#ch: wall e

[devilsmenu]

@spellbcok - WALL-E & Anya

"I wonder if it's alright to drink? The color looks so strange. Or is it supposed to be like it?" WALL-E asked Anya with a small frown.

[devilsmenu]

"Mundane things? What are the non mundane things?" WALL-E asked blinking in confusion. "Oh, it makes sense".

"Well, fences were an example of mundane things I can make." Taka admits. "However, some people want a custom fence for an aesthetic and it's better to have someone make it."

[pursuitseternal]

𝓢𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓷 𝓓𝓮𝓿𝓲𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓱 𝓢𝓲𝓷𝓼: 𝓖𝓵𝓾𝓽𝓽𝓸𝓷𝔂

Raphael x F!Reader x Haarlep |E| 2.1K

Summary: You fell for it, a taste of the Incubus’ blood. And now you hunger once point of insanity, chasing after the one thing for you to glut yourself on… and it smells good.

CW: Cum hunger, pussy spanking, Breeding no babies, sex pollen/incubus blood/fuck or die vibes, ABO vibes, scent kink, heat/forced heat, threesome, polycule, spit roast, mating press, throat fuck, facial

Prev ch |ao3 link| Raphael Masterlist

Full PursuitsEternal Masterlist

Mistake… huge… egregious sin. And now, your body is not your own. Your mouth drools, endless amounts of spit leak from your lips even as you try to swallow.

You shouldn’t have listened to that incubus. What were you thinking? His spit is meant to make you aroused and willing… So why are you shocked that when Haarlep dared you, pestered you… goaded you into a sample of their blood from a fresh cut mark on their finger….

It had been tingly and sweet and spicy and hot all in one drip.

Your body burns hotter than the walls of the House, and a pit forms in your stomach. A hunger unlike anything you had ever known. That’s why you stand now in the feasting hall, your hands grabbing for the constant supply of food on its tables. Buns… cheese… meats… you take bites of all of them, finding them like ash on your tongue.

You spit them each out, one after another. Clearly not what you crave.

Hand shaking, belly growling, you are starving for more. For something… you don’t know what. But maybe, your body does as it hums with infernal hunger. You let your feet pull you towards the boudoir. Your nose fills with his scent, your master. Closing your eyes, his scent pulls you to where he sits on the balcony, the winds of Avernus sweeping his hair to one side. Unphased by the heat, he sits, one knee over the other, a book in his hand. Undoubtedly researching something for his next client or current one…

But you barely open your eyes as you approach. You drop to your knees, sniffing like an animal, drool on your chin, as one shaking hand pulls his legs down and apart.

“Sweetling…” he croons, questioning and warning all in one moniker for you. But his voice barely registers through your need to eat…. Your nostrils flare harder and harder as you bury your face into his groin, hands on the hard planes of his hips.

“Mmmm,” you hum, your stomach rumbling audibly. Drool leaks from your mouth as you open it to kiss the lines of his flaccid cock. Spit dampens the expensive fabric of his pants, your tongue licking a long stripe up his now hardening length. Then it hits you—the first drip of precum that gathers in his piss slit.

That’s what you need. What you crave with reckless abandon.

“Master…” you moan before your mouth latches to his clothed cockhead to suck that tiny pearl of cum through the fabric.

“My eager little mouse, what has gotten into you today. You look positively possessed… If I didn’t know better…”

He trails off, hand flying through the air to grip your hair and yank your open mouth to his nose. He gives it a single long inhale. “My my, you’ve managed to let Haarlep give you a sample of their blood…” he trails his words off into a chuckle. “Did they dare you to do it, I wonder?”

You nod, whining to return your face back where his scent is strongest. So close and yet out of reach as your body burns for him to fuck you, feed you his cock, come inside you until your belly swells. You don’t care….

Raphael can almost read the details of your thoughts as those brown eyes stare into your sweating face. His lips turn in a predacious grin. “You reek, my little whore of a mouse. You just couldn’t resist, and now your pathetic mortal body is in heat for the one thing it craves.” Another rolling chuckle punctuates his degradation as he stands. Fist in your hair, he pulls you to his bed.

His hold on you keeps you tight beside him like a leash. That’s what it feels like… “Such a good pup… keeping at her master’s side, whining…like a bitch in heat,” he just rumbles his laughter louder as he snaps his fingers to magic your clothing away.

Not that it mattered. Your arousal, so plentiful, seeps down your thighs, and you hiss the moment your searing flesh meets the air. Even the hot breezes of the hells feel cool on your body compared to how you are burning alive.

“Haarlep!” he bellows into the House, summoning the Incubus the old fashioned way, his deep voice grating in his silken voice box as he shouts even louder a second time.

The Incubus comes, saunters more like, their red fleshed Cambion form smirking as they draw closer. “Oh… has the master spoiled our little game?” they laugh, crueler than Raphael’s chuckle. “Can’t say I’m surprised… it’s not like me to plan something that might be so fun for us all.” They flash their yellow and black eyes to the Master. “Not like me at all…”

Raphael growls. “You’ve overstepped here, Haarlep,” he warns, setting your body on the bed face down.

Even the silken sheet beneath you feels cool, a moment of respite until your flesh warms it up. Then you let out a sad, pathetic whimper. “Please, master,” you lift your head to see them both staring down at you. One warm skinned mortal face, furrowed in careful consideration, and one mirror image in Cambion form, their shit-eating grin only widening as your gaze drops to their waists… their hips… their cocks.

You lick your lips. “Please,” voice cracking, you make yourself continue. “I can’t bear it…”

“And you won’t have to, my sweetling,” Raphael smiles, a slightly wicked twist to his already smirking lips. “The Incubus will lend me a hand in fixing your problem.”

“Lend you a cock more likely,” Haarlep laughs. “My blood sure does work a number on you pathetic mortals. It’s so much fun to see… and even more fun to cure.”

“Haarlep!” the Master snaps, “lay her on her back and be nice about it.”

A breathy laugh sounds over you; hot, leathery, clawed hands gently grab your shoulder and roll you on your back. You groan, the feeling of touch on your flesh directly is enough to make your walls flutter and your cunt clench enough to let a little gush of arousal leak. Eyes flutter shut. Your mouth fills with spit as your stomach groans, both ends of your body needing to be filled.

Instantly.

