#a brutal day for the red devil in me

[leonsliga]

Your two moods when you watch Man United vs. FC Bayern and you support them both

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ Softer, Softest ♡

♡ Pairing: mafia!boss!san x stripper!chubby!fem!reader

♡ Genre: smut/angst/fluff

♡ Summary: A fun night of stripping takes a turn when an encounter with a particularly unpleasant customer leaves you in tears, running to your boss seeking comfort and protection. Both things he’s more than willing to give.

♡ Word Count: 3.6k-ish

♡ Warnings: explores themes of body insecurities, reader has her arm grabbed (nothing violent but brutal violence against the person who grabbed it), mentions of blood/injuries (not yours, babes), kissing, heavy body worship, san’s obsessed with you, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), clit sucking, nipple pinching, a lil manhandling, hair pulling, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, low key mirror sex, pet names (baby, pretty).

♡ A/N: Hello my loves, I wrote this little fic for any of my chubby darlings out there who might not know or might need reminding that their bodies are gorgeous, worth loving, and desirable. I also really love myself a hot criminal and who better than San? K, let me shut up now. Just know I love you. Your body’s amazing. Never forget that ❤️

Midnight. Friday. The back alley of a strip club. The best in town. The strip club, not the alley. It’s a dark, starless night. The smell of fresh rain hangs in the air, the aftermath of a sudden downpour that left the ground slick with rain. Music from inside the club bleeds through the cracks of a heavy steel door. A neon red EXIT sign hangs overhead. The door creaks on its hinges as it swings open, sending the music blaring out into the night and with it comes a body. The blur of one at first, flying through the air, and then the weight of it. The heavy thud of bruised flesh and cracked bone colliding with the asphalt. 

The man on the ground is unremarkable, nothing about him worth noting except the mangled nose that gushes blood down his face, leaking into the cavernous gash that is his busted lip. He said the wrong thing to the wrong person and now he can’t speak at all, only mumble. A brushed leather Dolce and Gabbana shoe collides with his cheek. His blood splashes scarlet against the pitch black soles, a horrible crack emitting from his jaw as more pressure’s applied. Now this man? He’s remarkable. He’s muscular, defined in every way so that, even through his black dress shirt, you can read the broadness of his shoulders. His features are sharp and intense. The kind you either fall for or fall victim to. There’s no in between. He’s a handsome devil but a devil all the same. 

“You look like shit” San sighs, effortlessly kicking the man onto his back. He rolls his sleeves up, kneeling beside the man like a hunter inspecting its fallen prey. He stares down at him, emotionless, void of anything close to that thing we call remorse.  

The man heaves in a breath of air before coughing it back out. “Mmm s-s-sorry” he croaks, “I didn’t know she was anyone fucking special.” 

San grips the man’s face, grinning in a way that isn’t the least bit friendly. He squeezes tightly, forcing jagged teeth to press into the soft flesh of the man’s cheeks. “Well now you do.”

This is your boss and you, tucked away safe and warm in his office, are something special. But a part of you knew this already. You downplay it when the other girls point it out. You pretend not to notice the clear signs of favoritism but they’re there in even the smallest interaction between the two of you. Since day one San’s been your protector, your admirer. You’ve denied it a million times, convincing yourself you’re simply making more of things than what’s there. Still, after everything happened you couldn’t fathom running into the arms of anyone else. 

You were dancing like any other night—working your section and getting your tips—when some asshole grabbed you by the arm, demanding your presence in one of the private rooms. Usually you could count on security to drag him out but on weekends the club gets packed and things slip through the cracks. Sadly tonight you were one of them so, like a proper lady, you told him to kiss your ass and sent the tip of your stiletto crashing into his balls. You might be a stripper but that doesn’t mean you’re some thing that men can treat however they wish. It’s a lesson he had to learn the hard way and you were happy to teach it to him. Two shots past drunk and embarrassed by your rejection he snapped, spewing the most vile things you’ve ever heard about yourself—about your body. 

It isn’t news to you that you’re one of the bigger girls here. San says that’s what makes you special, why customers come in to blow a check on you and you alone. He’s right, your bank account says so. The customers love you, they eat up every inch of your plush body. By all means you should feel like the baddest bitch in this building, simply because you are, but in that moment his words had reduced you to nothing. A few seconds ago you were twirling around the pole like a goddess now you found yourself scurrying back to the dressing room with tears in your eyes. 

At least that’s where you intended to go. Somewhere along the way you changed course, riding the velvet lined elevator to the third floor where San’s office sits at the end of a long hallway. At the time you hadn’t considered how much this might escalate the situation because, quite honestly, you didn’t care. More than feeling hurt, you were pissed the fuck off. Your tears were of anger and, whether you felt it at the time or not, you wanted that motherfucker to pay for it. 

This place you work at. There’s more to it than what’s on the surface. It’s easy to get so distracted by the luxury and the lights and the pretty girls dancing that you miss the truth of it all. In fact, that’s the point, but you know a mafia front when you see one. You aren’t oblivious. You know what this is, who San is, and maybe that’s exactly why you were tapping at his door. A damsel in distress in black lace lingerie.

San’s heart dropped when he saw his favorite girl in tears. He stopped everything, sending his men away so he could place all of his focus on you. Resting his jacket over your shoulders, he gently cradled your cheeks, brushing the tears away to ask quite simply, “Who did it?” 

You explained everything, how that asshole grabbed you and the things he said, and San’s anger grew quietly, simmering beneath a surface of calm. He took a seat at his desk, setting you down comfortably in his lap, and pulled up the security cameras. “Tell me when you see him, okay, baby?” he instructed sweetly, his palm massaging the smoothness of your thigh.

You nodded, struggling to focus on the screen with his hand on your thigh and him calling you “baby”. San touching you wasn’t a rare occasion but it was always something light. A hand on the small of your back or fingertips grazing your arm. Never this purposeful—this intimate. You couldn’t help imagining how it might feel if he gripped a little harder, moved a little higher. You felt your heart begin to race, your temperature rising the longer you sat there in his lap.

“That’s him” you sniffled, spotting that familiar face on the screen. San studied the screen a moment before turning back to you. “I’ll take care of it” he promised, his hand riding your thigh and coming to rest at the gentle curve of your hip. “And no more crying, baby. You’re too pretty to cry.” Too pretty to cry? Oh, but you were crying, absolutely weeping, only between your thighs this time. 

San disappeared from the office, leaving you too lost in the lingering haze of his touch to even think about your insecurities, but that only lasted so long. Alone in the quiet of his office, the self doubt began to creep back in. You tried to distract yourself by exploring your surroundings—the impressive collection of vintage whiskey, the gorgeously framed art hanging from the walls—but nothing could distract you from how uncomfortable you’d become in your own skin. It didn’t help that the office was lined with mirrors, reflecting glimpses of your figure with every turn.

At last out of distractions, you turn to face the mirrored image of yourself, letting San’s jacket slip to the floor. You strike a pose, a half hearted copy of something cute you might do on stage, and watch the way the fat of your body squishes together here or there. You strike another then another then another but they’re there in every pose. Your face, your belly, your sides, your thighs. Your weight shows in all of them. Pinching your lower belly you think of how the other girls have had work done. Maybe if you got some done yourself…

“I left him out back. Clean him up before someone sees” San says, pushing through the door, his phone pressed to his ear. 

You jump a bit at his arrival, scrambling to grab the jacket, but San slips in behind you, closing his arms around your waist before you can retrieve your safety blanket. You tense at first but find yourself settling into his embrace as if it’s the most natural place for you to be. 

“So, what was that?” he asks, resting his chin on your shoulder. His breath tickles your neck as he inhales your perfume and the sweet scent of honey and jasmine fills his lungs. You smell as beautiful as you are, as beautiful as everything about you is. 

“How’d everything go?” you press, quick to change the subject. Noticing a series of tiny red scrapes on the knuckles of his right hand, you carefully take it into yours, assessing the damage. 

San shrugs it off like it’s nothing. It still stings but it’s far from the worst pain he’s ever felt. “I said I’d take care of it. It’s been taken care of.” 

You giggle at the contrast of something so menacing being spoken by someone so regal. “San, you make it sound like you killed him.” 

He leans into your neck, his lips grazing your skin on their way up to your ear. You shiver at the contact and his hold on you tightens, your bodies pressed flush against each other so that you can feel his bulge pressed into the plush of your ass. 

“Killed him? Almost” he whispers, “I answered your question so it’s only fair you answer mine, isn’t it? What were you doing? I came in and you were…” San pinches your belly, his fingertips planting adoration where there was once doubt. 

“I…uh…I was…” you stutter, searching your brain for a believable lie but you can’t find a single one.“There’s this doctor, a few of the girls have gone to him to get some work done, and I was just thinking, I don’t know, maybe...why am I even telling you this? You don’t care and anyway, it’s silly.”

“It is silly” he agrees, notes of that quiet, controlled anger you witnessed earlier resurfacing, “But you’re wrong to say that I don’t care. I care about how you feel about yourself, I care about you. You must know that.”

“I mean, I know you care about me. You care about all of the girls” you say, hesitant to accept this as a profession of anything in particular. 

San spins you around, pinning you between the warmth of his body and the cool mahogany of the desk. “I don’t care for any other woman the way I do you.” 

There it is, a profession of something very particular. He’d hoped that you’d seen it by now. He wonders if he didn’t do a good enough job of showing you. It’s been so long before you, years even, that he had feelings like this for anyone. The world he operates in doesn’t allow for soft spots. Soft spots are how you make mistakes and when mistakes are life or death you can’t afford to make them but he couldn’t help himself with you. You caught his eye the day you walked in for your audition and you’re all he’s been able to see since. You’re so delicate, so beautiful, a perfect contrast to the toughness of his life. It’s why he protects you—why he always will. 

“Your body…” he says, his palms racing up and down your curves, “It’s perfect. There’s nothing about it that needs fixing. If you let that doctor touch you I’ll break both of his hands.” San’s gaze is heavy with lust, months of longing just begging to be satisfied. It burns him up inside, sets fire to his very being, and being kissed by the flames of that need is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. 

“Is that the way you romance women? With threats of violence?” you tease, draping your arms across his shoulders.

“Sometimes but usually it’s like this” he whispers, pressing his lips to yours. His tongue parts your lips, twining around yours to deepen the kiss. His movements are careful and deliberate. The kiss intoxicatingly slow. 

San grabs you by the hips, lifting you onto the desk and you let out a little squeak of surprise as he sets you down. “You’re so fucking cute” he grins, spreading your thighs to fit perfectly between them. 

“You think so?” you say so innocently it only makes him want to ravage you more. 

Tangling his fingers in your hair, he tilts your head to look back at the mirror, “Don’t you?” 

An unexpected wetness soaks the lace of your panties at the sight of your shared reflection. Nothing has changed about your body. It’s the same one you were picking apart, the same one you were doubting, and San loves everything about it. He praises it with his hands, with his fingertips, with whispered confessions of everything your body needs to hear. 

”I watch you sometimes when you’re dancing” he says, effortlessly doing away with your bra, “I know I shouldn’t but I can’t help myself when you look the way you do. It’s like you’ve put a spell on me. My little witch.”

San captures one of your breasts, kneading the plump flesh in the palm of his hand. He pinches your bud between his fingers, tugging at it just enough to make your breath catch in your throat. 

“But I don’t have any magic” you whimper, tugging at the buttons of his shirt. They pop open one by one, revealing a body that had to be sculpted by some divine feminine deity. You push the fabric away, your fingertips delighting in the perfection of her creation. 

San’s free hand reaches between you, stroking your clit through your panties. He groans at how soaked you are, your juices leaking through the lace to coat his fingers in your juices. “You do have magic, baby” he whispers, tucking your panties to the side, “It’s right here.”

“Aah, Sannie” you moan, your hands sliding down his abs as his fingers stretch you open. 

Your body falls back, a sharp chill coursing through you as your bare back hits the desk. San sinks his fingers deeper into your core, his cock stiffening at the sight of your body moving as hypnotically as it does on the pole. Only now it’s for him and only him. This is how San likes it, how he’s always wanted it to be. Him with his fingers buried deep into the warmth of your pussy, your walls greedily clenching around them, and you spread out across his desk, your gorgeous body on full display and your lips spilling out moans meant for his ears alone. 

Kneeling between your legs he pulls your panties aside harder this time, nearly tearing the fabric as he knots it in his fist. He brings his thumb to your clit, toying with it just to see how your body twitches with every touch. “How can a girl be this perfect?” he says, nearly salivating, “Even your pussy’s gorgeous.” There’s an audible wet sound, another sweet whimper escaping your throat, as his fingers slip out of your core and his tongue takes its place.

“San, wait…” you beg, grabbing at his hair, but you’re too late. Your attempt at pacing yourself is useless. His tongue’s already filling the space between your walls, wiggling and curling against your sweet spot. His dark hair knots around your fingers, your hips raising to ride every wave his tongue sends washing over you. 

San drags his tongue up through your petal soft folds, swirling it around your clit before diving into you again. He suckles at your clit, gently at first then faster, more ravenous. His gaze flicks up to you, taking in the way your belly jiggles and your breasts bounce. He’s drunk on your juices, already addicted to the way you coat his tongue. You taste like heaven and look like it too. It takes all of the self control he has to pry his mouth free of your pussy, snatching your panties down as he does. 

Standing back up, he grips your thighs, spreading you open to watch the arousal drip from your pussy, leaving pretty little drops on his desk. Your eyes are glued to him as he unzips his pants, letting his cock fall right between your legs. The swollen tip throbs against your lower belly, leaking precum, warm and sticky, on your skin. You rock your hips, clenching around air, craving friction from that deliciously veiny cock of his. 

“You want it, baby?” San teases, tapping the head of his cock against your clit. His length slips between your folds. They’re so smooth, so slick. Toying with your pussy’s like splashing in a lake. You’re wet enough to drown in.

“I want it, Sannie, aah, fuck…” you moan, your eyes widening at the realization that his tip’s pressed to your entrance now, stretching you the faintest bit. 

“Then tell me how perfect your body is. Tell me you love it.” He pushes in an inch more, stopping to leave your hole spread wide around his cock, still needy and deprived. 

The stretch has the room spinning, a single taste of him already making you want more. “My body’s, mmph, beautiful” you manage as he gradually feeds you more of him, “I love it.”

“Don’t stop. Keep telling me. Make me believe you” San demands, thrusting into you so hard that he bottoms out. 

You cry out at the force of the thrust, your lashes fluttering away tears, “I love, aah, my body. I love my body. It’s beautiful. It’s…it’s…”

Tucking his hands behind your knees, San pushes them to your chest, snapping his hips against you hard enough that your thighs jiggle around him. All of you does. Every stroke of his cock makes you tremble and he’s hardly able to keep still himself. You’re so tightly wound around his cock that he can feel all the finer details of your walls. They’re glued to him, sucking him in every time he even thinks about pulling back. 

Through heavy lids you watch the man you’ve only ever known to be a mountain crumble to pieces all because of you. San’s muscles are slick with sweat and a glossy haze dances over his eyes. His fingers are digging into your thighs, completely devouring them. He does what he can to swallow his moans but it’s impossible when you’re making him feel like his entire soul’s being snatched from his body. 

“You feel so fucking good” he grunts, planting breathless kisses up your leg, “Come here.”

San props your ankles up on his shoulders, hooking an arm around you and sitting you up so that you’re close enough to kiss. He grinds against your sweet spot, forcing his tongue down your throat so that every moan you set free echoes between his cheeks. Gripping the back of your neck, he slams into you, harder, faster, forcing your body to give into him. He fucks you until your eyes are rolling back, your mind too blank to recall anything that happened before this moment. There’s no thought of the incident, no thought of your insecurities. High on euphoria, your body feels beautiful, every inch of it. 

“S-San…” you whine, a familiar pressure building behind your belly. Your fingers begin to tingle as they cling to his muscles, searching for any stability they can reach. 

“You gonna cum for me, pretty girl?” he coos, not letting up on you, not even for a second.

