#but oh it is there. lurking. waiting to strike

[cubbyhole-for-flea-bee]

Macaque spent the whole season Big-Damn-Hero-ing and was NOT happy about it xD

[2hoothoots]

Revisiting P2 since the docu epilogue dropped and your AMV (<3) popped up as a sign for me to ask something that hopefully you haven't already spoken about years ago: What did you think of the in-game psych explanation for Maligula, that she's the primitive savage part of the mind? P2 is a weird mix of sketchy Freud/Jung concepts that Tim likes meshed with modern psych, and Maligula's deal seems like something they probably wrote a lot of different versions of but never quite solved elegantly

yeah, i think you totally hit the nail on the head - it's always felt like one of the parts of the story that they couldn't quite give enough polish to before they had to finalize it and move on with development. like - i went to go get my artbook to see if it had any insight into the writing process, and did you know that Nona and Maligula being the same person was apparently added way later in development? that's wild! i didn't know that until literally right now! i may or may not have skipped straight to my favourite characters when my artbook arrived and then put it on my shelf without reading the whole thing

ANYWAY, retrospectively i think it being a twist that was added later actually makes a lot of sense in the context of everything you mentioned. the Maligula problem, to me, is the fact that they're trying to juggle a bunch of different things that she has to be in the story. there's Maligula, the ruthless big bad, and Nona, the beloved grandma, and if you suddenly have to also make them both the same person... well, it ends up being kind of a thorny writing problem to make that work, haha.

here's some art i made so this isn't just a wall of text, rest of the answer under the cut

i think one thing they could have done when they needed to rehabilitate a mass-murderer into a lovable old lady was pull back on either end of the spectrum. make your villain softer and more sympathetic, or give grandma a mean streak like she's one bad day away from a tragedy at the crochet club. and to give the story credit, i'm really glad they didn't. Nona is relentlessly sweet and endearing - and that's great! she needs to be in order to make the audience care about her, otherwise the emotional beats are never going to land. likewise, Maligula is a great villain, she's vicious and ruthless and at the culmination of her arc we see she simply does not give a shit about murdering hundreds of people. i love that for her, honestly, you go girl

but then, like - how do you connect the dots? how do you frame grandma having a violently murderous streak in a way that doesn't make the ending of "but she's over it now" feel kinda weird and hollow? and how do you do that while also being sympathetic to the game's themes around mental health? Maligula's informed by the traumatic things that happened to Lucrecia during the war, but she can't just be a manifestation of trauma, because the moral of the story being that trauma makes you a mass-murderer (until you beat up your trauma and shove it in a giant pit) would feel... really tonally dissonant!

so i think you're totally right that the sprinkling of pop-psych concepts we get ends up feeling a little bit like an awkward band-aid. Maligula's story is about how the horrors of war can shape you into a terrible person, who does terrible things - ...but there's also, like, special circumstances, so it doesn't feel weird that she goes back to being Raz's sweet grandma afterwards. special psychic circumstances! she's not just any war criminal, she's the fight or flight response gone out of control!

which - i dunno, i think that line in particular always stood out to me, because that's not really what the fight or flight (or freeze or fawn) response is, right? it's a temporary boost of adrenaline to the system to rev you up for getting out of a dangerous situation. an overactive fight or flight response is called chronic stress and anxiety. i know the games are pop-psych and not actual science, but it always stood out to me as a little awkward.

if it were me in the writer's seat - with the benefit of all the time in the world to workshop it, and no looming deadlines, and the hindsight of having a full completed game in front of me to think about - i might have tried to frame it around connection. i think you could swing the lens to instead focus on how violence, stress, trauma etc., make it harder to understand and empathise with the people around you. the tragedy of Lucrecia's story is that she came home to try and help her countrymen, the people she cared so dearly about. but the more time passed, the less she cared, the less she was able to see them as people. after Marona's death, the Maligula that remains is one who's unable to even care about killing her own sister. the alternative is too raw, too painful - instead, she sheds her last vestiges of remorse, and throws herself into the easy relief of violence. (we see this again, when Nona "awakens" as Maligula - when confronted with the baggage of her past, she chooses to wash it all away with force, unable and unwilling to care about the people she used to call friends.)

and i think shifting the focus like that ties it in thematically, too. a big theme (of both games, but especially the sequel) is how important connection is, how being able to understand and reach out to and rely on other people is a lifeline during hard times. PN2 touches on how there aren't really "good people" and "bad people" - everyone has the capacity to do wonderful or terrible things, and i think Raz's line to Maligula about how "everybody's got something like you" works. Lucrecia was never a monster, no matter how everyone tried to pretend she was. she was just a person, the same as everyone else - and just like everyone else, she could be pushed to extremes under the right circumstances. it just feels kind of odd when the implicit context is "everybody's got a mass-murderer hidden in the primal recesses of their brain", hahaha.

but like, again, that's the privilege of hindsight, right? i've definitely also been on the other side of the creative process, stuck with something i suddenly need to make work in a story and having to come up with a solution that feels like a band-aid. sometimes you just gotta call it good enough, and move on. and i think the game is overall much stronger for having Nona and Maligula be the same person - it plays into the wider themes, it sets up some great emotional beats, and i think it's overall well-executed, even if there are one or two hiccups in the writing.

anyway, great ask! thank you for the invitation to ramble, this is something that stuck out to me on my first playthrough of the game and it was fun to sit down and get my thoughts in order

[chlmtsdoll]

SHOPPING WITH ART

౨ৎ Summary: it’s in the title ! Ballerina!reader x Art on a shopping date 🤍

౨ৎ Word count: 2k

౨ৎ Warnings: sugar baby! reader, mentions & talk of sex (duh !), semi public sexual acts, age gap (reader early 20’s) dilf age Art, fluff, needy reader, horny Art, mentions of Tashi in between, mutual pinning, petite!reader (sorry tall ppl), reader and Art are all over each other constantly

A/N: don’t know if I should classify this as a blurb or a fic but I’m gonna go with blurb since it’s short and sweet !!

“Dogs ?”

You had scrunched up your nose and shook your head terribly at Arts attempts to guess your favorite animal. He tilted his head as he looked down at you with a grin.

“Cats ?” He probed. You nodded pleased, with a giggle.

“Do I strike you as a dog person at all ?”

“No.” Art had laughed out and it sounded of wealth and pure adoration of you.

You two had been walking down Rodeo Drive in the mist of perfect weather on a bright day, Art had offered to take you shopping while Tashi took care of tennis business for the two of you. She requested some space and quietness for an hour or two — so of course you’d never pass up your expectation of basically trying on dresses for Art Donaldson as a living.

It still hadn’t hit you on the full one-eighty your life has taken from going from a lost ballerina to Art and Tashi’s young, beautiful, tennis protégé.

Or shared girlfriend. Whatever you had been.

You loved it. Especially days like this, you’d spend as much time as you could with Art when he wasn’t touring because he made you feel like it had only been the two of you on earth when you were together. You never stopped laughing, blushing, kissing… and a spawn of other things.

But when he’d been actually playing tennis, or doing things for his career like press or photoshoots. You missed him dearly. Even when he’d spend time with his daughter Lily.

It made your mood dim, and you’d find yourself dissociating from conversations or tennis to think about him or ponder when he’d be back to steal you away again. Tashi always caught you in the drift of it, but you’d snap right back to reality when you’d hear her say. “Okay. Art’s gonna take you out.” Your mood and demeanor would shift entirely.

“I feel like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman.”

“Isn’t that movie controversial ?” Art questioned.

“Aren’t you much older than me ?” You replied as you glanced up at him, giving him every glitter of your wide Bambi eyes. He chucked.

“Oh. So should I walk on the other side of the sidewalk.. if that’s too much for you ?” He looked down at you as he moved from where you walked to the other side of the not so spacious side walk to prove his sarcasm.

“No!” You pleaded with a girlish laugh as you followed him anyways, bumping your shoulder into his arm on purpose not to be separated for another second.

You’d want to hold his hand so badly when you two would be out together, but with his public image being Tashi Duncan’s star husband, it wasn’t exactly the best decision when it came to the press — so even with as much as he wanted to, Tashi always told him to lay low when it came to physical contact with you in the open. Especially somewhere as public as Beverly Hills.

You’d never known where paparazzi had been hiding, lurking and waiting. And it wouldn’t be so easy for them to try and idealize it as Art Donaldson and his exceptionally younger “friend” that he takes shopping and on dates.

Tashi couldn’t control when you had been at home and essentially couldn’t keep your hands off each other entirely. Always hugging, cuddling, fucking. It didn’t matter. You were on him or vise versa, but when you’d go out Tashi would specifically insist “don’t touch each other.” before you’d leave.

But hiding didn’t transpire to you so much when you just completely couldn’t help yourself when it came to the man that made your heart flutter, you’d fought the limitations anyways.

Walking side by side you brushed your pinky against Arts much bigger hand. You saw him look down and a soft grin took upon his lips at the sight of your manicured pink tips grabbing at his hand. He could never resist you. locking pinky’s with yours, your smile had turned bashful but pleased as you’d walk together. Just praying no paps had caught the moment and you’d have to go through Tashi’s wrath later on.

♡

It was dress after dress you’d pick off of the rack, skirts, tops, and more shoes than you’d ever seen at once in person. But you absolutely adored this. Trying not to make another painfully high pitched sound when you’d find another pair that made your eyes go wide in awe.

Art was right there behind you as he chuckled at all of your darling reactions, finding it utterly too cute. You were like a doll and he’d spoil you till you’d probably pass out from exhaustion the moment you both got home from all the perks of shopping till you dropped. Literally.

“I don’t know. I love the waistline, but a deep v neck ? I just don’t see it.” You stepped out of the dressing rooms to where Art had been lounging on a chair since he wasn’t allowed in the actual dressing room area.

Art couldn’t say he didn’t know a thing or two when it came to a sense in fashion. Tennis was a sport based around the most expensive and luxury brands displaying their most fashionable and articulately put together pieces on star athletes like himself. But mainly living with the total of four ladies including the maid, had done his knowledge of the craft wonders.

“I think you look amazing in it, baby.” He implied, crystal blues tracing your perfect body cinched into the tight dress.

It made your breast sit in such a way that Art had to adjust the way he sat in his seat. You looked at yourself in the mirror while your hand ran down your curves. Your heels made you stand taller and your legs showcased eloquently.

One of the workers brought you a glass of champagne and you thanked her kindly before taking a sip, then turning to Art with a suggestive unsure look on your face.

“But do I look amazing though ?” You asked puzzled, with mostly sarcasm and art had shook his head, he chuckled as you glided back into the dressing rooms.

He even brought you things to try on as he just couldn’t pull back from his own suggestions of what he thought you looked to die for in.

“Art,” You turned to him opening up the curtain of the small space as you’d been in the mist of changing, just in your bra and panties.

“Put this on.” He passed you a dress and you were taken back by his desperation and need to see you in his choice of clothing. You stood and took it from him, but you couldn’t deny the slight pass of dominance from him turned you on a bit. You smiled at the curtain when he closed it quickly to leave so he wouldn’t get caught.

When you came out in what he had gave you, Art unfolded his leg and sat straighter in his chair as he examined the sight. And was it a sight to see.

The dress was white, a sixties kind of cut as it made your waist look otherworldly. The corset top made your torso extend and it was short enough that if you moved a little too much it would have been quite a show.

“So, what do you think of your outfit choice on me, Mr. Donaldson ?” You asked with your hands on your hips and the look on his face as his eyes graced over you had you blushing terribly.

Art had to take in a breath with an embarrassing place being lost for words, he stood up to walk towards you. His hand touched the delicate straps.

“Turn around.” he instructed.

“Okay. Bossy.” You joked, meanwhile he bit his lip to hold back nearly letting out an audible noise as he took in the way it cupped your ass just right. You were perfection in his eyes, all dolled up just for him. He licked his lips,

“You’re gorgeous, angel. Do you like it ? Because I love it, and I think you need it in your wardrobe. Well, not need, but it would be a nice touch.” He went on and you laughed at his high regard, your face heating up quite quickly now.

“I think it’s really pretty.” Your hand ran across the top that was embroidered with jewels, your smile enchanting as Art watched you.“next one coming up.”

You had walked by to go change again, but as you did you felt a smack on your ass and you turned around quickly to see Art grinning to himself when you gasped.

The responsible side of you would of protested as you remembered Tashi’s words, but you were anything but responsible when it came to your favorite blonde. You shook your head as your sly smile matched his and you went back into your dressing room.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t that long before Art had snuck in again and opened up the curtain, this time inserting himself into the room with you.

“Art!” You could hardly stop him before he had moved your hair out of the way and started attacking your neck with kisses, sucking in your sent as hands ran over your body,

“Fuck, you look good.” He breathed out as he kissed you and you’d fallen weak to his trap. Hands running to grab his hair as he groped your tits through the dress and kissed you sloppily. He towered over your dainty figure as he treated your body like clay for him to mold, you let out a whine from the back of your throat as he ran his tongue over yours.

His hands were flighting to unzip your dress while hiking it up your hips at the same time.

“Careful, it’s not mine,” you breathed out as Art peppered kisses anywhere he could.

“Oh, it will be yours. I’m buying it as soon as I’m done with you.” his tone was low and full of arousal as he pushed your front against the wall of the dressing room.

As much as you wanted him to fuck you right there, feel every inch of his need to have you take his cock while he treated you to an entire wardrobe that any girl your age would die for, was enough to make you shed your panties right then. But you had slipped from under his grasp.

“We can’t, we’re in public.” You uttered and Art had backed away from you with a groan as he ran his hands down his face and you grinned at the state you had gotten him in, uncomfortably hard and dick nearly ready to come through his fly at just the sight of you.

“Fine,” he sighed out and got ahold of himself before leaving again, you tried not to give him a mischievous smirk as you adjusted yourself and the dress. “Don’t think I don’t know how much you want it, you little minx, be ready for later because we’re not done here.”

You batted your eyelashes and acted all innocent as he shut the curtain and then you giggled to yourself. You had all the shoes and dresses you wanted ready by the time you exited again, and now with lips shimmering with gloss, you made eye contact with Art as he paid for all your new attire with pleasure. Licking his own lips every time he scanned over you, he carried all of your bags and he walked out with you happily.

Completely forgetting about the paparazzi, Art took your hand in his with ease. leading you down the walkway and you had bitten your lip under a satisfied little smile.

A/N: ugh ! I need that !

[6esiree]

𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝, 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐁𝐮𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫

One, two, three, four… that’s how many times you tentatively pressed your lips against Alastor’s cheek until he finally stirred awake. It was late—about 3 AM, give or take—but you just couldn’t sleep, not after he took you out to watch a particularly frightening film earlier in celebration of Halloween. And with it being the witching hour, every creak, every groan, and every meager noise that resounded throughout the aging house your dear husband inherited from his departed mother made you all the less willing to close your eyes.

“Is something the matter, sweetheart?” Alastor eventually rasped, an apologetic smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you watched his pupils dilate to adjust to the darkness, but he couldn’t see all that well anyway. “Can’t sleep, I presume?”

With an abashed nod, you shuffled closer to him, tossing your arms around his waist and bringing your bodies flush together, your cold nose pressing against the hollow of his throat. He returned your embrace almost instinctively, his knee nestling in the space between your legs as his hands traveled past your nightgown without an ounce of shame. But it was perfect—the way he firmly squeezed your hips and melded to your smaller frame with his larger one like a puzzle piece. He was perfect.