The slightest touch of smooth fingers over the curls of your mound, and your thighs fall apart. You buck your hips, lifting them to slam them on the bed, earning you another laugh from his throat… and a firm hand between your thighs… to slap your pussy. The wet collision bounces off the stone walls.

You scream at the wave of pleasure-pain that tears through you. He winds up, giving your drenched and swollen lips another slap firmly over your folds.

“Such a naughty mouse,” he croons, gently soothing your pussy lips and slipping two fingers into your drenched folds. “You gullible slut, falling for the oldest trick in the proverbial book.”

His chastisement falls on your deaf ears. All you hear is your own rushing blood, your hissing breath and the wet, slick squelches his fingers make inside you cunt as he starts to finger fuck you in earnest. He pulls desperate broken sighs from your lips, your eyes close as you just chase the promise of relief at the literal tips of his fingers.

Your noises grow more and more wanton… until you feel the red hot bulge of a cockhead on your lips.

“Please, Master, she’s so fucking loud,” Haarlap grumbles, that whine in their voice nagging. “Let me help make up for my happy mistake.”

Raphael just grunts his consent, maybe he nods or waves his other hand, but you’re too lost to open your eyes. All you know next is the push of that thick, ridge cock into your panting mouth and desperately slick throat. Those ridges catch on your teeth as they slide in and pull out, your mouth filling with extra slickness from your throat.

“You’d better fuck her soon, Master,” Haarlep prods, joking as they thrust a little faster and deeper. “At this rate she’ll pass out before tasting either of us. And if that happens…” they laugh and growl at once, “who knows if she will survive her heat…”

Your eyes roll back, body bucking, mouth screaming as you feel his fingers disappear from your aching cunt.

Then you scream in relief around that heated Cambion cock down your throat as Raphael fills you. A single stroke inside and he’s fully seated. A single groan from his chest, and he’s fucking you with abandon. Your body shivers, pushed and pulled like a carnival squeezebox. Their thrusts sometimes slam into you at once. Other times they alternate. And you, their glorious instrument of pleasure.

All sense of time is lost in the pounding of both ends, the only thing that grounds your body once more is the way your throat-slimed mouth suddenly fills with cum… hot and almost spicy, those ridges dragging in your mouth as Haarlep shoves that cock deeper still. “Swallow pet,” they groan, “it’ll ease the pain… or will it?”

A growl from Raphael between your thighs, and they change their tune. But only after a petulant huff. “Swallow it and you’ll feel better… you’ll glut yourself on us tonight, and then you’ll feel better… and then you’ll learn not to drink my blood unless you want this same heat in your blood and ache in your cunt.”

“Haarlep! That’s enough playing with my food,” Raphael hisses at him, his voice scratching, those velvet tones husky and rough as he stills his fucking inside you.

Keening, you reach for Raphael’s skin, grabbing haphazardly for more of his body. That fire in your blood is barely muted by the cum in your belly, and you lick your lips for more. “Master… please, I beg… fuck me… fill me,” you whine, desperate and pathetic.

Raphael’s body crushes yours, hands bending your legs to buckle against your chest, all while he shoves the Incubus out of reach. “Stand there and watch, Haarlep, touch yourself if you wish, but you’ve been far too naughty to come again before I do.”

The devil’s mouth crushes your own, his tongue sliding inside to lick you clean of the Incubus’s seed. “Good mouse, loyal mouse… stupid mouse for falling for their tricks,” he praises and degrades you in one velvet toned breath. “Master will help you, feed your mouth and nether lips with the nourishment you require…”

Arms wrap around your shoulders, his searing breath in your left ear as he mounts you. His rhythm is fast and deep and persistent. Thrust after thrust he knocks against your cervix, pulling and pushing in your swollen channel.

But you cry for more… your mouth spills a series of pleas, needy and pitiful and submissively sweet as he fucks into your hungry belly and aching cunt.

Rutting, he claims you with his cock… with a snarl he bites into your shoulder, and he maims you with his teeth. Your body is pure flame, hellfire itself. Your hips rock with what little space he gives you, riding his thrusts. Your cunt soaks up every drop of precum that leaks, you can feel that pearly fluid soaking into the heat of your body.

Faster and rough, he grunts and plunges your depths. More leaking cum… more to cool your heat. Until… he stutters, hips slamming your ass and thighs as his breath hitches.

It shoots into you, flooding your womb, his cum painting your insides and sating your hunger. Each spurt cools that inferno, but only barely.

You pant, screaming as you come in time with his release. Pulsing as if swallowing themselves, your walls milk him, sucking his cum deep to your gut. He stills a moment, licking the blood from his bite off his lips. His cherry-red, bloody smile takes up your whole field of vision.

Then he sticks his thumb in your mouth, jarring it open. “Here, Haarlep, since you’ve been so diligent in taking care of yourself, you can at least let that load be useful,” Raphael growls, his words breaking into a deep and delighted laugh.

Hot, sticky cum covers your chin, most of it landing in your mouth that he keeps pried open. Your tongue laps at it, gathering it from your open lips, your face, even the Master’s thumb that controls you.

He lets go of your face, lips crushing yours as he kisses you, cum over everything it feels. Your mind thrums less than before… your hands wander over his smooth, bared back, your chest tickled by the patches of soft curls that decorate Raphael’s chest….

And yet, your stomach still growls. Hungry for more.

📸 were found on Pinterest. Dm if credit needed.

[goddess-venuz]

SIMP CH 40

ஓ๑SWOLLEN LIPS PARTED RELEASING A BREATHLESS MEWL....

Spine arching deeply; fingers curling into your palms unable to grasp anything as the belt from Yuri kept your hands bound against one another. One leg wrapped around the male's neck, the other spread with Yuri's fingertips burying deeply into your thigh forcing your other leg apart and revealing your exposed slit.

Dress raised barely above your thighs; laced underwear resting around your left ankle- the wet muscle lapped at your cunt with no remorse; a sharp breathless exhale escaped through Yuri's nostrils- the male feeling his last bit of sanity melting away at the sweet savor of your juices coating his tastebuds.

The tickling sensation of Yuri's lengthy strains tickling your inner thighs and labia; tongue deep within your wet walls as it licks around the crevices and laps at the juices, and his hips rubbing his swollen, hard cock into the plush flooring of the pit completely subconsciously, maybe he's even unaware at how obvious his rutting is, he's just trying to gain a little bit of friction.