Pulling his arm away he lets you fall back on the desk. With one hand cupping your breast and the other circling your clit, he watches you fall apart in the palms of his hands. For so long he’s had to watch you from afar, pretending that he wasn’t utterly obsessed with you, but now you’re all his. His pretty, moaning, teary eyed girl pouring your cum down his cock while you repeat his name like it’s the only word you know. He’s so singularly focused on watching you hit your high that his own takes him by surprise. 

Grabbing him by the wrist, you lock eyes, a weak smile forming on your lips. “Fill me up, Sannie” you whisper, your voice sexy even in its brokenness.

San’s body shudders and you feel a new fullness inside of you. The warmth pools deep within you at first, cascading down your walls the more he empties himself into you. “Fuck, baby” he pants, catching himself before his body doubles over. He came so hard his ears are ringing and holding onto you is all he can do not to fall. You sit up to stroke his cheek and he kisses your wrist lovingly. You stare into each other’s eyes for a minute that lasts an eternity, letting yourselves get lost in one another’s gaze. 

San breaks the trance with a kiss, holding you like one would the most precious thing they own. “Tell me, baby, how do you feel now?” 

You contemplate his question, your attention drifting back to the reflection in the mirror. It’s all there. Your face, your belly, your sides, your thighs, and San looking at you like you’re the prettiest girl in the world. You turn back to him with a smile, “Beautiful.”

[merakiui]

タコの花嫁。

yandere!azul ashengrotto x (female) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, non-con, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, arranged marriage, oviposition, breeding, royalty au note - in an effort to bring peace to two warring sides, you are engaged to the sea queen’s son.

If anyone is to blame for the abysmal diplomacy between the Land and the Sea, it would be your ancestors. Pompous and foolhardy, they thought they could rule the grand seas stretching out from the harbor, beyond weather-worn docks with their rotted, seaweed-strewn planks and briny fetor. The ocean was vast, unexplored territory—a dangerous, deceptive beauty harboring life far beneath unruly waves.

And your ancestors intended to claim it.

Sailors would recount tales of fishfolk—uncanny creatures who looked more marine than the two-legged mammals of the land. They’d raise mugs, each overflowing with ale, in drunken merriment, terrifying themselves with the mysteries of the deep, dark sea.

“It ought to give ya a proper scare straight to Davy Jones himself!” they’d say, voices lowered conspiratorially. “Soon as yer candle goes out and all ya’ve got’s the moon to guide ya… You’ll hear ’em slip through the water if yer listenin’ well enough.”

“You ever go and spy one up close?”

“I’d sooner see the Devil himself and let him keelhaul me before facin’ those cursed beasts!”

“The cut of their jib ain’t so pretty. Enough to give men like us a fright and we’ve seen all sorts of somethin’.”

“Monsters, I say! Monsters!”

Festivals were held to keep these beasts at bay—to prevent them from gathering the courage to creep up onto the land. Every year, during the summer solstice, pits were hollowed on the shore and bordered with stones. Flames licked towards the sky, red-orange fingers clawing for purchase amidst the stars above. Townsfolk would sing and dance late into the eve, bellowing songs passed through the generations. Children would skip up and down the beach, torches in hand, and cry out an old chant: “Fish for you and me are meant to stay in the sea! Should you see one on land, may the Heavens strike it down with a gentle, loving hand!”

Their excitement did well to ward off the fishfolk. Sometimes the lone child would spot one in the distance, peeking out from between the rocks before diving back under in a splash.

On land, humans were safe. On land, the fishfolk couldn’t catch them.

It was different in the sea.

Ships were destroyed in terrible tempests. The waves tossed them around as if they were nothing. Many sailors would find their demise at the bottom of the ocean, torn to shreds with shattered skeletons. Viscerally brutalized, they died with secrets on their tongues—secrets of the strange fishfolk who’d drag them down, down, down to a watery grave.

On one cold February afternoon, the octopus prince was brought into the world. In shadowed fathoms, a grand celebration was held. After so much time—misfortune after misfortune—one fry survived out of the entire clutch. He was round and soft and small, colored blue from exertion and fighting through the tug of the current to reach home. The Sea Queen met him halfway and embraced him, ecstatic tears in her eyes, for a mother’s love is stronger than any political power.

“My little Azul,” she said, stroking a hand along his cheek, “how precious you are.”

No ships were sunk; no lives were lost. It was a peaceful day for both the Land and the Sea. And it would continue to be so in the future. Every year on that same February, it was made a day of peace to honor the little prince.

A day of life, not death.

It was on that same February eleven years later when you were tossed into the frigid depths like a hatchling cast out of its nest. Similarly, your birth had been a wondrous occasion. Your parents brought five boys into the world, each just as adored as the last, but they had been hoping for a daughter. It was a miracle when their fervent wishes were finally granted. You were spoiled as all daughters often are, pampered and doted on by your family and the palace staff.

Your brothers, though protective and caring, were a troublesome and rowdy bunch. Kyffin was the eldest. Two years younger was Emyr, and another two years behind him was Owin. A year younger than him were twins Morcan and Martyn. They picked on you as all immature boys often do when caught up in sibling rivalries, aiming to be the only one their parents see. To prove themselves as the best, the strongest, the wisest.

So it was with a half-cruel heart that Emyr tossed you into the waves from where he stood in the rowboat.

“Only way to learn is with exposure!” he called down to you, watching as you struggled against the push and pull of the sea. 

“C-Can’t!” you shouted back, choking on salt and flailing about. “E-Emyr, I can’t—can’t swim!”

“Don’t be silly,” Owin added with a sweet smile. “It’s how we learned. That old sod threw us right in. You’re lucky it’s us and not him. He was awfully mean with it, wasn’t he?”

“Terribly so.” Emyr watched your struggling a moment longer and clicked his tongue. He held the oar out just before you could slip under, and you clung to it with shaky hands. “Come on—let’s get you up here. You’re not gonna get it today.”

“Fin got it on his first try.”

“Fin gets everything on his first bloody try.”

Relieved, your heart pounding like a drum, you peered up at your brothers. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get it…”

“Nothing to apologize for. You’ll get it one day.”

“We’ll keep trying until then. And once you do, we’ll throw you a big party.”

“Really? Will you really do that?” Your expression brightened, but your brothers’ faces darkened. They saw the shadow before you did. Saw the webbed hands reaching out, the serrated teeth glinting in a sinister smile.

And then—

Owin leaned over, his arm outstretched. So fluid was his motion that it took you by surprise. “(Name), grab on! Hurry! Before—”

The rest of his warning was muffled by the water. You hardly had any time to brace yourself when you were yanked under, your nails raking across the wood of the oar as you went with the force of the pull. Salt stung your eyes when you cracked them open, peering frantically at blurry surroundings. Teal-green specks slid silently through the shadows, mismatched eyes flicking over your form. And then there was a high, raucous sort of chittering. Like a dolphin’s cry, loud and piercing. You squeezed your eyes shut and pressed your palms against your ears.

It only lasted a few mere seconds, but it felt like an eternity trapped in the coils of a creature you couldn’t comprehend. One moment you were holding your breath and the next arms were hooked around your torso, and you were pulled up and into the belly of the rowboat. Your hands flew to your throat, and you coughed up seawater while Owin patted you.

“It’s fine. It’s…okay,” Emyr muttered, his voice shot through with fear. It was the most shaken he’d ever sounded.

Blood fogged in the water, staining the tip of his harpoon. He gazed down at his hand. A deep, jagged gash ran angrily from palm to wrist. He hissed and closed his fingers in a tight fist.

“We gotta get back,” Owin was saying, still rubbing soothing circles into your back. “I’ll row. You rest.”

“Not good,” Emyr said instead, shaking his head in dismay as he watched your attackers retreat.

“We’re still in our waters, right? We didn’t go past the boundary, did we?”

“Let’s hope not.”

“We didn’t, right?”

“Let’s hope—” Emyr paused, collecting his words. “Let’s hope those monsters were in the wrong.”

“Father’s gonna kill us.”

“If not us, the monsters.”

Both brothers looked towards you. Your tunic was torn, stained through with saltwater and blood. You shivered all the way to shore.

Following that mishap, an official meeting was called between the Land and the Sea. The King—your father—met the Sea Queen at the border. He stood proud on his ship, peering down at her with fire in his old eyes.

“Your Majesty.”

The Sea Queen was just as formidable as those who came before her. Her tentacles unfurled as one, and if you looked at them long enough they almost seemed to take on the shape of an obsidian-colored crinoline.

“I believe my mother and your father made the terms quite clear all those years ago,” she said, a wave lifting her to meet the King at the deck of his ship. “So then, with that in mind, there should be no reason for us to meet under these circumstances.”

Emyr and Owin stood just behind their father. You peered through their legs at the Sea Queen, silently amazed. You’d never seen anyone quite like her before. At least, not a real person. You’d seen her in storybooks, depicted as a fearsome beast with devilish features, and though there was something intimidating about her gaze and build she appeared understanding enough. Her grey skin was sleek in the morning sun, her long, silvery strands tied up and pinned with an ornate hair ornament. She looked beautiful in a magical, enigmatic way.

“I couldn’t agree more,” came the clipped response of your father. “Alas, misfortune has brought us here.” He stepped aside to allow her to behold Emyr’s bandaged hand. “Harm has befallen my son and daughter. I suppose you might have an inkling as to why they find themselves in their current state?”

She frowned, but you couldn’t tell if it was out of sympathy or some other emotion. “Perhaps one of them can give reason to the wound now marring one of my subject’s sons.”

Your father glanced overboard at the snake-like merman cradled in the arms of another merman. They looked near-identical, their features unmistakable. He glanced back at Emyr, his gaze hard. “Go on then. Explain yourself.”

Emyr stepped forward. “With wholehearted respect, Your Majesty, it was out of self-defense. Your kind—they attacked us first.”

“You were in our waters!” one of the mers exclaimed, pointing a clawed finger towards Emyr. “It’s all your fault Jade got hurt!”

Owin hurried ahead, his hands gripping the taffrail. “He’s playing it up! It was a graze!”

“He could’ve died! You almost killed him!”

“That is enough,” the Sea Queen said, jutting an arm out to silence both sides. “I understand everyone is hurt here. Our feud lies in misunderstanding.” She gazed at you next. “Little one, we have yet to hear your story. Do share.”

You glanced at the guards, at Owin and Emyr, and then at father. He nodded encouragingly. “U-Um!” Shyly, you approached the Sea Queen. “My brothers were teaching me how to swim. I don’t know anything about whose water is whose. I just wanted to learn how to swim.” You met the fierce scowl of the mer holding his twin brother and quickly looked elsewhere. “He grabbed me before my brothers could pull me up.”

“Because you were trespassing. Anyone who tresspasses ought to—”

“Floyd.”

At the not-so-subtle warning in his father’s voice, he shut his mouth and snarled. His brother—Jade—was handed off to their father, who assessed his state with a frown.

“He will live, but it will take time for him to recover. My son is right. Your son could have killed him.”

“Just as your sons could have killed my sister!” Owin shouted, glaring.

Floyd stuck his tongue out, remorseless.

“It is impossible to know which side is in the wrong,” your father began, turning towards the Sea Queen. “Seeing as both have been injured, I am willing to apologize on behalf of my sons.”

“What?!” Owin’s head turned towards his father. “You’re bloody mad! Have you not seen—”

“Father,” Emyr interjected evenly. “We have nothing to apologize for. We were within our waters. We had no ill will towards the others. It was completely innocent.”

The Sea Queen hummed her contemplation. “The boundary was drawn for a reason, decided upon by those who came before us, and yet it does more harm than good. It is not for safety’s sake. It is to keep us divided—to ensure that neither side will ever know peace.”

“And you’re implying that we get rid of it?”

She nodded, quite serious. Everyone looked on in equal parts shock and disbelief. “Why do we continue to fight? It does nothing but open old wounds, rendering them incurable. Innocent lives are lost in petty squabbling. And for what?”

To that, no one could offer a smart reply.

“Therefore I propose peace. A union to welcome a new era—one in which we embrace one another as allies without animosity.”

“A union?” Your father raised a brow, suspicious but willing to listen. “I suppose it would be beneficial. My people would be free to travel the seas at their leisure.” “And mine would no longer have to live in fear of being thoughtlessly slaughtered and taken as trophies.”

“Unbelievable,” Orwin muttered.

Emyr elbowed him. “Knock it off.”

“We’ll collaborate on a contract. One that dissolves the invisible boundary that has been the cause for so much suffering. In order to attain true peace, I shall offer you my only son.” She glanced at you and then back at your father. “Your daughter shall marry him when they are of age.”

“What?! No way! Ew! Gross!” Your voice came out shrill and you shook your head in protest. “I don’t wanna marry an octopus! No, I won’t do it!”

Your father stood in front of you. “She’s my only daughter. If something were to happen—”

“Which is precisely why I bring up this engagement. Should they be betrothed, we as their parents will promise to uphold peace to give them bright futures and they will act as the first example of a human-mer alliance. Unions between humans and merfolk are unheard of, but is this not the best way to foster harmony between the Land and Sea?”

“I won’t do it! No! Don’t make me marry a gross—” Emyr gathered you in his arms, holding his uninjured hand over your mouth.

“Let the grown-ups talk.”

Owin frowned. “I still don’t agree with this…”

Your father mulled it over, his eyes glazed in thought. “Very well. We will create a contract—an official peace treaty.”

Both leaders shook hands and planned to convene at the end of the week to discuss further.

You watched the mers depart, each one slipping under the sea. Floyd was the last to go, staring at you with a mean sort of vitriol. And then he, too, dove under.

“He didn’t mean it, right?” you whispered to Emyr after your father gave the order to turn the ship around and head for land. “I won’t have to marry an octopus, right?”

Emyr could only offer a commiserate frown.

“She’s a brat,” Floyd spits. “Stupid, evil Two Legs.”

Jade chuckles and runs his fingers over the scar. “I consider it an honor.”

“Yeah, well, I think it’s messed up. She’s the reason you can’t ever swim naturally again. While she’s up there in her pretty, little tower, safe and sound, you’re still hurting.”

“It’s not as much of a hindrance as you may think. I’m not weak, mind you.”

Floyd grumbles. “Still. She’s mean.”

Azul gazes up at the palace, sighing dreamily. “She’ll be my wife someday. That’s what humans call it, yes? Husband and wife… What wonderful words.”

It’s been one year since the peace treaty. Since then, humans and merfolk have made an effort to get along. This is the second time Azul will be meeting with you. He’s nervous. The first time you went out to sea to greet him, and he’d gotten so anxious that he inked right then and there. His mother entertained you from where you sat in the boat with your personal guard. It was a mortifying experience—one that had taken him months to recover from.

Now he’s going to try to meet you in the shallows. Try is the key word here. He’s scared, all three hearts beating as one. Is it too late to reschedule?

“I can’t believe you’re actually okay with this. You that lonely?”

Azul turns to scowl at both twins, but it’s mostly directed at Floyd. “I never asked you to tag along. Leave me alone.”

Jade smiles. “And let the Queen’s little prince swim to his death?”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Sure you can. But what about when Two Legs gets ya? What then?”

“She wouldn’t do that.”

Floyd rolls his eyes. “You saw what her brothers did to Jade.”

“Because you tried to kill her.”

“Because she was in our territory!”

Azul huffs and pushes him away with a tentacle. “Regardless, we’re supposed to be on good terms now. You’ll break the contract if you try anything dangerous.”

“He’s right, Floyd.”

“Ugh. Whatever.” Floyd turns away, stubborn. “This is lame. I’m not stickin’ around.”

Jade lingers long enough to observe the way Azul lights up when he spots you on the stone steps. And then he disappears beneath the water.

Barefoot, holding your dress up and out of the way, you pad across the beach.

“Why are you here? I’m busy. My brothers are taking me into town.”

The smile that had been fighting to break out on his face frosts over. “Oh. I… Um…” Azul fumbles with the conch shell he’d collected on the way here. A gift for you. He made sure to study human speech patterns in the months leading up to this meeting. He’s fully prepared! And yet you look so displeased. “F-For you! I found it…”

You stare at the shell clutched in a dark tentacle. Tentatively, you reach for it. “Why?”