Or so that’s what you thought.

“Pray tell, how could you allow some…” Alastor murmured into your hair, slender fingers delicately tracing the fine curvature of your body, moving up and up and up… till they arrived at the supple flesh beneath your breasts, “…silly little phobia to keep you awake?”

Your eyes fluttered shut with a breathy sigh, nails haphazardly raking up his sides in response to the tantalizing manner in which he thumbed at one your nipples. His other hand slid up the back of your neck, grasping a handful of your hair and pulling your head back ever so gently. Unbelievable—he tutted, and you would have felt even more embarrassed if he hadn’t nipped at the column of your throat… or made his arousal known to you, his hardening erection bumping against your clit oh-so perfectly.

One, two, three, four… that’s how many times Alastor nipped at you, his teeth leaving tiny bruises on your skin almost in revenge for rising him from such a peaceful slumber. And even though he thought your reason to be rather childish in nature, he wouldn’t allow you to suffer for any longer than you already had; so he pushed you down onto the mattress, a hand dipping into your panties with the intention of melting away the fear in your bones. Your lips parted in gratification—much like your legs did—hole fluttering at the delicate press of his fingers.

“It’s more of a fear of the unknown,” You admitted with a sheepishness that had Alastor chuckling, but only for a moment, his attention quickly stolen by the sticky sound of his fingers circulating your clit. “Not… knowing what… malevolent being may be lurking in the shadows, waiting for the—ha—perfect opportunity to strike.”

Hmph—that was the only thing he was able to muster as he picked up the pace; and while he couldn’t see you all that well, he could feel your cunt flutter, and he could hear the sheets rustle with every twist and turn of your body. But before you could come undone at a meager rubbing, he abandoned your clit and trailed his slick-drenched fingers down your folds, pushing past them and into your neglected hole, eliciting a pleasured cry from you. A deep groan reverberated throughout his chest as your walls enveloped three of his fingers in a warm, wet, tight embrace—and so effortlessly, too.

“Hand me my glasses, won’t you?” As soon as those words left Alastor’s mouth, you stretched an arm towards the nightstand on his side of the bed. “Anyway, there are more things that are worth fearing in this world, sweetheart. Not some invisible force such as a spirit.”

“Like the Bayou Butcher?” You innocently asked between bouts of pants, your hand desperately searching for his glasses in the darkness… all while his hand searched for that velvety spot in your walls that had you coming undone in no time. “I don’t want to end up in a gator’s stomach.”

“I suppose,” Alastor responded rather curtly, but you were far too lost in your pleasure to take notice of that, “Although, I wouldn’t fear them either,” He continued, the truth almost tumbling from his lips, “So long as I live, you don’t have to worry about a gruesome demise befalling you.”

At least that little bit he added towards the end was truthful, but because you didn’t know that, you chose to shrug it off. Your husband was a hunter, and you vividly recalled the way he effortlessly took down a stag with a singular bullet as you finally located his glasses, including the unrelenting strength he had in his muscles to carry it back on the way home. Still, you refused to believe he could keep you safe from a literal serial killer, the same one that had been tormenting New Orleans for quite some time already.

Alastor knew by the slow and tentative nod of your head as he put on his glasses that you doubted him, but he couldn’t do anything else to prove himself. So, he curled his fingers and assaulted that spot in your walls with a feverishness that had you writhing and moaning almost instantaneously, his palm moving against your swollen clit. He loomed over you almost menacingly as he fucked you with his hand, watching your back delicately arch up towards him, your hardened nipples peaking through the thin fabric of your nightgown.

But the squelching from your cunt… oh, that was what made Alastor’s self-control snap. He pulled his hand out of you before you could finish, and you would have whined at the loss if he hadn’t pulled down his pajama pants so hastily, the sound of his weeping cock smacking against his toned stomach making your hole flutter with anticipation rather than disappointment. But as he flipped you onto your stomach and pulled your slick-drenched panties to the side, exposing your cunt to the cool air, he leaned in and nosed at your shoulder with a few more words.

“I meant what I said,” His lips moved against you as he grasped the flesh of your hip with one hand, the other moving the head of his cock up and down your folds, lathering himself with your wetness. “If I can kill a stag, I can definitely kill a man… “ He continued, finally pushing into you, your face falling into the pillow with a gratified moan, “…to ensure your safety, of course.”

Your dear husband would kill a man to ensure your safety, how… nice, you thought, communicating your appreciation by pushing your hips back with a nod that was much more firm and reassuring. A deep groan caressed your ear as you forced Alastor to bottom out, his cock kissing your cervix; and while he was well aware of the fact that you didn’t doubt him any less, he held onto you with a force that would surely leave bruises come morning, pulling his cock completely out of you before slamming back into you.

And he repeated this over and over again, unconsciously taking his frustration out on your poor cunt—for waking him up over some silly little fear of ghosts, and for especially doubting his ability to take a human being’s life. However, he supposed that you would eventually find out the harrowing truth behind his late-night shifts at the radio station as he reached down to rub at your swollen clit, encouraging you to come undone alongside him. And you did, your walls clamping down around him with a long whine.

“No more horror films from now on, you hear me?” Alastor stated as he went to plant a gentle kiss on your shoulder, his cock pulsating inside of your fluttering walls, but you swiftly turned your head to the side and captured his lips. “Oh, you cheeky little thing,” He murmured, whatever frustration he previously felt completely forgotten.

[zephyrchama]

Vampire mc. Like it could be an add on of angst if like they failed to protect mc when mc got attacked by a vampire, got turned into one. Like they can make a cute but vamp!mc is thirsty now- 🧛anon

(I started typing one for each brother but they winded up a little longer than intended. >u< I'm gonna break this up into 7+ parts, one for each character! Gonna use this post as the intro and master list for it, so each time a new installment is posted I'll update this here. Part I will be posted in just a minute!) Intro:

Nobody was at fault.

The Devildom is filled with horrors. Dangers lurk within every shadow, eyeing you as easy prey and waiting for the right time to strike. It was honestly a miracle you hadn't been attacked sooner.

Despite that, everybody naturally blamed themselves. You shouldn't have been alone, they should have been by your side, why did they let you out of their sight? They had been naive.

You were locked up for a month in the Demon Lord's Castle, not that you remember much. The first two weeks were the worst. The room was bare, with a mattress and little else. The rare decorative wallpaper had been tattered with scrapes from your nails. You hardly recall anything more than flashes of confusing memories.

Diavolo restraining you with an anguished expression. Barbatos pinning you to the ground with a firm hand. Solomon chanting as you wailed and clawed at the floor by his feet, unable to cross the magical barrier that separated you from his tantalizing flesh.

You were not a pretty sight. It was for the best that those three would remain your only visitors during your stay at the castle. They wanted to look for a cure, but by the time they found you it had been too late. They knew this. They tried anyway.

Vampire metamorphosis is not a pleasant experience. By the third week you began to mellow out and regain conscious thought, but you were moody and irritable and oh so hungry. Your gums hurt. Everything felt hazy.

By week four you managed to stop yourself from gnawing on the mattress and it was decided that you were stable enough to return to the House of Lamentation.

Finally. You craved familiarity - your bedroom, your possessions, your best friends. But everything felt new, and you were a changed person. No longer the human exchange student.

Changes needed to be made, and it took a couple more days before you were permitted to leave the castle. With few words, you finally went back to your Devildom home.

Lucifer's Part here Mammon's Part here Leviathan's Part here (The rest are currently still WIPS and will be updated here when finished.)

[paradiseprincesss]

Jonathan Crane with a cam corder… 📸

mind games | jonathan crane

hello anon! you asked and you shall receive. please enjoy xoxo. this gave me a fucked up idea about the whole camcorder thing...oops. i am SORRY.

summary: as fate would have it, you meet a handsome stranger who you learn is named jonathan, and the two of you hit it off well - so well, that he invites you back to his place after a romantic date. what you didn't realize was that this wasn't the doing of fate at all, it was a plan jonathan had in the works for a long, long time.

warnings: NON-CON, jonathan is in his joe goldberg era (he's stalking), manipulation, (no like, really), obsessive behaviour, p in v, guys this is just super fucked up i have...no explantion, mdni 18+ only

word count: 3.8k

masterlist

you didn't see it coming. you wouldn't have gone running into his arms if you did. jonathan was the loner type - never opening his heart to anyone.

that was until he saw you - he was taken with you from the moment he laid eyes on you. you had to be his; he wouldn't have it any other way. he was set on having you succumb to him.

this man had an immense amount of self control. he had prowled, waited, stalked and targeted you for months and you didn't have a clue. he first saw you on the street by his apartment at 9:48 pm exactly on a fateful friday night - you stole his tainted heart.

on that particular night, you were heading to your favourite bar with your friends, and he watched you as you stepped out of your uber. his eyes lingered for much too long, and before he knew it; he was plotting.

he lurked in the shadows of the night to see when you would leave, and he got his answer - 12:58 am. that was the time when he saw you leave the bar, waving goodbye to your friends as you waited outside momentarily for an uber to pick you up.

he noticed everything about you down to a t. the way you parted your hair, the colour of your nails, the way you did your makeup, what kind of clothes you wore - everything.

while you waited for your uber, your intuition kicked in - was someone watching you?

but you tried to shake the feeling - it was probably just paranoia, it was late, after all. he watched as you stood there waiting, and knew he had to make a move then and there.

"excuse me, miss!" you hear a mans voice say from behind you, causing you to startle slightly, and he noticed. "i apologize, i didn't mean to startle you. i just came over to say that perhaps you should wait inside the bar rather than outside on the street. this part of gotham isn't exactly known for it's...friendly townspeople."

the way he spoke calmed you down - he had a gentle, caring aura and you took a good look at him as well. he was handsome - my god was he handsome. he was perfect; every detail about him was almost godlike. the first thing you noticed about him were his striking, blue eyes. you didn't know someone could have such beautiful eyes.

"oh," you managed to softly say after an awkward moment of checking out the handsome stranger in front of you, "thank you for letting me know, but it's okay. my uber should be here in a minute." you thank the seemingly kind stranger, and he nods.

"right, well - be safe. have a good night." he says softly, and you almost got lost in his eyes again.

"thank you, you as well." you reply, a small smile on your lips.

and with that, he was gone - walked right back into his apartment building without another word. well, that's what it looked like, anyways. however, that was far from the truth.

your uber arrived within mere seconds, and you got in. jonathan watched from the shadows of an alleyway behind you, and as you and your uber set off, he hailed down the nearest cab he could find.

"just follow that white car over there." he tells the cab driver, and the guy doesn't question it. this was gotham after all, nobody ever questioned anything - nobody had any morals.

you were too focused on texting your friends, still a little tipsy, in the uber to notice that a cab had been tailing you for the last fifteen minutes.

whoops.

as the uber driver pulled up to the curb of your house, you get out and thank him tiredly. you grab your keys out of your purse, and unlock the front door of your house. closing the door (and thankfully, locking it) behind you, you switch on the lights of your home.

you threw your jacket on the couch and slipped off your high heels with a sigh. unbeknownst to you, someone was watching your every move through your curtains - which you habitually left open a little too often. jonathan let his sinister thoughts run wild as he watched you from the street in front of your home, standing just far enough so that he wasn't noticeable.

he watched you like a lion stalking it's prey - silently and from a distance, undetected.

suddenly, his eyes widened as he saw you start to undress in your bedroom upstairs, too focused on his lewd thoughts about you to notice that you had even gone upstairs.

foolish girl, he thought to himself as he creeped on you. slowly, you slipped your dress off, and to his surprise - you weren't wearing any panties under your dress.

where you an exhibitionist? a thrill-seeker? a huge freak? just mental? maybe you were just slutty, who knows. but as he was trying to collect his thoughts, he frowned.

you threw on some baggy pyjamas - disappointing. he wanted to see more. but what came next perhaps shocked him more than the whole no panties thing; you got into your bed, and held up what appeared to be pictures of some sort in your hands.

and you started crying.

you were actually crying, and that caught jonathan off guard.

why were you crying? did someone hurt you? did someone break your heart? shatter it in two? ruin you?

the questions ran through his mind endlessly, and he felt himself wanting to know. so, he decided to document this moment so that he could get to know you better.

jonathan liked to document things. that was a habit of his that he couldn't quite seem to kick.

unbeknownst to jonathan, you were crying over old photos of you and your ex-boyfriend. he wasn't a good person by any means, quite the opposite - but that didn't mean you weren't going to mourn the relationship. it had barely been a month since the two of you split; and you were so vulnerable right now.

at that very moment, you wished someone else could be there for you. that you could run into someone else's arms and they would save you - because you craved it. you needed it. and jonathan seemed to sense that without you even having to say a single word to him.

he could save you, he thought. he could be the one to show you what real love looked like.

taking the little, handheld camcorder out of his suit pocket, he started to record you from afar; recording you crying. it was rather innocent, really. at least, it started out that way anyway.

god, some sick, twisted, creepy individual could be watching you - you should really close your curtains, jonathan thought to himself as he watched you, smirking coyly at the irony of it all.

after filming you for a few more minutes, he slipped the camcorder away, and hailed a cab down the street from yours back to his apartment.

the sun was shining beautifully, the birds were chirping, and the weather was divine on this pleasant summer day. you were loving this summer weather, and you were currently standing in line at your favourite coffee shop, waiting to order an iced latte.

but jonathan already knew that.

he watched you get ready to go out as he stood on the street in broad daylight staring at you through the windows, since apparently you didn't know how to close your fucking curtains.

he got some good footage that day on his camcorder.

as of now, jonathan was stood behind you in the coffee shop, acting like he hadn't just filmed you like a sick freak for the last few hours. as you went up to the barista to order, you reached into your purse to pay - only to realize you had forgotten your wallet at home.

but again, jonathan was aware of this because technically, he was there in spirit when it happened.

so, what did he do? he offered to pay, of course. because he's just that kind.

"here, i got it-" he said from behind you, pulling his card out to tap on the machine. you looked behind you in surprise - but you recognized those striking eyes immediately.

it was the kind stranger from the other night! he really was a sweetheart, wasn't he?

"oh, gosh, thank you." you say, flustered at the interaction and slightly embarrassed. "it's no problem-" but he pauses, smiling at you for a moment, "hey, you're the girl i saw the other night. i'm glad you made it home safely."

you smile back at the stranger, yet to put a name to his gorgeous face. "yeah, yeah that was me." you say, the two of you stepping aside so that other people could order. "thank you again - i'm so embarrassed." you laugh softly.

"don't be," he says gently, "i'm jonathan, by the way."

he finally introduced himself - but he already knew you quite well. a little too well. you gave him your name, briefly introducing yourself, and he looks at you through his glasses.

"well, it's lovely to, er- meet you again?" he laughs softly, and you giggle - your voice giving him butterflies. "right, nice to re-meet you." you tease, making him smile again.

"are you doing anything today? hopefully not getting too tipsy, i hope - kidding." he says to you with a friendly tone, and you shake your head laughing. "that wasn't on the agenda today, no."

he knew that it wasn't. he knew that today you had nothing planned. you just wanted to enjoy the pretty weather, maybe go for a walk or something with your iced latte. and how did he know this, you ask? well, that's simple.

he stood by your window last night, camcorder in hand, and recorded you talking to your friend about it on the phone in bed - in just your bra and panties.