Crimson hues- replenished with pure ardor fixated in your pussy; parting his tongue from your folds, a sharp moan fell past your lips feeling the pleasure sharp pain shooting through your thigh as Yuri nibbled before roughly sucking on your supple flesh; dragging his teeth over the noticeable marking he had placed.

"Y-Yuri-..."

A low hum vibrates from his lips against your flesh; dragging his tongue over the love bite- you spoke in a whisper. "C...Can..." trailing off, swallowing thickly- you inhaled sharply. "You free my hands?"

"Not until I hear you utter the words I want to hear."

Sitting up; slipping his middle finger and ring finger past your swollen lips- a light choked cry escapes your throat in a muffled manner as the tips of his fingers jabbed the back of your throat lightly.

Tilting his head to the side; smirking tauntingly down at you, his chest heaved with excitement coursing through his veins- the same adrenaline he felt the first night he had fucked you senseless...

"Claim that you're mine... Through sickness and death... Hardship... You will always crawl back to me, you can try to even replace me but I know your heart... Body and soul belong to me, your husband..."

Slipping his fingers from your lips; a trail of salvia connecting the tips of his fingers from your lips- the male dragging his Slavia-coated fingers to your clit;

Massaging his fingers against your bundles of nerves- enough to make your stomach flutter with butterflies of pleasure, your legs twitching.

"Say it beloved... Be a good girl unless you want me to remake our first sex..."

You weren't sure what had happened to Yuri over the four years... Hell, you knew the two of you had changed but there was just something seeing this possessive side of him...

It was a damn turn-on.

"Yuri... As I said on the day we're set in stone as husband and wife..."

Trailing off; you swallowed the salvia that had filled your mouth, it would be the next words you muttered that sealed your vows with Yuri once more...

"Til death do we part..."

Yuri silently gazed into your hues; the male gradually let a chuckle of amusement roll off his tongue. "... You always know what to say to turn me on..." whispering under his breath; Yuri reached towards the belt that held your hands together.

Undoing the belt, he tossed it to the side; it was an instant you rubbed your wrists- releasing an exhale of relief that didn't last long once Yuri grabbed your wrists; pinning them at the sides of your head.

"Yuri!-"

"(Y/n), I know we haven't been by each other's side for years but no matter what had happened... My heart had always belonged to you..."

Yuri's crimson hues longing bore into your (e/c) eyes; the male searching your hues for any emotion of hesitation. "I need you to tell me... Right now... You love me."

"I love you, Yuri..."

"You only see me as your husband?"

"Yes-"

"You always be the mother to my children... My wife... Our family will always be happy..."

You weren't sure the true meaning behind his words; lust clouded your mind, you had wished to always be in Yuri's arms for years; and yet here you were finally in his arms once again...

"Yes."

Happiness coursed through Yuri's veins; the male was unable but to hold a lovestruck smile to your view, leaning forward- his lips capturing yours;

No longer fighting your emotions you had attempted to hide for years... Interlocking your lips with his; parting your lips allowing your tongues to entangle with one another- his hand moving from your wrists allowing you to wrap your arms around his neck.

Fingertips danced from your lower abdomen to your inner thighs; his condom-coated cock prodding at your entrance.

"Love..." He whisper-moans, "You're as perfect as the day I laid eyes on you..."

Parting from the heated kiss; kissing your jawline sweetly, your head tilted ever so slightly- a hitched moan brushed from your swollen lips feeling Yuri's swollen cock slip through your cunt. "I love you... I love you so damn much... It hurts..."

Low moans and groans sound in your ear as Yuri continues to thrust into you; relishing in the feel of you so tight around him.

"Fuck," He mutters; the word a curse but feeling so heavenly on his lips, his hands raising from your hips to your thighs- raising your knees to touch your hardened nipples- allowing the swollen tip of his cock to jab further into your cunt.

Your hips start to meet his in earnest; every roll of his met with one of your own as you take him deeper.

Pleading whimpers falling from your lips bounced through the shallow cave's walls; Yuri's lips parted ever so slightly- a string of groans rumbling lowly from his chest.

The pleasurable; unspeakable sensation of his cock rutting into your bundle of nerves was enough to make goosebumps plague your flesh.

Hands falling from his neck to his back; fingernails burying into his flesh- Yuri's half-lidded hues stayed fixated on your facials that twisted with pleasure.

Your voice practically sang in his twisted mind. Your eyes reminded him of a siren. Your lips seemed so soft and kissable he had to try... Your sweet aroma was desperately pleasurable suffocating, Everything about you was enough to drive him to the peek of his sainty...

He had to take you.

He had to keep you.

He had to make sure you know you forever belong to him...

Even if that means tying you enterally to him finally...

Any signs of mercy vanished from the man's thoughts; your eyelids squeezed shut unable to witness the pure insane obsession that gleamed with Yuri's lustful gaze;

His cock ravishing your walls; plowing mercilessly into the bundle of nerves that earned a cry to break from your lips, breasts pouncing to the sharp yet passionate thrusts;

Blindly sinking his swollen tip further into your cunt; a low growl like moan rumbles from deep within his chest.

"-...Say it..."

Croaking out; goosebumps breaking across his flesh in beads of sweat, he whispered lowly once more. "Say my name."

"Yuri- fuck!"

Releasing one thigh letting your leg fall to the side as both hands grasped the thigh of your right leg; raising your leg- reangling your body to the side as he rested your ankle against his shoulder;

He angled his hips to thrust his cock up against a bundle of nerves inside of you, sending mind-numbing bliss into your very being; upon feeling your cervix clamped against the swollen tip of his cock was nearly enough to drive the man over the edge.

Hands forced to drop on the sides of your skull; your eyelids finally parted ever so slightly yet your vision blurred, your faces buried into the nearest pillow for skull rested upon.

Drool spilling from the corners of your lips; staining the pillow, you had released a final sharp cry as ecstasy washed over your numbing limbs- years of build-up sexual frustration finally being released;

"(Y/n)-..."

A low cry escapes Yuri's throat; the male's hips rutting deeply against your pelvis, cumming within your walls- his chest shakily heaving, sharp periodic strings of panting brushing past his lips.

Skull tilted back ever so slightly; the male's vision blinded for a mere moment, a sinister wide smile stretched across his lips; an amused laugh bursting from his lungs as the emotion of unspeakable exhilaration coursed through his veins.

Releasing your leg letting it drop to the side; the male gazed down at your exhausted figure, keeping his cock sheathed within you- leaning forward planting a fevered kiss against the nape of your neck to your collarbone.

