heat tingles across her skin, like little, loving nips of Astarion’s teeth. Naomi eases back into the burn of it as the sting settles sweetly.
Astarion rids himself of his shoes and trousers. He dips a foot into the tub, bidding her to make way for him with a gentle nudge. The water ripples as he settles in behind her. With a satisfied sigh, she sinks back against his chest and deeper into the furling warmth.
The ballroom overlooks the well-kept gardens behind the estate. The hedges are high enough, only a spyglass might have hope of spotting them both bare. Under Cazador’s reign, the garden was little more than a sprawl of weeds and webbed ivy. Now, fountains babble between the blooms of pink and blue and violet. If she strains, she can catch the weave of music in the trickling flow, like tinkling wind chimes.
A soft breeze tickles her ears, sending gritty glass and ash scattering over their floor. Astarion clenches a soft sponge in his grip, wrings it out, and starts to scrub her skin in slow, deliberate strokes. Naomi’s head tilts back beneath his tender care, every rub taking the tension from shoulders.
She turns after a time, and he starts to wash blood from her front, while she wets her hands and works the redness from the white of his hair. Her fingers linger along the slants of his ears, rubbing delicately, until she catches that satisfied hum in his throat that leaves her lifted, floating on the buoy of his happiness.
The water never cools or clouds; magic still swirls in the steam, even long after they’re free of blood and grime. Astarion rakes hand through her hair, his fingernails digging pleasantly against her scalp.
“You are divine as ever,” he rumbles. “Rest now, pet.”
And she does, slipping soundly into a trance, soaked in sunlight and lavender oil with her lover wrapped around her. Only Astarion sends her to the sort of rest that reaches her soul. His presence is sanctuary.
It’s his disquiet that wakes her suddenly. He still strokes her hair just as gently, but he levels a hard-cut stare out over the garden, his lips set with the same stoniness.
“No one will ever take you from me,” he murmurs, as if to himself.
“As if they ever could,” Naomi whispers back, reaching up to graze the edge of his jaw.
Heavens help the fool who tries. Any who dare to hatch such plots, to harbor such ill will in their Crimson Palace, will find themselves laid to rest with all the others. Their enemies’ gravestones are just bricks in their empire, every one of them laid with blood in the mortar.
Astarion dips his head down, the hint of a smile curling at the corner of his mouth. “I suppose it might be fun to see them try. In the meantime, my love, I’m of a mind to keep you spread for me for the next tenday.”
Naomi laughs. The sound echoes around the otherwise vacant room.
Astarion’s grin only grows, the tips of his fangs sharpening his smile. “Did I say something funny, dear?”
His lips crush down against hers in a kiss consuming.
#ascended astarion#astarion#astarion ancunin#tav x astarion#astarion x tav#tavstarion#vampire ascendant#vampire lord astarion#bg3#astarion smut#astarion fanfic#bg3 fanfic#my writing#naomi tavriel
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The Beast & The Church in 'Black Death Rising'
I'm writing a religious horror rpg, in which the End Of Days is in full swing in 15th century Europe. I figured it'd be worth it to talk about that game's religious perspective.
So I'm going to do something inadvisable, and talk about religion from a christian perspective. (religious/setting design ramblings under the cut)
Some context. I'm a quaker; for those less invested in minor christian dissenter sects, I'll give a brief summary. Quakers are a sect going back to the 17th century, with a strong focus on egaletarianism and individual conscience. No clergy or heirarchy, no formalised doctrines, and - historically and currently - a lot of focus on social justice issues. Honesty, equality, pacifism and simplicity as core value. So that's the overview.
This is, you will note, a stark contrast to a lot of what Christianity is currently, and has historically been. Which is to say, quite often on the side of the wealthy, the societally entrenched, and the oppressive.
I am also, as it happens, very openly and obviously queer. As you can imagine, this makes me really quite uncomfortable in a lot of 'christian spaces'.
So. Let's turn our attention to the Book of Revelations, as the various ideas in there are a lot of the game's inspiration. Revelations is written extremely abstractly, with dense metaphorical language rather than a direct accounting of events. There are, needless to say, a wide variety of ways to interpret the text, but I will focus on my own.
A key feature of Revelations is the subversion of religion; the idea of a false prophet turning religion away from its moral/spiritual purpose, and making it a tool for politics, leading to the rise of 'the beast' to power. It's made clear that as the beast seizes power, it goes on to use that power to persecute the outgroup (with whom the text's sympathies lie) and that a church controlled by and reverent of the beast becomes evil and totalitarian, leading to widespread suffering.