“Ah. W-Well, my mother says gifts are an important part of any bond. In the sea, we give gifts to the ones we care about. To friends and family and o-other halves…”

You turn the shell over in your hands. “We’re not friends.”

“Not yet,” he tries, but you shake your head.

“You ran away from me the last time we met. That’s not very friendly.”

His face flushes blue and he opens his mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. It wasn’t on purpose.

You’re already turning on your heel. “I don’t have time for this.” You toss the shell over your shoulder. Azul watches it land in the sand, just out of his grasp.

“W-Wait! I… I want to talk to you. Please don’t go. You’re going to be my other half one day, so I’d like to—”

But you’re already dashing across the beach to get to the stairs.

Azul deflates against the rock. Tears overflow in floods. Is it because of him? Is he to blame? Why don’t you want to be his friend? Is it because of the peace treaty? Why?

Why? Why? Why?

Azul doesn’t want to think negatively of you. Humans are sensitive creatures. He reads up on them in the palace library, poring over literature and textbooks in an effort to better understand you. But as the months pass and you seem to simply tolerate him for the sake of the alliance, he begins to suspect something.

It’s made apparent the next time he sees you, where you walk right past the beach to catch up with your brothers. He hides behind the rocks, two blue eyes following your figure until you’re out of sight.

Floyd was right. You are a brat.

And yet he can’t hate you.

On the eve of your eighteenth birthday, Azul meets you in the shallows.

Nowadays you send letters, preferring strained long distance over the personal intimacy of face-to-face relations. These exchanges are purely diplomatic. But now that he’s asked to meet with you, a rare occurrence, you’ve deigned to greet him in person. It’s the least you can do after he’s gone through the trouble to travel here. It’s been so long since you’ve seen him that he’s almost unrecognizable. You remember the round, baby-faced octo-mer from your childhood. The one who lounges against the rocks is leaner now—his features defined, jawline as sharp as his eyes. They cut through the gloom to find you.

“You wished to see me?” You’re in your nightwear, a silky gown with an even softer robe. A cool breeze blows across the beach, and you wrap your arms around yourself for extra warmth. “Azul?”

He hesitates, his gaze trailing up your legs. You’ve also changed a lot in the time you’ve been apart. You’ve grown taller, filling out in places he didn’t know humans could fill. What he’d give to hold you… His mother says he needs to be patient. Fickle thing that you are, you’re the reason he’s spent six years trying to appease you through letters—to win you over and be anything more than that “annoying octopus” you’re doomed to marry. Perhaps it would have been easier to act just as you do if it weren’t for the fact that he’d been elated at the premise of having someone to love. When his mother broached the idea in the days following her meeting with the Land King, he’d stared at her with wide, excited eyes.

“There’s a human girl who wants to be my friend?” he asked, to which his mother smiled and nodded.

More than a friend, actually, but then all he was focused on was finally getting to experience the one thing he’d never known or had: friendship.

Sighing, he foregoes formality and holds out a necklace. It dangles from the tip of his tentacle. Strung on a dainty, silver strand, pearls wink back at you under the moonlight. Azul averts his eyes, his cheeks a pleasant periwinkle.

“Happy birthday…”

“Oh.” You move in closer, taking the necklace from him. His tentacle pursues you, twining delicately around your wrist. “Um… What is it? Do you need—whoa!”

Azul tugs you closer. The sea laps at your ankles. Beneath a tapestry of stars, you meet his azure stare. His features are set with a determination you’ve never seen before.

“I want to start over.”

“Start over?”

“I’d like to be on friendly terms with you. We’re so cold. Distant…” Azul frowns, seeming unsure of what to say or do next. The tentacle laced around your wrist like a bracelet tightens its hold. “We’re to be wed one day. I want to make this work.”

You blink at him. He thinks he may have gotten through to you, having finally broken through layers of stone and ice, but then your nose scrunches and odium shimmers in your gaze.

“That’s impossible. I’m a human. How am I supposed to live with an octopus?” You shake him off with a huff. “I’m not sure what our parents think this will accomplish. I don’t want to be a pawn to be moved around for the sake of peace. I’m my own person.”

Azul’s expression sours. His lip curls up into a sneer. “Well, I don’t find it very enjoyable either. You’re not the only victim in this scenario.”

You exhale an exhausted breath. “Azul, I appreciate the gift, but it doesn’t mean anything if you’re only giving it to me to curry favor.”

I wasn’t, he thinks, but he doesn’t say that. Admitting it would be a weakness. Admitting it would mean coming to terms with an unrequited opinion.

“At least one of us is making a conscious effort.”

“At least one of us isn’t trying so hard. It’s pathetic.”

“You’re not obligated to accept my goodwill.” He smiles, smug. “Yet you do every time. I’d wager you enjoy my materialistic affections.”

“As if.” Despite this, you hold the necklace out of his reach when a tentacle flexes towards it. “It’s mine now.”

“So you are fond of my ‘pathetic’ ways!”

“I’m not!”

You jerk away with a vicious scowl, but your foot catches in the sand and you quickly find yourself tipping backwards. If not for the tentacles that coil around your waist to steady you, you would have fallen on your rear. Your chest heaves with adrenaline. Stunned, you stare at Azul.

“You…caught me,” you breathe, lips parted in awe.

“Did you think I’d let you fall?” He cocks his head at you, grinning playfully. “Why, I’d never! Unless it’s me you’re falling for, in which case I gladly welcome the—”

“You’re such a pest.” Untangling yourself from his grasp, which he allows without scrimmage, you step away from the water’s edge. He watches you secure the pearls around your neck, and his hearts stumble in his chest when you point an accusatory finger at him. “Don’t delude yourself with foolish nonsense. I have no interest in you.”

With an indignant harrumph, you start towards the palace.

“May we meet here tomorrow?” Azul calls out after you, testing his luck with what little chance he has.

“Don’t push it.”

“I’ll wait for you.”

“Good. Keep waiting, dummy!” You break into a sprint, hurrying off into the shadows.

Azul smiles at the empty beach. Whether or not you like him, it doesn’t matter. You’re to be his one day. You’ve always been, ever since he was eleven.

He’ll wait, even if you won’t show.

Ostensibly, twenty-one years wise, you’re getting married today.

Your gown is just as exquisite as your hair and makeup. Pearls cling to your throat and arms—classic wedding attire for merfolk. A thin veil shields the scheme in your stare.

This was an inevitability, but you’re determined to fight it until the end. No matter how quickly time seems to pass, you’ll do everything you can to stall and slow it.

Gripping a sharpened dagger in a resolute fist, you drag it through the long, sprawling train of your gown.

“As if I’d marry an octopus,” you grumble, cutting fine fabric until you’re permitted smoother movement. Gazing at yourself in the mirror, you scowl. “I’m no one’s bride.”

By the time the maids arrive to check on you, you’ve already stolen out the window.

The rowboat sways on choppy water. You’ve watched your brothers do this enough times to have the technique engraved in your memory. Your arms strain with the oars, every muscle screaming in protest, but you fight through the pain. The palace looks smaller and smaller with every passing minute. Eventually, you’re so far out that the land is but a mere speck.

It’s going well. You’re escaping towards a better future—a future without the octopus prince.

You glance towards the horizon. Your boat undulates with the waves.

You’ll miss your brothers, your maids, your personal guard…

Water slops over the edge. You yelp, startled. Have the seas always been so rough?

Despite everything, you’ll miss your father.

Just as you think this, your boat rocks to the side. You grab onto the edge to steady yourself, but it’s already too late. It tips over and you go with it, careening into the sea with a noisy splash. Twin shadows cut seamlessly through the murky water. You catch sight of a yellow eye before you propel yourself towards the sky, coughing and heaving once you break the surface. You grab onto the overturned rowboat, your dagger clutched in one hand.

You search the surface for them, eyes flicking to and fro in a frantic panic.

Somewhere… Anywhere… Where are you?

And then you find them, peering at you from the other side of the boat.

“Go on then,” you spit, glaring. “Kill me.”

Floyd bares his teeth at you. “This time I ain’t gonna leave a scar.”

“You know we mustn’t. That’s not why we’re here.” Jade smiles at you, but there’s something in his eyes that unnerves you. “Your Highness, you should know it’s poor manners to leave the groom on his special day.”

Floyd circles you restlessly. “S’not fair we gotta be nice when you’re so mean.”

“I’m not going to marry him.”

“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice in that matter.”

“What’d Azul ever do to you?”

You attempt to answer that before realizing the truth. Nothing. He’s done absolutely nothing but be kind and understanding and patient. And I took that, chewed it up, and spat in his face.

“If you used that brain of yours, you wouldn’t have thrown yourself to the sharks. We can’t get to you on land.” “But it’s fair game in the sea,” Floyd finishes, every syllable dripping with pride. “Stupid Two Legs.”

“I’m inclined to agree. You’re not the brightest human. A pity.”

“My brother should’ve gutted you when he had the chance. Maybe then—”

You see the whites of Floyd’s eyes when he strikes, launching himself at you with a clawed hand, sharp, pointed teeth aiming for your jugular.

This is it. You’re dead.

…or not.

The searing pain never comes, nor does the impending laceration. You cling to the boat and watch dark tentacles rise from the depths to close around Floyd, ensnaring him in a firm hold. He thrashes, snapping his jaws like a deranged beast.

“Let go of me, Azul! Lemme at her! She’s a bitch! I’ll kill her!”

“There will be none of that.” Azul tuts. “I don’t intend to marry a corpse.”

Jade swims over to you. “My feelings aren’t hurt in the slightest, Your Highness. If it weren’t for your status and connection to Azul, I’d have disemboweled you ages ago. Quite a relief for you, yes?”

You swallow your horror, allowing him to detach you from the boat so that Azul can turn it over. A tentacle curls around your waist, lifts you from the water, and places you back in the boat. You stare at your hands. They’re trembling. You can hardly hold the dagger properly.

It takes some convincing and a lukewarm apology from you, but Floyd promises to be good. He doesn’t do anything as you’re pulled back to shore, but he does stare at you for the duration of the trip, his eyes tracking your every movement. You press yourself into the belly of the boat, defeated and riddled with anxiety.

Your father isn’t pleased. When you see his enraged expression, the debate dies on your tongue. “You are to marry the prince,” he seethes, pulling you aside, “or else you jeopardize the peace of our kingdom.”

You’re washed and fitted in a new dress. Guards are stationed at all possible routes to prevent another escape.

When you walk down the beach to meet Azul in the shallows, your veil shields the sadness in your stare.

The ceremony carries on without incident. Floyd watches from the water, lurking like Death. You speak rehearsed vows in robotic monotone, mindlessly floating through the rigmarole like it’s second nature. Azul smiles at you through it all, sweetly smitten.

It’s a nightmare lived in real time.

Humans and mers alike congratulate you, cheering for this momentous occasion. Your tongue is numb by the end of it all. You’ve expressed faux gratitude so many times that it hurts to even force the words. And now, as night descends and the party kicks into full swing, you’re left reflecting on the day.

Freedom feels so far away. You’ll never know it again, will you?

Azul guides you away from the crowd. Firelight grows dim with the distance. Eventually, you find yourself taking refuge in a tiny inlet cut into the beach. A rocky outcrop hides you from the moon’s spotlight.

“I’m not upset,” Azul murmurs, curling a tentacle up your leg. “But Floyd is.”

“His brother’s the one who hurt me all those years ago.”

“That was before the union.”

“I’m not letting it go.”

“Perhaps not now, but you will. One day.”

You don’t believe him.

“Our people are at peace. Aren’t you pleased, my love?”

You shove him away, gathering heaps of your dress to walk in calf-deep water. “I’m not your love.”

“Legally, you are.”

“That means nothing to me. Absolutely nothing.”

Azul sighs. “Even now, after everything, you’re still trying to flee.”

“For good reason. I don’t want to be tied down.”

Azul inches closer. Another tentacle wraps slyly around your ankle.

“You’re so beautiful. I feel like the luckiest mer in the sea. To be able to call you my own… My beautiful bride.” He pulls you closer. You resist weakly. “Now that we’re alone I can finally tell you the very thing I’ve thought of ceaselessly for years.”

A tentacle slides up your leg, straying closer to your inner thigh. You flinch away.

“Azul, wait. I don’t want—”

“I love you.”

You squirm in his hold, attempting to thwart the tentacles that grab at your every limb. You trip over yourself in the process. This time Azul doesn’t catch you. Water laps at your dress, soaking through at once. He’s radiant beneath the moon. Dreading his touch, you scoot as far from him as you can get in the water, hoping to reach land. Azul seizes your wrist and pulls you into his arms. You fight him with more force.

“No… No, let go of me! Release me!”

“Why should I? You’re mine now. Is it not customary for a married couple to consummate their new bond? We do something similar in the sea.” A tentacle brushes your veil back so that he can look upon your pretty face. “I’d take you to a quiet space in the seagrass, lay you down in the sand, and then—”

“I don’t want that! No!” You lash out, swinging blindly. A tentacle shoots out to stop your arm before it can smack him. “Azul, please—”

“I was patient. I waited and waited in hopes that you might warm up to me. I cherished you in silence. I learned your language. Your customs. Your habits. I wrote to you. Traveled to meet you. And yet you look at me as if I’m a monster…”

It’s not the devastated look in his eyes or the edge in his voice that scares you. It’s the startling gentleness with which he handles you. Tentacles loop around your body, exploring beneath your gown. You wriggle in discomfort, yelping when suckers brush against the frilly garter secured around your thigh. Azul hums and holds you up in his tentacles, using two to spread your legs so that he may slide it from your leg.

“I wasn’t forceful. I courted you kindly. You accepted all of my gifts. You wore them proudly and I thought—I knew you would love me, too. You were mine from the moment our parents signed that agreement. And if you leave me, you’ll break a political promise and then our kingdoms will go to war and I’ll be sure to collect the heads of your family first. Each one of them, and you will watch as I bring ruin to the kingdom you love so fondly.”

“N-No… Please stop. Please.”

“I’ve waited ten years for you.” A tentacle hooks around your panties. You thrash again, shaking your head at him. He remains unconvinced, watching with gleeful eyes as your nudity is revealed to him. “And aren’t you an angel? Oh, you’re so pretty…”

Like your hopes, your panties are cast aside.

The tip of a tentacle prods curiously at your pussy. Your breath hitches.

“W-Wait! You… You can’t.” His eyes find yours, and you swallow the rising sob. “T-That can’t go inside… It won’t fit. It won’t—”

Azul smiles. “Of course it will. The human body is capable of marvelous feats.”

Even though it’s pointless, you struggle. “I can’t! Please… Azul, I’m scared. Please don’t do this…”

A lone tentacle slides into your hand. Thoughtless, you hold tight.

“My love, there’s no need to cry. I’m not going to hurt you.” He brings you closer, kissing your tears away. “I’m here for you. I’ve always been here, even when you didn’t seem to need me.”

You hiccup, your chest heaving. It’s not lonely for long, for he pulls your dress down your shoulders. Your breasts spill free and are quickly cradled in cold hands. Azul watches your expression with an intense focus while he rolls your nipples between his fingers. You grit your teeth, refusing to respond. But then the tentacle between your legs finds your clit and a sucker affixes to it, suctioning slowly. You gasp and throw your head back, bolts of pleasure racing up your spine. It happens in a white-hot flash. You slacken in his grasp.

Azul laughs, astonished. “Did you cum? Already?”

“Nooo,” you whine, closing your hand around the tentacle once more. Another one strokes your cheek. “You’ve had your fun. Now let go of me…”

“What a silly demand.”

He tugs on your nipples. You groan, lashes fluttering. “Ooh… Stop. No, stop it… Don’t touch there. Not—haa… Not there!”

“You’re so sensitive.” He drags the underside of a tentacle along your cunt and shivers. “And so wet… Is this your season? Do humans experience such a thing?”

You’ve no idea what he’s referring to, but before you can dwell on it he leans down to take your perky bud in his mouth. Your free hand grabs at his hair, pinning him to your chest. His tongue laves across it, warm and wet. You shouldn’t enjoy it so much, and yet you can’t stop yourself from crying out.