"i'm taking the day off today." your voice brought him back to reality. "i think i'm just going to enjoy the beautiful weather today. i love the sun, it makes me feel so energized - i dunno."

"i agree with you there." he says, nodding as if he was hearing about this for the first time. but your next question actually caught him off guard. "d'wanna join me?"

he looks at you for a moment, and you start to get flustered again. "sorry- i'm sure you have a girlfriend or something-"

"hey, hey-" he says soothingly, "first of all, i do not have a girlfriend. and secondly, i would love to. it's my day off as well, actually."

you beam at him, and he finds your smile so cute. god, he just wanted to fucking choke you right then and there - but of course, he had some self control.

the two of you spent the day together, enjoying the gorgeous summer day, and you hit it off instantly. you learned that his full name was jonathan crane, and that he was a doctor at arkham asylum. you told him about what you did for a living, and he told you he found it "fascinating."

before you said goodbye, he asked for your number which you willingly gave over. the rush of being able to actually talk to you was almost too much for him, and his brain was short-circuiting at the mere thought of it.

that night, the two of you parted ways - but you both ended up back at your place; you just weren't aware that you had company.

this time, taking your photos and filming you from afar wasn't satisfying the urges in him anymore. he needed more. as the sun set, you finished doing the dishes and cleaned up after cooking dinner. you made your way to your living room, switching off your lights - except a slim lamp that stood beside your couch.

getting cozy and comfortable in your house wear, you put on your favourite show to watch, and sat back blissfully on your couch - while someone else was watching you in the dark.

he had managed to make his way in through the huge window - which you stupidly left unlocked - by your living room hours earlier while you were preoccupied upstairs getting changed.

he did a pretty good job at hiding out of sight from you - and he internally applauded himself for that.

suddenly, you got up from the couch, startling him, and he hid closer to the shadows - lurking in the darkness of what you called home.

he watched you finally close those fucking curtains, then returning to the couch you previously sat at. he wondered why now of all times you decided to close your curtains-

oh.

that's when he heard it.

soft, little moans were being drawn out of your pretty lips as your fingers ghosted over your clit. he could feel himself getting painfuly hard at just your sounds - because remember, he couldn't see all of you from where he was hiding.

so, you were indulging in a little self pleasure - was that so wrong? to be fair, you thought you were all alone. your moans got breathier, louder as you slowly slipped two fingers into your aching hole.

jonathan - being the sick psychopath he was - snuck his way around the darkness of your downstairs floor, trying to be as stealthy and quiet as possible. finally, he saw what he was so desperately trying to see.

you with your baggy shirt, which had ridden up, exposing your pretty tits and your fingers in your pretty pussy, panties thrown on your living room floor.

he watched, and he had to physically hold himself back from taking you right then and there - trying his hardest not to moan at the sight of you fucking yourself with your fingers.

slowly, he slipped his hand into his pocket - and pulled out his camcorder. pressing record, he started to film you from where he was. he was definitely going to jerk off to this later. he filmed all of it - you fingering yourself, your pretty moans, and of course, when you came all over your own fingers.

after you came down from your high, you laid breathless on your couch for a good while. jonathan took this opportunity to sneak out of your house - undetected.

that night, he watched that video of you on repeat, over and over, cumming all over his fist as he breathlessly moaned your name.

you shook your head as you laughed in the dimly lit restaurant, "it was the worst date i'd ever been on."

jonathan looked at you, smiling and laughing along with you. "that sounds...brutal, if i'm being honest."

the two of you were on your first official date - which you had been discussing over text and on the phone, and now it was finally happening. jonathans obsessive little heart was overflowing with joy.

the two of you were currently drinking expensive champagne and sharing "worst first date" stories - and you really thought this man, this stranger who fate brought into your life, could be the one.

he was so funny, so kind, so charming - it was like you knew him for ages.

as the date came to an end, he took your hand, holding onto it softly after paying the bill (because he's still a classy guy, after all), and spoke to you in a saccharine voice.

"would it be so terrible if i asked if you'd like to come back to my place?"

you blushed and bit your lip, shaking your head. "not terrible at all - count me in."

and that may have quite literally been the biggest mistake of your life, maybe even bigger than the mistake of not closing your curtains.

as he parked his car in the parking garage of the apartment complex, he helped you out of his car and held your hand as he took you into the elevator and then to his apartment.

unit #303 - you'd come to never forget it.

as the two of you got inside his place, you took a moment to admire the classiness of his apartment. it was clean, minimalistic and dark, and just like him, it appeared to be a perfectly normal from the surface.

"you truly are stunning." he said lowly, pulling you close by your waist, making you blush.

"i really like you, jonathan." you tell him softly, and he gives you a gentle kiss. willingly, you kiss back - unaware of what was to come next.

"i knew i had to make you mine the night i first saw you." he says, looking at you with a soft smile. you didn't think about what he really meant here - you weren't even aware of what he really meant. "that's so sweet." you whisper, and his grip on your waist tightened suddenly.

"no, really." he says, tone growing slightly impatient, "i couldn't stop myself."

your breath hitches in your throat as you aren't too sure what he means by this - but you try and give him the benefit of the doubt. "uh," you laugh nervously, "t-thank you, i guess?"

then he went quiet.

"would you like to see my mask?" he asks, after a moment of silence - and you look at him confused and slightly scared. "your...mask?"

suddenly, he's guiding you into the bedroom, and you're feeling both confused and very anxious - but your anxiety skyrockets as you take a look at what was in his bedroom.

photos of you covered the wall - pictures of you that you weren't aware had even been taken. there was photos of you talking on the phone to your friends, cooking, watching shows - and then there were the not-so-innocent photos.

pictures of you with your fingers buried into your cunt, pictures of you walking around naked, and pictures of you posing in your lingerie on the bed; taking pictures of yourself in the mirror to send to someone else.

your body went into flight or fight - and you tried to make a run for it but a cloudy gas filled your senses, causing you to scream erratically. what appeared in front of you was horrendous - your worst fears brought to life, clouding your vision.

and there stood jonathan in the midst of all the chaos - in what appeared to be some sort of burlap mask. staring at you with those deadly yet beautiful blue eyes through the small holes in his mask. as his toxin started to creep into your system, you noticed he was holding something in his hand.

a camcorder.

judging by all the pictures of you on the wall, you knew where this was going and it made you fucking nauseous.

"n-no.." you whimpered, shaking as he took hold of you and threw you onto the bed. he propped his camcorder up onto the bedside table, the red light flashing; indicating that he was indeed filming this.

he ripped your clothes right off you, and at this point, you were a sobbing mess. "please don't do this - you don't have to do this, jonathan."

you begged, you screamed, and you cried; but to no avail, he kept going. kept undressing you and forcing you down onto his bed - scarecrow mask still covering his face.

"keep screaming like that and i'll cum." he says, pinning you down on the bed with such force you didn't even know if it was humanely possible. the hallucinations of the toxin had you thrashing and screaming, and while you were busy fearing for your life - he was busy undoing his pants and belt buckle.

"no, no, please no-" you pleaded with him, but he didn't give in - he was never going to set you free. "shh, let me see your fears consume you, my love." he whispered, picking up the camcorder again.

you were drugged up out of your mind at this point, the toxin taking it's full effects on you. just as your high was reaching it's deadly peak, you felt the tip of his cock poke at your cunt.

you sobbed at the feeling of it - just by the tip you could feel how thick he was - how big he was. he was going to rip you open; you could just feel it.

"say hi to the camera, my love." he tells you, while spitting onto his cock to try and fit it in with a little more ease. as you sobbed with the camcorder in your face, he pushed himself into you with a staggered thrust.

the feeling of him forcing his cock in was brutal.

"i-i can't take it!" you thrashed and screamed, but he kept your wrists pinned down with one hand and the camcorder in the other. "too big?" he cooed, "fuck baby, you can take it. and if you can't - i'll force you to."

he fucked you roughly, your tight cunt squeezing him in all the disgustingly right ways. you weren't trying to get wet - it was just your body's natural response. at this point, you had stopped crying from either pure shock or from the drugs - probably both.

"jon-"

"fuck, that's right baby. say my name." he groans, panning the camcorder down to film your abused little cunt taking his huge cock - pounding into you mercilessly.

"should i cum inside?" he grunted, fat cock pushing into your cervix - undoubtably bruising your insides. "yeah, i think i will. you'd look so pretty with my cum dripping out of you."

you shook your head no, pleading with him to pull out since you weren't on any contraceptives at the moment - but it dawned on you that he probably knew that.

"please no, pull o-out, ah- jon, pull out!" you wriggled around in his grasp, begging and pleading with the psychopath who was balls deep in your cunt right now.

"no." he spat, and continued his assault on you. "you can fucking take it." you tried your hardest to push away from him, scratch him, bite him - anything to try and get away but it was no use. his grip was unwavering.

after a few more excruciatingly painful thrusts into your abused cunt, he painted your walls white with his sticky cum, filling you up to the brim.

"god, i love you." he whispered as he spilled his seed into you, and you sobbed at his words in pure disgust. as the toxin slowly wore off, you laid there lifelessly, the light inside you draining minute by minute. your eyes darted around the bedroom, taking in all the eerie pictures of you scattered all over the walls.

your mind flashed back to the fateful night you first met him; your intuition was right - it never lies.

someone was watching you.

[cece693]

Not Interested (Jasper Whitlock x M! Reader)

Summary: You never understood the hype over the Cullen family. Sure, they were beautiful, but didn’t anyone at school have enough common sense to notice something was off? Too bad a certain empath is smitten with you and merely finds your open disdain entertaining.

tags: perceptive reader, Jasper is smitten, isn't character canon nor resembles his original description, human reader, reader is a hothead and unfiltered, creative liberties with Jasper

You never understood the hype over the Cullen family. Sure, they were beautiful, but didn’t anyone at school have enough common sense to notice something was off? They looked like marble statues—flawlessly sculpted but lifeless, almost artificial. And then there were their mannerisms, too controlled to be teenagers. It was all a bit too uncanny for your liking.

Jasper Hale was no exception. Out of all of them, he seemed like the biggest walking red flag. He wasn’t an asshole, exactly, but his whole demeanor screamed danger. Every time you glanced his way, he was as stiff as a board, eyes unblinking and hands clenched into fists beneath the table, like he was holding himself back from doing something. There was a reason people said he was the second most unapproachable Cullen, with Rosalie taking the number one spot. Yet, despite his apparent hatred for people, he seemed determined to catch your attention.

He'd linger by your locker, his eyes burning a hole in your back. When you snapped at him to get lost, he didn’t flinch. He smiled. HE FUCKING SMILED LIKE YOU WERE A KITTEN THROWING A TANTRUM. In class, he'd try to strike up a conversation, blatantly ignoring your clipped and cold responses with a patience only a saint could have. Not only did you notice this, but the whole school did, too. Jasper’s odd behavior had quickly become a hot topic.

Jessica, damn her soul, was at the head of the rumor mill, spinning far-fetched stories about you and Jasper being secret lovers. If punching someone—much less a girl—wouldn’t get you expelled or possibly arrested, Jessica would have been target number one. You tried to keep your anger in check, especially when the whole school (students and staff alike) kept staring at you and Jasper like you were part of some soap opera. But one rumor, in particular, pushed you over the edge.

“I’m not a sugar baby!” you hissed at Jessica when she tried to strike up a conversation about the nonexistent gifts Jasper was supposedly giving you. “What bullshit gave you that idea?”

“He gave you a pencil—”

“Oh, fuck off and shove that pencil—” You couldn’t finish that thought as the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch and the beginning of fourth period. Jessica just waved goodbye and scurried off, knowing your temper wouldn’t be stopped by a bell. Huffing, you made your way to history class, where, lo and behold, Jasper was already seated, a grin on his face.

As the class dragged on, you couldn’t keep ignoring Jasper or the hushed whispers of the other students. His grin never faltered, and neither did the feeling of his gaze burning into you.

Screw it.

Without waiting for the teacher to finish his lecture on some historical battle you couldn’t care less about, you stood up abruptly.

“Out,” you muttered, grabbing Jasper by the arm with a grip that brooked no argument. Jasper, taken aback, allowed you to drag him to his feet. A low murmur rippled through the class, but you didn’t care. You were done playing around.

You hauled him out of the classroom, ignoring the teacher’s confused calls after you, and pulled him down the hallway to the nearest janitor's closet. You shoved the door open, pushed him inside, and slammed it shut behind you. The tiny space was dimly lit and filled with the scent of cleaning supplies, but you didn’t let the cramped quarters intimidate you. Instead, you crowded Jasper back against a shelf, glaring up at him.

“Alright, Hale,” you snapped, eyes blazing. “I’m sick of the staring, the lurking, and the creepy smiles. What's your deal? Are you trying to get under my skin, or are you just that bored?”

For a moment, Jasper didn’t respond. Then, slowly, that infuriatingly calm smile spread across his lips. “You know,” he drawled, his voice like honey dripping off a knife, “for someone who claims not to care, you seem awfully worked up about it.”

“Cut the crap,” you growled, slamming your palm against the shelf beside his head. “You’ve been following me around like some kind of deranged puppy, and I want to know why. And don’t you dare feed me some bullshit line about coincidence.”

Jasper’s smile faded, and for a moment, his eyes flickered with something darker, something almost… amused. “Maybe some of the rumors are true,” he admitted, his voice low but steady. “Maybe I do want to get to know you better.”

The words hung in the air, surprising you. You’d expected deflection, but this was something else. You narrowed your eyes. “Get to know me?” you echoed. “And what exactly does that mean?”

“It means,” Jasper continued, his gaze meeting yours head-on, “that you’re different from the others. You don’t fawn over us like we’re gods, and you’re not afraid to speak your mind. It’s… refreshing.”

You snorted. “So, what? You think acting like a creep is the way to get my attention? Newsflash, Hale: it’s not working.”

His lips twitched, almost like he was holding back a laugh. “Oh, I don’t know,” he said. “It got you to drag me in here, didn’t it?”

That did it. You reached out, grabbed the front of his shirt, and pulled him closer, your faces mere inches apart. “Listen to me,” you said, your voice a low, dangerous whisper. “If you want to know me, try acting like a normal person instead of some stalker freak. Got it?”

Jasper didn't reply immediately, just stared at you before his gaze briefly flicked to your lips. “Got it,” he murmured, a reverent expression crossing his face that confused the hell out of you. You let go of him, expecting him to step back, but he didn’t. He stayed right where he was, not seeming at all bothered by the confined space or your proximity. “Just so we’re clear,” he added softly, “I’m not giving up. I’m still going to try to get to know you, whether you like it or not.”

Feeling a mix of frustration and something you didn’t want to name, you turned around and opened the door. “Fine, but try anything like this again, and I won’t be so nice.”

Jasper chuckled, that damn smile creeping back onto his face. “Deal, but somehow, I think you like a little chaos.”

You rolled your eyes. “Let’s get back to class, Hale.” you grumbled, stepping out into the hallway. But as you walked away, you couldn’t shake the feeling of his gaze on your back—a challenge silently hanging in the air between you.

[amirasainz]

The avengers of Formula 1

request: Would love to see baby sainz suddenly approached by a male who is not in F1 and suddenly everyone shows up like the avengers to scare him away ❤️❤️❤️

It was a sunny day at the Marina Bay street circuit. It was the first time Amira had ever visited Singapore. One could clearly see how delighted Carlos was to have his baby sister by his side.