The parallels to the state of christianity in the modern day are, to my mind, quite apt. A wide faction - 'conservative christianity' to be polite about it, or christian nationalism to be more blunt - aligns itself with the oppresser over the oppressed, concerns itself with worldly wealth and power, and is actively and openly and inexorably tied to dangerous political forces. That mainstream christianity frequently acts in support of fascism is hard to miss.
There is a particular horror, I think, to seeing representations of one's faith hollowed out and distorted, emptied of their spiritual value and instead becoming a tool for evil. The perversion of what should be sacred has a huge potential for horror.
This is, after all, a particular horror one encounters in a regular basis in the real world. I mean, fuck, one simply needs to see Kenneth Copeland speak for 30 seconds to get a sense of something deeply, deeply wrong.
So, this is the horror the game seeks to capture and accentuate. The sense of what should be holy having been emptied out and used for evil. The twisting of faith to become a tool for fascism.
To this end, the game treats aspects of Revelations quite literally. The Beast is, in fact, the leader of a vast and horrible fascist empire that is the cause of misery on a vast scale. Key to this is the total cooption of the church. The 'pope' is a reanimated corpse issueing proclamations at the Beast's direction, and the church is an engine of propaganda and inquisition that serves to enforce the empire's orthodoxy and stoke hatred against the Empire's outgroups.
This is not to say that faith is absent, but those possessing true spiritual conviction (and with it, in some cases, the ability to perform miracles) are definitively outside the church; actual faith is the domain of religious dissenters and heretics. PC clerics are not members of the church, they're actively persecuted by that church for - essentially - their refusal to spiritually sell out.
(Also, critically, miracles are not the sole domain of christianity; the game treats Jewish and Muslim figures as equally capable of performing miracles, and grants relics associated with those religions equal potency to christian ones; what matters is spiritual conviction, not one's specific denomination).
Other aspects of The Beast's Empire followed from this. Inquisitors and paramilitary agents are common enemies, and the 'seven heads and ten horns' are taken to represent The Beasts inner circle of most powerful servants.
In particular, I've given the Beast's empire it's own form of magic, Defixion, with the name taken from old roman curse-tablets. Defixion is, essentially, the magic of spiritually selling out. In exchange for eroding the user's soul, they become bound to The Beast and his empire; this gives him incredible power over them, but also grants them power based on their position within the Empire's heirarchy. Importantly, it's totally, one-hundred-percent off limits to player characters; playing as the fascists simply exists outside the scope of the game. Instead, Defixion is an explanation for why the Empire's agents have scary monster stat-blocks.
The choice of what to make The Mark Of The Beast was surprisingly easy; it's a cross, the same one that is embraced by fascist groups such as Stormfront.
(This also ties in with the use of the inverted cross as a counter-cultural icon; it's historically been a symbol of humility before God, and in the modern age is associated with strongly anti-church sentiments. In a setting where the church has turned away from God and towards hateful political power, those two meanings can go hand in hand.)
In conclusion: "I know writers who use subtext, and they're all cowards."
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Lil’Rockstar / Eddie Munson / blurb / Fluff
“You got everything you need here right? Gotcha bottle, ya’ snacks and your bear? Right awesome. Daddy set your pajamas just over there, I know you like my Metallica shirt so figured you could wear it as a night dress y’know?” Eddie smiles softly, pointing in the direction of sofa. His fingers covered in his usual rings, you take his hand. Fiddling with your favourite ring on his pointer finger, the skull one. Giggling as you twist it around his skin. “You like that huh? It’s like babies with keys, just it’s my baby with my fingers.” He chuckles as he wiggles his fingers, booping your nose and pretending to flick your forehead. You giggle, covering your face with your hands to protect yourself. “Daddy!” You push him back first onto the bed, straddling Eddie’s waist. Settling into your new seat on his jeans-clad crotch nicely.
Eddie leans up towards you, wrapping his arms around you. Your face smushes into his chest and you inhale the faint scent of his cologne and whatever he’d been smoking before he came over to baby-sit you. He squeezes you tighter, “Little girl if you wanted a hug you should have just said so.” He laughs, continuing to hold you tighter, falling down onto the bed and rolling around with you in his arms, the pair of you in a fit of giggles. You try to push away and wriggle out of his grip but he’s got a hold of you. “Ohhhh you think you can escape me huh? You really think you’re that tough? You’re just a little girl! Just a small little creature.” You laugh and pretend to bite at him, showing him your teeth. “A creature that is very bitey by the looks of it.” Eddie laughs, pushing you back by your forehead onto the bed as you smirk and try to bite up at his wrist.