He hums against your skin, beaming like a devil. You can’t hate him. He’s your husband. He’s yours. You shouldn’t hate him.

You’re falling apart in his tentacles, grinding down to chase the bliss provided by the underside of the appendage clinging to your pussy. The sinful squelch of skin on skin fills the quiet inlet. The scent of sex and salt intermingles. It’s wrong and it’s right. It’s instinct, carnal and corrupt. Azul groans against your breast, your teat between his teeth.

“Az—ooh!” You tug on his hair, insatiable. Your brain is fogging over with lust. You don’t want to lose yourself in this madness. You can’t. “N-No more… No more.” 

But he’s not listening. He pinches your other nipple between his fingers, and that’s all it takes for you to unravel.

In the aftermath, the tapered tip of a thicker tentacle squirms between your thighs. Mindlessly, you spread your legs and lift your hips for him. It presses in shallowly, a jarring experience.

“Not inside—don’t! You can’t!”

Azul pulls away from you, his expression scrunched in woozy ecstasy. “Why not?” he mumbles, smiling stupidly. “You’re my bride. It’s only fair…”

Before you can bicker, he kisses you. His tongue pursues yours in a sloppy tango. You lick into his mouth, desperate and dazed. Lost in a sea of salacity, shipwrecked on an island of forgotten inhibitions.

The tentacle pushes through rings of tight, slick muscle. Tears spring to your eyes. It feels weird and foreign, so unlike your fingers. He holds you close, minding his strength and pace. It fills you slowly, reaching places you’ve never been able to feel. The lust numbs your senses and gives way to something animalistic—a base desire you’ve suppressed. Azul rocks the appendage deeper until it’s pushed up against the entrance to your womb, squeezed snugly in your warm walls.

“I-It’s in…” you mumble once he’s broken the kiss, a strand of saliva connecting your mouths. “It’s really…inside me…”

Azul kisses your cheek and pets you with a tentacle. “We were made for each other.”

Surely not, you think, but it feels so when he draws back and thrusts in. Maybe he’s right.

He fucks you gently, savoring every single sound you make. He tells you he loves you, whispers it over and over like it’s prayer. You nod dumbly, grabbing at his hand to hold it. The both of you are gasping in unison, chasing cloud nine. In just a few more deep strokes, his tip bullying its way to your womb, he finally finds his end. A thin substance fills you up in plentiful amounts. Distantly, you think it’s water until he drags your hips further down. Your mouth drops open in a strangled scream as something round and gelatinous passes through. It settles in your womb, and you know right away that it shouldn’t be there.

You panic. “W-Wait… Wha—Zul… Stop… No, I don’t want—”

“It’s all right,” he breathes, his mouth on your shoulder. He soothes you with soft shushes and even softer kisses. “You’re okay. I’m here.”

You dig your nails into the tentacle curled in your palm just as a second orb squeezes through. He groans, his eyes squeezed shut.

“Finally…” He pants, a wobbly smile stretching on his delirious countenance. “Finally, my love, my dear—oh, my beloved bride!”

He cradles you like a mother would a newborn. You lie there as he fills you, your voice hoarse from babbling and bewailing. These things—little orbs of jelly—are stuffed into your womb, and by the time you surpass twenty you lose count and blank out, trembling through yet another orgasm. You’re not sure how many more he has left or how many more you can possibly fit. It feels too good to think about that.

“Bigger. They’ll get bigger. You’ll look so pretty—round and full and soft.”

Dizzy, you glance at the bloated dome that is your belly. Your gown strains over it, an impressively deceptive size that you almost mistake for pregnancy. That’s when it clicks. Eggs. These are eggs.

“I’ll make sure they survive. All of them—as many as I possibly can. I’ll stay by your side. I’ll keep you content. I’ll fill you with love—so much love—an abundance of it, and you’ll never know emptiness again,” he rambles, resting a tentacle over your distended middle.

It’s not just a senseless sweet nothing. It’s a promise.

[jorblesandco]

Some TSH analysis, uncategorized

julian calling the greek class (minus bunny and richard) "magpies" is so fun to me bc . while they are symbolic of intelligence and resourcefulness they are also symbolic of deceit and opportunism

richard didnt eat his lamb chops at his first dinner with the twins and bunny ate richards chop instead . lamb could be a religious ref to following, how richard is not quite yet in the thick of it with the group, not yet a follower of henry/andor julian . but later in the book he does eat lamb in camillas room at the hotel if i remember correctly , perhaps he is consuming his own innocence, his own morality . finally accepting his role as a follower maybe . also something to do with morality

Henry as death, as Satan/the devil (Richard has described him as Satan, some girl at a party said the greek class were all devil worshippers and Who do they worship except Henry)

Rot and death, particularly rotting fruit -- something about opulence and overindulgence: richard says in his notebook from when he was 18: “There is to me about this place a smell of rot, the smell of rot that ripe fruit makes. Nowhere, ever, have the hideous mechanics of birth and copulation and death-those monstrous upheavals of life that the Greeks call miasma, defilement-been so brutal or been painted up to look so pretty; have so many people put so much faith in lies and mutability and death death death” and then the first few days at hampden (literally 2 pages later) “stunned and drunk with beauty ... Trees creaking with apples fallen apples red on the grass beneath, the heavy sweet smell of apples rotting on the ground”

Richard first name John:  john the apostle . outlived all the other apostles .beloved . follower . etc . interesting the things that could be associated with that; john also means “graced by god”so that could also be looked into; could be that richard abandoning his given name that he has abandoned any grace that could have been given him . could be that he is the apostle to Henry in a way that the others weren't .... could be he has fallen from grace; extremely interesting to me that richard as a name has zero biblical references and means "brave ruler" . something something about the front richard was putting on . the grandiose he wanted so badly to imitate but in the end couldnt and he will always remain but a humble john follower and apostle . perhaps

[sky-kiss]

My brain is doing its thing again where I imagine Raphael coming back from the grave during the epilogue party after Tav kills him and it’s like the Red Death scene from Phantom of the Opera and he goes “why so silent, good messieurs?” And he’s all smug and shit RAAAA—

The music stops. 

Not out of fear—it's horror. It must be horror. The glass slips from Tav's grip, shattering on the ground below. Wine splatters across their boots, wets the dirt, and makes it mud. 

"Come now, you were so confident before." 

Raphael's voice is not as it was. Now, it is stripped of its richness. The vocal cords are badly burned or severed; it's a rasping whisper, cold as Cania's ice. One eye is milk white. The skin is scarred in some places, still missing in others. A thousand wounds, all weeping. 

And the question lingers on Tav's tongue: what's become of you?

But they know. The answer is so obvious: Tav. Tav and their merry band are why the cambion stands before them, a leper and an outcast. Raphael holds his head high, brutalized and broken, at odds with the fineness of his raiment. 

"Have you no songs to sing? No tales to tell? The hero of Baldur's Gate—slayer of eldritch and devil alike."

"Raphael," they say, calm. "You're bleeding." 

"Am I?" It's a hiss, the words tracking down their spine like a knife. "How kind of you to notice. Perhaps one day, I shall regale you with how this…" he gestures to himself. "Came to pass. Your hand, my dear, has been the least of my concerns. And yet you," he steps forward, broken wings mantling behind him. "Have never been far from my mind."  

Withers takes a step forward. "Thou are known to me, devil—thou who hath set thine coin of fate upon its edge. I shall afford thee a moment—only the one." 

The devil's expression curls back in a sneer. "You think to order me?"

Withers bowed his head. "Yes. Speak, son of Mephistopheles."

Something in the creature's tone leaves him stiffening. Raphael flicks his attention to Tav, dipping into a half bow. "My congratulations: the day is won, little mouse. Your life—your own. Your soul—safe. For now." He smiles, fangs still sharp, still bone white. "But I say to you—no, swear: my memory is long, my vengeance swift. And you…you, little mouse, are so sweetly etched upon the canvas of my mind."

He snaps his fingers, vanishing in a wash of hellfire. 

And Tav feels cold. 

[dramioneasks]

Halloween Fics (2024):

Dia de los Muertos by RavenclawViking - M, WIP - Three pages of notes, three nights, three rituals. Three chances to say goodbye to her parents. That was all she wanted to do. That was all she had left. The one where Hermione goes into the Forbidden Forest to summon spirits and Draco is the only one how notices [WARNINGS: RAPE/NON-CON, TORTURE, DARK FIC]

Murder As A Love Language by stashandtell - E, one-shot - The brutal end of Nott Sr.'s last day gives way to the blissful beginning of Theo's night. [Draco x Hermione x Theo]

So Hot You’re Bringing Me Back To Life by jiexhua - M, 3 chapters - “Draco is dead, with no memories, no identity, no pulse. Ironically, he has an undying hunger for flesh that he tries not to think about by passing time on his broom, listening to records in a gaudy red and gold room he calls home, or reading books to keep his brain from rotting away. And then a girl sets his world on fire.” -Warm Bodies!Dramione for Halloween [WARNINGS: GORE]

D-R-A-C-O by Wheredoesshego - not rated, one-shot - When Pansy, Ginny and Hermione decide to play around with an Ouija board, they let someone in - someone who has been stuck in the afterlife, trying to get back to the object of his obsession. He has been waiting a long time, stuck in purgatory since his untimely death several years before. The Ouija board has let him in, but this dead Death Eater wants to do more than talk.

Eternal by Black_Phoenix22 - M, one-shot - It's Halloween, bitches!!! Draco Malfoy is a vampire and has set his sights on Hermione Granger. On Halloween night he gets his chance to make her Eternal.

Silent Screams and Stolen Kisses by feistyferret - T, 2 chapters - On Halloween night, the ancient corridors of Hogwarts hold more secrets than even Hermione Granger could have anticipated. Drawn into an eerie challenge by Draco Malfoy, she finds herself swept into a maze of shadowy enchantments, lingering glances, and teasing words, their rivalry giving way to an unexpected connection.

Dancing with the Devil by malfoycurse - E, WIP - An all Hallows eve Ball is presented to all students to attend, while most of the 8th years begrudgingly agree to partake without complaint. There are two who harbor similar obstacles: Hermione Granger, the golden girl saint, decides that she will represent in an Angel. It was fitting for her due to her being viewed by all as, "the girl who could doing no wrong". Inside she feels a burning desire to cut lose and enjoy herself...just wanting to be Hermione Granger...one thing she hadn't counted on was catching the eye of someone who she wishes didn't have the same desires. Draco Malfoy, ex Death Eater/reformed member of society, is dressed to the nines in a Devil costume. Reflecting on how the wizarding world saw him, a menace and deserving to be in hell. His longing to be accepted was something buried deep down inside of him. Something that neither him nor a curly haired book worm would care to admit. Sometimes it's better to be reckless.

Trick or Treat! by coldbrewcalico, virgo_puff - G, one-shot - Draco gets roped into trick-or-treating (aka begging for candy like a commoner) and falls into a trap shaped like matching costumes with Harry-freaking-Potter.

I Don't Have a Choice (but i still choose you) by WritingFicariously - M, one-shot - They've been circling each other for two months. An impromptu Muggle game during a Halloween-themed party forces Hermione and Draco to fess up to their feelings. Or maybe it will just make them snog.

Trick and Treat by des_reads7 - E, 2 chapters - Halloween is the one day of the year when the veil between the worlds of the living and the dead is at its thinnest. Hermione tries to take advantage of this and attempts to summon her old fling Fred Weasley from the veil, but ends up summoning someone else instead.

Love is the honey by WritingFicariously - T, one-shot - "Life is the flower for which love is the honey." -Victor Hugo

The Wonder of Wilful Witches by magicalsydney - E, one-shot - On a night of trick-or-treating, Lyra Malfoy reveals her father’s appreciation for a certain curly-haired witch's yabbos. Hermione finds a new found confidence in Lyra’s confession and goes after what she wants– Draco Malfoy.

Something to Live For by dramionelover1997 - M, one-shot - More than a decade after the war, a fun night out with friends takes a turn for the worst. But Draco realises his life is so much better than he could have imagined.

what you want. by ravenflorals - E, one-shot - As the party raged on, further did his temper simmer. He’d watched as everyone danced, donning costumes that made them look both ridiculous and endearing (if anyone heard that last part, don't say it out loud.) His eyes focused on Granger though. Dressed in a white gown that touches her knees, he focuses on the slip of skin she shows every time Weasley ( The back-on with Potter variety ) gives her a dip or spin. A little bit further and Draco could swear he’d see the marks he’d left on her thigh. She’s lightning on her feet and effortless as she goes. He feels like a stalker. Standing in a suit, he’s supposed to be Bond, like James Bond. But at the moment his only mission was getting her out of there. Away from the clawing hands of Adrien who haha! He just noticed dressed came as a fucking Devil. He’d heard the other Slytherin say at least ten pickup lines. ranging from “Aww man people will think we’re a couple.” With a sickening sweet glance. To calling her angelic. ៸៸ —- or the before, during, and after of an eighth year houseparty.

le petit mort by Babierhys - not rated, WIP - in which the unresolved tension between draco malfoy and hermione granger is pulled taut- unbearable and undeniable- till it snaps and they both come crashing down in a mess of kisses and other scandalous things right in the middle of the very first halloween ball at hogwarts. or, basically two idiots who are falling in love and completely unaware of it till they're naked and panting into each other at the astronomy tower.

The Game by Slytherinked - E, one-shot - Hermione might have known she would be taken. She couldn't, however, have predicted who her partner would be. The boy she had once loved, now the man who had left her behind. He swears he won't hurt her, but there are secrets behind his silver eyes, and generations of violence in his blood. It's the fourth year of The Game. Who will win? Who will die? [WARNINGS: CHARACTER DEATH, VIOLENCE]

Come Find Me, Hermione by GG500 - not rated, WIP - “Granger, Granger, Aren’t you a danger? Hurry now, there’s knowledge to bind, Wonder to find, Be vast, fast. Be unrefined. Your next clue’s a tale, If you can keep up with my trail. Come find me, Hermione.” A series of terrorist attacks begin on All Hallows’ Eve. The Auror Office suspects a new Dark Witch or Wizard has risen. Curse-Breaker Draco Malfoy prefers hunting down terrorists to socializing, but finds himself rescuing Hermione Granger from carnivorous pumpkins Halloween night. He'd like to keep out of her entangling hair, but Hermione's murderous penpal is his prime suspect. Despite a thriving career, an impetuous internship, and a double life bringing Time-Turners back to the wizarding world, Hermione finds herself terribly lonely. And, horrifyingly, Draco Malfoy keeps showing up in her flat to steal her "illegal" books out from under her bed—worse yet, saving her life in the process. (Teaser Quote) “Be wicked, be sly, and don’t you dare die.”

Draco Malfoy and his first Weasley Family Dinner by Anonymous - G, one-shot - Guess who’s coming to Halloween dinner at the Weasleys? Draco is! Hermione and Draco bake a special pie for the Weasley Family Dinner. Too bad they’ll never be invited back to dinner again…

Silent Screams and Stolen Kisses by feistyferret - T, 2 chapters - On Halloween night, the ancient corridors of Hogwarts hold more secrets than even Hermione Granger could have anticipated. Drawn into an eerie challenge by Draco Malfoy, she finds herself swept into a maze of shadowy enchantments, lingering glances, and teasing words, their rivalry giving way to an unexpected connection.

Trick and Treat by cleotheo - T, one-shot - When Hermione Granger agrees to attend a Halloween party with her best friend, she has no idea what sort of tricks and treats await her. Light-hearted Dramione One Shot.

[toxicanonymity]

whenever you have time, could you expand on that dark mode joel hc where reader brings up tess😩

(ACTUAL) DARK MODE 🔪

700 words | DARK!Joel x DARK!Reader | master list

In this AU, you can activate different “modes” for your pleasure using specific triggers.  Read about Joel’s modes in these (twisted) Objectification HCs. 

Warnings: NSFW 18+ NSFL DARK!Joel, NONCON maybe cnc but tagging noncon to be safe, Violence, domestic violence, verbal abuse/degradation, spitting, choking, knife, blood, unsafe PIV, dubcon by reader?, maybe more!  post-outbreak, AU

You're in an abandoned cabin looking for supplies on a long journey, and you're in the mood to get tossed around by Joel's darker side.  He's looking in the kitchen cabinets but stops dead in his tracks when you say, "Tess would know what to do." 