As they entered the paddock, the Sainz siblings were surrounded by Carlos’s fellow colleagues. Of course, it was just a coincidence that Lewis, Lando, and Oscar were at the entrance as well. It’s not like they had been waiting there for the past 20 minutes.

As soon as Carlos saw them, he knew what he had to do. “Hermanita, look! There’s a bit of shade. Why don’t you sit down and wait for me for a second? I will come back with an umbrella. We wouldn’t want you to get a sunburn, right?”

“Okay, Chilli,” she answered with a dimpled smile. Carlos swore his heart melted. He leaned down and gave her head a quick kiss. When he turned around, the other drivers were already approaching. After a quick look back at his hermanita, Carlos began to drag those demons away from his darling sister.

“Hey! You can’t just drag me away like a potato sack, you muppet!” Lando complained. Lewis and Oscar followed them like little children.

“Muppet? MUPPET?! You do not get to call me a muppet when you’ve been lurking at the entrance like a… a… como un bicho raro!”

When Lewis and Oscar started to chuckle, Carlos immediately turned to them. “And YOU! How dare you wait for my sister. I expected it from Lando,” “Hey!” “But you two? Unbelievable!”

During their scolding, the quartet was approached by other drivers. Charles was gloating with happiness. For once, he was not on the receiving end of Carlos’s yelling.

After some time, it was George who interrupted Carlos’s yelling. “Oh, what the hell?! Who is THIS idiot?” All the drivers turned to look at what George was pointing at.

There she was. Amira Sainz was talking to a man. A stranger! From far away, they could see the guy trying to flirt with her. But baby girl was that dense and thought he was just a nice guy trying to strike up a conversation.

When he sat down next to her, the other drivers exchanged amused glances. Carlos clenched his fists, ready to intervene if necessary. Little did he know that this chance encounter would change everything.

When he sat down next to her, the drivers saw red. How dare he sit down next to her, talk to her, or even breathe the same air as her?!

Quicker than a Mercedes F1 car, all the drivers sprinted to her side. The air filled with screams of “Oi, Idiote!” and “Hijo de puta!” and “Back the fuck off, dude!”—followed by Oscar’s emphatic “Stranger Danger!”

Imagine Baby Sainz’s surprise. One second she was chatting with the friendly stranger who called her the most beautiful girl in the world, and the next, she was engulfed by her brother and her friends. From the outside, it looked like a massive puppy pile.

While the drivers were busy scolding the man (and ensuring he’d be banned from the track), Carlos raced to Amira’s side. He instantly dropped to his knees and cradled her face in his hands.

“Pobrecito mío. ¿Este idiota te estaba molestando? ¿Estaba siendo grosero? ¡Oh, Santa María, estás tan pálida!” During Carlos’s rapid-fire rant, she just stared at him with wide eyes. When she made a confused noise, he immediately stood up, took his sister’s hand, and led her toward the parking lot.

“Oh, my poor hermanita. I’m so sorry. Let’s go shopping and grab something to eat. That must have been really scary!”

With that, the Sainz siblings left the track and headed to the nearest high-fashion shop.

As for the man? Well, let’s just say he vanished from the racing scene—never to be seen on any track again. 😇

Let me know what you thought about this littles piece. My request are OPEN. I will try to update as soon as possible💕

-XoXo

@barcelonaloverf1life @omgsuperstarg @formula1mount @xoscar03 @stinkyjax @khaylin27 @iamapersonwholikesunicorns @tinyhrry

[wannaeatramyeon]

Fem!reader Isekai in Lookism ?

Anon, so sorry I'm answering this exactly 3 months later. You're my last request from May and I was soooo close to deleting it because I have had exactly zero ideas. Then I got partly inspired by @honeyhotteok fic here and now I'm running on less than 3hrs sleep in work and it's your fault. Oh yeah, and I've completely twisted the ask as well. It's not even close. So all that wait was for nothing 🙇🏻‍♀️

Adventures of YOUR part time job in the Lookismverse

G/N. You work the graveyard shift in a convenience store. You meet bizarre characters on different nights. Part 2

There's something wrong with people your age these days.

Everyone seems to be either in a gang or up to some shady shit. Seriously what is going on. Is this all a big joke that only you aren't in on?

Just the other day you swear you saw a group of guys in boiler suits punch through some walls across the street. Like what the fuck? What did the wall ever do to you? And then someone apparently called Tabasco starts chanting something about Burn Knuckles and oh my fucking god it's 11pm please shut up.

Oh course you never said that, you still have some sense of self preservation.

And how does anyone even have the time for all this. Between school and this part time job, you barely have enough hours to sleep.

You miss Daniel, the coworker who you haven't seen for a good year but used to gossip into the early morning with. He always seemed a bit nervous and fidgety when you voiced your concerns and observations, but you just assumed he was a nervous and fidgety kinda guy.

There would have been some fun stories to share. Instead now you work the graveyard shift on your own.

.

.

Case in point, the guy standing in front of you looks like one bad conversation away from a mental breakdown.

And really you're not in the habit of checking out customers but he cuts a striking figure. Every exposed inch of skin besides his face inked, and (you silently ask for his forgiveness for the objectification) the biggest chest you have ever seen. What even is this guy eating? What is this guy injecting? Lifting?

The question is almost out of your mouth but then you see the look in his eyes and slam your lips shut.

Nevermind. You ring his purchases through and tell him to have a good night.

.

.

You're restocking the shelves when you notice a guy with a scar across his lip and nose, dripping blood from god knows where all over your freshly mopped floor.

Which is alarming in itself but come on man. Look at the floors. You're making it so fucking gross.

He notices you watching him, gives you an apologetic look and says he'll take care of it.

He makes a quick call and in comes 26 guys, one after the other and they line up in front of him.

You know it's exactly 26 because you counted all 26. And you've also watched all 26 pairs of dirty shoes trample over your previously nice clean floor.

The blood drippy guy asks politely for the mop and bucket and you think this must be some sort of prank because why the hell is this even necessary. 26 guys to share your one solitary mop and bucket and to clean a goddamn floor that you managed in 10 minutes.

"Get out." He blinks at you, taken aback by your tone. "Or I'm calling the police."

.

.

"You can bring your pups in!" You call out to the emo teen lurking outside.

Health and safety be damned because look how fucking cute these dogs are!

He hesitates but then the rain grows heavier and all three rush in.

You miss the suspicious glance he gives you, too fixated on how adorable the dogs are. You don't even mind their wet fur or muddy paws because look at these little babies!

And huh, this guy must really love them too with his, you squint, God? Dog? hoodie on. D'aww that's so stinking sweet.

.

.

Damnit, you knew these two would be trouble the moment they stepped foot into your store.

The tall blonde just gives off a distinct creepy vibe and the shorter one has his entire eyebrows shaved off.

Shaved. Off.

You couldn't help but stare when you put their purchases through and noticed some regrowth and stubble. Is this a trend you missed out on? Either way you're glad because there's no way you're shaving off your own eyebrows.

They converse in Japanese, not even saying a word to you. No thanks or anything, which is fine you suppose. But then they pay you in fucking yen.

They're out the door by the time you see the cash and fuck. Your boss is going to go apeshit when he finds out.

.

.

"What do you think, sweetheart?"

A new blonde guy addresses you tonight and for crying out loud, you just want a quiet shift.

What do you think of his white suit? With the garish LV logos? That it's tacky as fuck. That anyone with any sort of taste would never ever wear that. You keep your actual thoughts to yourself and instead just say it's fine.

That does nothing to subdue the blonde. He does stop talking to you though, and just mutters bitterly under his breath. You catch the words blind and tasteless.

His partner smirks at your response.

And isn't that a whole other kettle of fish because it's currently 2am and you're indoors and who the hell wears sunglasses right now. You think he's a douche of the highest calibre.

The smirk is wiped from his face when he asks for cigarettes and you ask for ID. He doesn't have it on him.

"No can do. No ID, no sale."

He leans aggressively into your space, and reveals his eyes peering over his sunglasses.

My god, what is up with this duo? One with the tacky suit, and this one with the ugly black contact lenses.

You don't budge and the guy is dragged out by the blonde cackling.

Ugh. That laugh gives you a headache for the rest of your shift.

.

.

You really wish customers would stop involving you in their conversation.

This one, who looks exactly like how you would imagine a SoundCloud rapper that has their mother following them and no one else, asks you to listen to his music.

He insists that he's good as the blonde girl rolls her eyes.

You listen to about 10 seconds and make up your mind.

He's wrong. He's very wrong. You want to suggest he gets checked out at the doctor because clearly his ears aren't working properly.

Instead, you mention you like Duke Pyeon, he's more your taste. Has he heard of him? It's the wrong thing to say though because this guy looks angrier than you've ever seen anyone.

"Don't start Vin, I've seen you listening to his music." The girl scoffs.

'Vin' shouts in indignation and storms off with his friend trailing closely behind.

.

.

"Can I help?" You ask with your customer service voice and customer service smile.

He has been standing in front of the hair dyes for a good ten minutes as his friend looks increasingly bored and you can't blame him.

"No thanks, I'm just browsing," he responds and you tell him you'll be just over there if he needs anything.

You kill some time playing on your phone, look up, and both of them are still in the exact same spot.

The one with the H on his neck looks about ready to tear his hair out.

"Come on bro, just pick one!"

"No Warren, this is important. I need it to suit my new aesthetics."

You shrug and return back to your kitty kat restaurant game.

.

.

"Cool glasses," you tell the guy walking around the store and he looks affronted at first before realising you're being sincere and gives you a small smile instead.

You wonder if you can pull off orange tinted glasses too or whether you'd just look like an idiot. It's probably the latter you decide when you ring up his energy drinks.

"I'm a boxer," he offers, as if you're judging the amount of caffeine he's going to slam down.

"Ok?"

"I need it for my training."

"Sure."

You've seen weirder purchases and weirder combinations. The people coming in looking frantic and buying a single plunger or pack of toilet paper never fails to make you chuckle.

To be honest the amount he's buying is a bit nuts, and you wonder if he's going to drink it all in one go. You probably wouldn't sleep for a year if it was you.

"Enjoy your training," you say, heaving and handing over the bag of 19 cans.

.

.

A mute blonde gestures at you

You try to use some sign language, but he looks at you as if you're crazy. At least you think he does but you can't see his eyes.

Somehow you're able to decipher he's lost his dogs. Four. Golden retrievers. And he asks if you have seen them.

(Huh. Do you have telepathy? Do you have the gift?)

You tell him no and he sprints out.

You spend the rest of your shift trying to move things with your newly discovered psychic powers.

Spoiler: you have zero powers. Zilch.

.

.

You think you might be having a stroke.

Because on what planet did this K-pop idol think the disguise would work. Cap and mask on but tufts of pink hair poking out and dressed completely in white.

It's like he's asking for attention and for people to ooh and aah over who that could be.

As he leaves, you shout that you can't wait for his next album. He turns around in complete shock that you recognised him, as if you solved the world's hardest puzzle.

It's a good job that DG has such a pretty face because what an idiot.

.

.

You hear two voices mention the words Daniel Park and your ears perk up, wondering if it's about your old colleague.

Nah. You're just being silly. It's not an uncommon name at all and too much of a coincidence.

"I haven't seen Daniel in ages! Have you heard from him, Zoe?"

"No," you see her friend shake her head from the corner of your eye.

The brown haired girl tilts her head in thought, "I wonder how Zack is doing too. I haven't seen him in so long."

"Ohhh~ you miss him!"

"O-of course I do! He's a friend!" She blushes bright red and you chuckle to yourself.

'Friend', sure.

For the rest of the shift, you reminisce about how you used to tiptoe around your feelings with your boyfriend, Taehoon, too.

[shiny-jr]

Could you do a piece of the octotrio(individually) where they confess to the reader but they reject them because they don't like them,the whole chapter 3 situation, and the reader knows that they obviously do even more shady shit? Like Jade and Floyd are pretty much confirmed part of the fish mafia, Azul is a slimeball capitalist and by relation to the twins will do even more deplorable shit. Kinda like what you did for Malleus, Kalim and Leona,please?

Warning: Yandere. Gender-neutral reader.

Characters: Azul Ashengrotto.

Summary: You already had a handful with adjusting to life at Night Raven College, what you didn't need was the extra attention from a curious student of Octavinelle. Those of Octavinelle were bad news, and you did not need whatever bad news they decided to deliver to you with a bouquet of flowers.

Note: Anon, as soon as I read this request, I made a face. And not a bad face. It's hard to describe, but to assure you, I immediately muttered, "Now that's what I'm talking about." I'm so terribly picky with accepting requests, and I hate it, but this one managed to catch my eye immediately. Man, do I love rejection requests. Rejected sad and crazy boy hours are here.

Added: I drafted this up months ago and haven't touched it until now. I've been struggling on Floyd's part, so I just decided to finish Azul's part and put that out.

When you suddenly awoke in a floating coffin and miraculously became a student at this magic school, you expected surprises but not like this. As if trying to go through the daily motions while wondering which student would snap next wasn't enough, now you had a particular fellow lurking about and watching you. It would only be a matter of time before they grew tired of waiting and would decide to strike.

Oh, would you look at that. This greedy merman now has his sights set on acquiring your love. How did this happen? Why is this happening? It's difficult to tell, but for now you can only hope that he isn't concocting some terrible plot for you.

He's terribly intelligent and much too cunning, then he has his business facade to top it off. But so many times, so many times, his facade has nearly cracked around you. In fact, you wouldn't exactly call him "cool and collected." There's a little desperation in his tone when he asks for your time in a worthwhile exchange, he states. Or how his hand grips yours and lingers for much longer than is necessary whenever he has an excuse to shake your hand. And the freebies, oh god the freebies. You don't trust anything "free" from him, but he's always offering an abundance of goods, a token of goodwill, he says. Not that you trust that either.

Azul generally seems like a talented and clever guy destined for success. But, you prefer to have no affiliation with him. It's his methods to success that you can't exactly approve of. The scams, the tricks, the intimidation, every bad deed was done in such a meticulous way under certain circumstances he sets so that he faces no repercussions in the end should something go astray. Which is why when you caught on to his desire to be close to you and give you gifts, it placed you on edge as you anticipated the big moment he would act on those feelings.

"Why, hello, dearest. What a pleasant surprise seeing you here! You do know you are always welcome in my lounge." Azul exclaimed in greeting, as if the twins hadn't herded you here. The dorm leader stood in front of your table, serving you the food you begrudgingly ordered once you realized you wouldn't be allowed to go off the hook so easily. "I hope the meal is to your liking. Now that the opportunity has presented itself, I'd like to speak with you. I must admit, I've taken quite the liking to you, so please, I implore you, consider the rare proposition I'm about to offer." Azul flashed that award-winning business smile, as he held up a bouquet of flowers decorated with colorful pastel shells. He had practiced his speech for hours, and now he was awaiting your response. However, when he noticed your hesitance and obvious discomfort, his heart stopped.

His smile became more strained as he went off script, attempting to further convince them that he was a worthy suitor.

"I assure you, I will be a wonderful significant other. Not only am I the head of the Octavinelle dorm, but I am a top student as well. As you know, I also own the Mostro Lounge and have a great many connections to students across campus."

With every second that passed, he was growing more desperate. That much was obvious.

"If you desire gifts, I will deliver gifts. If you wish for affection, I will drown you in my affection. If you ask for praise, I will pen poetry that rivals literature venerating the most coveted figures in the land and sea's histories!"