“Such a vicious monster!” He says dramatically with his hand over his brow as if he’s playing a part in a Shakespearean play where he’s a damsel in distress. “How-ever can I defeat such a beast?” He chuckles to himself, manhandling you once more as if you were a piece of clay for him to manipulate any which way. Jumping off the bed and reaching for the Metallica shirt he set aside for you, he places it over your head to blind you.
“Little girl can’t even get dressed properly without her daddy huh? Silly girl has left herself all vulnerable to the tickle monster!!” He laughs, setting himself beside you and poking your stomach whilst your vision is covered. “It tickles daddy!” You squeal and pull the shirt down and quickly as you can whilst simultaneously protecting your sensitive areas. “Oh it does? I wouldn’t expect that! You’re telling me this tickles? This? What I doing right here? Naaaahhh you’re crazy!” Eddie chuckles to himself as he picks up the speed in which he’s moving, using all five fingers on both hands to rapidly tickle your sides as he babies you. He only stops tickling you when he sees you gasp for air, sure he’s a tease and a self confessed “tickle monster” but he’s not evil.
He pulls you closer to him as you rest your head on his chest, still catching your breath from the play fight. Eddie ruffles your hair and rubs your back with his spare hand. Yawning and closing your eyes, you nuzzle into him. The feeling of his soft shirt against your nose only brings you closer to falling asleep.
“Hey hey hey!” He shakes your shoulders as he wakes you. “Princess I forgot, I got this.” He holds up a pacifier, it’s black and decorated with red beads that spell out ‘lil’rockstar’ along the handle, in the middle is a sticker of a bat. The bat seems to be wearing a similar pacifier himself. “I bought this a few weeks back, you don’t have to use it if you don’t wanna. I just- I was researching this whole little space thing you got going on. A lot of the littles, they have these. Plus- I figured it could stop you chewing on your nails and the skin around them.” Eddie picks up your hand, inspecting your fingers. “Whatcha say? Wanna give it a try?” Your face immediately flushes, you’d never really given pacifiers a seconds thought, but the effort he went to and the whole thing with your fingernails, maybe he was right.
You nod shyly, accepting his little gift. Placing it in your mouth, you smile and your lips morph to the shape of the pacifier. Eddie smiles back at you, only brighter. Moving the hair from your face and stroking your cheek.
“Look at you. My Lil’Rockstar.”
#mine#stranger things#eddie munson#eddie munson au#stranger things au#daddy!eddie munson#daddy!eddie#cg!eddie munson#cg!eddie#eddie munson stranger things#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson x reader#eddie x reader#eddie thoughts#eddie stranger things#eddie x fem!reader#eddie munson x fem!reader fluff#fluff#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x female character#Eddie Munson fluff fic#little space!reader#ler!eddie#little space fic#stranger things little space
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The Letter ch. 2
Toji Fushiguro x F!Reader
Summary: You make it to the townhouse your cousin had made home for herself only to find it left in chaos without her there to keep everything, husband included, in check.
Warnings: pre-star plasma vessel, canon typical violence, reader is the cousin of Mamaugro, reader is Tsumiki's mom, Tsumiki and Magumi are cousins, gendered terms, grief/mourning, misuse of alcohol
Word Count: 2.3K
Tag list:@sordidmusings @lostfirefly
↞ to Speak No Evil Masterlist | Jjk Masterlist | Request Rules | Blog Navigation ↠ ch. 1
You stared blankly down at the letter written in the neat, unrecognizable handwriting of your cousin.
She was gone. Truly gone.
The letter explains things about Megumi such as his eating habits, how he is a relatively calm and quiet baby unless he truly needs something. At the time the letter was written, he was only one month old making Megumi two months now. It had their address, an explanation of where you could park, and where the spare key was hidden.
You had been preparing for this.
You had packed all of your most important things into trash bags and small boxes. Sold furniture and given away things you just didn’t need. You had talked to your landlord and Tsumiki’s preschool about the move, both having been surprisingly helpful.
You had been preparing for this moment but--she was dead. Your cousin who was practically your sister was just--gone. You would never seen her again except in your fading memories.
You wanted to cry. You wanted to scream and shout and curse whatever god was listening for making life so cruel but you knew you didn’t have time for all that. You knew that you needed to get to Megumi as swiftly as you could so that you could take care of him just as you had Tsumiki. So you could make sure he grew up knowing his mother had loved him and his father--
That’s what worried you the most about all this. That man. Toji . You had no idea what was to come. What kind of beast he might be.