He turns around and you watch it come over him.  He takes a deep breath through his nose and his whole body tenses. "WHAT'D I TELL YOU 'BOUT SAYIN' HER NAME?" he booms, pointing at you, mouth wide open, hair bouncing with every word, whole body shaking with rage. 

He charges at you and you step backwards until your ass hits the kitchen table.  Joel wraps a rough, dirty hand around your throat and holds you there, his eyes shooting daggers into yours.  You cough and choke.  "What the fuck's the matter with you? Huh?" His face is red.  He lessens his grip only to let you answer. 

"She always knew what to do," you say. 

He lowers his voice to a disturbingly calm volume and says "You're gonna make me kill you one of these days" as he pulls his knife. You know he won't, but it still makes your heart race.  

He slams you down face-up on the kitchen table.  Your knees are at the edge, legs dangling.  He gets up on the table and straddles your hips then presses the flat of the knife against your throat, and the cool metal sends a chill down your spine.  His face looms over yours, neck veins bulging. Terrifying look in his eyes.  Ice cold like he doesn't know you at all.  Like he wasn't inside you 8 hours ago. And the night before that, and the night before that. 

"Is that what you want? YOU GOT A DEATH WISH? AFTER EVERYTHING I'VE DONE TO KEEP YOU ALIVE?" He slides the knife off your throat then reaches down and pops the button off your pants using the point of the knife.  

"Don't fuckin' move" he says. He gets down from the table, watching you, his pants sliding down yours and you feel his hard cock.  Your heart pounds and your eyes prickle with tears as a primal response, but there's also a fluttering ache between your legs.  He pulls up your shirt and holds you still with one arm across your belly while he yanks your pants down.  He brings his mouth to your thigh and bites down harder and harder until you  thrash him off.  Then, he  presses the flat of the blade at your pantyline and your hips lift into it seeking friction.  

Then he abruptly slashes your underwear, which catches and breaks the skin.  The blade leaves flaky white trails that burn ice cold.   The white trails turn into dotted red as Joel rips your ruined underwear off entirely and takes his stiff cock out of his pants. The red beads grow and absorb each other along the knife's trail as Joel forces your legs open and notches the angry head of his cock at your entrance.  

He uses the blunt edge of the knife to smear the line, then brings the blade to your mouth and makes you lick your blood off it.  You narrowly avoid slicing your tongue.  

He grabs your hips with both hands, still holding the butt of the knife in one, and plunges his length into you.  You groan at the familiar stretch, and he doesn't wait at all like he normally would for you to accommodate his size. He pulls out all but the tip, then sheaths himself in your cunt entirely. 

He pounds you brutally until you come on his cock, tripping him into his own orgasm, and, cruelly,  this is your favorite part.  As he empties his balls into you, you gradually see the devil leave his eyes. With each pump, a little more of him returns and the monster is replaced by a tired, wounded, traumatized man, horrified by his actions.  He looks at his hand and drops the knife. He kisses up your blood and rests his head on your stomach.   He looks up and asks tearfully, "why do you do this, baby? You're gonna get hurt."  Then he covers your body with his, nestling his hair into the crook of your neck.

-

(A/N):  The purpose of this whole concept is that sometimes you wanna get railed in a certain manner & there’s gotta be a way to have a man at one’s disposal for that, too, not just to sit on. I only did this with slashers before so I hadn’t thought much about consent or whether they could regret their actions lol, but I thought the emotional ending here could be an extra layer of darkness for reader. 

BTW, answered this alongside a knife request that was already in progress (mentally lol), but if you're looking for gun stuff, that'll likely be done with raider!Joel.

-

Thank you for reading!!

All Joel (do you regret it yet?): @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea. @evyiione

[basu-shokikita]

Kloktober 2024 Day 7

Furryklok or Demonklok

Today’s entry is a companion piece to @kaanagen’s fanart because I got inspired while we were talking about it. 🔥

Set in an AU where Toki hasn’t left his family yet!

Photo credit

Toki wiped his bloody nose, holding back the tears. It had been years since the last time his parents beat him this badly. The basement? Sure, that was like his second room by this point. But being so brutally assaulted, to the point of blood…

Just because he dared to talk about his one dream, about his aspirations to be a musician…

He choked back a sob, more disappointed in himself than anyone else for ever having thought that the people that raised him would react differently. They didn’t even like having music played in the house. Of course wanting to be a guitarist would be blasphemous to hear for them. He was an idiot. A stupid, naive idiot.

But no more of that. That Toki was done for, soon to be buried.

Determined, he searched under the pile of straw and spotted it. The book about satanic spells and rituals that he had researched when he first acquired an interest in death metal. He knew his parents cleaned his room every now and then so the book would be safer here, amongst the litter and rubble that only Toki was in charge of cleaning.

He already knew what page to go to, he had already marked it. It was page 242, how to summon a devil.

Evidently, Toki thought it would be cool to summon your own guardian and thus protect himself from harm, while also enacting revenge on those who wronged him. The only reason he hesitated was, well…the possibility of hurting his parents.

Despite everything, Toki didn’t want to hurt them. They were the only people Toki really knew, after all. What was he supposed to do without them?

Against his will, he felt his reluctance come back to him, and he was about to close the book when a drop of blood fell on the page. Abruptly reminded of what they had done to him, Toki made up his mind.

With his own blood, he painted a pentagram on the wooden floor and placed his battered guitar at the center. Then, he closed his eyes and began chanting, picturing a future where he was allowed to be who he wanted to be. To do anything he wanted to do. A future where he could be free.

Music would be his freedom and he was willing to pay with his soul for it.

Suddenly, there was a rumbling and a light pierced his eyelids. Alarmed, he opened his eyes and found the ground was splitting in two, red blaze coming from where it had cracked. Terrified, he fell on his knees and began to pray for forgiveness.

When he looked up, he saw scarlet smoke was now emanating from the cracks and invading the basement. And within the smoke, there was a dark figure, approaching him with inhuman movements. He screamed in horror, wanting nothing more but to escape yet his body was frozen from the sight. A noise that could only be defined as an electric guitar riff resonated in the air.

“Nows, nows…” A deep voice spoke as the smoke slowly dissipated. “Who dares awakes me from mines slumber?” Blue eyes materialized, penetrating Toki with his gaze.

And yet, rather than be intimidated, the color eased him. It was a beautiful shade of blue, one of Toki’s favorites in fact. The color of the sky, or, well, heaven.

Heaven…

The silhouette stepped out of the smoke and Toki’s eyes widened upon witnessing its appearance.

What appeared to be a slim, naked man with flowing golden hair, cascading way past his shoulders, presented itself before Toki. It was holding a guitar, like a warrior with an axe, and eyeing him with interest. It was so beautiful that Toki would’ve thought he had summoned an angel instead, until he noticed the horns coming out of his forehead and the pointy ears emerging from his mane.

“So it ams you.” The demon said, leaning down to hold Toki’s chin between its fingers. “You looks like a good meals.”

As tempting as it was to gaze at the demon up close, Toki removed himself from the demon’s grasp. He tried his best to remember the Latin lessons his father had forced upon him during childhood. “M-Mihi nomen est…”

“Nej, nej,” The demon waved its hand. “Is understand everies lanksgage.” Its eyes spotted Toki’s guitar, now miraculously repaired, on the ground. “Ams this yours?”

Toki nodded and the demon proceeded to ditch his own guitar, which disappeared into a scarlet cloud, and picked Toki’s. Its long fingers began playing a monstrous solo on the guitar that, moments ago, was completely destroyed. It was sublime, it was godly, it was unlike anything Toki had ever seen.

“Whats yous name?” The demon asked, still fiddling with his guitar so freely that it almost felt obscene to watch.

“T…Toki.” He answered with cheeks flushed.

“Wells, Toke,” The demon hummed with a smirk. It was so tall, so tall that it was towering over him. “Does you have anythingks for me?”

Completely hypnotized, Toki was unable to answer. Though something in his mind was exceedingly clear.

He had gotten his wish.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I've been dreaming of the Unrivaled Beauty.

O’ Beautiful Queen, your loveliness is eternal and unchallenged.

Steal center stage, and the hearts of those who gaze upon you.

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

War is as much of an art as it is a brazen display of brutality.

For Vil, every performance he gives is war. His weapons: skill, grace, beauty. All of it meant to charm the audience. No substitutions, it no stunt doubles.

Today is no different.

He kneels in the snow atop a corpse. Not a real dead man, but a dummy with an eerie amount of detail. It had been prepared by experts in the prop department, made to resemble his character's sworn enemy in the film.

Crimson blooms upon white robes marked with ancient runes. The collar and neckline are daring, plunging to reveal a generous amount of the bare skin of the chest to the elements. The hair, a tangled mess of glossy raven waves, sticking from the moisture to cold skin. The skin, pale blue with frost, the eyes cloudy orbs.

The mouth, stained red with the blood of countless innocents, no longer moves.

In this scene, the she-devil Snow White is dead, and he, heir to the Witch Queen, has slain her.

Without hesitation, he plunges his bare hand into the dummy’s chest, fishing out a model heart. It is covered in a mixture of corn syrup, food coloring, cocoa powder, and starch to simulate bodily fluids. The thickened liquid dribbles down his own pale hands, staining them.

Lifting his trophy into the air, a joyous, defiant sparkle in his eyes. A throaty cry erupts from him.

“With this, the Eternal Snow will be no more, and peace shall return to my realm!!”

Vil’s explosive laughter fills the mountain. The snow shakes, the land itself shudders in his presence.

He has won.

Finally, finally, finally.

A gruff man’s voice reaches him.

“CUT!!”

In an instant, the scene falls apart and reality sets in.

Cameramen tend to their equipment, prop managers and stylists exchange whispers. Special effects mages tamp down their snow spells. The illusion is stripped away, revealing a balmy day set against a backdrop of mountains.

Staff in scurry in, offering Vil towelettes and lotion to clean and moisturize his hands. He accepts them, then waves the staff off, one ferrying the fake heart.

“Bravo, Vil-kun, bravo!!” the director gushes. “I knew it was the right call to cast you as the hero for this film. There wasn’t a flaw in your acting, m’boy!!”

“Thank you, sir.” Vil bows to the older man, keeping his reply short and simple. “It is an honor to be a part of your masterfully written story."

It is the tale of a beautiful demon locked away in a glass coffin, freed from slumber and set upon the world to shroud it in never-ending winter… The tale of a selfless noble and her huntsmen that stands in opposition to her and her seven sniveling imp minions. A tale of two fates intertwining—the noble whose bloodline sealed the demon away, and the demon who vowed revenge on descendent of the Witch Queen.

Vil's eyes cannot stop themselves from sliding over to his co-star, who waits in the wings. His lifelong rival, Neige LeBlanche.

He is dressed similarly to the dummy that had been swapped in for his corpse. Red ruins his pristine white gown, and his hair is wild—but off-camera, Neige lacks the madness of the villain he plays. Neige smiles sweetly at the staff, giggles like an innocent schoolboy.

Vil fails to look away before Neige meets his eyes. He waves shyly, and, out of courtesy, Vil returns it.

“You've all been working very hard to bring my vision to life," the director happily booms. "Let's take a 30-minute break. Hydrate, grab some food, whatever. Actors, hair and makeup retouches before stepping back on set!"

There is a collective murmur of approval, feet shuffling for the refreshments table. A staff member offers Vil a spot in the donut line, but he politely declines.

"No thank you, I've prepared granola and a light fruit yogurt ahead of time. If you'll excuse me."

He peels away and heads for his trailer. Once Vil is shut away—a well-trained peacock stepping into his gilded cage—he produces his phone and reviews his jam-packed schedule: the film shoot, an interview with a popular variety show, modeling for a magazine cover, practicing for a stage play…

He, cast in the spotlight of hero in every single one.

You are the fairest of them all, Mira would robotically recite. All the social media websites and news outlets were talking nonstop about him, and he knows it.

It's the Age of Vil, his manager would joke. Isn't this great? You're demonstrating your range. This will definitely net you bigger and bigger opportunities in the future!

They’re finally recognizing you for your cuteness and goodness, his father would tell him. That’s my son! I knew everyone would come around eventually.

On any other day, he might have scoffed or dismissed their comments. Today, he simply smirks, silently pocketing his phone.

Vil passes a large vanity on his way to the mini-fridge. A glimpse of his reflection reveals the elaborate jewel-toned ensemble he is fitted for, the makeup that highlights the highest points of his face. Shining, commanding attention—just as any protagonist would.

He stands straighter, holds his chest higher. Proudly flaunting his feathers, his numerous accomplishments.

I've worked myself to the bone to reach this point. I've earned every little bit of this.

Retrieving his snacks, Vil makes to join the crew on their break. Even if Neige will be present as well, he grimaces.

A shadow invades his periphery.

Vil pauses at the doorway and looks back.

There, sitting on his vanity, was a bushel of roses the color of midnight. A black envelope embellished with gold accents is tucked among the petals.

His brows knit together. How odd--he is certain he hadn't seen that a second ago, nor had he heard anyone entering to drop it off while he was briefly at the fridge. How could he have missed such an obvious gift?

"Perhaps it's from the director or producer," he muses, plucking the envelope free and opening it.

Inside, there is, as suspected, a letter.

Same black paper, same gold embellishments.

To Schoenheit,

Please accept this humble offering from myself. It was a joy to watch you perform to your heart's content.

I was very moved by the experience. It is not often that I get to observe Man in all of its peaks and crests in such a short span of time.

I will continue to watch over you and support your dreams from the sidelines.

Sincerely,

M. D.

Initials in the place of a name? Vil turns the paper over, expecting more on the other side. It's unlike his fans to leave out their full identity. (Half of the time, they include a list of their social media handles and beg for a follow back.)

But alas, the back is blank and yields no answers.

He frowns, facing the words scrawled on the front of the square again. The cogs in his head turn, arriving at a single logical conclusion.

I only know of one possible M.D., but... Is he truly the type to send notes of this nature?

Vil toys with the idea in his head, just as he toys with the letter between his fingers. Ego rises and colors his lenses.

"Fufufu, it seems that even great mages such as he are not immune to my beauty and talent." Vil chuckles, exiting the trailer. His adoring fans await.

He's right about everything, and he doesn't realize how wrong he wants to be.

[scribblesforgiggles]

a little teaser for upcoming fic >:3

--------------

Kaz Brekker didn’t need a reason. But that never really stopped Jesper from wondering if he ever had one. It was profoundly cold the day that Kaz found him, drunk and weeping in the alleyway next to the gambling house he had just lost a decent portion of his savings account in. He cradled his pearl-handled revolvers - his only remaining fortune, the last thing to tie him to home - and shuddered silently with red-rimmed eyes and wet cheeks. Jesper may not know a lot of things about the Barrel, but he knew that a man found crying was a man soon found bloody or dead. And so his terror was completely understandable when he looked up to see what must have been death himself towering over him. The crying boy jolted up onto his feet, ready to fight whatever debt collector had come for him this time - but as the light shifted, he noticed that this was not death, nor a debt collector. It was the man who had saved him from what would have been the most brutal beating of his life yet. Jesper had thought him an angel at the time, but perhaps he was the devil, and had come to collect his dues.

Just as Jesper was about to open his mouth, the sullen boy before him cut him off.

“I have business.”

--------

can't guarantee how quickly i can get the full thing out as i'm planning for this to be quite a bit longer than my other fic and my motivation seems to have beef with existence. still, i'll do my best! pls let me know if you like this little extract from it :D

[itjazzbicch]

A Sun is Born

Pairing: Claudio Serafino x Mishima!Devil!Reader 

My first time writing for Claudio, so I hope I did well!

Summary: Their entire life being nothing but pain and fighting to awaken their devil and please their father, the reader finally has enough when the opportunity for their own freedom presents itself, hoping to find purification in Italy from the exorcist, Claudio, who learns that the reader is no devil...

Warnings: The reader is mentioned to have faced death and has a messed up past (but that's about it!)