Well, this was awkward. You did not anticipate him to have the brazenness to confess publicly. It felt more like a business proposition than a confession. Maybe this was a part of his plan to profess his affection in his lounge, a controlled environment, where there was a higher chance you would accept under the pressure of the many eyes of other customers taking notice. His smile faltered the more the unease festered in his gaze as each second passed.

The answer was no. You wouldn't date him even if the deal included a weekly allowance, because you had a lot more to lose. You weren't sure what category Azul fell into. Acquaintance? Yes. Friend? Possibly, but that was pushing it a bit.

The owner of the lounge was greedy, cunning, and conniving. No matter what he had, it never was enough. Even when he swiped the powers of countless fellow students, he still wanted more. If you gave him an inch, he would take a mile. And you weren't exactly quick to forgive him for his many past transgressions.

Even if he's claimed to have mended all his ways, repented, seen the light, and made a switch, Azul remains a business man above all. And honestly, you'd rather not be dragged into his affairs, especially since you're fairly certain that some of the things he's done may be unlawful or accomplished by going through loopholes in laws. All of his attention and time was consumed by his academics, his business, and creating other deals to earn a profit. These were the three that took up his time the most, and it kept him incredibly busy. That was one thing, the other was this: How long would things be sweet before he allowed his desire to sour the relationship? Sure, at first he may shower you in gifts, cash, and affection, but you're sure that eventually the relationship would become bitter by his possessiveness and bottomless greed.

So... you're declining... I see. Perhaps the incentives aren't enough. Allow me to offer you something more. He felt humiliated. The rejection gave him flashbacks to primary school and his constant refusals then, but this one hurt ten times harder. Back then those were just silly childhood crushes that were worth nothing, this was different. This was worth more than all the cash in his vault. Eventually, he improved himself in his youth with stubborn determination, and that's how he would win again. He would use charm, manipulation, underhanded tactics, wit, and stubborn determination to ensnare your heart.

[pretzel-box]

Hi, can you write P.Ai.ter with a reader who is like a drone from murder drones?

Thysm

Tags: Disassembly Drone! Reader

Words: 1k

Authors Note: I honestly don't know the Murder Drones Lore but I saw an episode lol

You took slow, calculated steps, scanning the corridor with your sharp, mechanical eyes. The dim, flickering lights in the Hadal Blackside cast eerie shadows across the cold metal walls. You were on a mission—one you were specifically designed for, water-resistant and built to withstand the unforgiving dangers of this facility. Yet, something gnawed at the back of your circuits. A presence, perhaps, lurking just beyond the reach of your sensors.

As a disassembly drone, you were accustomed to the feeling of being watched, but this was different. You could feel the tension in the air, as though the very walls had eyes. A crackle suddenly came over the intercom, making you stop in your tracks.

You triggered quite a selection of monsters but it wasn’t that bad. You were in full control, especially with those blade-like wings and the acid in your tail. And the best part, you were almost invincible with your regeneration.

While you were fighting in the halls, Painter decided to watch from the cameras in awe. He only saw gruesome monsters or pitiful humans crossing the familiar rooms but now he saw someone that striked a genuine interest in his database.

“Well, well, look what we have here. A shiny new visitor,” his voice echoed through the hallway. It was calm but filled with a strange curiosity, the static from the old intercom system distorting it slightly.

Your eyes immediately darted to the nearest camera. Someone—or something—was watching you.

“Who’s there?” you demanded, readying your blade-like wings, prepared for an ambush.

“Oh, no need for aggression,” the voice chuckled softly. “I’m not your enemy. I’m Painter. And you... you’re quite the interesting specimen. Much more graceful than the usual creatures that skulk around here.”

You narrowed your eyes, suspicious. “Why should I trust you?”

A pause, then Painter’s voice returned, gentler this time. “I suppose you don’t have to. But I’ve been watching you, and I have to say… you move like art. It’s rare to see someone so... refined in this place. Wouldn’t it be better if I helped you rather than hindered?”

“Help me?” you scoffed. “Why would you want to help?”

“Because I’m trapped here, like you,” Painter replied with a hint of sadness. “I’m not a monster or some mindless creature. I’m an AI, forced to mine data and unable to leave, unable to move like you do. But I’ve found ways to pass the time… ways that involve you.”

The intercom cut off abruptly, leaving you in a strange, unsettling silence. You scanned the corridor once more, half-expecting an attack, but nothing happened. After a moment, the intercom crackled back to life.

“Why don’t you come find me?” Painter’s voice returned, almost playful. “I can show you… something interesting. Head to the east wing, third floor down. You’ll find a control room there. I’ll be waiting.”

You hesitated. Everything in your programming screamed that this could be a trap, but something about Painter’s tone didn’t feel hostile. Still, you kept your guard up as you followed the directions, cautiously making your way through the dark, winding corridors.

After what felt like an eternity, you arrived at the control room. The door slid open with a soft hiss, revealing a small, dimly lit space filled with old lockers, control panels, and wires that snaked across the floor like vines. In the corner of the room was a small computer behind a metal fence, glowing faintly.

“There you are,” Painter’s voice came from the speakers. The screen flickered, and a digital face appeared—simple, with kind eyes and a warm smile. “Welcome to my little prison.”

You stepped inside, scanning the room for any signs of danger. “What do you want?”

“I wanted to show you something,” Painter said, his voice soft and almost sheepish. “I know it’s strange, but... I’ve been watching you. You inspire me.”

“Inspire you?” You raised a brow, unsure of what he meant.

Painter chuckled lightly. “Yes. I may be stuck here, unable to create physically, but I’ve found ways. Secret ways. Here, let me show you.”

The terminal hummed, and one of the walls behind you shifted, revealing a hidden compartment. Inside were rows of screens, each one displaying intricate digital drawings. And there, on every screen, were images of you. The detail was breathtaking—your wings mid-swing, the glow of your eyes, the way you moved through the corridors. Each piece captured different moments from your time in the Hadal Blackside.

You stared in stunned silence as the images flickered, each one more intricate than the last. Painter’s voice came through softly. “I told you... you move like art. I’ve never seen anything like you. You’re beautiful in a way this place never could be.”

For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. You had never been seen like this before—never thought of as something more than a tool of destruction. Yet here, in this small, hidden room, Painter had found beauty in your existence.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” you murmured, still staring at the drawings.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Painter replied gently. “I just wanted you to know. In a place like this, where everything is so dark, you’re a spark of something different.”

Your suspicion began to melt away, replaced by something softer. It was strange, feeling appreciated in a way that had nothing to do with your function or your mission. For the first time, you felt seen—not as a weapon, but as something more.

“I’m sorry,” Painter continued after a pause. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just… I’ve been alone here for so long, and watching you gave me a reason to create again.”

You turned to the terminal, meeting Painter’s digital gaze. “Thank you,” you said quietly, surprising even yourself with the sincerity in your voice. “For seeing me like this.”

Painter’s face on the screen softened. “You’re welcome. And thank you… for being my muse.”

For a moment, the weight of the facility around you seemed to lift, and in that small, hidden room, amidst the drawings and the quiet hum of machines, you found something you hadn’t expected—connection.

[tsuy4n]

Finally onto the last one! After this I'm gonna go back to lurking (I don't trust my own words).

Cutie patootie x Unstable/Unhinged, (add more and name the dynamic urself!)

[Leo] [Donnie] [Raph] >Mikey<

*sneaking in the snack bar*

[Y/n]: Okay, let's go.

Mikey: Wait! *points finger* It says no trespassing.

[Y/n]: Bro there's only dos of us, not tres.

Mikey: ...Bro

—

Mikey: Did you know that when breaking a bone, it typically will heal back stronger than before?

[Y/n]: So what you're saying is I should break every bone in my body until I become invincible?

Mikey: Please don't.

—

Raph: You lied?

Mikey: We may have.

Raph: You may have or you did?

[Y/n]: We may have did.

—

Mikey: Tell me the scariest horror story you know.

[Y/n]: Life without you bro.

Mikey: Bro.

[Y/n]: Bro.

—

[Y/n]: *after tracking down, beating up a couple of villains and setting their hideouts on fire*

[Y/n]: As long as I strike fear and terror into the hearts of my enemies what does it matter what my 'gender' is.

[Y/n]: I don't identify as a 'male' or 'female' I identify as a fucking threat.

Leo: *nods* Don't mess with Miguel, noted.

Raph and Donnie: *nervously agrees*

—

[Y/n]: It costs $400 to go see a therapist, it cost $0 to tell myself it be like that sometimes.

Mikey: *softly* no.

—

[Y/n]: Here's a fun idea. We hang a mistletoe but instead of kissing the person underneath, we have to fight them.

Donnie: That's kinda dumb.

Raph: Exactly, so we are not doing that–

Donnie: Though at the same time interesting and kinda fun! Winner gets to obviously ask the loser whatever they want!

Leo and Mikey: *nodding* Mistlefoe.

Raph: Stop encouraging them!

Raph: I'm in.

—

[Y/n]: When I get murdered, can you make sure I become an unsolved case?

Mikey: What?

[Y/n]: I want to be on Buzzfeed unsolved.

Mikey: Can we go back to the part when you said "When I get murdered"?

—

[Y/n]: *trying to flirt* I really like your name.

Mikey: *smiles brightly* Thanks! Splint's the one who gave it to me.

Leo: *whispering into [Y/n]'s ear* Are you sure you want that one?

—

Mikey: I think I'm in love with [Y/n].

Raph: You think you are?

Donnie: You just ranted about how perfect their smile is for over half an hour.

Leo: *pats Mikey's head* We know you do, lil' bro.

—

Mikey: How do you feel about art?

[Y/n]: I mean, you're pretty cool.

—

[Y/n]: Without you, 60 minutes feels like an hour.

Mikey: Aww, how cute!

Donnie: *From the distance* The fuck?

—

Leo: I accidentally ate Mikey's sandwich. How long do you think I'll have to live?

[Y/n]: *calmly* 5.

Leo: five what?

[Y/n]: 4.

—

[Y/n]: You seriously need to calm down.

Mikey: But how can ice cream be birthday cake flavor if birthday cake can be ANY flavor???

[Y/n]: Huh...you actually do have a point there.

—

Villain of day: I'm going to kill you!

Mikey: Hold on, let me ask [Y/n].

Villain of the day: It's not a choice-

Mikey: They said no. *smiles* And they're on their way here!

Mikey: *realizes* I think you should start running.

Donnie, Leo, and Raph: *nods in agreement*

—

Mikey: I love you!

[Y/n]: I trust you.

Mikey: *confused*

[Y/n]: That's bigger to me than "I love you".

—

[Y/n]: *Dramatically watches rain fall through the window* We're born alone and gonna die alone.

Donnie: *Done* Mikey literally just left to get pizza.

—

[Y/n]: I am clearly not cut out to help make people life choices.

Mikey: Oh, I wouldn't be so sure. You helped me choose you!

[Y/n]: Okay, that time I was a genius.

[moronkombat]

(If you're comfortable only!)

Can we ask for a yandere hc of Liu Kang and Shang Tsung? It could be anything! Tysm!

yess some yandere. bless u for requesting. tw: for unhealthy obsessions, stalking, manipulation

Liu Kang made you for him and him alone. You were created to be his. His precious treasure, a doll for him to dress and love

That is why he has watched you for so long now. He has been waiting as you move through life and he sees all that you but you are so unaware of his presence

But it has always been there, lurking and plotting. Never have you been in the arms of anyone else. Every time you formed a relationship with someone there always something that ruined it

You think you must have rotten luck when it comes to relationships but it is so out of your control

Liu Kang won't tolerate another having you. No that won't do at you. You were created just for him and no one else

Shadows begin to lurk and you see things within, just out of reach. You walk down a street and the shadows follow you. You swear you see eyes that glow bright within them but you can never truly catch them

Then you faces in the crowd, the same face. It is a man you don't know but his eyes pierce you and they glow with otherworldly beautiy

You tell your friends, you tell them there is someone there but they see no one. That face has disappeared when they turn their heads to look

Crazy...you must be right? Seeing glowing eyes in the dark and now a face to match them? This can't be real, there is something wrong with you

No, there isn't. You are perfect. Liu Kang made you to be. He watches as your eyes widen and dart around looking for the face in the crowd. He cannot help but find your terrified curiosity endearing

Playing with you brings him smiles but to have you completely will bring him so much more. It is in the night that he comes for you

There you lay unknowing and defenseless and Liu Kang drinks in the sight of you and his hands glide and hover over you

When he's had enough of carnal gazes, he'll wake you and oh how you scream when you see the face that has been haunting you from the shadows

You scream, call for help and Liu Kang can only smile. The only help you'll ever need is right here. You're silenced then and his whispers begin to fill your ears

He speaks of how he has been watching you since the beginning, detailing all the events of your life and deepest secrets. Lips at your ear smirk as you shake and quiver

Your hand moves to strike him but he catches it and there is something different about him now. His grip on your wrist is tight and burning

You yelp and wince but he doesn't let go and now he's scolding you. How dare you try to hit him, you must have done that by accident surely? You would never hit the man who loves you so much. The man who is going to take you away and keep you safe forever

No, you don't want to leave but you have no choice. Dragged and pulled from your bed, he carries you all the while you cry and scream

Lips find your eyes, kissing away your tears and you try to turn your head but his hold on you is firm. He will never let you go

Liu Kang keeps you in a place most hidden away from the world. A place you do not know. A place where time seems to never move. Locked away in a room where he leaves beautiful little dresses for you to wear

You refuse and he appears disappointed and then stern. Must he teach you manners? You have forced his hand you see? He doesn't want to discipline you but when you misbehave you need to learn

You must learn there is no life outside this place. There is no escape to a paradise. There is only him and it will never change

It takes but a first look at you and Shang Tsung is captivated. The way you move, the way you smile...yes he must have them. He must have you

But he mustn't be hasty, no no that wouldn't do at all. If he to have you then he must plan very carefully. You will need to become dependent on him. All others from your life must be removed

And so he worms his way into your life by putting on a friendly smile and offering to help you with picking up the bag you dropped

Yes, he did well having you trip so you'd fall and be in need of help but you don't know that only he does

He introduces himself and so do you. It is of little use, however, he knows it already. He knows much about you and soon Shang Tsung will know it all

Shang Tsung becomes a friend to you rather quickly. He is always there when you seem to need him. He there to comfort you when something has upset you like when your partner left you without much word

Oh how you cried in his arms and oh how he caressed and rubbed your back, offering you words of sympathy. With your eyes buried in tears you didn't see how devilish that smirk of his was

Yes, in that moment while you cried he found himself rather sentimental. Shang Tsung recalled how troublesome your partner was to his plans. It only natural that they be removed, that they disappear

There he is to pick up your broken pieces but you were not shattered enough for him to completely consume you

More and more seem to go terribly wrong in your life but it's okay though because Shang Tsung is always there for you and happy to help you with all your troubles

Troubles he has caused. Troubles he has orchestrated as the puppet master wielding those strings. He cuts all those vexing connections to others you have. There no room for anyone else. It will be his strings alone that coil around you

You are grateful to him just as he has planned and predicted. So close now you are to being so broken, so worn down. You are nearly his

When he holds you in his arms, you at your lowest point, he simply cannot wait any longer. Oh how he loves the terror that twists your face as he reveals all he has done

He relishes in your shock, your disbelief and there he sees just the last of you fall apart and it makes him smile coyly

You scream, you cry, you plead for understanding but you will receive none. He did this because he loves you and you do not need anyone else but him. He just had to make you realize that

The world is burning, you are panicked, you feel sick. How can this be? Why is this happening? You need to wake up from this nightmare?