Beast. Your family would agree with your thoughts. But…your cousin had begged for you to treat him with kindness. Over the phone, she had begged for him and within this letter, she begged for him.
Beast…who would beg for a beast? Maybe someone who had seen the beast and had managed to tame it for the time being. Someone who, now gone, could no longer keep the beast from breaking out of its cage and wrecking chaos upon anyone and anything that got in its way.
You tried not to think of what kind of man this Toji was as you tossed all your trash bags full of clothes and boxes into your car. Tried not to think of him as you picked Tsumiki up from preschool and started the drive away from your city to Toyko where your cousin had made home.
City turned to county side and county side turned back into city which turned to compact homes that lay only a few minutes away from the city. You parked where you cousin had intrusted and pulled on the bag, jam-packed full of baby gear as it could fit. You weren’t sure what you were walking into, so you thought being prepared was probably for the best.
Taking Tsumiki’s hand, you guided her down the streets until you found the townhouse matching the address within the letter. Pots held dead flowers on the small porch and mail was staked high in the corner, some wrinkled and warped from getting rained on and left in the sun.
You tried to ease your growing worry as you climbed the stairs to stand before the door, making sure to keep Tsumiki close. You found the spare key rather easily, it having once been hidden under the door mat which was sitting at an odd angle from being pushed around without fixing. The key was pocketed because you thought it might be best to knock first, not wanting to put you or your daughter in any sort of unnecessary danger.
With a deep breath, you knocked on the door….and waited. When no one came to the door you knocked again, more forcibly this time. You waited and waited and was just about to knock one more time for good measure when the door swung open in an angry rush.
The shrill cry of a baby met your ears first. A shrill cry that sounded like it had grown desperate--it broke your heart. Made your motherly instincts shoot to the forefront of your mind in seconds, nearly blinding you to the man now standing before you.
But nothing could have blinded you from seeing his hulking for. A form that had you pulling Tsumiki even closer and you taking a step back. A form that made your heart pound and brain scream at you to run run run . He gave off the air a predator would to its prey. Like he would eat you in seconds without any mercy.
“Who the fuck are you?” He hissed, lips peeling back in a snarl that pulled attention to the thick scar on their right corner. His dark hair hung shaggy in his face, like he hadn’t had a haircut in months. He wore a baggy black sweatshirt, matching sweatpants, and a pair of black sandals that really pulled the whole look together in the worst way possible.
You craned your neck up to look up into his eyes--they were foggy, unfocused. You noticed he swayed slightly like he was unbalanced. And you smelled it. Smelled what you didn’t want to believe seeing as his poor baby was screaming out for him.
“You’re--you’re drunk.” You found the strength within you to hiss the words at him. To narrow your eyes up at him.
“Excuse me?” He said, eyes growing dangerously dark as he took a threatening step out of his home. Tsumiki whimpered, clinging to your leg as you refused to back away any further.
Had your family been right? Was he a demon of a man? A scumbag who couldn’t even get his act together enough to even try to take care of his son?
“You’re drunk ,” You repeated with a snap up at him. “Megumi is crying for you and you’re drunk .”
It happened so fast you couldn’t even track his movements. You only knew what was happened when you felt his hand around your throat, shoving you backward so that your lower back was pressed painfully into the metal railing behind you.
Tsumiki screamed, shouting out for you as you gave a surprised yelp. You brought a hand up to grab hold of his wrist, which the skin of burned against your plam like he was made of smoldering rock.
His fingers dug into your soft flesh, telling you if you pissed him off one more time he knew exactly how to crush your windpipe. It scared you. It scared the hell out of you but Tsumiki clinging to your leg and sobbing kept you grounded. Let you find the courage within yourself to continue to stare daggers up at the man.
“Who are you.” He hissed, leaning in close to bare his teeth at you. So close you could feel his breath brush against your cheeks and smell the mixture of varying alcohols he’d been drinking. So that you could see all the bloody violence he was threatening shining in his glassy green eyes.
“Kiki--” You spoke, never once pulling your eyes from the man holding you captive. “Kiki, go find your cousin and make sure he’s okay.” Tsumiki only continued to sob, but you gave her a small nudge. “Go. Now.” Your daughter was shy but she knew when you were serious. Knew when to listen to you.
You felt her hands pulls away from you and heard her rush off into the townhouse, small sobs still spilling from her lips.