"Forever sealed as a Briar's Wife...."

[devilsmenu]

"Yeah. I used to clean the trash and they were tons of it" WALL-E explained to Mickey. "I didn't knew how to talk besides formulating some words but I did had feelings, much contrary to popular beliefs. And thank you".

"You were a robot? Really?" Mickey asked. Not that he didn't believe the other, he was mostly just shocked that a robot could turn human in this city. "That's insane, you know that right?" He nodded. "Yeah, of course. I guess you caught me on a good day."

[eddiediazismyhusband]

Married Buddie Headcanons

==========

This came about from an ask by @mattsire and I have FINALLY gotten around to sitting down and typing them out— i would like everyone to know i now have a note in my notes app full of these with no context

==========

- everyone assumed buck would be the bridezilla, but in reality he was pretty tame compared to eddie who using the subtle excuse of “i never got to do this with my first wedding” to get his way on everything

- buck constantly made suggestive jokes about their wedding night in the weeks leading up to it, but when the night finally got there, buck passed out as soon as they reached the hotel room; eddie thought this was super adorable

- they don’t spoon in bed; they will spoon on the couch watching tv (alternating big spoon/little spoon) but when they lay down to sleep, they prefer to face each other so that the last thing they see before sleep and the first thing they see when they wake up is each other

- buck wakes up first every morning to make breakfast— he’s a big morning person anyway and he loves to cook for his boys— he absentmindedly hums or lightly sings as he cooks breakfast, and eddie will stand in the dining room, hiding behind the wall, to listen. buck has never caught him to this day.

- buck loves driving and eddie hates it, so more often than not eddie is buck’s passenger princess in the Jeep.

- eddie remains very professional when they are at work; there is the occasional stolen kiss, hand holding under the table, kiss on the cheek/forehead, but for the most part they stick to simply sitting next to each other whenever they can- their knees often pressing together. At home, however, eddie hangs off buck like a koala; as soon as he realized his feelings for buck, he could not get enough of touching/holding on to buck as often as he could, whether it be holding hands at dinner, wrapping his arms around buck from behind and tucking his chin over buck’s shoulder (or vice versa), cuddling on the couch, laying his head in buck’s lap, leaning his head on buck’s shoulder

- buck and eddie cannot agree on a shower temperature; they have only attempted the forray into sharing one time and ended up bickering about the temperature before eddie gave up and let buck win— they’ve never tried since

- eddie slips into saying spanish sweet-nothings to buck constantly, buck taking the time to learn all of them whenever he heard a new one

- buck will sometimes pull eddie close in his sleep so that their chests lie flush against each other and he can feel eddie’s heartbeat.

- they love going all out for their anniversary; fancy restaurant, night at a hotel, grand gestures. eddie likes to spoil buck and buck lets him because he knows how much eddie likes it

- buck is intento on following the anniversary gift list by year; hiding a secret clipboard on which he plans all future gifts for eddie as new ideas come to him (for their first anniversary, buck had gotten eddie a paper-scrap art piece that was a portrait of chris)

- eddie followed the anniversary gift list for their first anniversary only when he gifted buck official adoption papers for chris

- eddie kept his paper vows and keeps them in an antique box that was passed down from his abuelo; alongside it he keeps a small wallet-size photo that buck had taken of them early on in their friendship

- buck made a scrapbook photo album of their wedding and keeps it displayed on the coffee table as a coffee table book

- ik some people like the buckley-diaz hyphenation (and i am absolutely not against that at all) but i am one of the Buck Diaz girlies who hc’s that he drops Buckley altogether

- he and eddie have complimentary tattoos on their ring fingers; buck has an “E” for eddie, and eddie has a “B” for buck.

- buck also got a linework tattoo based on a photo of him, eddie, and chris tattooed on the left side of his chest, over his heart; in the same spot, eddie has “e-c-b”

- they both have their wedding date tattooed under their chest ones

- even after a fight, they don’t sleep apart, because buck has nightmares and can only be grounded by eddie holding him; eddie has nightmares too, but they are less frequent than buck’s

- their wedding bands are simply gold bands, but inside they are engraved; inside buck’s it says “have my back any day” and inside eddie’s it says “and you can have mine”

[osunari]

⚠︎ s i l e n t t e m p t a t i o n s (18+)

— ch.2

➤ s t a r t

Mr. crawling x MC

- h o m i c i p h e r 𒌧

"Unspoken Affection”

(please read ch.1 first)

"This again?" you muttered, glancing down at mr. chopped. His severed head was settled awkwardly on the cart, his brows furrowed in a mix of irritation and embarrassment. He looked quite funny, despite the level of seriousness the situation he got himself caught in.

"卄乙(not)丨千 乂(funny) , 几乇(need) 卄乇Ҝ尺(help) !” he grumbled, his tone sharp but his eyes softening ever so slightly. "卄ㄩ卩ㄖ(hold) ! 卄ㄩ卩ㄖ(hold) ! 千乇尺(fast) !”

As you caught your breath, the memory hit you like a chill down your spine. The last time you'd seen him like this— rolling around helplessly—it wasn't by accident. It was her. That hooded child with the sheep-like head. You had watched as she toyed with him, like a predator playing with its prey, her quiet amusement twisted and unsettling.

And now, as if summoned by the thought, she appeared again.

Kids are nuisances even in this world.

At the end of the dim hallway stood a small figure in a pristine, lace-trimmed Victorian dress. The innocence of the outfit clashed horribly with the severed sheep’s head draped over her shoulders, its glassy, lifeless eyes staring into nothingness, the fur matted and stained.

She tilted her head slowly, an eerie, playful energy radiating from her stillness. Her hands hid behind her back, fingers twitching slightly as though ready to move. She didn’t feel malicious—just wrong, like a child who wanted to play a game you couldn’t possibly win.

“That annoying child again?” you muttered in your native language so she wouldn’t understand, your grip tightening on the cart as mr. chopped’s troubled expression worsened.

“千乇尺(fast) ! 千乇尺(fast) !” mr. chopped raises his voice, his eyes closing tightly after he feels a comforting sensation as you wrap him around your arms and run away—completely forgetting about the man on all fours in spite of the situation.

The hooded child didn’t move, but her gaze burned into your back, cold and unrelenting. The sound of your heart pounding overcome the loudness of each step you took on the hardwood floor, a cruel reminder of how close she’d come to taking him away. You didn’t dare look back, each step faster than the last, as if you could outrun the suffocating weight of her stare.