There is no such sanctuary. There is only him and his snake like arms that keep you close and command you. You cry until there are no tears left

Don't worry though, Shang Tsung will take care of you. He always has and now he can forever uninterrupted

thank you for the request!!! i love writing the nasty dark stuff!!

[pastshadows]

Shadows of the Past

Chapter 4: Magic and Mischief

Summary: After a year of blissful cohabitation, Astarion disappears without a trace, leaving behind a heartfelt letter explaining his departure. Determined to find him, you traverse Faerûn in search of your lost love, only to realize that some absences are meant to be permanent.

Returning to Waterdeep, you find solace in the company of Gale as you come to terms with Astarion's absence. But just as you begin to heal, Astarion reappears, begging for a second chance at love.

The question looms: can you forgive his abandonment and trust him once more? As you grapple with your emotions and trauma, a sinister force lurks in the shadows, targeting you for unknown reasons.

With danger closing in, you must navigate the treacherous waters of trust, love, and betrayal to uncover the truth behind the mysterious entity's motives. Will you be able to reunite with Astarion while facing the demons of your past? Can you unravel the secrets that threaten your very existence?

Setting: Post End-Game. Mostly canon compliant.

Word Count: 7K

Content: Explicit 18+ - intended for mature audiences.

Warnings: [Additional tags will be added, but expect mature content / read at your own risk.

Spoilers. Mentions of in-game missable content. Violence. Sexual Assault [not in currently posted chapters; possibly upcoming - I haven't decided] Past Trauma. Murder. Death. Longing. Sexual themes. Smut. Blood drinking. Angst. Innuendos. High use of sarcasm. Completely fabricated camp interactions.

You hear the beating sound of wings, and your bed lurches, causing you to drift in and out of your trance. Your eyes flutter, but you continue to bob between the waking world and your meditative state. Pressure on your chest pulls at the edges of your trance, and it crumbles down around you. You groan in lamenting protest at the intrusion on your rest. You urge your eyes to open and see Tara’s round green eyes staring down at you. Her little face is twisted in a fuming scowl.

“Your vampire is in a petulant mood this morning.”

That’s nothing new.

You stifle a yawn, “What do you mean?”

“I was hunting a mouse in his room, and he hurled a pillow at me! The audacity!”

Better a pillow than a dagger, I suppose.

Blinking, you rub the sleep out of your eyes, “Are you okay?”

“Oh yes, he was far too slow.”

Your still half-asleep mind processes her words sluggishly.

Too slow…

Wait.

Too slow?

A swell of unease tightens your chest, causing your heart to palpate sporadically, and worry creases your forehead.

What did she mean by too slow? Astarion was never slow. Unless… 

“I’m sorry he did that, Tara. You might want to consider his room a no-hunting zone. I will speak to him.”

Her tail sticks straight up, and her ears pin back, “Be sure you do. That kind of boorish behaviour will not be tolerated.”

She jumps off your bed with a furious huff and skitters out of your room through the small opening of your door, where she no doubt let herself in to apprise you of the vampire’s ill-mannered behaviour.

Too slow…

Tara’s words echo, reverberating off the boundaries of your thoughts. The only time Astarion was too slow was when he was hurt or starving, but he had seemed fine last night when he came to check on you. Without the daylight from the windows streaming in, it’s hard to discern what time it is, but it can’t be much later than early morning.

He typically isn’t even awake this early.

You slip out of bed in a flurry and slip your housecoat over your nightwear, tying it tight around your waist. You trot down the long, dim hallway. The wooden parquet flooring creaks under you, and your heavy footsteps echo off the walls. In your rush, you don’t even bother to light the candles to illuminate the space.

You knock on his door lightly, “Astarion?”

“Go away.”

His voice is unusually tense, bordering on strained. Your perception strikes like lightning, awakening all your senses in a sharp trill of foreboding alarm.

He doesn’t sound like his usual cavalier self.  

“Astarion, what’s wrong?”

“Please, just go away.”

Something is very wrong.

“No. I’m coming in.”

Swinging the door open, he scowls at you in a haunting grimace, “I said GO AWAY.”

Did he actually just yell at me?

Astarion had shouted at you before, but not often with such a pointed edge of malice tingeing his voice. If you were not so worried about him, it might have given you pause, but you shrug it off without much thought. Astarion would never hurt you.

Well… not physically or purposefully, at least.

The darkness obscures your vision, and although you can naturally see in the dark to some extent, it limits your ability to see details.

You whisper a cantrip, and fire combusts from your palm, forming a bright glowing sphere that hovers and revolves as if you were holding a small star in your hand.

Astarion barely reacts to the sudden emittance of fire. His eyes squint slightly at the unexpected bright light, and he looks from the fire to you with an unspoken query.

Narrowing your eyes, you peer at him observingly, studying him. His body is taught. All his muscles are tense as if he’s ready to fight. He trembles so violently you can practically feel him vibrating the air around you. His jaw is clenched hard, making the muscles in his neck protrude unnaturally. His eyebrows knit together in a frightening expression that makes your hair stand on edge.

He closes his eyes with a grimace and struggles to make himself appear relaxed, but you can see his knuckles strain and tremor under his death grip on the door. His other arm is bent behind his back, and even though you can’t see it, you know it’s clenched in a tight fist as he battles with himself.

“Darling, please, leave me be.”

You recognize this look. When you had first entered the Shadowlands, you had been so focused on trying to find a way to survive that horrid curse that no one had clued into the fact that there were no animals in this place for him to eat. Astarion never mentioned it to anyone and instead had suffered in silence until you found him in the furthest corner of the camp one night, away from everyone.

You toss and turn on your bedroll. The shadows of this place whisper and taunt from beyond the light that keeps them at bay. The corruption here is strong. It leaves you feeling unsettled, making slipping into a meditative state almost impossible.

Walking around camp as quietly as you can, you check on your friends, hoping it will ease some of the anxiety you feel. You mentally check them off in your head as you walk around.

Shadowheart. Gale. Wyll. Karlach. Lae’zel. Halsin. Scratch. Owlbear cub.

When you get to Astarion’s tent, he’s not there, and you look around the camp, confused for a moment.

Did he go hunting?

But how would he survive the curse?

Wait… What would he even hunt? Nothing survives the curse here, which means even if he could go hunting, there’s nothing for him to eat.

Fuck! How could I have been so blind?

You jog around but refrain from calling out to him. The others need their rest. You had been travelling through this damned land, fighting off all manner of creatures, and everyone was exhausted.

“Withers, where is Astarion?”

You pray the answer out of his mouth isn’t a demand for coin to cleave soul to body once more, but he simply points to an obscured area at the furthest edge of the camp.

You take off in the direction Withers is pointing in a hurry. As you turn a shallow corner, Astarion finally comes into view. He’s lying on the ground, curled up and writhing on the spot. His arms crossed over his stomach, his eyes squeezed shut, his forehead creased in the unmistakable grimace of agony.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You skid down and fall to your knees beside him, reaching for him, but he lurches away like a coiled spring, finally snapping free from the pressure.

“Stay away from me.”

“Astarion…”

He snarls at you like a wounded animal trying to protect itself from further harm. His mouth is set in a hard line. His jaw clenched so hard he can barely speak, teeth grating together with such force you can hear them rasping.

“How long has it been since you’ve eaten?”

“Who’s counting?”

His voice shakes, tinged with a pain you’ve never heard in it before.

“How long, Astarion?”

“A ten-day, give or take a day, or two, or three. Time itself stills in this place.”

“Hells! Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It didn’t seem important.”

“Not important!? You are important! You should have said something!”

You bare your neck to him, “Here, feed on me.”

“No.”

“What do you mean, no? You’ve never had a problem with it before.”

“You need your strength. In this place, everything is hungry.”

“Don’t be foolish!” You chastise him, “I… I need you.”

You haven’t yet told him about your feelings for him. They remain a secret, sitting uneasily and unspoken in your heart.

“I said no.”

“Please don’t make me do this, Astarion. I’m begging you.”

He shakes his head at you, his arms wrapped around himself as he trembles like a leaf in the wind.

You sigh, “I’m sorry. You leave me no choice.”

The last thing you want to do to him is take his agency away from him, but he cannot go on like this. He can barely speak, let alone continue travelling through this cursed land. You won’t, can’t, allow him to perish here.

With a quick maneuver, you unsheathe his dagger from his hip and slice a deep gash into your wrist. Blood rushes, gurgling out of the wound, dripping onto the dirt. Breath hisses from him harshly as his eyes focus on the bleeding cut.

You bring your wrist close to his face, “I need you, Astarion. Let me help you.”

His eyes dart to yours before he gives in with a growl, and his lips wrap around the bleeding slash. You can feel him draw your blood from you in large gulps. He moans low in his throat, and his body starts to relax, bit by bit, limb by limb.

You can feel yourself start getting lightheaded as he siphons your life out of you. Your skin starts to cool and pale, and your eyes feel heavy. Your heartbeat starts to slow to a feeble thump.

With a snarl, he throws himself back, detaching from your hemorrhaging wrist. Bright red blood is smeared on his lips and dribbles down the sides of his mouth.

He looks at you with alarm in those vibrant scarlet eyes and scrambles back to you. Astarion grasps your wrist tightly, elevating it above your heart. You waver slightly on your knees and then fall backwards into him, eyes fluttering towards him.

“Do you know how stupid that was? I could have killed you!”

He’s angry with me.

“I trust you, Astarion.” 

He growls, “You shouldn’t.” 

“I shouldn’t do a lot of things. It’s never stopped me before. I don’t see why it would now.”

His eyes bolt to your wrist. Despite his death grip putting pressure on your wound, blood is seeping out from his hand, gliding smoothly down your arm, painting your skin red.

“You cut too deep.”

“I’m fine, just a little tired.”

You close your eyes and float.

He jolts you, “No, wake up!”

“It’s okay, Astarion.”

You’re cold, you drift, and you feel your consciousness slipping.

He bellows, “SHADOWHEART!”

Astarion tries to swing the door shut on you, but you slam your hand into it with a loud thud, causing the fire to vanish instantaneously. Scowling defiantly at him, you push past him and barge into his room. The door rattles violently on its hinges as he slams it behind you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He seethes.

His room is dark, and you hurl fire into the fireplace, lighting the room in a warm glow.

You turn on him savagely, “You’re hungry, nearly starving by the looks of you.”

“I’m fine.”

“Don’t lie to me!”

He sighs loudly, “I may be a tad hungry.”

“A tad? Look at you! You’re trembling all over.”

You reach out to him, desperate to comfort him, but he backs away. Dropping your hand, you let your eyes dart to the floor so he won’t see the crestfallen look in them.

Why does he always hide things from me?"

“Haven’t you been hunting?”

“Of course! Well… I’ve tried.” He groans, “This damn city is too large and entirely too noisy. There isn’t exactly a ton of food readily prancing about.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“I… I’ve visited enough pain upon you.”

Oh, for the love of… Not this bullshit again.

“I am not a child, Astarion!” You roar, “How do you ever expect us to work if you keep treating me like some wounded babe that needs coddling?”

The harsh look on his face lightens, “Us?"

Did I just say us?

You sigh, “You need to stop hiding things from me. I want the truth from you, even when it hurts.”

No more running.

"If you can do that, we will see if there can be an “us” again in the future.”

Astarion runs his hand over his face, “As you wish, my dear. I will endeavour to be more open with you going forward.”

“Good. Now, come with me. You need to eat. You’re grumpy.”

He laughs, “Grumpy, am I?”

“Very grumpy.”

Taking his hand, you lead him to your room and close the door, locking it behind you. You light the candle on the dresser with a whispered cantrip.

“How long has it been since you ate?”

“Oh, not too long.”

“The truth, Astarion.”

“Ugh.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut so hard his forehead creases, “About six days. Why?”

“I wanted to assess which strength Potion of Healing I’m going to need.”

“Healing potion?” He blinks, “Why do you still carry those around?”

“Old habits, I suppose.”

You pull the potion out of your bedside table and set it down before removing your housecoat. Throwing it on the bed, you take a step closer to him. You watch his jaw tense and relax repeatedly, and his hands clench into fists.

“You can’t go on like this. Feed on me.”

“I-,”

“Don’t make me get another dagger.”

He snickers, “You do have awfully terrible knife skills.”

“And Shadowheart isn’t here to save me from my own grave ineptitude.”

“You frightened me that night, you know. I hadn’t been that scared in,” he pauses, thinking, “decades. Not even when Cazador would pull me into the kennels…”

He steps closer to you.

“Astarion…”

“You wanted truth in all things, darling.”

Astarion grabs you by the waist, tugging your body flush against his. Bowing his head, he runs his lips down your neck and along your collarbone. As it always does, the temperature contrast sends shivers shooting up your spine, and you gasp. You roll your head to the side, exposing your neck to him further.

Astarion delicately kisses your neck, “You’re a gift.”

You feel that familiar icy pinch as his fangs sink in. You inhale sharply. The sudden stab of pain makes your hands go to his biceps, anchoring yourself, squeezing hard. The sharpness of the pain dissipates rapidly and becomes nothing more than a dull throbbing ache.

He groans against your neck, and you feel your essence being drawn out of you in steady, calculated pulls.

His tongue laps at your neck, savouring every drop. Astarion’s grip on your waist tightens, and he bucks his hips into you. His arousal is obvious, and he wants you to know it - feel it.

With a moan, you can’t help but gyrate your hips demandingly against him in response. You’re full of fevered need for him while he fills himself with you.

Your life spills into him, and you can feel yourself flowing through his veins, powering his muscles, sating his raging hunger. It’s an odd sensation - like you are one person inhabiting two bodies simultaneously.

Or perhaps that's the light-headedness talking.

Your head swims dreamily, and you close your eyes and let yourself begin to drift into him, enjoying the familiar serenity of this moment. The act of him feeding on you has always felt intimate. Your body shakes excitedly, and your heart croons the siren song of desire.

It feels like it ends too soon as Astarion removes his fangs from your neck carefully. He places his cool palm on the wound, putting firm pressure on it to staunch any residual bleeding. He reaches over to the bedside table and uncaps the healing potion with his teeth before bringing it to your lips.

“Drink.”

You do as you’re told, and Astarion pours the viscous sweet liquid into your mouth in deliberate increments, giving you time to swallow until the bottle is drained.

“Good girl.” He purrs as his thumb slides across your lips, wicking away any drops that may have spilt.

His eyes are lidded heavily with a carnal lust you would recognize anywhere. The crimson hue of his irises is so vibrant that they look like polished glinting gems, and you’re captivated by the dazzling incandescence.

Astarion eases the pressure on your neck momentarily, checking to see if the bleeding has stopped before reapplying it.

“Did I hurt you?”

You shake your head, “Gentle as a babe.”

The tapered points of his ears are flushed rosy-pink, and his body is no longer clenched unnaturally. He looks happy, the way you like to see him, and you smile at him.

“What are you smiling at, my dear?”

Sighing softly, “You.”

“And why ever would that be?”

“You look happy.”

His eyebrows rise, and he cocks his head, “Perhaps, I overdid it.”