Toji growled, turning his gaze onto your daughter like he might grab her too but you were quick to grab a fistful of his sweatshirt, yanking him right back in. His grip on your throat only tightened at the action. It was mildly uncomfortable now, nothing that would make you start to panic though you knew he could. There was no doubt in your mind this man would have no problem squeezing the life out of you.
“This is between me and you.” You spoke in an eerie calmness you had no clue you would have been able to muster till now. “You will not lay a single finger on that girl, is that understood?” You hissed lowly in a threat of your own. You yanked on his shirt once more in added warning.
“Who. The. Fuck. Are. You?” Toji hissed right back at you. You could tell he didn’t like the way you were talking to him. You could see it in his blurry eyes that people didn’t talk to him like that for a reason. But you were here was a reason and no man was going to change that. No man, the father of your nephew or not, was going to make you back down from your promise.
You slowly pulled your fingers from his wrist, risking giving him more ease to end your life as you dug around in your back pocket. You pulled the letter out and held it out for him to read.
“What is that?” He eyed it like it might bite him if he reached for it.
“It’s a letter. From my cousin. Read it.” You demanded, shoving it closer to his face. He gruffed, snatching the letter from you with the hand currently not trying to choke you out.
As soon as his eyes saw the handwriting there, his grip loosened around your throat. As he began to read the words written, his hand pulled away from you fully.
You could see he was hurting. Could see reading the words your cousin had written were only hurting him more but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Not in that moment. Not when Megmui was still crying within the dark townhouse your cousin had made her home.
You pulled off the metal railing and pushed past him into his home. Toji didn’t try to stop you. He did nothing but stare at the letter in his hands. Hands that had just been ready to bring such violence against you but were now shaking gently.
And still you didn’t care.
You marched through the dark home, finding trash and all sorts of disarray within. You followed the sounds of the crying baby and your daughter's shaky attempts are soothe him, coming to a small room up the stairs and down the hall. It was dark except for the small wolf-shaped nightlight in the corner. You were quick to open the curtains, finding your daughter had reached her hand through the thin space between the crib bars to hold onto Megumi’s hand.
The little baby’s face had turned beat red from all the crying he was doing as had your daughter’s. He was beautiful, even in his distress. Your cousin had been right, he looked very much like his father, though that bed of hair came straight from your family. Wild and untamable, seeming to never lay flat.
“Mama.” Tsumiki cried, craning her head to look at you, not once taking her hand out of Megumi’s.
“It’s okay, baby. Mama’s okay. We’re okay.” You said, smiling as best you could as you let the bag of baby things slip off your shoulders and fall to the carpeted ground. “Can you keep being a brave girl and find the milk for your cousin?” You asked, reaching into the crib to grab up Megmui who wiggled and wailed even louder.
Tsumiki hiccupped as she tried to calm herself down, going for the baby bag as you worked on trying to soothe Megmui in the meantime. He calmed down rather quickly once you began rocking him, hiccups to match Tsumiki’s on his lips along with the occasional cry.
You patted his little diaper, finding it didn’t feel full. It felt like it might have been changed not that long ago. A quick scan of the room showed you that, despite the rest of the homes dirtiness, Megumi’s room had been kept pretty clean. There were a few toys and clothes scattered around the floor. A bottle here. A binky there. But no horrid dirtiness in sight.
Another quick glance outside the window showed you a clothing line. It swang in the gentle breeze, ruffling Megumi’s small clothes hung up. The only clothes hung there.
“Mama. Milk.” Tsumiki said holding up the container of baby formula.
“Good job, Kiki.” You said, reaching down to run a hand over her hair. Despite your praise, her lip kept quivering in her fear and upset nature. “We’ll get him some food and then we can get us some takeout, hum? What do you want? We could do…ramen?” Tsumiki beamed at the prospect of food and nodded wildly, holding out the formula for Megumi. “Follow me to the kitchen and we’ll do it there.” Tsumiki nodded once more and followed you out of Megumi’s room.
The kitchen was--it was beyond dirty. Beyond any kind of dirtiness you’d ever seen. The dishes were stack high in the sink, the smell of rotting food at its bottom filling the air. Cups and plates and things of takeout, some half full of molding food, were scattered all over the counters. Baby bottles and spilled pouches of spoiled milk lay there too.
It made you think maybe there were more pouches in the fridge but you didn’t dare open it, fearing not only the mess that was sure to greet you, but the likelihood of there really being more pouches from your cousin.
You didn’t want to deal with emotions that were sure to come with such a task so you stuck to the formula.