The sound of your hurried footsteps echoed through the endless corridors as you cradled mr. chopped in your arms, his weight surprisingly easy to manage despite the growing tension in the air. His voice was your guide, calm but firm, as he barked directions like a map brought to life. “爪ㄚ几(left) !” he snapped, his tone clipped but steady.

You skidded around the corner, barely catching your balance before dashing down another dim hallway. The walls seemed to stretch endlessly, the flickering lights above casting distorted shadows that made it feel like you were being followed.

“尺千ㄚ(us) 匚几 ﾌ乇(careful) , 千匚(child) 几ㄚ乇(sneaky) !” he added, glancing back from your arms.

You straightened your posture, gripping mr. chopped tighter as determination flared within you. “So she’s quite the prankster, huh?” The playful unease from earlier was gone, replaced by a sharper focus—you couldn’t afford to underestimate the hooded child again. Your movements became quicker, more calculated, your eyes scanning every corner for signs of her. “I got your back.” The air around you felt charged, your resolve cutting through the fear like a blade.

Meanwhile, in the room you had left behind, mr. crawling stood alone in the dark, his towering form oddly still. He had managed to find a solution—a way to trap the hooded child in the room you and him once resided.

“ㄥ尺几ﾌ(play) ! ㄥ尺几ﾌ(play) ! ㄥ尺几ﾌ(play) !” the loud banging and ringing of the doorknob didn’t help release her from the room she was kept in, wherein the culprit stood in silence from the other side of the door. “几ㄩ(you) 千ㄚ尺 (bad) ! 几ㄩ(you) 千ㄚ尺 (bad) !” the hooded child’s cries failed to overpower the cloudy thoughts of her foe, whom was now lifelessly staring up at the ceiling—his body hunched down while his mouth open agape.

Where had you gone? His hair shifted slightly as if mimicking his unsettled thoughts, the quiet stillness of the room making your absence more noticeable. You were fine one moment, and then gone the next—chasing that severed head.

His lips twitched with unease, a strange jealousy gnawing at him. That head had taken you away, dragged you into danger without a second thought—while you fully consented to yourself being in light of danger instead of the other. The thought of losing you again made his chest feel heavy. He turned toward the doorway and spotted the faint trail left by the cart you had pulled on earlier.

Without hesitation, he dropped on all fours, his long limbs propelling him forward as he started following your path. He had no exact idea where you might have gone, but instinct and worry pushed him on, his glowing hair brushing against the cold floor as he moved. Whatever trouble you’d run into, he would find you before it was too late.

The wooden stairs groaned beneath your feet as you made your way into the dim basement. The air was heavy and thick, carrying the faint scent of meat and something metallic that prickled your nose. You reached the bottom, your fingers brushing against the cool wall for support, and pushed open the familiar door. The room inside greeted you with its worn-down charm, a space cluttered with some tables, scattered chairs, and a few more familiar details. This place had always felt like a strange mix of horror and comforting—a haven for those who didn’t belong anywhere else.

Your eyes darted around, searching for mr. silvair, but the soft, grumbling sound in your arms pulled your attention downward.

“ㄖㄚ千(put) ! ㄖㄚ千(put) ! 几ㄩ(me) ﾌ乂ㄩ几(want) !” mr. chopped muttered after seeing his favorite blue beanbag that rested on a small table. His small form wriggled in your grip, his frustration almost comical given how utterly exhausted he looked.

You rolled your eyes, adjusting him in your arms as you walked further into the room. “Okay,” you muttered. “Hooded child get you in your sleep.” you teased and attempted to translate in their native language, earning a look of puffed cheeks from the severed head.

You lowered him onto the well-loved beanbag nestled in the corner of the room. He flopped back with a dramatic huff, his sharp features relaxing almost immediately as his eyes began to flutter closed. “几ㄩ(me) 千几ㄩ(feel) 乂ㄚ几(good) ! 几ㄩ(me)丨ㄖ千(sleep) . . .” Within seconds, he was asleep, his tiny form now looking oddly peaceful against the worn fabric. You crossed your arms, watching him for a moment. Not even a thank you? you thought with a faint scoff, but his soft, even breathing made it hard to stay annoyed.

In all suddenness, the sound of a door creaking open broke your thoughts. You turned just in time to see mr. silvair step into the room, tall and composed as always. His sharp features were highlighted by the flickering candlelight, his pale white hair trailing softly behind him as he moved with a kind of quiet grace. In one hand, he carried a syringe filled with an unknown liquid that gleamed faintly under the dim light.

“山ㄚ(we) 乙乂乇(meet) 尺 ﾌ几(again) .” he said smoothly, his voice low and even as his gaze locked onto you. His eyes scanned your figure, lingering on the pale sheen of your skin and the faint bluish veins visible beneath it. A flicker of concern passed across his face, subtle but unmistakable. “几ㄚ(you) 丂乃乇ㄥ(unwell) ? 乃卄丂 (maybe) 匚千 (can) 卄ㄩ几卩(help) .” he informed, gesturing you to take a seat on one of the chairs not far from him—his crossed arms indicating a sense of interest and worry.

Something in his tone made you comply, and you sank into one of the worn chairs nearby. Exhaustion was catching up to you, and the weight of the day seemed to pull your shoulders down. Silvair remained standing, studying you with an intensity that made you feel like a puzzle he was determined to solve.

“千ㄚㄩ(feel) ﾌ丂ㄩ几(pain) ? 乃乂乙(body) 几ﾌㄒ(not) 乃乙卩ㄥ(healthy) .” he said alarmingly, his voice calm but edged with curiosity.

You glanced down at your hands, at the strange, translucent quality of your skin that hadn’t been there before. Even now, you weren’t sure how to explain the changes overtaking you. “Don’t know. Me not feel sick.” you admitted in their language, your voice barely above a whisper. “No pain. Yet, not healthy.”

“卂乇卄(when) ㄚㄖ(change) ﾌ几千(occur) ?” he pressed, his tone more focused now.

“When met with red man, mr. scarletella.” you said, the name sending a shiver down your spine.

At that, silvair’s calm demeanor cracked. His lips pressed into a thin line, and his sharp gaze darkened. He took a step closer, his presence suddenly heavier. “scarletella,” he repeated, his voice low and filled with an unspoken weight.

“Why? Something wrong?” you asked, your stomach twisting as unease crept through you.