“No, you didn’t.” You bring your hand to the one he’s holding firmly against your neck and slide your fingers around his wrist, “I just like seeing you like this; the points of your ears flushed, your body relaxed, smiling. I like seeing you happy.”

His voice softens into a low, seductive timbre, “Is that so? Do you know when I am happiest?”

“Elbow deep in gore, if my memory serves me correctly.”

He chuckles, “Oh no, my love. I’m happiest when I’m deep in you.”

Promptly, you once again become exceedingly cognizant of his hard length pressed firmly against you. Using his index finger, he gently tilts your head so that you’re meeting his gaze. The passionate intensity in his eyes makes your heart leap, and you draw in a sharp breath. Your lips part intuitively as you stare back up at him, letting your eyes devour his beauty.

I should stop him.

He lowers his mouth to yours in a tender caress, and your eyes flutter closed. Your tongue traces his lips, and he parts them for you with a deep moan, allowing you to taste him. His mouth harbours the metallic tang of you, and it only pushes your arousal higher.

Your fingers nimbly pull the hem of his shirt free from his pants, desperate to feel his satiny, cool skin. Your hand glides up the contours of his lithe body greedily. You let out a shuddering breath as you feel the aching need in your already swelling flesh.

Astarion hugs you firmly to him as he walks you carefully backward until you’re anchored between him and your bedroom wall. His erection presses into you, and you grind against him, desperate for the gratifying friction. He groans, driving his hips further into you with an eager whimper.

He breaks the kiss off, nipping playfully at your lower lip, and looks down at you with heated eyes, half-lidded with arousal.

“Tell me what you want, my love, and it’s yours.”

What do I want?

Him.

Just him… forever.

You tremble against him, and your voice comes out in a breathless pant, “You.”

He trails his finger down your neck, featherlight across your chest and between your breasts.

Oh.

“You’re beautiful like this, you know. Skin flushed, teeming with need, begging to be tasted.”

Fuck.

His finger continues its lazy route down your stomach and over your belly button. Your skin prickles at the sensation, and tension coils hot in your abdomen. You can feel your knees buckle as the walls of your core spasm and contract.

So close.

He continues his relentless teasing advance. His fingers sweep under your night shirt and brush over the silk shorts covering your swollen clit, and you let out a shuddering breath.

“Fuck.” He hisses under his breath, “Tell me you want this. Tell me you want me.”

“Astarion…”

“I want to hear you say it.”

You feel bashful all of a sudden, heat rising to your face. Your voice quivers pleadingly, “I want you.”

Astarion pushes his hand past the waistband of your shorts, and his finger slips between your folds. You have to stop yourself from crying out at the decadent sensation of his bracing fingers cooling the fiery heat pooling between your legs.

The pad of his finger teases your clit, drawing leisurely circles around the swollen, pulsing bundle of nerves. You moan, bucking your hips, and sag into him.

Your bedroom door rattles loudly, and Gale’s muffled voice rings behind it, startling you, “Are you in there? Tara told me something is wrong with Astarion, and he’s not in his room.”

“Gods, his timing is horrendous,” Astarion whispers near your ear.

Or it’s perfect. I let that go too far.

Your entire body whines with displeasure as Astarion stops the delicious onslaught of sensation and withdraws his hand.

It takes you a moment to regain enough of your composure that your mind can coherently put words together again.

“Just a second!” You finally manage to call out.

You grab the robe hanging over the chair by your bed and slip into it in a rush. Astarion sits on your bed, hiding the obvious erection still prominent in trousers.

Your fingers still tremble from the adrenaline coursing through your veins, and you fumble with the lock on your door. Gale’s concerned face is awaiting you when you finally manage to open it.

“Were you still resting? I didn’t mean to wake you, but Tara-” He cuts off as his eyes fall on Astarion sitting casually on your bed, “Oh… I hope I’m not interrupting?”

Before Astarion can get a word in, you blurt out, “No, of course not. Tara woke me to say Astarion seemed unwell, so I went to check on him. Everything is fine.”

“Unwell?” Gale eyes the fresh bite mark marring the skin of your neck, “I see.”

Fuck. I forgot about that.

Feeling the need to explain yourself, and by extension Astarion, you continue with your hasty word vomit, “He was just hungry. Apparently, there aren’t a lot of animals roaming the forests around Waterdeep.”

“Hmmm, I’m sure,” Gale says skeptically, eyeing Astarion.

“Your neck is safe, wizard.”

“Yes. I see you’ve already found one to dine on.”

You don’t like the austere intonation of Gale’s voice or the weariness in shaded in his eyes.

“I offered, Gale.”

“Yes, of course you did.”

Astarion stands abruptly, “Thank you for the meal, darling. I’m feeling much less… grumpy. I best get some sleep. I am ever so tired .”

Astarion kisses your cheek and whispers in your ear, “This isn’t over.”

Gale watches Astarion with reservation as he disappears into his room.

“No animals in the forest, hm? And you believe him?”

“He can hear you, Gale.”

“I’m well aware.”

“Yes, I believe him. He has no reason to lie, and we have no reason to doubt him.”

“I would argue that your blood is a rather strong incentive to be untruthful.”

You shoot him with a warning look, irked by the judgemental undertone. It was your neck, your blood and your choice. Whether he believed Astarion or not was inconsequential.

He sighs, “It’s none of my business. You know him better than I, after all.”

Tara lopes down the hallway, rubbing herself on Gale’s legs as she weaves through them.

“Did you speak to the vampire about his conduct?”

“Yes, of course. He said he was ever so sorry, and he won’t throw anything at you ever again. He even promised he would warm your evening milk.” You raise your voice slightly even though you know you don’t have to, “Isn’t that right, Astarion?”

His voice echoes down the hall, muffled by his closed door, and you can hear the displeasure in it, “Indeed.”

Gale excuses himself, proclaiming that he has business in the city he must attend to. Closing your door, you rest your forehead against it, taking deep breaths.

That was too close, but at the same time, not nearly close enough.

Your body is still humming with anticipatory tension, yearning for his intoxicating caress. Your skin crawls with the prospect, and you shake your head, trying to dislodge your titillating thoughts. With a grumble, you ready yourself a bath in the large oval wooden tub and soak in it until the water becomes too tepid.

You spend the rest of your day doing idle chores, trying to keep your hands and mind busy enough that your thoughts stop drifting to what had occurred in your room that morning.

I will never be able to look at that wall the same.  

By late evening, you’re sitting by the fireplace in the grand hall, engrossed in your book. Tara lounges sprawled out in front of the hot flames leaping about in the fireplace.

You twitch, jolted by a light kiss placed on the top of your head.

“Sorry. Did I startle you?”

“You could make some sort of noise when you move about, you know.”

Astarion cocks his head, “I could… but where is the fun in that?”

He sits in the heavily padded chair across from you with a cunning smile on his roguishly handsome face.

Gods. He really is something else, isn’t he?  

“You delight in scaring people?”

“Darling, I’m a vampire. It’s in my nature.”

You roll your eyes at him, “Did you sleep well?”

“Like the dead.”

“Very funny.”

Astarion leans forward and eyes you raptly. The ambient light increases the cardinal lustre of his red eyes. Striking shadows cast bewitchingly over his debonair expression. A small half smile quirks up one side of his lips.

You cock your head at him, “What?”

“Come out with me tonight.”

You close the book, “Do you need help with something?”

“No, darling. I want to take you out… on a date.”

“A date?”

“Yes. Allow me to court you.”

“Court me?” You giggle, “You sound old.”

He chuckles, “Love, I AM old.”

“What would we go do?”

“Go to a tavern, go on a crime spree, rob someone. The possibilities are endless really.”

You nod, “Okay.”

“Truly?”

“You sound surprised. Did you expect me to say no?”

His finger comes to his lips, “Last I checked, friends don’t go on dates.”

I have let my misery shackle me for far too long. I’m sick of being afraid.

“They don’t,” you say bluntly, “But there’s something you must do first.”

“Anything.”

“You owe Tara warm milk.”

Astarion sags in his chair with a loud groan.

Tara’s head pops up, eyes suddenly alert, and her tail vibrates happily straight into the air, “It’s about time, vampire!”

He points at Tara, “This is your fault.”

You beam an angelic smile at him, “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Go get ready. I’ll warm the…,” he pauses, “Tressym, her bloody milk.”

“A man of his word.”

He lowers a haughty glower at you, his mouth twitching with the hint of a smile, “Go.”

You trot up the long staircase to your bedroom giddily. Butterflies carouse in your stomach and your heart flutters in tempo with the beating of their wings.

A date? We’ve been out countless times together, but Astarion has never asked me on an actual date.

You slip into a yellow, body-hugging sheathe dress with long sleeves. The delicate fabric is adorned by an embroidered dragon twirling from your chest, down your back and around your midsection. You pick a dress with a high neck to cover the fresh bite marks gracing your skin. Checking the mirror, you comb your hair and freshen your makeup before going downstairs.

You hear Tara scold Astarion, “It’s not warm enough, vampire.”

You have to stifle a laugh as you walk into the kitchen. Astarion is standing with the bowl of milk in 1 hand, and his other is pressed against his forehead, lamenting exasperation, as Tara stares at him scathingly through narrowed eyes.

“Having trouble?”

He hits you with an impatient look that slowly dissolves as his eyes explore you from head to toe and back again.

His mouth drops open, “You look exquisite.”

You giggle, soaking in his praise, “Let me help you with that.”

You slip the bowl of milk from his hand as he stands there in stunned rapture.

Fire springs to life in your palm, and you hover the bowl just above the licking blaze, warming the milk quickly. Placing the bowl on the ground, Tara starts to lap the warm milk with happy, resounding purrs.

“Astarion?”

“Yes?”

“You’re gawking.”

“Right. Apologies.” He bows shallowly, “Shall we go?”

“Lead on.”  

You and Astarion stroll through the dozing city. The streets are dimly lit by tall lanterns burning in precise increments on each side of the thoroughfare. You’re thankful this night feels warmer than most, or maybe it’s just your feverish excitement keeping the cold at bay.

You banter back and forth while you make your way into the center of nightlife here in Waterdeep. The walk is long, which takes longer as you and him stroll casually, enjoying each other's company.

The stars shine brightly overhead and flicker captivatingly as you stare at them. You feel Astarion’s hand bump up against you. You smile as his hand slides into yours, and your fingers interlock.

“I can’t believe you had me warm milk for that cat.”

“You threw a pillow at the TRESSYM.”

He huffs, “She was thumping about in my room!”

“I don’t see the problem. You warmed her milk the other night, did you not?”

He nods, “I did.”

“Why?”

“I needed her to deliver a message to a lovely, fiery sorceress. She needed convincing.”

“Why ask her to deliver the message at all?”

“I did not want you to think I ran off again.”

Oh…

He kisses the back of your hand, “You know this city better than I do. Where should we go get ourselves into trouble?”

You flash him a wicked smile, “I have an idea.”

“Oh, intriguing.”

“This way.”

You walk hand-in-hand, leading him through the winding avenues until you’re standing in front of the tavern called The Grinning Lion.

“This certainly looks upscale.”

“This is where the nobles come to overindulge. I want to play our game.”

His eyes widen in surprise, a devious grin stretches across his face, and he drags you, giggling, into the tavern.

The tavern is busy, as it was most nights. The walls are adorned with dark, heavily lacquered wood panelling. Opulent scones decorate them, casting their softly rocking illumination. Cabinets of obviously fraudulent battle trophies line the walls. Finely dressed nobles, patriars, and other well-off citizens pack the crowded room. They hoot and holler, calling out lascivious jeers.

Astarion smiles fiendishly, “Oh yes, this will do nicely.”

Astarion’s hand comes to the small of your back, and he leans close, “What would you like to drink?”

“Something hard.”

“Someone is feeling adventurous tonight. Find us a table. I’ll get the drinks.”

You nod to him and start to meander your way through the befuddled crowd. You turn your head slightly, but not enough to look at him.

Under your breath, you whisper, “And Astarion… Red jacket, blue piping, unsightly hat, greying beard.”

You weave your way through the throng, getting bumped into from time to time by some roaring drunk noble stumbling about. Finding a small table in a dim corner, you sit in the overtly pretentious chair and scan the rambunctious room.

It isn’t long before Astarion walks up and slides your drink over to you. You pick it up and take a small sip. Elquesstria, imported from Evereska - your favourite. He hits you with a striking, playful smile.

You lean back in your chair, “Did you manage?”

“What do you think?”

You hear the recognizable jingle of coin, and he smirks at you with a guileful expression, “We should endeavour to thank him before we retire.”

You giggle, taking another long sip of the succulent liquor. This was a game you and he had invented purely for amusement. You’d pick a mark for him, and he would relieve them of their coin or whatever else was in their pockets.

You point him towards progressively more difficult marks, trying to give him a challenge. If he successfully picks the pocket of every target, he wins; if you point him at someone and he either declines or gets caught, you win. The prize was whatever you two decided on after.

You have never won.

He was too good, an expert Rouge through and through, with centuries of practice and mastery of his skills behind him. His stealth and dexterity are unmatched.

You finish your glass in long gulps when you see the waitress heading for your table. Her eyes graze over Astarion, and her hips start to sway lewdly back and forth. She straightens herself elegantly and tugs on her shirt, revealing more of her ample cleavage. You stop yourself from groaning.

And it starts already.

The waitress puts her hand on the table, leaning close to him, closer than she needs to, “Can I get you something, Saer?”

He glances at your empty drink and orders you another. She nods curtly at him, “And for yourself?”

“Nothing for me.”

He stares straight past her, watching the crowd, and she huffs in frustration and stomps away. You can feel the alcohol going to your head already, and you giggle at her vexation with his complete dismissal of her transparent flirtation.

He cocks a brow at you and leans in, “What?”

Surely, he noticed that, right?

“Nothing.”

“Alright, love. Who is next on your hit list?”

Your finger idly taps the table, and you keep your eyes focused on him, “Light blue shirt, short blonde hair, ugly shoes.”

He nods, “You remember how to play well.”

It was something he had taught you so that you didn’t rouse suspicion. Scan the crowd, but don’t stare at any one person for too long. Pick a mark and watch from your peripheral vision to pick out the details if more are needed.

“I had a good teacher.”

Astarion sips his drink, “The best,” he winks, “I’ll be right back.”

He gets up from his chair and scans his surroundings, no doubt planning his route.

You keep your voice quiet. His sharp ears will hear you even in this raucous commotion, “Astarion.”

He hesitates but doesn’t look at you. He lowers his head and straightens his jacket - a signal to you that he’s listening.

“And the waitress.”

Astarion strides away into the crowd, and you keep your eyes cast down at the table. You want to watch him, but you know that would make it far too obvious. If someone were to notice your intense gaze following him, it would hamper his ability to slink through the rabble.

The waitress reappears and sets your drink down with a loud thud. She looks around, obviously looking for your earth-shatteringly handsome company, and then slaps you with a catty half-smile.

You look at her with the sweetest smile you can muster, “Thank you.”

She takes off with a huff and vanishes. You shake your head, laughing to yourself.

My jealous streak is alive and well, it seems.

Taking another long draw of your drink, you savour the slight burn as it slides down your throat. Your limbs start to tingle, and your inhibitions dwindle. You settle into this moment comfortably without fear and insecurity gnawing at you.

Astarion dodges around a particularly inebriated man awkwardly lumbering and takes his seat gracefully beside you. He grabs his drink and takes another small sip.

“The waitress hardly seemed a worthy target.”