As you went about making Megumi his bottle, sending Tsumiki back to the baby bag here and there, you glanced towards the still-open front door.
Toji still stood there. Stood there oh so still, looking like he was hardly breathing. Stood there and kept his head down as he held the letter.
Tsumiki came bounding back with another item you had requested, pulling your eyes from the grieving man outside. You thanked her and looked towards the door once more.
Toji was gone and the letter sat abandoned on the porch.
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#toji x you#toji x reader#toji x y/n#toji x female reader#toji fushiguro#toji fushiguro x you#toji fushiguro x reader#toji fushiguro x y/n#toji fushiguro x female reader#megumi#baby megumi#megumi fic#toji fic#toji fushiguro fic#megumi fushiguro#megumi fushiguro fic#fushiguro tsumiki#tsumiki#jjk#jjk fic#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen fic#my fic#speak no evil
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Oh, I have an idea
Make a Shadow Milk cookie Yandere with the addition of HYPNOTISM.
Please 🙂
MMMMMM I was low-key going to do this like on my own but ya beat me to it but this will be structured like a normal yandere headcannon. But I did enjoy writing this it was fun :3
But I hope you enjoy your milkshake
Yandere Shadow Milk Cookie
Second part
-Romantic or Platonic insulation-
!TW! Under the cut there are themes like obsession, possessiveness, warping one’s reality and hypnosis
The Faerie Kingdom, it was a lovely sight to take in! All the faeries seemed really chill about you and your friends arrival
And you couldn’t help but marvel at the slivery tree that was right in the center of the Kingdom
The way the light shines on it was breathtaking, but little did you know, it’s history was not as pretty.
A dark evil was sealed into the tree eons ago.
Beasts. That’s all they will be. Beasts.
But you didn’t know that
You stood side by side with your friends as a rift in the once beautiful tree opened
A jester like character popped out of the tree like a Jack in the box.
The beast proclaimed that he was Shadow Milk Cookie, the world's finest playwright, poet, director, actor, clown and trickster
This situation was unsettling, this jester was able to snake his way into Pure Vanillas and the faeries minds, the same thing could happen to you…
You didn’t catch Shadow Milk Cookies attention at first
You were just a meaningless cookie, he was here for Pure Vanilla and Elder Faerie
But the way you were willing to help Elder Faerie seal him back up could be some what admirable
But what really caught his eye was how you put yourself in front of the young cookies in the face of danger
You were willing to put your life on the line for these cookies who are probably just dead weight
That’s something that could be used to his advantage
So once Elder Faerie Is out of the picture, he could finally start twisting your sweet little reality
But he wasn’t expecting to get an attachment to you in such a short amount of time
Now he could just make you into one of his shadow puppets and you’d obey his every wish and command with no problems
But that wouldn’t be fun would it?
You were walking with your friends when everything got dizzy
You swore you heard his laughter.
Everyone was worried, Pure Vanilla especially
“Y/N Cookie are you alright?”
No, no you weren’t fine
Pure Vanilla rested his hand on your shoulder
“Listen, when I’m around no one will hurt you”
His voice. It wasn’t his. It was Shadow Milk Cookies
You flinched away, everything was twisting and turning. You couldn’t tell what was real and what was fake
You… you needed space.
That was your mistake, you wondered away from the group… unprotected, unsuspecting.
Shadow Milk Cookie approached you, he told you lies, truths that were to good to believe.
You knew he was just toying with your mind, his offers were meant nothing to you, they were just empty promises.
When you refused his countless offers, he was annoyed. You could be a GOD compared to these… these FOOLS!
Shadow Milk Cookie didn’t want to have to do this but his deceitful nature was playing against his favor
He reached out and grabbed your face, forcing you to look at him, directly in his eyes
His eyes were so… hypnotic, you couldn’t look away…
You couldn’t look away…
Shadow Milk Cookies words were so… charming… you couldn’t help but think that your friends were in the wrong…
Well you thought that until you met back up with your friends… their voices pulled you out of that hypnotic trance
This ticked Shadow Milk Cookie off
You were supposed to listen to him, not any of those imbeciles
Well, Shadow Milk Cookie had to result to making you a shadow puppet, the easy way out
All you were now was a mindless puppet
How boring
You were by his side the whole time after that
He didn’t want your so called “friends” to take you away from him
Everything was PERFECT, he was free, he had a new best buddy by his side and all of the power he wanted at his fingertips!
Wlhat could go wrong?