Silvair frowned, his hands clasping behind his back as he began to pace slowly. The flickering candlelight threw long shadows across the walls, giving him an almost spectral appearance. “几ㄩ(me) ㄖ乙几(unable) 千ㄩ(to) 匚 山乇(lift) ㄩㄚㄒ(curse) .” he said after a moment, his voice measured. “卄几(he) 乙乇尺(want) ㄒ千(you) . 卄ㄩㄥ(want) 几ㄚ尺(your) 千卩几(soul) .”

“Curse?” you echoed, the word leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. “Soul??” you uttered in your language, wishing it was something as little as a mistranslation, but your instincts told you otherwise.

Silvair turned to face you, his expression unreadable but his eyes filled with a quiet intensity. “乃乇(time) ㄩ乂乇(pass) , 乙乂(you) 丂匚(turn) 千卄ㄒ(less) 卄ㄚ尺卩(human) . ㄥ爪几(similar to) ㄩ卄尺匚ㄥ(everyone else) .” he said carefully, “匚尺(he) 乂千卄(like) ㄚ卩(you) . 几乇 (he) 山几ㄒ(want) ㄚ几尺(take) 卄ㄩ(you) .”

Your heart pounded harder in your chest. “What the hell does that mean?” you thought to yourself as you run a hand through your hair—leaning down the chair with a slouched position, your face almost intact with your knees.

Silvair looked down sympathetically at your troubled figure, although he didn’t comprehend your last sentence, it’s like he could read the words your body language revealed. He hesitated, having difficulty finding the right words to not provoke your mind any curther. With a heavy sigh, his chest shifted—opening his mouth agape to reveal more information about the curse, to which you anticipated. But before a sound could even escape from his mouth, the world around you began to blur. The dim room faded, its edges smearing into darkness, and you felt a sudden weightlessness as though you were falling. Panic clawed at your chest, and you reached out for something to ground yourself, but there was nothing.

Once the transition halts, the world felt impossibly small. You were enclosed in a tight, suffocating space that pressed against you from every side. The smooth, cold walls brushed uncomfortably against your arms and legs, confining you like a prisoner in an unyielding cage. The air was thick and stale, each breath harder to draw than the last, and a faint, metallic tang lingered in your throat. Your pulse quickened, the rhythm of your panic pounding in your ears.

This is so fucking strange.

You tried to shift, to move, but the limited space made even the smallest motion feel impossible. Your fingers searched the surface above, sliding across the smooth, unbroken material. The darkness was absolute, making it impossible to orient yourself. The thought crept into your mind: Was this a trap? Had you been buried alive?

Adrenaline surged through you, and with a burst of desperation, you pushed upward. Your arms trembled as you strained against the weight, and for a moment, nothing happened. Then, finally, the lid above you gave way with a groaning creak that echoed loudly in the stillness.

You gasped as fresh air rushed in, cool against your overheated skin, filling your lungs with a sharp, almost painful relief. Light flooded in through the open space, blinding you momentarily as you struggled to adjust. You blinked rapidly, the blurriness giving way to the sight of a strange, unfamiliar room. Disoriented and still breathless, you peaked half of your face through the opening of the box you were in, immediately taking in the blurry form of two very familiar individuals.

“尺几ㄚ(funny) ?”

“heh-he , 尺几ㄚㄩ(funny) !”

Mr. masque stood with his usual flair, a theatrical magician with his broad-brimmed hat casting shadows over his face, his robes swirling with impossible patterns of monochromatic colors. His every movement was deliberate, calculated, as if every inch of his presence was part of some grand performance.

And then, there was mr. crawling. His lanky form crouched low on the ground as usual, uncomfortably so, beside the magician, his eyes, if they could even be called that—shrouded in shadows beneath his unkempt hair. His posture was stiff, strained. He wasn’t acting like the wary, defensive figure you were used to. No, he was pretending, and it didn’t take long for you to realize why.

Mr. masque was finishing one of his dramatic moments, head slightly tilted toward you. “尺几ㄚㄩ(funny) ? 尺ㄚㄩ(yes) ?” he asked monotonously, anticipating your response.

Mr. crawling, though, did not seem to share his excitement. Instead, a hollow giggle escaped from his lips, forced and shallow. “尺几ㄚㄩ(funny) ! 尺几ㄚㄩ(funny) !” he said, his voice shaky as he clapped his hands together a little too enthusiastically, the laughter too loud, too desperate. His hair flickered erratically, a sign that the effort to play along was a struggle. The tension in his limbs was perceptible as if he knew the consequences of failing to feign interest, failing to show enough interest for mr. masque’s performance.

Is he…? mr. crawling—he’s helping me.

You watched the scene unfold, understanding far too well that mr. crawling’s laugh was just that—a facade. His own discomfort radiated from him, and yet, he didn’t stop. His fingers twitched, and you knew deep down that he was afraid of what might happen if he didn’t play his part. He had approached mr. masque himself to perform the teleportation trick, to bring you back—to return what was once his—and now that it was done, he needed to keep the magician appeased.

But as you stood there, caught in the uneasy aftermath of it all, your mind began to drift. Mr. silvair’s words echoed in your head, still unfinished. He had been on the verge of telling you something important, something that might have explained the sickness gnawing at you. The pieces had been right there, hanging on the edge of revelation… but then, the magic had pulled you away, and now, you were stuck in this strange limbo.

You felt a pang of devastation in your chest. Your thoughts were tangled, the curiosity and the need for answers battling with the reality of being pulled back into mr. crawling’s grasp—summoned, as though you were a mere possession.

Mr. crawling noticed your sudden change in demeanor, his own false smile faltering as he awkwardly shuffled closer, his glowing strands brushing against your skin. He didn’t speak, but there was a fleeting softness in his expression, a rare moment of vulnerability hidden beneath his usual eerie confidence. Yet, despite his attempt at calming you, it was clear that the moment of truth, of answers, had slipped through your fingers. The mystery of your curse and the warning from mr. silvair now felt like something distant, something left behind in the wake of your summoning.

As mr. masque grinned, unaware of the turmoil that had washed over you, mr. crawling silently reached out, his touch gentle but insistent. Without a word, he began pulling you away, the magician’s laughter still ringing in your ears as you were guided swiftly out of the room.

.

.

.