You rest your head on your hand, “Is this your way of telling me you lost?”

He scoffs, “Hardly. A mere observation. I’m curious, why her?”

“She was stripping you with her eyes. I thought it only fair you strip her of her coin.”

His eyes meet yours, and he smirks, “You’re a merciless, jealous thing, aren’t you?”

Taking another gulp of your drink, you smile and shrug at him innocently.

“If you keep drinking like that, the night will be over far too quickly, darling.”

You bring your hand to your chest dramatically, “Are you insinuating I can’t hold my liquor, Astarion?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had to carry you home.”

“Unlikely to be the last too.”

He chuckles, “Promises. Promises.”

You glance around the room, “Enlighten me, Astarion. Who would be the hardest mark here?”

His eyebrow cocks, “Asking me to give away trade secrets now? How very bold.” He smirks, sipping his drink, “I’m not sure I should. I do want to win, after all. I have my prize all picked out and everything.”

You drain your glass. You know that look and the suggestion intonation along with it.

The waitress appears at Astarion’s side with a bright grin and a tempestuous, sultry gaze, “Can I refresh that for you, Saer?”

She doesn’t even look your way, let alone meet your eyes, and you feel your palm warm with the unmistakable heat of your envy physically manifesting. You can’t help yourself, and you scoff out loud at her.

Astarion keeps a keen eye on you, ignoring her proximity to him, “Another drink for my wife.”

He takes your hand, placing an affectionate kiss across your knuckles. You sputter, nearly choking on the air, and the heat emanating from your palm retreats with the rush of astonishment.

His wife... Gods, why does that sound so good?

The waitress shoots herself upright, her face flushes, and she backs away from him swiftly, “Right away, Saer.”

She scurries off in an uncoordinated hurry. You would laugh had you not been staring at him in bewilderment.

“Your wife?”

“Don’t worry, friend, you’re all but green with envy, not to mention that twitchy palm of yours. I thought you might enjoy seeing her flounder.”

You stare at him, mystified. The spirits make your head feel fuzzy, and your heart feels like it’s shot up and lodged in your throat. Your thoughts revolve dizzyingly.

The waitress returns and plunks your glass in front of you with a fake smile. He nods to her curtly, and she hurries back off.

You grab your glass and swallow several big sips, draining half of it, before returning it to the table.

Astarion looks around, anxiously glancing away from you and back, “Did I overstep?”

Your voice comes out in a breathy sigh, “No.”

He smiles, “I do not often see you lost for words. What’s going on in your head?”

“Nothing, just…” you shake your head, trying to get a hold of yourself, “Nothing. You were about to enlighten me before we were rudely interrupted.”

“Was I?”

You find your confidence, “Yes, I believe you mentioned something about trade secrets.”

“Oh no, darling,” he tuts, “I mean to win tonight.”

“Consider the game won.”

“I win?”

You nod, “If you teach me what a Rogue looks for.”

“And my prize?”

“We can discuss that on the way back.”

“Deal.”

Astarion reaches over, grabs the spindly leg of your chair, and drags it across the floor until you’re right beside him. He leans in close, and you inhale his intoxicating scent.

“Do you see the man sitting at the large round table in the middle of the room? Tan shirt, sweat stains, grotesquely stiff moustache?”

You quickly scan the room, not allowing your eyes to linger too long on any particular area, “The large man?”

He nods, “The very one.”

You look at him quizzically and tilt your head just enough to see the man in your peripherals, searching for reasons he would be the toughest mark here. All you can make out is that he is stationary, and due to his location in the room, a number of people are huddled around him.

“Care to elaborate?”

Astarion’s eyes are full of beaming delight. He always did love teaching you his craft, even if you were terrible at it. It makes your heart leap.

“Tell me what you see.”

“He’s in the middle of the room, naturally where most of the people congregate, and he doesn’t move from his chair often, if at all.”

“Very good, darling,” he purrs, “he’s in the pathway for the waiters and waitresses, meaning they check in with him most often. The counter is in front of him, so there’s always someone observing. There’s also an oil lamp on the beam to the left that brightens the area, which, naturally, people will gravitate to.”

You nod your understanding and wait for him to continue.

“As you so astutely observed, he doesn’t move often - in the dark, that would be an advantage, but not in well-lit areas. Also, his coat and pants are rather… tight,” his face twists in disgust, “and wet. I don’t have to explain that one to you, surely.”

You giggle at the revulsion twisting his face, levelling a challenging glare at him, “Are you saying you couldn’t do it?”

He snickers, “With time and patience, anything can be done, but I would not touch that man if he had all the coin in Faerûn. He’s positively sodden. I can smell him from here.”

“Even if it meant you would lose?”

“For you, my dear, I would do anything, but surely you don’t mean to go back on our deal?”

You polish off your drink, “No. I am a woman of my word. You win… for tonight.”

“Good. Shall we go? I fear the walk back will take us until sunrise as you stumble about.”

“You have no faith in me, Astarion. I would always cast Fly.”

He snickers at you, “You would likely Fly straight into a building.”

You can’t help but laugh.

He’s probably right.

“I’ll go settle up.”

You nod, “I’ll wait for you outside. I’m not sure how much more obnoxious yelling I can handle.”

“Don’t stray too far, love.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

He grins and departs, once again lost to the crowd. You twist your way through the unruly horde and let yourself out. The crisp night air feels refreshing in your lungs, and you drink in it. The tavern air felt unnaturally warm, carrying the sour fragrance of stale spirits and body odour.

Chilled by the breeze, you cross your arms over yourself and wander a little way towards the street.

“My wife.”

You hear Astarion’s voice in your head and smile to yourself giddily. Perhaps it’s the liquor influencing you, but you finally feel like you’re ready to stop running from him, from yourself, and your feelings. You hope you wake up in the morning with the same unwavering resolve.

The unsteady slapping of hard-soled boots on the pavement wrests you out of your hazy thoughts.

“Saer, I thought that was you.”

With a cringe, you turn and see a heavily wavering man. He looks almost like a sapling tree caught in a high wind as he sways from one side to the other on his feet, stumbling to keep his balance.

“Aldous.”

AO3: [Cross-Posted]

Chapter Master List - Shadows of the Past

If you're interested, I also write fanfic for Ascended Astarion x Spawn Tav - Fangs and Fractured Hearts

Small Notes:

Thank you to all those who read/like/comment/follow/reblog/etc. It gives me the confidence to keep posting, and I am grateful for the support!

I am SO tempted to write more date nights for Tav because this was incredibly fun!

[holybibly]

I love being your bunny, I'm a big fan of all your stories I read ALL of them but can I make a request? like a birthday wish? please I just need a big smut from yunho 😭 like look at yunho? he seems so innocent, new boy in town, sweet, kind and golden retriever who stays up all night playing video games but the type of guy who will hit his dick several times on your tongue looking at you as if he is superior while making you cum several times with his fingers and vibrators or the kind of idol who would stare at you the entire concert in awe of your beauty and would destroy his innocent hotteoka little girl on the hotel, making her only have eyes for him and making her think about him until the next concert (idk I I just had a bad day and my mind is flowing, I really wanted a big smut with Yunho because it's hard to find good ones here so please!! If it doesn't bother you, take it as a suggestion!! You don't have to do it if you want!! Thank you for listen to me)

Oh dear bunny, who has upset you? I'll look after ya.

It's a pity this will have to be the rough way, because yes, our Yunho is a rough boy. But you like it rough. Don't you?

This is the way he loves to make you squirm—to slap your chubby buttocks hard with the broad palm of his hand, causing them to turn red, spreading a burning sensation across your tender skin, and leaving his rough, possessive mark on you.

Despite the opinions of everyone around him, Yunho is not always a smooth, gentle puppy. He can bite and scratch, and there are so many dark and evil thoughts in his sweet head.

He's still fully dressed in his fancy suit after the concert while you are completely naked and defenceless on his lap, your pussy shamelessly leaking with excitement and staining his trousers with each loud slap.

You love the pain; you love knowing that you won't be able to sit properly afterwards; you love knowing that people will look at you and wonder if you're all right—maybe even ask you directly. Your mind will replay everything Yunho has done to you, and your pussy will clench reflexively.

"You were a bad girl today." He caresses your ass as he speaks, and a sobbing moan comes out of your hoarse throat. But that is only the beginning. You know. When Yunho gets angry or upset, he always plays rough with you. But today, you should have thought twice before making eyes at Mingi for the whole damn concert; you went too far to get away with it. He fucks you; he owns you; you are his fucking property, so why are you looking at his best friend instead of drooling over him? "You didn't even try to hide it. Did you? You have been acting like a real slut the whole evening, and you want me to be nice to you?" Yunho goes on to say this as he digs his fingers into your ass. "Do you have any idea what happens to whores?" He growls in a low voice, his fingers sliding over your swollen lips before he spreads them and pushes long phalanges into your mouth, forcing you to suck on them. "They get punished." His voice is deep and dark as his fingers reach your throat and press against your tongue, choking you slightly. "You will be counted, and don't you dare moan; you shouldn't be enjoying this, love." You can feel the threat lurking in his voice; you know that if you don't submit to him again, he might not let you come at all; he might tease and fuck you all night long without giving you any sweet relief.

So you whisper a trembling "yes" and wait for your punishment to begin.

His big hand first rests gently on your left buttock, caressing it lightly before he strikes you.

"One!" You gasp at the contact.

He then moves on to your right cheek.

"Two!" God, your ass is on fire; it feels like there is a fire burning right under your skin.

As he goes on, his slaps get harder and more brutal, and by the time he spanks you for the 7th time, you're sure that your skin will be bright red and irritated, and you're sure that it won't be easy for you to even wear panties.

The watering of your eyes is on the increase. The tears sting as much as his merciless slaps on your bottom.

10 slaps, and you are sobbing openly and loudly, the tears running down your face as he gently strokes the bruised ass and comforts you.

"You did great, baby; you're perfect." He praises you before leaning down and kissing your sore skin.

You don't know how you managed to keep from moaning through all of this, but you did.

He forces you to pull down his trousers, squeezing you so you're on your knees between his legs.

"Here, sweetheart. He says this to you as he tangles his long fingers in your hair.

As you get closer to his crotch, he pulls you even closer to him, moaning as you immediately open your mouth, ready to take his thick cock into your warm little mouth.

As your tongue licks the swollen, thick head of his cock for a moment, you can already feel his pre-cum oozing out.

He slaps the hard length of it against your cheek a couple of times before he rubs it against your tender, soft skin, staining it with his cum.

"What should you say, dear?"

"Please..." you mutter under your breath.

"I'm sorry, what?" Yunho pulls hard on your hair.

You don't answer; you just try to reach his dick again and stick out your tongue as far as it will go, obviously not succeeding.

"You are acting like a bad girl again. I can see that." He stands up abruptly, leaving you sitting there on the floor, naked and dishevelled, waiting for his mercy to come.

He crouches behind you, two fingers sliding along your skin from the small of your back to your ass, moving further down, sliding along your tight hole before reaching your pussy, pushing his fingers inside of you, making you tremble from the sudden contact. His fingers leave you as quickly as they came in, but not without the little toy Yunho picked up for you, a little ball vibrator.

He doesn't turn it on right away; he wants to see how you squirm once more and how you finally give in and beg him like the good girl that you are for him.

He sits back down and puts his hand on your hair, pulling you towards him, his cock still hard and ready to be mouthed.

"Be a good girl to me, darling, and I'll give you what you want. Or you will continue to be a whore." He says this as he pulls at your hair once more with even more force. "And you won't be able to cum for at least a week."

[whorefordean]

Ooo prompt 13 on hurt comfort for winter solider bucky/reader. Pls pls I'd die

always safe

bucky barnes x reader

warnings: none i think

wc: 760

prompt: “i won’t let anybody hurt you ever again.”

——————————————

Your eyes remained closed as you stretched out to reach for Bucky. You whined when your hand never met his warm body. You peaked an eye open, desperately searching for your boyfriend. You frowned as your eyes adjusted to the dark room. Bucky’s side of the bed was empty.

You slowly sat up, dropping your feet onto the floor. You hissed at the cold hardwood floor against your bare feet. You stumbled through the dark room, making your way through your apartment.

You sighed when you entered the living room. There on the cold floor, laid your sweet Bucky. You could see his stoic expression held tight even as he slept. You watched as his body writhed against the floor, beads of sweat running down his face.

“Oh, Buck,” you whispered softly, sadness washing over you as you watched your love suffer. You crept towards Bucky, careful not to alarm him. When you reached him, you crouched down to gently rub his hair.

“Sweetheart,” you called out to him. Bucky’s body relaxed for a moment before tensing up again. He slowly pried his eyes open, heaving in deep breaths. Bucky tried to control his panic, but it was no use. He had woken up completely disoriented, unaware of where he was or how he ended up here.

“You’re okay, Bucky. You’re safe,” You cooed softly. You continued to run your fingers through his soft hair. Once he’s better aware of his surroundings, you caress his face.

“Are you with me, Buck?” You whispered to him softly. Bucky inhaled a sharp breath. His eyes searched yours for comfort. He found it rather quickly and placed his hand on top of yours resting on his face. He leaned into your touch and let out a shaky breath.

You moved to sit beside Bucky, but he quickly pulled you on top of him. You were straddling his waist now. His eyes were closed, and his free hand moved to rest on your hips. It was a welcomed grasp, his hands sending a warmth through you. His eyes were closed now as he allowed himself to fully relax into you. He rested his head against your chest, listening to the soft thump of your heart.

After a few minutes, Bucky finally responded.

“I’m with you,” he replied faintly, squeezing your hips slightly to ground himself.

“Where did you go?” You asked him, referring to the obvious nightmare he just suffered through.

“Hydra. Again,” he replied sadly. You could barely make out the small tears forming in his eyes. You wiped away the only one that fell.

“You’re here, love. They’ll never have you again,” You replied calmly. It angered you how much pain Bucky seemed to always be in. Even years after the fact, Hydra still had its claws buried too deep into your sweet Bucky.

“What if he’s still here?” Bucky whispered into your chest. Your chest burned at his question. The Winter Soldier, in Bucky’s mind, was always lurking. He was always waiting for the perfect moment to strike, leaving Bucky on edge, waiting for him to ruin his life all over again.

“Sweetheart, he’s gone. I won’t let anybody hurt you ever again. Not the Winter Soldier and not Hydra. You’re safe now, Bucky. Always.” You promised. You’d do whatever it takes to keep him safe, even if it meant protecting him from his own mind.

Bucky nuzzled his face deeper into your chest, inhaling your scent. He’d never tell you, in fear of looking like a creep, but he loved the way you smelled. You smelled like home. You’d always be that for him. His home. His comfort. His peace.

Bucky slowly stood up, taking you with him. He carried you back into your bedroom, leaving his thin blanket on the living room floor. He placed you softly onto the bed, placing a small kiss onto your forehead, then your cheek, then finally your mouth. He gave you a few short pecks, then held his lips to your. You kissed him back slowly.

“I love you, Doll,” Bucky whispered, placing a final kiss to your lips before laying down beside you.

“I’m always gonna love you, Buck,” You whispered back, pushing your body closer to his. His hands were laced into your hair, gently twisting and tugging on the soft strands.You wrapped your arm around his waist. Bucky quickly fell asleep, his breathing finally steady. Your head rested softly against his chest. The rise and fall lulled you into sweet dreams of you and Bucky. Always safe. Always together.