White Lily Cookie… oh that CURSED LITTLE COOKIE
She sealed him back up…
SHE SEALED HIM BACK UP
Shadow Milk Cookie tried to take you with him, his strings were wrapped around you, desperately trying to pull you back into the tree with him
But your friends held you back, you didn’t get pulled into the tree
Shadow Milk Cookie looked at the inside of the seal, he was… devastated… not because he lost… but because he lost YOU
Shadow Milk sat there… unresponsive. Unmoving.
He was going to get you back.
Even if it meant destroying his fellow beasts in the process
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Ryomen Sukuna//Obsession. Part 1.
Content warnings// NSFW (+18, minors dni), fem! afab! reader ('she' used as reader's pronoun), Sukuna being out of character , stalking, paranoia, stress leading to sleeping problems, taking sleeping pills (reader), non-con/dub-con, somnophilia, oral (f! receiving), marking (bite marks, hickeys). English is not my first language, I'm sorry if there are mistakes.
synopsis// She was nothing special, just a normal office worker, and yet, she attracted the attention of something she couldn't understand, something she could not even dream of, not even if this dream was a nightmare.
Word count//1.7k
A/N: I don’t really like the end so it’s possible that I’ll do a part 2, if you want it of course. If you have requests please make sure to read the rules beforehand.
Here is the part 2.
⚠︎︎there is dark content in this fiction, which I do not support in real life. Please, stay safe and do not read this if you feel that you could be uncomfortable.
JUJUTSU KAISEN MASTERLIST. MASTERLIST.
It was already late, or at least, late enough for the sky to be imbued with a hue of profound blue. Y/n stepped forward into the street that led to her house, swathed in a coat that provided her with some respite from the chill of the night. She didn't particularly like walking alone at night, but she wasn't overly concerned either, as she knew that the place where she lived was rather safe. Yet, on that particular night, a sense of unease crept upon her, her intuition whispered to her that something was not right, that the further she walked along the sidewalk's cobblestones, the more she felt like she was rushing headlong into the lion's den. Her body was taut, the hair on her arms bristling, while she held the keys to her house firmly in her hand. The absence of light in the street served to heighten her uneasy intuition. The street light had all gone dark, leaving her engulfed in pitch-blackness, with only the feeble moonlight illuminating her path. She kept walking, putting her uneasiness aside and finally reaching her house, opening her front door and then locking it as she stepped inside. She sighed, calming down a little now that she was in the safety of her house. She didn't even have the words to describe what she felt out there, she had the sensation of being scrutinized from all sides, as if eyes were tracking her every move and gesture, and she didn't feel safe at all, she felt like a prey chased by a beast; a beast taking pleasure in frightening her. But now she was safe once again, she was in her house, alone. Or at least, that's what she thought. She removed her coat and her shoes, walking barefoot to her bathroom, and as she looked at her own reflect in the mirror, she sighed again, wincing a little as she saw the dark circles under her eyes. She wrestled with sleep, and when she finally slipped into slumber, she was abruptly jolted awake by dreadful nightmares, as if her mind was being manipulated to show her these terrible things. She was tired, stressed by her work, by what happened earlier, and all she wanted, all she needed, was to sleep. She washed her face and quickly removed her clothes, taking a quick shower and putting on a big shirt and panties as pajamas. She didn't want to take sleeping pills, but she knew that she wouldn't find slumber this night either if she didn't. But what she didn't know, is that taking those pills, was the worst mistake she could ever make in her life, because with this simple action, she gave to the most evil being roaming this earth a chance to finally touch her freely, to finally be able to touch the object of his obsession.
She swallowed the sleeping pills before walking to her bedroom, sitting on the edge of her bed and closing her eyes briefly. Her eyelids felt already heavy and she sighed in relief, the pills apparently already working. she lied down under the bedsheets, falling asleep almost immediately after her head touched her pillow. After a few minutes, the room became suddenly colder, even though the windows were closed. A tall and muscular body appeared in the darkness of the bedroom, coming out of a corner and towering over her sleeping form. His red eyes glowed in the dark as he looked down at her, his lips stretched in an ominous smile while he brushed her cheek with his fingertips. He didn't know why he liked her that much, or why he waited all this time before claiming her, he could just have taken her away, keeping her captive in his domain, where no one would see her, or find her. But he didn't, because he liked to see her free, he liked her smile, and he knew that she wouldn't smile anymore if he took her away. Even if he was tormenting her, playing with both her mind and body, he let her keep some freedom, at least for now.