Word Count: 1.3k 

My father and grandfather had been fighting one another for far too long, but at this point, I didn't care anymore. For the first time in my life, I was disobeying my father and doing what I wanted, doing what I felt was right even though I was scared.

Tonight, my life was going to change forever. I wasn't sure if Father would hunt me down once he noticed I was gone. It was too late to try and theorize every consequence of the actions I was about to perform.

Italy was a beautiful place, finding the Arches of Sirius Exorcists and their leader:

"You're Claudio Serafino, correct?"

"I am..." Looking in the corner of his eye, he could see my figure in the shadows of the cathedral, stepping out and pulling my hood down as I introduced myself:

"I'm Y/N. Y/N Mishima...."

His eyes widened with shock. At first, he was speechless, his mind racing with thoughts and questions, but he asked in a severe but soft tone:

"A Mishima? Are you another one of Heihachi's children?"

"No," I answered, trying to keep my emotions back as I hated to say, "Kazuya Mishima is my father."

"I thought Jin was his only child." Claudio grew more perplexed, looking towards the moonlight shining through the glass and onto my face. Staring intensely into my eyes, his intuition told him I was being truthful, swallowing a breath as he asked one last question, "What brings you here?"

My life with my father was brutal. For as long as I can remember, it was all about fighting, training, and gaining power. Nothing else. I couldn't even dare to mess up, or there would be consequences.

All those thoughts made me tear up, crying to this man who was still but a stranger to me, shaking as my body pulsated, my eyes piercing into his as they turned bright red against the moonlight, begging in my cry:

"Help me. Please, Claudio."

--------

That was six months ago, and almost every day, I wondered about my father. Did he know where I was and didn't care? Either way, this war and the madness he was causing needed to be put to an end.

I was fortunate to create a bond with Claudio. I wanted to purge this devil from within me, and he offered me hope and a future along with it. Although we had so much to learn and needed to communicate as, the brother I had never met, Jin Kazama, had faced off with our father. Then a new King of The Iron Fist Tournament?

As much as I hated it, I may need this devil's power to help achieve our shared goal.

We were getting closer and closer as Claudio and I met Zafina, who had excellent knowledge of the devil gene and its origin.

"So, you have Azazel's power in your arm..." Claudio was fixed on her arm, to see a form of the devil itself was quite the sight for a sorcerer and I could only watch in shock.

I had hoped every day that maybe this was all a bad dream, but it was right before me. Watching Zafina's hand glow, she pulled out a dark orb, placing it in her hand, showing this red star being consumed by a dark force.

"Jin's light is diminishing..." She began to explain. It seemed to be that Jin was the key to finishing off Father, which I had no complaints about, but as I stared into that orb, my eyes gazing on her purple claw, my body pulsated hard, a pound in my head, which made me shut my eyes quickly.

"Y/N..." Claudio immediately sensed my discomfort, so caring as he took my hand softly, stepping closer to whisper, "Are you okay, dear?"

"Yeah," I lied, taking a deep breath and barely opening my eyes to seek his confirmation, beginning to pant softly, "May I be excused?"

"No need to ask," He whispered, concerned as I turned away from him, going to a balcony nearby, hoping the fresh air would help.

It must've been Azazel's power. It was the origin of the power within me, and my devil was responding to Azazel within Zafina.

Groaning out, I began to hold my head, remembering how my father made my entire life hell and pushed me to the brink of death, all to make me 'stronger.' My teeth started to sharpen the more I groaned, feeling the tips of my horns trying to escape my temple.

"No," I gritted out, my body tensing up as I hunched over a little, the memories continuing to flood my mind, but my heart telling me, "I'm not like him!"

Gasping for air, I was able to keep my devil suppressed. Stabilizing with deep breaths, I cleared my head as intense, dark emotions always led to something like this happening. After a few moments, I opened my eyes, looking at the pretty blue sky and clouds, trying to smile and be proud that I was able to handle myself, but I jumped slightly as I heard a soft, caring voice behind me:

"You're so strong, my dear..."

I had a feeling Claudio would come to check on me, a tiny smile on my face as he had seen the little fight I had within myself. His compliment made my cheeks warm. Looking away from him as I tried not to look so flustered, whispering:

"I guess I am."

"Believe in yourself, Y/N," Stepping closer and taking my hand, it was the first time in my life that I had someone's pure and genuine encouragement, "It takes great strength in one's mind and heart to overcome the things that you have."

"T-Thank you, Claudio," Looking at my hand in his, a tear fell from my eyes, a bit embarrassed that I didn't know what care was like, but I was grateful, a few more tears leaking out as he caressed my cheek next, wiping away those tears, a smile growing on his face as our gazes met.

He could easily read the emotions I felt through my eyes, stroking my cheek once more before wrapping his arm around my neck, pulling me to his chest, his other arm wrapping around my waist as he kept me warmly embraced.

Burying my face in his chest, I couldn't help but quiver from fighting off cries. I had never hugged anyone. All my memories were horrible ones, and to know that I could look back on this and be happy made my heart overflow with passionate emotions.

Squeezing me some as he felt my quivers, he placed his head alongside mine, whispering to me softly:

"And as you said, you are not like him. Deep in your heart, I know that you are pure, amor."

His care and sweetness were going to make my heart explode; growing some courage, I picked my head up a little to look at him with a single eye.

The way the sun shined into his heavenly blue eyes only made my heart thump harder, but it felt so good, and it was such a divine sight that I couldn't look away.

With a fingertip, he gently pushed my chin up, showing my face, his little smile against the sunlight making him look even more handsome; my eyes shut when I felt his nose brush past mine, feeling a slight shock when our lips pecked each other softly, then pressing into a deeper, tender kiss, my handful of his jacket and never wanting to let this go.

I pressed my lips for as long as I could before my head fell a little, gasping a little, giggling as his hand rubbed up and down my back, cooing to me:

"Breathe, amor."

"I'm sorry," I giggled, growing quiet as I found his eyes and immediately got lost again, "I just couldn't get enough..."

"Don't apologize or worry," In my dark world, I had finally found a sun that was so bright that there were no shadows. He was my sun, believing his every word as he was now my new and sure hope, his smile so precious and handsome as he put his nose against mine, "You'll get plenty more." 

2024 © itjazzbicch — do not repost or translate my work. Likes, reblogs, and comments are always welcome 

[obscurecharactershowdown]

The Contestants Are Here!

Thank you for your patience, I'm now ready to announce our contestants for the Obscure Character Showdown! There are 300 characters, split up into 6 groups of 50.

Here's how the schedule will work: Day 1 is Group A Round 1 Part 1, Day 2 is Group A Round 1 Part 2, Day 3 is Group B Round 1 Part 1, Day 4 is Group B Round 1 Part 2, Day 5 is Group C Round 1 Part 1, and so on and so forth until we reach Group F Round 1 Part 2, and then the next day we'll fold back over for Group A Round 2. I'm splitting up the rounds because tumblr can interpret posting many polls at once as spamming, and each group contains 25 polls, so. 13 one day, 12 the next.

I expect to start polls by Wednesday, May 31, but I may be a little later than that. I'll keep you updated.

The polls will be tagged with 'obscurecharactershowdown,' 'obscure poll,' and their group letter and round number.

Under the cut is the groups and matchups. Thank you all for your submissions, and I'm sorry if your submission didn't get in! If it was a submission for your OC, a mythological figure, a Real Life Thing, an album character, a commercial character, etc, then you may not be out of the running yet. Be patient, I have something else I'm working out!

Please don't come into my inbox, replies, dms, etc, and tell me that a character I chose isn't actually obscure at all. No one's media experience is universal, and from my own experiences, I picked to the best of my ability.

GROUP A

Juan Salvo (El Eternauta) vs The Faceless One (Masters of the Universe)

Leila Vernon (The Magic Misfits) vs Malaya Walters (How to Be a Werewolf)

Rosalia Rossellini (Trauma Team) vs Hotwire (Transformers Universe)

The Blue Electric Angels (Matthew Swift book series) vs The Protagonist’s Mother (Milk outside a bag of milk outside a bag of milk)

Syksy (Farragone) vs Chaerin Eun (Surviving Romance)

Miyabi Hanakouji (Persona 2) vs Valier / Reinhardt (The Demon Prince Goes To The Academy)

Merim Felspar (Three of Hearts Podcast) vs Gracefeel (The Faraway Paladin)

Ragna the Bloodedge (Blazblue) vs Shigeru Watanabe (Sakana)

Tragedian (Pathologic) vs Shin Kazama (Area 88)

Morga Eirsdottir (Arcana) vs Shadow Joker (Kaitou Joker/Mysterious Joker)

Rose Red (Ghost Quartet) vs Jacopo Bearzatti (The House in Fata Morgana)

Teardrop (BFB) vs Catherine Winters (Love, Money, Rock'n'Roll)

Nin (Paranatural) vs Naarah (CatGhost)

Rose Hsu Jordan (The Joy Luck Club) vs Seijyu (Mashin Eiyuuden Wataru/Mashin Hero Wataru)

Itakura Akira (Talentless Nana) vs Daryl Zero (Zero Effect (1998))

Tarisa Manandal (Muv-Luv Alternative: Total Eclipse) vs Whisper (Golden Treasure: The Great Green)

Isaac Yaga (Thistlefoot) vs Raikou Shimizu (Nabari no Ou)

Kasane Fuchi (Kasane) vs Taïs (Aïnako)

Kozlov Leifvich Grebnev (Biomega) vs Rosa Ushiromiya (Umineko no Naku Koro ni)

Bowie (Ginga Senpuu Braiger) vs Cyber 6 (Cybersix)

Kim Boksil (How to End an Unrequited Love) vs Zolophilia (Disciple of the Lich: Or How I Was Cursed by the Gods and Dropped Into the Abyss)

Kate (Shadow’s House) vs Michael Tutori (Wii Music)

The Guardian (Hyper Light Drifter) vs Salim Condo (La quete d'Ewilan books) 

The Queen of Hearts (Fool's Run by Patricia McKillip) vs Jyu Free (Dobutsu no Kuni/Animal Land)

Tom (Deltora Quest) vs The Player Square (Adventure (Atari))

GROUP B

Elliot Hemlock (Devil's Candy) vs Sulfus (Angel's Friends)

Togou Mimori/Washio Sumi (Yuuki Yuuna is a Hero & Washio Sumi is a Hero) vs Fengxi (Legend of Luo Xiaohei)

Shinozaki Yusuke (Shinozaki-kun no Mente Jijou) vs Yellow Tempest/Yellow Storm (Ending Makers)

Hiroki Dan (Brutal: Satsujin Kansatsukan no Kokuhaku) vs Tirsiak (Spooky's Jumpscare Mansion)

Tau-indi Bosoka (Seth Dickinson's Masquerade series) vs Sugar Peace (High Card)

Anima (Why Shouldn't a Detestable Demon Lord Fall in Love?!) vs Rinzen (Avatar Legends)

Walter Walzac (The Brave of Gold Goldran) vs Hoshi or “Star” (Arakawa Under the Bridge)

Lex (Cryptid Crush) vs Marshall (U.B.Funkeys)

Pappy van Poodle (Rusty’s Real Deal Baseball) vs Cockroach Boy (Nekra Psaria)

Denzil and Cuthbert (Count Duckula) vs Mama Fireplant (Super Mario World TV series)

Isaac (Awful Hospital) vs Naki Kokuriko (Ayakashi Akashi)

Tughril Mahmut (Shoukoku no Altair) vs Mark (Galactik Football)

Mistake Bradley (Home Sweet Home (1981)) vs Oopsy Bear (Care Bears (2007 series))

Yin Yu (Heaven Official's Blessing) vs Jinwoo Shim (New Recruit)

Xuanli (Lanxi Zhen) vs Tenna (Johnny the Homicidal Maniac / I Feel Sick)

Ssrin (Exordia) vs Kondou Seiichirou (Isekai no Sata wa Shachiku Shidai)

Hikaru (Hikaru ga Shinda Natsu) vs Dr. Albert Krueger (Therapy with Dr. Albert Krueger)

Chris Wise (Anna and the Apocalypse) vs Chase Beckley (Elevator Hitch)

Cindy Caine (Halloween Horror Nights) vs Uncle Flipping Hades Terwilliger (The Snarkout Boys and the Avocado of Death, by Daniel Manus Pinkwatee)

Juliana Valverde (The Hazards of Love) vs Red Savarin (Solatorobo)

Bennett (Hello Charlotte) vs Ruan Nanzhu (Kaleidoscope of Death (死亡万花筒))

Eve (Serina: A Natural History of the World of Birds) vs Senri (+Anima)

Nero (The Boy Who Fell) vs Yee (Outlander Fantastic Princess)

Atl (Certain Dark Things) vs Sheila (Witch’s Heart)

Josh Rumbles (Celia's Journey - a series by Melissa Gunther) vs Queenie (BACK)

GROUP C

Bolt (Crypt of the Necrodancer) vs Mila (The Quest)

Iris (Drawn: The Painted Tower) vs Pearl Forrester (MST3K)

Queen Seles (Sabrina the Teenage Witch: The Magic Within) vs Vella (Velouria Beastender Tartine) (Broken Age)

Mr Morris Lessmore (The Fantastic Flying Books of Mr Morris Lessmore) vs Garrett Miller (Extreme Ghostbusters)

Dr. Anna May (Scott the Woz) vs Ocoho (Radiant)

Bai Lang (My Tooth Your Love) vs Aleida Rosales (For All Mankind)

The Scorched Apostate (A Practical Guide to Evil) vs "Järnarmen" ("The Iron Arm") (Jönssonligan dyker upp igen (1986))

Aliya Elasra (Heaven’s Vault) vs Roc (Xenoblade 2)

Sawamura Tetsuo (Yuureitou) vs Kid Twilight (Story Thieves by James Riley)

Doris Frances Barbara (Blood & Syrup: A Vampire the Masquerade Podcast) vs Mikey McGil (The Skinjacker Trilogy) 

Psianop the Inexhaustible Stagnation (Ishura) vs Gu Nanyi (Rise of the Phoenixes)

Sawtooth Rivergrinder (Freefall) vs Katook (The Katurran Odyssey)

Kim Koizumi (Chroma Key) vs NIL (Hyperbolica video game)

Kathryn (Fixation) vs The Spider Core (The Lab - Core Slingshot) 

Satyarani (Raven: The Secret Temple) vs Alys Hunter (Prosiect Z/Itopia)

Bamba (Kishiryu Sentai Ryusoulger) vs Barago (From Far Away) 

Grunty (The World Well Lost by Theodore Sturgeon) vs Ink (Going Home)

Rook (Griftlands) vs Rambler (Happy Happy Clover)

Elisabet Grimurdottir (Nancy Drew: Sea of Darkness) vs Felix Iskandar Escellun (Last Legacy)

Nancy Neil (Snowboard Kids) vs THE-MEASURE-CUTS (The Blackout Club) 

Nephis (Shadow Slave) vs Rina Shioi (Magical Girl Site)

"good" Tom (El Goonish Shive) vs Tomoe Tachibana (Trauma Team) 

Enik (Land of the Lost (1978)) vs Ernő Nemecsek (A Pál Utcai Fiúk (The Paul Street Boys)) 

Dee Kennedy (Dayshift at Freddy’s) vs Eamon Bailey (The Circle by Dave Eggers)

Bob Sparker (Electricopolis) vs Kirinda (Juuni Senshi Bakuretsu Eto Ranger)

GROUP D

Todoroki Kakeru (Chō Soku Henkei Gyrozetter) vs Lelee (Cursed Ones DnD)

Engine (Gachiakuta) vs The Exsurgent Virus (Eclipse Phase)

Therese 'Tess' Dombegh (Tess of the Road) vs Heart (Moonlight Chicken)

Captain Grace (Magical Girl Raising Project: Limited) vs Gongyi Xiao (Scum Villain's Self Saving System) 

Es (Milgram) vs Fox (Mirrorworld series)

Kindersnatch (Prey and a Lamb) vs Copen Kamizono (Azure Striker Gunvolt)

Lady Bat (Mermaid Melody Pichi Pichi Pitch) vs Pepper (Hello From Halo Head)

Marziale (NOISZ) vs Ulala (Space Channel 5)

Soloman (Soloman) vs Diggory Graves (Hello from the Hallowoods)

Matatagi Hayato (Inazuma Eleven GO Galaxy) vs Phon (3 Will Be Free)

Riley (Nexomon) vs Hizame (Amatsuki (Takayama Shinobu))

Brutha (Discworld) vs Colt / Coltia (Monster Rancher 2)

Raven (Gravity Rush) vs Holy Joo (Oh! Holy (Webtoon))

Kit Devlin (Kitty Corner) vs Kusuriuri (the medicine seller) (Mononoke)

Dandelion Tuft-Flores (Soil That Binds Us) vs Tin (Triage The Series)

Sparky & Whoosh / ポチ & タマ (Pochi & Tama) (Ribbit King (Kero Kero King DX)) vs The Biologist (The Southern Reach trilogy by Jeff VanderMeer)

Silver (Oneshot) vs Allumi Niumbirch (Shaman King Flowers)

Kronoculus (Costume Quest 2) vs Raven (Raven (CBBC))

Gary (Faith the Unholy Trinity) vs Appare Sorano (Appare-Ranman!)