Once you were both left with no company but each others’, the tension in mr. crawling’s posture seemed to break. His usual eerie calmness shattered like glass, and the unsettling facade he wore had melted away in an instant. His glowing strands of hair flickered anxiously, his movements almost jerky, betraying just how much your well-being had rattled him that badly.

He stopped abruptly in the hallway, his head tilting slightly as if sensing your presence, his hair shifting in the air. The intensity of his attention was unmistakable, despite the absence of eyes. “千尺几卩(okay) ? 卄丂ㄩㄥ(pain) ? 千尺ㄒ(need) 乙乇山尺(medication) ?” His voice was low, almost breathless, as though he had been holding his worry in for far too long.

Before you could even respond, his hands were already reaching for you, gentle but insistent. His fingers brushed over your skin as he checked over and under your arms and shoulders, searching for any sign of injury or harm. His touch was soft, but the urgency behind it was clear. His eyes never left yours as he carefully inspected you, looking for any clue that you might be hurt in some way.

The air between you both felt charged, and when his hands moved to lift the edge of your dress—gently, and cautiously as though checking for any unseen bruises or wounds, you froze. The movement was intimate, too close, and something inside you fluttered with the sudden tension of it all. But before he could lift it further, you placed your hand over his, stopping him with a soft, almost hesitant touch.

“N-no…” you whispered, your voice quieter than you intended, a mix of fluster and vulnerability in your tone.

His hand stilled, hovering over your dress, his expression softening as if realizing how invasive his actions had been. “乙丂ㄚ(sorry) , 几ㄩ(me) 匚乂ㄚ千(worry) .” he murmured, his voice tinged with guilt. “几ㄩ (me) 千ㄚ几(worry) 尺山卩乙 (somebody else) 匚乂ㄚ(take) 几ㄚ(you) .” His words were sincere, filled with an anxiety that made your heart ache. “几ㄚ(you) 千ㄥㄒ(leave) , 几ㄚ(me) ﾌㄩ卩(look) 千尺(for) 几ㄩ(you) .”

The raw honesty in his voice made your chest tighten. You could see the genuine worry in his eyes now, his usually intimidating demeanor replaced with something softer, more vulnerable.

His hands slowly dropped to his sides, and he looked away for a moment, his hair falling lower around his face, hiding the faint blush that had appeared on his cheeks. “丂尺匚ㄚ(sorry) , 几ㄚ(me) 匚尺ㄩ千(trouble) 几ㄩ(you) .” he said, his words stumbling slightly. “几ㄚ(me) —” He cut himself off, looking back at you, his gaze filled with an emotion that was both endearing and intense. “几ㄚ(me) 匚尺乙ﾌ(want) 几ㄩ(you) 千尺乇(safe) . 丂尺匚ㄚ(sorry) .”

You could see how conflicted he was—guilt and affection warred within him. But as he stood there, his posture a little more relaxed, you realized just how much he valued you. He wasn’t just the unsettling figure you’d come to know. In this moment, he was… worried. He was worried for you because he couldn’t stand the thought of you slipping away, just like that.

“Why, sorry?” you said softly, your voice quiet but filled with warmth. “Me okay. No trouble, not mad.” You smiled gently at him, crouching down to reach his height and caressing your hands on his head full of hair—hoping to ease some of the tension that still clung to the air because of his conduct.

He looked up at you, his nonexistent eyes softening, and for a moment, his usual jagged grin was replaced with something tender. “几尺ㄚ卩(good) .” he replied, his voice quieter than usual, the weight of his emotions still lingering. “几ㄚ(me) 卂爪千(happy) .”

You sank to your knees on the floor, the weight of everything pressing down on you, and an overwhelming need to feel close to him overtook you. Without thinking, you reached out and pulled him into a tight, desperate hug. The moment his form melted into yours, your heart skipped a beat, as the warmth and solidity of his body washed over you, filling the emptiness you’d been trying to ignore. His scent, faint yet oddly comforting, wrapped around you like a delicate blanket, and for the first time in a while, you felt safe. You lingered in the moment, arms tightening around him, wishing the world outside could just disappear. His closeness was intoxicating, and you realized that you never wanted to let go, never wanted this peace to end.

The silence between you stretched longer than you expected. Until finally, he broke it with a soft, amused giggle—“heh-he”, almost like he couldn’t believe what was happening. His voice, though light, held an undeniable warmth, a mix of surprise and something deeper, something you couldn’t quite name. He realized what was happening—you had wrapped yourself around him, had pulled him close, letting your body speak the words you couldn’t say.

The realization made his heart flutter in his chest, and for a brief moment, he felt exposed. But, instead of pulling away, he let himself fall into it, his arms shifting to hold you just a little bit tighter, his voice dropping low and teasing. “几ㄚ(me) 匚千尺ﾌ(want) 几ㄩ(you) .” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. And in that moment, the air between you both thickened with something new—something unspoken, but undeniable.

⚠︎ s i l e n t t e m p t a t i o n s (18+)

- ch.2

➤ e n d

[devilsmenu]

@vcndetta - WALL-E & anyone

"Are you good at suggesting gifts?" WALL-E asked to the other next to him. If he was in the modern world it would be easy but in medieval times was hard to think about anything at all, his mind was blank and even more confused. "I wanted to get something to the person I'm in love with but I don't know what to give to him".

[devilsmenu]

post event

"Yeah, I did liked it, I love collecting things, I always liked. I'll keep with me forever since you're the one that gave it to me" WALL-E told King with a smile on his lips. "I thought it was pretty and I could give it to you" he said with a small shy smile on his face and hugging King back. He nodded. "Alright, you can put in the vase I'll be waiting for you".

King nods. "I know you love collecting things. And it's really pretty so I thought you would like it." They gasp at the flowers, unable to stop himself from hugging him. "Thank you so much WALL-E. This means so much to me." They never thought they would find someone he loves like this. "I love you with my whole heart. I cannot wait to put these in a vase."

[neotohuu]

Baby, only look at me.

jealous dom top male oc x sub bottom male reader; age gap (oc is older), breeding kink, cr*ampie (e), ch*king (o), hair pulling, semi public s*x (e), vouyerism, characters are implied to be under the influence but everything is consensual.

note: i'm the inconsistancy king lol...i'll find my writing style some...day.

Kai sipped on his whiskey as he watched you have fun on the dance floor with your friends. He chuckled when he saw you do your dorky little dance, he thought that you were the cutest guy in the world.

You barely even drank anything but laughed and danced around like you drank the whole bar under the table, this was definitely your first time in a club.