"...such an ignorant girl... were the nightmares I made you see to your taste? I made sure to let you see some good things sometimes..."
He leaned forwards, whispering with a deep yet low voice, his lips trailing along her jugular before kissing her pulse point. He sat on the edge of the bed, and cradled her face in his hand, his black nails brushing against her cheeks as he leaned down again, a small grunt escaping from his lips as he kissed her. His tongue slipped between her slightly parted lips, and his other hand gripped the headboard, his fingertips digging into the wood, making it crackle under the pressure. He pulled away from the kiss, letting go of her face and then removing the bedsheets covering her body. He licked his lips and smirked as he saw what she was wearing, his gaze trailing down her legs, before staring at her thighs, his hand gripping one of them and squeezing it. He spread her legs, giving himself room between them so that he could lay down comfortably, before pulling up her shirt, kissing and sucking on her skin, more marks blooming on her breasts and shoulders.
"I'm sure that you'll be frightened tomorrow, when you'll see that... But I have no other choice, Y/n... I have to claim your body, to mark it, if not... I will have to take your freedom away..."
He growled softly, his teeth digging into her neck just hard enough to leave a mark. She was in deep slumber, breathing faster from time to time or moaning quietly in her sleep, the faint sound being enough to make his cock hard and twitching in his pants. Sukuna kissed her again, his hands gripping her panties and tearing them apart, not even taking the time to just remove them; he needed her, he waited too long already. He knew that what he did was bad, but he was the embodiment of evil, he was a curse, the king of curses. However, he didn't want to hurt her either, so he made sure to be as gentle as he could, trying to control his strength as he held her. He held her thighs and pulled them over his shoulders, his head facing her cunt. He groaned quietly, his eyes closed briefly as he inhaled her scent. He was mesmerized by her. He was at the same level as a devil, he was a sin, he was the temptation, the snake manipulating the innocent; and yet, here he was, sinning himself in the comfort of between her thighs. He was obsessed, mad with desire, he roamed on this earth for as long as he could remember, he tasted more women that any men, he shared his bed with the prettiest women this world has ever seen, and yet, it's her who made him feel like he was drowning, like he was submerged and out of breath. She took his breath away the moment his eyes landed on her, and he was finally able to breath again now that he was touching her. He kissed her inner thigh and sucked on her skin, leaving more marks behind. His fingers held her thighs firmly, and he finally gave some attention to her cunt. He could hear her gasping and panting as he parted her folds with his tongue, collecting some of her slick and then sucking on her clit. He closed his eyes, holding her thighs a little harder and eating her out like a starving man. He groaned again, his eyes opening in slight surprise when he felt hands gripping his hair, pushing his mouth even harder against her dripping cunt. He looked at her with hooded eyes, grunting quietly and sucking harder on her clit, it seemed like she was half asleep, her eyes half opened and her fingers weakly tugging at his hair, her hips bucking slightly against his face.
"feeling good, pet?"
She whimpered quietly in response, clearly not in her right mind, her eyes glazed over as she fought to stay awake. He closed his eyes again, his big hands gripping the top of her thighs, making her grind against his face harder, his tongue slipping into her. She moaned a little louder, her clit throbbing against the tip of his nose and her fingers tightening their grip on his hair. Her mind was completely foggy, pleasure clouding her brain as she felt her body relax while he made her feel good, all the stress and the frustration she accumulated finally going away. Her back arched a little, and she bit her lip, feeling her orgasm building up deep in her belly.
"That's it, pet... relax and let me take care of you... Just let it all go..."
He grunted softly, his voice sounding so mesmerizing, so bewitching, that she couldn't help but give in to him, her thighs squeezing his head gently. Sukuna looked deep into her eyes, not even blinking as he made her climax on his skilled tongue. He let go of her thighs, letting them fall back down on the mattress, and got on his knees, leaning forwards and kissing her passionately, letting her taste herself on his tongue. His hand cupped the back of her neck, and he held her head close to his, his tongue exploring her mouth as he looked into her half closed eyes with his own hooded ones. He pulled away, slowly letting go of her neck, resting her head back down on her pillow. His fingers brushed some of her hair away from her face, before he stood up, stepping away from her bed, letting his body be engulfed by darkness.
"You're mine, angel... so don't forget what happened tonight, because I'll come back... to claim you as my queen."
#anime#x reader#jujutsu kaisen#manga#sukuna#sukuna smut#sukuna ryomen#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#sukuna ryomen smut#sukuna x reader#sukuna x you#jjk smut#sukuna ryomen x reader#female reader
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