Roxis Rosenkrantz (Mana Khemia) vs Abby and Zara (Doctor Who / Graceless)

Shijima Tsukishima/Shimeji (Shimeji simulation) vs Sym (I Was A Teenage Exocolonist)

Oona Wong (Kiki Strike Series) vs Cynthia (Incryptid)

Felix Leiter (James Bond franchise) vs Jefferson (Death's Door) 

Gerald McBoing Boing (Gerald McBoing Boing (1950 short)) vs Gruftine (Die Schule Der Kleinen Vampire / The School for Little Vampires)

Nuch (Not Me The Series) vs Sad Ghost (Shattered Pixel Dungeon)

GROUP E

Percy Blakeney (The Scarlet Pimpernel) vs Sarah Collins (Dark Shadows (1966-1971))

Grace Summers/Poppy (Blood for Poppies (An interactive novel)) vs Tangie (The Tangerine Bear)

Pleck Decksetter (Mission to Zyxx) vs Zaknafein Do'Urden (The Legend of Drizzt (Forgotten Realms))

Tusk (Shrine II) vs Richard Conway (Gunpoint)

Zinn (Monstress) vs Detective Victor Spooky (Deep Night Detective) 

Teddyco (Sanrio) vs Leonie Beaumort (Aviary Attorney)

Magda (Vapors) vs Yokoe Rei (School Zone Girls)

Mini Kapoor-Lopez (Pandava Quintet) vs Maki (Darker than Black)

Edward Manners (The Folding Star by Alan Hollinghurst) vs Reo Miyao (Bokutachi no Ikita Riyuu (Our Reason For Living))

Cian (Bear and Breakfast) vs Principal Shirley Oddwell (Oddport Academy)

Curse Bringer Angel (Baroque) vs Daniel da Silva (Think of England by KJ Charles)

S.T (Hollow Kingdom by Kira Jane Buxton) vs The Cashier (Midnight Museum)

Inien (Thrilling Intent) vs Vola ('Pax' & 'Pax Journey Home' by Sara Pennypacker)

Seaweed (Gloomverse) vs Fangus Klot (Oddworld)

Osari Hikaru (B-Project) vs Stag Malinay (Krystar First Fragment)

Randy Rosebud (Maggie's Apartment) vs The Lacewing King (Honeycomb)

Akama (The Idiot (1951)) vs No Significant Harassment (Rain World) 

The Nigh Furies (Wen Yan, Mo Xiao, and Hai Die) (The Wolf) vs Libby Day (Dark Places)

Sally Swing (Betty Boop) vs A (Tomorrow Will Be Dying)

Puck Reverie (OK K.O.! Let's Be Heroes) vs Conrad (The Castle of Otranto)

Monmouth (100 Cupboards series) vs Goo (Inanimate Insanity)

Shrimp (The Upturned) vs Suren Darga (DC Comics)

Kim Jinhyuk (Antique (2008)) vs Cecilia Sylvie (Cross-Dressing Villainess Cecilia Sylvie)

Sullen the Magic Mirror (Barbie as Rapunzel CD-ROM) vs Bea (Brawl Stars)

Zachary Ezra Rawlins (The Starless Sea) vs Dash X (Eerie, Indiana)

GROUP F

Kiyoshirou Ushimitsu (As the Gods Will 2) vs Su Moting (God Troubles Me/Hanhua Riji)

Gabrielle (Gabrielle's Ghostly Groove) vs John Dough (John Dough and The Cherub)

Michiko Hada (Helter Skelter: Fashion Unfriendly) vs Corrun Crosslight (Spell Check)

Moondance k'Treva (The Heralds of Valedmar books by Mercedes Lackey) vs Liv (Spooky Month)

Ibuki Momoi (Dai-Guard) vs Etcetera (Cats (musical)) 

Li Ching Lung (DNA Says Love You) vs Fumi-ba (Kamen Rider Ghost)

Uguisu Anko (Call of the Night) vs Corona Hoshino (Swans in Space (manga))

Frog (QuickSpot) vs Karl (All Hail King Julien)

Wolfman (Darkwood) vs Kenna De Poitiers (Reign)

Granger (NeverHome game series) vs Chopfyt (oz)

the Doctor/Doc (Boyfriend of the Dead) vs Gaap Goemon (Mairimashita! Iruma-kun)

Magnate Arabo (Stars in Shadow) vs The God of Hunting (A Herbivorous Dragon of 5000 Years Gets Unfairly Villainized)

Iroha Irohazaka (Cipher Academy) vs Mission-chan (Mission-chan no Daibouken)

Forest Friend (Gris) vs Chiitan (Astro Boy)

Simon (Ma vie de Courgette ("My Life as a Courgette")) vs Ellie (Monster Tale)

Melatonin Protagonist (Melatonin) vs Topsy (The Only Harmless Great Thing)

Harp (Star Guardians) vs Dadish (Dadish)

Turnip (Chicory: A Colorful Tale) vs Sha Sheng Shi ("Killing Stone") (Qing Ya Ji (Yin Yang Master))

Guillermo "Dixon" Alverez (Rebelde (2022)) vs Avery (Hellbound Guardian)

Agent (Penguinronpa) vs Sasana (Nekogami Yaoyorozu)

Uhh… these guys? (Rhythm Heaven Fever) vs Fernando Carvalho (Ordem Paranormal)

Mallory (Escam) vs Elle (Starcrash)

Miyauchi Rena (Blue Reflection: Second Light) vs Adelade (A A Prime by Moto Hagio)

Yamabiki (Starving Anonymous) vs Tiger of the Wind (Monster Rancher (1999))

The High Ki of Twi (the enchanted island of yew) vs Malkah (He, She, & It by Marge Piercy)

[icycoldninja]

Cam you write the DMC men who’s similar to Akira Fudo from the Devilman Crybaby anime?

Once a regular human, she gained the power of the demon Amon after being inducted into a Sabbath ritual (The Sabbath Parties were the latest popular trend among the wealthy and dissatisfied individuals of Japan: Underground rave parties with an occult aesthetic.

When Ryo Asuka took Akira Fudo into in a dilapidated old church, with the intention of fusing with demons. It went about as well as could be expected and most partygoers ended up being possessed by a demon or slaughtered by one) organized by her best friend.

She was originally physically weak, but after being fused with a demon, she became much taller, with visible muscles and a permanent eyeliner

In her “Devil Trigger” form, her skin becomes a shade of bluish gray. She possesses a coat of dark fur that covers her entire legs, and she has clawed feet and fingers. Her head is covered in hair that sprouts small wings from the sides and antenna near the top, and forms into a widow's peak with a red forehead. Her back sprouts large black wings resembling those of a stereotypical devil with a purple interior. She also has a thin monkey-like tail.

She admits that other than the trauma from the Sabbath Ritual, she felt somewhat “appreciated” after being fused with a devil. She barely has friends, is always quiet and reserved and looks normal. So the whole fusing is just making her more devilishly attractive

But shit hits the fan when devils started targeting those around her and herself. There’s an instance in the anime where Akira found his friend killed from being associated with him and she was killed pretty brutally (there’s a scene of her death on YTB):

https://youtu.be/vr0eOkgHwxg?si=gq-zv4LByHVvpndG

After that, she went berserk, so blinded by rage and agony that she started mauling devils and humans left and right as she felt they deserved to be “punished” for killing those who are innocent

The boys then had to devil trigger to subdue her, not without some pretty serious injuries

After a few days cooling down, she just rot in her room as she was depressed and still feel as if her friend’s death was still fresh and had just happened seconds ago:

“I’m sorry…it’s my fault…I shouldn’t have gone with Ryo to that party” she mumbled

They obviously had to check on her since she had locked herself in the room without food and water for days, when they came in, she’s just rotting on her bed silently so they gently ask her what can they do for her

She’s just silent and unresponsive the whole time and when they thought she’s asleep as they were about to walk out, she just mutters that:

“Babe…Do you think Miki died because of me?”

“Are you disgusted of me…are apart of who I am?”

“Miki died because of me…Others died because of me…and I indulge in this fantasy of mine of how good of a change my life had become after being fused with a devil without considering the possibilities for tragedies to happen….Oh god Miki…I’m sorry”

She also says that she had hurt them while going berserk in her devil trigger form and she does not trust herself to devil trigger once more, knowing she might not be able to control herself like last time

How can they help her? How will they comfort her and what would they do to help her control herself better?

Sure, here.

Sparda boys + V x Akira Fudo-like!Reader headcannons

¤ Dante ¤

-He'd heard about what happened to your friend and wanted tohelp you, but you locked yourself in your room and refused to come out. Dante eventually figured out how to pick the lock and entered with food and water, only to find you laying face down on the bed, stiff as a corpse.

-He asked you if there was anything he could do to help you, but you didn't respond. He thought you were asleep and was about ready to sneak back out, when you started mumbling about how you wished you hadn't gone to that party.

-He told you that what happened wasn't your fault, it was the demons who did that to your friend, and assured you he still loves you no matter what.

-He could never be disgusted by you, ever. Even if you are partly a demon now, so what? So is he!

-He's not scared of you either; he's honestly seen a lot worse and has gone through plenty of injuries more serious than the ones you've given him. He knows you never intended to hurt him, and won't blame you for it.

-He honestly thinks your Devil Trigger form is pretty cool. It's not every day he runs into a humanoid demon who's actually beautiful.

■ Vergil ■

-When Vergil heard about the tragedy that befell your friend, he wasn't sure what to do. This was a delicate situation that needed careful words to smooth over, and he didn't do so well with words.

-He eventually decided to portal into your room with some snacks and drinks to ask if everything was alright.

-When you didn't respond, he simply gave you a kiss on the head and promised to return later, thinking you'd fallen asleep. He got a tad bit startled when you suddenly started muttering regretfully, saying how you wished you hadn't gone to that party.

-Vergil then gave you a MOTIVATING pep talk explaining how he would never think any less of you for what you are now, and how the death of your friend was not your fault.

-He told you he would never think lowly of you for your new demon side. If anything, he finds it impressive, a testament to your POWER.

-Vergil isn't going to leave you for such a trivial matter, so you'd best stop laying around feeling sad and pull yourself together so you can make the most of these new abilities of yours.

□ Nero □

-Nero heard the news and knew you would be absolutely destroyed because of what happened. He understood, and wanted to be there for you.

-Despite your attempts to shut him out, Nero managed to worm his way into your room with gifts and snacks, and sat down on your bed, patiently waiting for you to start venting.

-When you refused to say a word and just lay there like a lump of lifeless mass, Nero knew what you were doing. You weren't really asleep, just too depressed to even look at him, so he decided to initiate conversation by lying down with you and wrapping you up in his arms.

-The comfort you needed finally being given to you, you began to open up and expressed how you regretted going to that party, because now you're a violent, unpredictable half demon who has become a target for other demons, and whose best friend just died as a result.

-Nero assured you that your friend's death wasn't your fault and that despite these changes, he still loved you and would stand by you forever.

-He promised to help you work through your new state of being. Being half demon didn't scare him one bit, considering both his father and uncle are like that too. You two will explore your new abilities and figure out how to better control them together.

● V ●

-V grew very worried when you didn't come by to visit him like you normally did. He figured it was because of an emergency, but as time went by and you still didn't make an appearance, he knew something was wrong.

-V learned the news of your friend's untimely death from one of your family members and raced to your house as fast as his weak legs would let him.

-When he got there, he found you lying on your bed in a gloomy haze, seemingly ready to stay there forever and just rot away. V didn't want that for you, (who would?) and sat down next to you, waiting patiently for you to start speaking, screaming, or whatever.

-You felt comfortable in his presence and slowly disclosed how you felt; how disgusted you were with your new form and how you regretted your decision to go to that party. You ended up revealing more than you meant to, but that was a good thing, since V now had a better grasp on how to comfort you.

-He stayed with you for the next several months taking care of you, constantly assuring you (despite weak protests on your part) that he would love you till the end of time and beyond; no matter what you became or what you did, this would always be true.

[gemini-magic17]

Entanglement Chapter Eight

**James' POV

I looked at every square inch of this damn castle yesterday looking for Y/n and nothing. It's no wonder she was always so good a hide n' seek as a child hell even now it is like she disappears without a trace. After asking countless people and receiving the same answer I was about to give up until I came upon Airk.

"Excuse me Airk have you seen my sister anywhere"?

"Yeah, I just saw her. I told her that Kit wanted to go horseback riding with her today", he said nonchalantly. This made me worry because I know what Kit thinks of Y/n and if she were to do anything to her the pain I would inflict on her would be brutal.

"Is that so? Did Kit say why she wanted to take her horseback riding", I asked almost interrogating him.

"Kit said she wanted to get to know her more before they were supposed to get married. Why is there something wrong with that"?

"No, it's just that from what I saw these past couple of days she had little to no interest Y/n. It makes you wonder if she has some kind of agenda", I said with a condescending tone.

"Give my sister more credit would you she is not heartless. Plus what is not to like about Y/n she is brilliant and wise it's hard for anyone not to find any interest."

"It sounds like you have feelings for my sister. May I remind you that she is marrying Kit not you even if I don't want her to. After all, we both know that there is something going on between her and Jade", I said.

"There may be something between them now but I am sure that is likely to change", he said getting right into my face.

"I hope so for your sister's sake at least", I said stepping closer as we stared each other down.

**The Next Day (Still James' POV)

As soon as I was up and dressed I made my way to Y/n's room. I needed to ask her about what went on between her and Kit on their little adventure. With her door in my line of sight, I walked faster, and as I was standing in front of it about to knock when it swung open. I couldn't believe it the person standing in front of me wasn't my sister but the devil herself.

"Hello, James what brings you to the Princess' chambers", she said with that arrogant tone.

"I came looking for my sister but instead found a pest. What are you doing in here", I stepped into the room shutting the door.

"I am simply waiting for Y/n. I was going to ask her if she wanted to come with me to see an old friend."

"Really and what friend would this be? Let me guess this friend is 5'5, has red hair, and is the protector of the Princess of Tir Asleen would that be the one", I said.

"No, as a matter of fact, this friend lives just right on the edge of town", she said with a smug.

"If that so then-", the door suddenly opened and there stood Y/n.

"Can I ask what you two are doing in my room", she said.

Before I could answer Kit got there first. "I just wanted to see if you wanted to come see an old friend with me."

"I would love to but I have a meeting with my parents and your mother", Y/n said. Letting out a sign of relief I no longer had to worry about her running off with Kit today.

"Oh, don't worry about that Y/n. I ran into them on my way here and they said it would be no problem and that you could just do the meeting another day", she said directing a smirk at me.

"Ok, well then just let me change into my riding gear and we can go."

"Alright I will be waiting outside", she said heading towards the door until Y/n asked me what I needed.

"Oh never mind we will talk later", nodding her head at what I said she went to go change while Kit and I left the room.

Standing outside next to evil incarnate I was ready to blow my top. One look at me and she started to laugh at me.

**Kit's POV

"What the fuck are you laughing at", James said.

"Oh nothing much just the fact that you are all red in the face almost as if your head is about to explode", I couldn't stop laughing.

"You think this is funny do you"?

"Yeah, actually I do. Making that vein in your forehead possibly about to pop is hilarious."

"I know what you're doing", he said stepping closer to me.

"Oh yeah, what am I doing? Pray tell, since you have seem to have an answer to that question already."

"Getting closer my sister just to screw with her head", he said.

"I have no idea what you mean. Have you ever thought maybe getting to know your sister might actually get me to like her."

"Bullshit! You are just getting close to her so that I won't hurt you or to be more specific Jade."

"I mean this is what you wanted, isn't it. For me to not break her heart and if I did that it could lead to some pretty damning consequences", I said throwing his words back at him.

"That's right I did say that. Although, making Y/n fall for you is just going to be more devastating when she finds out about you and Jade", he spat at me.

"Then it's a good thing she is never going to find out is she", I smile.

"You know for your sake I hope she doesn't", James said.

The door opened and Y/n appeared dressed in leather riding pants with a red long-sleeve shirt and what seemed to be some kind of black vest. I must admit Y/n is a lot of things but ugly was not one of them. Doing a once-over of her as she turned around to talk to James I had a full view of her ass in those leather pants in front of me. What can I say I may not like her but she does have a nice ass. Continuing to stare it wasn't until I heard the sound of someone clearing their throat. Turns out it was James giving me the evil eye as though he could see what I was doing. I didn't care though and I gave him a look with the expression of "Is there something you want to say".

"Are you ready to go", she asked me.

"Yeah let's go", she started walking and I turned to follow her but not before giving James the middle finger.

**Y/n's POV

As we rode Shadowwing and Chief across the open field it was an exhilarating feeling. The wind blew in my face as Shadowwing picked up speed competing with Kit's just like yesterday. I turned to look at Kit and for the first time since I had met her she was smiling back at me and it was a genuine smile. Focusing back on the open field we continued on until we came upon a house not far away. Slowing down speed Kit stopped in front of the cottage and I followed behind her. Dismounting from the horse she made her way to the front door. I got off Shadowwing just as the door opened to show a man with what seemed to be some sort of staff.

"Kit I wasn't expecting to see you today. What brings you by", he said.

"I just wanted to come see you. I felt like I hadn't seen you in a while. I get updates from Boorman but wanted to come see for myself how you are doing", she said.

"Well as you can see I am the same as the last time you saw me", he laughed.

The man looked past Kit and towards me. Kit turned around and introduced us to one another.

"Y/n this Willow Ufgood", I stretched out my hand to shake his and he looked at me curiously as he took it.

"Willow this is Princess Y/n Ravaryn of Zemira."

"Ah, you are to be wed to Kit. Well I must say it is a pleasure to meet you Princess Y/n", he said.

"Please no formalities you can call me Y/n", I smiled.

Walking into his home he directed us to the dining table. Willow asked if we wanted anything. Kit accepted a cup of water but I told him that I didn't need anything but thank you. Sitting down in one of the chairs and handing Kit the cup his eyes landed on me.

"So, Y/n what do you think of Tir Asleen so far", he asked.

"It's beautiful. Everyone is so welcoming and kind", I smiled.

In the corner of my eye, I could see Kit give me a questioning look. It seemed that Willow saw her look and brought it up.

"What was that expression that just came across your face Kit"?

"What do you mean", she asked

"Oh, you know what I mean. That looked like you didn't agree with the answer she gave when it came to how welcoming the people of Tir Asleen are. Perhaps that look you were giving was directed at yourself. After all, you aren't always the nicest person", Willow raised his eyebrows somehow knowing that he was right.

"Yeah well, I guess you are not wrong. I was not the most welcoming to the Princess when she first came here. After all, how would you feel if you were marrying a complete stranger in three months", she said.

"I don't blame Kit I felt the same way when I found out. I was not rather fawn of this marriage but getting to know her is something I have enjoyed very much", I smiled looking at Kit. Kit just looked into the cup she was given avoiding the fact that I was looking at her. Turning back towards Willow he kept looking at me the same way he was when we were outside and it was starting to make me nervous.

"Kit, you know that sword you were asking about two months ago that you wanted", he said.

"Yeah, why"?

"A friend of mine knew I was looking for it and came across it."

"Really, you have it", Kit seemed excited by this news.

"Yes, it is in the green trunk with gold details on the top of it near all of my books."

Kit couldn't get up fast enough and go get it. I was planning on going after her but before I could make two steps to where she had gone Willow took hold of my hand.

"Y/n there is something that I need to show you. It's of grave importance", after hearing what he said it kind of scared me. I followed him to a room where there were books, herbs, and other things used to do magic. Coming to a stop my eyes set on a book that was directly in front of us. He started to frantically flip through pages until he came across what he was looking for.

"Here it is", he ushered the book towards me, and the content of the page had the prophecy regarding the blood of the dragon as it did in the other book.

"How do you have this", I asked.

"You know it, don't you. You have seen this before."

"What does it matter if I have", genuinely curious.

"You are the girl that the prophecy pertains to", he said.

"No that can't be."

"As soon as I took your hand and the flashes of what is to come it is the prophecy come true. You are the blood of the dragon, I mean how many people can say they came face to face with a dragon especially that dragon being Calyx and live", he exclaimed.

"How do you know about that"?

"I told you I have seen what is to come and from what I have seen you will be the one to bring forth a new world and stop the darkness from consuming the Kingdoms", he said.

"What darkness? What do you mean", I said not knowing what to make of any of this.

"It means that you are destined for greatness."

Before I could ask any more questions we could hear Kit calling for us. Shutting the book and following Willow I was still in shock about what I had just been told.

"Where did you guys run off to", Kit asked.

"I just wanted to show Y/n some of my books on the history of Tir Asleen", he said. Kit gave him a questioning look choosing to believe what he said.

"Y/n it's getting late we should head back", she said.

"Ok, I just have to ask Willow something I will be right out", I said to Kit and she turned to walk out the door but not without thanking Willow for the sword.

"Why me? Why am I the one to bring forth a new world", I asked him.

"You were born with dragon's blood. Prophecies aren't simple and never refer to a specific person. This specific prophecy was written long ago even before the war between the Kingdoms. In other words, the reason that you are the girl it refers to is because of destiny; your destiny", he said.

With those leaving his mouth, I slowly turned around and headed out the door. Before mounting Shadowwing Kit and I said goodbye but not before Willow whispered to me "You may not believe in who you are meant to become but that will all change soon." I looked at him and couldn't help thinking how soon that would be.

Saddling Shadowwing Kit turned to me and asked me what he told me. I told her that he said I could borrow the books he showed me pertaining to Tir Asleen's history. Kit nodded her head and we made our way back to the castle.

[thedragonagelesbian]

durge!cyrus/wyll for holding your lover by the jaw to kiss them 🥺

oowoo kiss prompts

holding your lover by the jaw to kiss them

Avernus rings quiet. The hummed wailing of the Soul Pillars has died away, as have the last flames burn-burst from Raphael's gallery of sinners, but Wyll does not relax into the silence. Maybe it's the fleck of ash that has wedged itself underneath his stone eye, or the fact that the good one kept seeing himself in the rags left behind, but he's itchy all over. An old, inevitable self scratching up against the new, impossible one.

His companions, clustered around Raphael's smoldering corpse, seem no more at ease. All eyes drift to Cyrus as the bhaalspawn drifts away, head down, steel-bladed wings wrapped tight around his body.

"Soooo," Astarion strings the word out long enough to sheathe his shortswords, as if the exaggerated syllable will hide the tremor in his hands, "are we going to talk about the five-armed monstrosity in the room, or...?"

Cyrus flinches. The edge of one of the blades catches against his arm, but he doesn't seem to notice. Already too bloodied or too guilty--or both, blood like holy oil to anoint the guilt--to care.

It still echoes in Wyll's ears. At the very beginning of the battle, eyes, lungs, heart, stomach, all full of cinders and smoke and a cambion's brutal fury, he heard Cyrus screaming his name.

Heard the snap of Cyrus' spine as his body undid itself.

"That was duk-tak." Wyll has never known Minthara to speak with warmth, but she does so now, a scorching kind of pride in her voice and a smile on her lips as she regards Cyrus. "The unholy executioner, among the most exquisite of Bhaal's blessings: the dread aspect of the Slayer."

"I didn't realize we were accepting grotesque gifts from our fathers these days." Astarion, still laying the levity on so thick it becomes concentrated, concerned. "However did that happen?"

"I didn't want it!"

Wyll moves now, pulled by Cyrus' voice reverberating along his heartstrings. Foolish, perhaps, knowing already what blood lust the aasimar harbored, and knowing now how it could break loose in bone spurs and howls, but he steps forward anyway. Even as Cyrus shies away.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, hoarse. "I should have-- everyone should have known, I just didn't want... I thought I could control it..."

Carefully, oh so carefully, Wyll reaches through the shroud of serrated metal to touch Cyrus' face. Fingers hooked under his jaw, thumb on his cheek, wiping away some of the blood and tears. Though Cyrus will not look at him, there is no resistance to his touch. Just a tired sigh, sinking into his palm.

"I failed Isobel and Father both when Marcus kidnapped her from Last Light, but in killing Ketheric, I killed her too, and so he... rewarded me. Forced it upon me, made my body match my wickedness." Cyrus shakes his head. "I was out of my mind the first time, terrified that I would never find my way back to myself. By the grace of the gods, Halsin found me before I could hurt anyone. He calmed me down enough to transform back, and I thought... hoped, prayed, that so long as I was never that scared again, the Slayer wouldn't come back."

"What happened this time?"

Cyrus blinks. "You, Wyll. You. When I saw you almost go down, I..." Head still bent low, he touches Wyll's chest, peeling away the charred cloth of his robe to graze the burn scar beneath, still raw-magic-tender, the quick battle healing that turns wounds into bruises. "I would have seen my claws run red with the blood of each and every devil in Avernus to keep you safe."

Now it is Wyll's turn to blink, heart thundering underneath Cyrus' fingers. "You manifested an aspect of the Lord of Murder to protect me?"

"It's wretched, I know."

"It's wonderful." Wyll covers Cyrus' hand with his own and squeezes. "You took your father's curse, and despite its every foul instinct, you turned it to your own purpose. You made the Slayer serve you, as my pact once served me."

Cyrus glances away. "You should want to kill a monster like the Slayer, not turn it over looking for something better."

"I need not look any further than the kindness in your eyes."

His other hand still on Cyrus' jaw, he lifts the other man's head. Cyrus stares up at him with his mouth parted, that same constant, wordless objection that's been hanging from his lips since he first tried to kill Wyll in the Shadowlands. Wyll isn't sure if he'll ever be able to erase it completely, but he's gotten very good at swallowing it. At touching their mouths together, washing it across his tongue and down his throat as Cyrus melts against him.

They both taste like soot and blood and heat, Cyrus' mouth ever ravenous and burning at a fever-pitch like the rest of his divine body. Like every campfire Wyll ever had to light alone in the wilderness, shivering in his exile.

The hearth of a home he hadn't known in years.

When he opens his eyes again, Cyrus' wings are gone, folded back into harmless ether, the tell-tale sign of something approximating peace for the aasimar.

Rationally, Wyll knows that Cyrus could still hurt him. Without the wings, without the Slayer, with just the hunger singing in his blood. But when Cyrus flings his arms around him and hugs him tight, Wyll trusts that he won't.

"Thank you."

[enchantedlandcoffee]

November 2023 Fic Recs

Happy 28th everyone!! Here's a list of a few fics I've read in November 2023.

⋆☆Series☆⋆

laur's nutvember 2023 series by @greeneyesfriedrice

Explicit | Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

⋆☆Fics☆⋆

words weren't enough by @red-pandaaa

Louis wandered into the living room, just watching Harry play for a bit. It made Louis’ heart crack a little, seeing him like that; hunched over the keys, the muscles on his back tense. But it was a quiet sniffle that Louis finally jerked into action, carefully approaching the slumped figure on the piano bench. “Hey, darling.” OR Louis finds Harry practicing the piano piece for his last show late at night, and there are some tears, memories and playing the piano together involved

it's a three way call and he knows nothing by shiptattoo | @wecantalktomorrow

Explicit | Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson | Friends to Lovers, Nonbinary Louis Tomlinson, Porn with Feelings

And, well, fuck. If that wasn’t all the permission they needed. Louis leaned in and pressed their lips to Harry’s quickly, kissing her in the way they had dreamed about since the day they met her. All of the pent up control and hunger escaped as they tried to devour her mouth with their own. Harry dropped the phone to the bed, wrapping her arms around Louis’s neck and pulling them in closer as they kissed. Her lips parted in a gasp at the ferocity behind it, moaning wantonly when Louis’s tongue slipped into her mouth, sucking at it hungrily as it explored. “Gonna treat you so good."

Eating Out by @red-pandaaa | red_panda28

Explicit | Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson | Friends to Lovers, Smut, Fluff

So maybe Harry had a crush on his roommate turned best friend. No big deal. He coped in the best way possible: by making jokes and sexual innuendos at any given time. Glossing over his feelings with humour and sarcasm to make sure Louis knew he found the idea of doing anything remotely romantic or sexual with Louis completely ridiculous. OR Louis and Harry are best friends and roommates, they're both oblivious to the other's pining, and it takes a silly misunderstanding for them to finally admit their feelings

Must Be Love by @babyhoneyheslt

General Audiences | Niall Horan/Harry Styles | Murder Mystery, Falling In Love, Even Planning, Strangers to Lovers

Niall always runs from his problems. So fleeing from London to the quiet Welsh town Hay-On-Wye isn’t surprising. Being a suspect in a murder case is. And so is falling for the cute bookshop owner that’s trying to help him clear his name.

There's a devil in your smile (it's chasing me) by @lunarheslwt

Explicit | Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson | Angel Harry Styles, Demon Louis Tomlinson, Porn Without Plot

“Come on, angel,” Louis coaxed, sweet in a way purely reserved for him. A helpless shudder rippled through him. “Know how much you love letting me have my way with you.” Harry inhaled sharply in time with Louis dragging his lips up to his ear, before he was whispering hotly, “Know you can be so good and ask for it.” A sharp sound was pulled out of him as Louis sucked at his ear lobe. “For me.” And when the plea finally left Harry’s lips, it was punched out, greedy. “Please.” Louis’ slow, pleased smile and unwavering eye contact was balm to his frantic, simmering arousal. “Please what, darling?” “Please,” he gasped, unable to look away, burning under Louis’ intense gaze, “my wings … please tie them up.” Or, angel Harry learns of the true pleasure that surrendering and giving up control can bring, and demon Louis teaches him the virtue of patience.

love is a word, you gave it a name by CuckooTrooke / @larrydoinglaundry

Explicit | Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson | Famous Louis Tomlinson, Non-Famous Harry Styles, Age Difference, Older Louis Tomlinson, Genderfluid Harry Styles

After two decades in brutal show business, Louis Tomlinson is trying to restore his tranquility of mind in the peace of Northern Europe where the sun barely sets, Maria's bar is always open, and young Harry has an irresistible spark in his eyes.

Our Lives, Non-Fiction by @indiaalphawhiskey

Explicit | Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson | Harry Styles is Marcel, First Time, Enemies to Lovers, Friends With Benefits

Heralded as the next Neil Gaiman, Louis Tomlinson does not appreciate being told that his very serious novel is in dire need of a PR boost. Even worse, that it comes in the form of a joint book tour with the UK’s #1 online romance-writing sensation Marcel Styles. Already turbulent at best, their partnership takes a drastic turn when, overly stressed about his looming deadline, Marcel accidentally blurts out a secret: though he’s famed for his scorching hot literary love scenes, he is, actually, a virgin. Convinced that the only way to rid himself of writer’s block is to gain some experience, Marcel asks Louis, author-to-author, to sleep with him – for Science. And of course Louis agrees because, well, what on Earth could possibly go wrong? Or, a lesson in romance that proves that sometimes the best love stories aren’t always by the book.