He didn't mind your friends dancing with you as for most of the time whilst you were dancing, they were protectively looking around you and keeping away any perverts.

"Hey, (Name)! We're gonna go get some drinks, okay? You just sit here!" One of (Name)'s friends said as Kai quietly tagged along with them to get some drinks, he gave you a small kiss on the forehead before leaving.

You sat there quietly, checking your phone every once in a while whilst sipping your virgin cocktail. Then, suddenly another man slipped into the booth, you didn't look up from your phone as you thought it was Kai who sat next to you.

"Oh, you're back early, baby..." you said to the person next to you who you thought was Kai, as an unfamiliar chuckle bubbled from his throat. You snapped your head towards the man. You immediately got a whiff of cigarettes and hair gel as he leaned closer to you.

"You're calling me baby, already huh, cutie...?" His gruff voice groaned out as he scratched his stubble and was about to put his hand on your thigh until Kai came and pushed him out of the booth.

"Get the f*ck away from him." Kai sneered as you sat there, confused and scared as you held him back from proceeding to punch the other man.

The man just glared at Kai before walking out of the bar, but before he opened the door, he turned back to look at you and pointed at your pocket.

You shuffled your hands inside your pocket to find a small piece of paper that had his number written on it, you looked at the man with shock and confusion as he winked at you.

Kai saw the piece of paper in your hand and his mind just snapped.

He immediately crumpled the paper and threw it on the dirty ground as he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you to the restrooms.

You and Kai were standing close together in a stall as he started groping your chest from behind, he peppered kisses on the nape of your neck as you let out a confused moan.

"W-Wait...ngh~ What's going on, Kai...- haah~" You whimpered out as he started pinching your nipples.

"I'm claiming back what's mine." He replied briefly as he flipped you around and kissed you passionately as he pulled out his already hard cock from his jeans.

Your hands tangled on his short dark hair as he shoved his tongue in your throat. "Ngh~ c-calm down, Kai..." You muttered in between kisses as he flipped you back around and bent you over.

He tugged your pants down and groped your plush and supple ass. "This ass is mine." He grunted as he spit on his cock to lube it up a bit, your hole was presented to him in a naughty manner as your face was laid against the wall.

Suddenly, someone entered the restrooms as well, the other person entered the stall next to you both. You gulped as you stayed silent but Kai had other plans.

He teased the outside of your hole slowly with his hot tip, your eyes widened as you grasped his hand and your puffy and watery eyes look at him. He coos silently before slamming his cock into your tight and wet hole.

You gasped and held back a moan as his cock curved perfectly to hit your g-spot. He then started to punish you with his slow thrusts...the sloppy sounds and the precum dripping on the ground, the person who just went inside the other stall would've clearly known.

And your friend did. He slowly pulled out his own hard cock in his pants as he stroked himself to the sound of your soft moans and gasps.

"Slut..." Kai groaned as he held your hand in his right hand and pulled your hair harshly in the other. You moaned due to the mix of pain and pleasure, you started drooling on your hand as you tried to silence yourself.

Your hand gripped on the wall as Kai's hand gripped on your hip tightly, he started thrusting into you faster and harder. At this point, the sloppy noises and your soft, lewd moans were making it obvious what you and Kai were doing in there.

His cock was hitting you in all the right places, your eyes were watering as he flipped you around and placed you on top of the toilet cover, not even pulling out for a second as he continued fucking you animalistically.

His hands slowly traveled from your hips to your neck, his grip slowly became tighter on your neck. "H-haah~" You let out a strangled, breathy moan as you started to bounce yourself on his cock.

Kai chuckled at the sight of your fucked-out face, a loving smile on his face as he kissed your lips. You were numb in pleasure as you took short breaths whilst he choked you.

"Mm...!" You whimpered in the kiss as he pulled away from your lips reluctantly, your arms wrapped around his neck and your legs wrapped around his waist.

"I-I'm gonna c-cum...ngh...h-haah!" You moaned out loudly, not caring if anyone heard you anymore. "S-shit...how'd you become tighter? ...I'm gonna cum too, baby." Kai groaned out as his thrusts became slower.

At this point, your friend in the other stall had came numerous times in his hand, and so did the other guys at the other stalls...

But you both didn't care anymore. You knew that you were his. He gave you one last thrust before releasing inside of you, you could feel his hot and gooey seed fill you up as you orgasmed as well.

Very lewd and pornographic moans came from your throat as the other guys couldn't help but imagine what it would've been like to fuck you.

You leaned your head back, breathless as he panted softly. You turned your head away from him, a shy habit you always did after sex. He grabbed your face softly but firmly and turned your head towards him.

"Baby, only look at me. Okay?" Kai said in a quiet, possessive tone. "'Kay..." You nodded softly as he pulled out from your hole. You could feel his cum dribbling out from your ass as you struggled to stand up.

He felt proud of his work as you both got out of ths stall, messily dressed, Kai's coat draped over your shoulders as the other guys opened their stall doors to look at you.

You both didn't care anymore though, you looked at Kai with a loving smile and leaned your head on his shoulder as he grabbed your waist comfortingly.

He knew you'd only look at him.

[pursuitseternal]

“The Eighth Day” 💐 S3x Pollen and political meetings in “Antics of the Newly Ascended”💐

Ascended Astarion x F!Reader| E |3.7K

🎨 by @lirotation [Full version under the cut]

For monthly prompt in the Creative Corner discord

Summary: The Netherbrain has fallen, and the Vampire Ascendant seeks to rise. Overtures of political workings are derailed for the new Ascendant when his Consort falls under the influence of some untimely pollen.

CW: sex pollen, secondhand embarrassment, uncontrollable urges, public sex, feral/needy Consort, A!Astarion is aroused and uncomfortable all at once.

Previous Ch | Ao3 link | Masterlist

💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐

“I still don’t understand why you insisted I attend too, Astarion,” you grumble as his light-touched fingers remove your cloak for you from behind.

“Well, this is my first official meeting as Vampire Ascendant,” he purrs into your ear as the fabric falls into his arms, “if I have to suffer through having some mortal Grand Duke flaunt his inferior status in my face, you’re sure as the hells are going to suffer too, darling.” He pats you on the shoulder and places a warm, breathy kiss on the scars in your neck. “Besides, I think Ulder liked you better after we saved his arse.” That soft pad of his thumbs runs over your lip as he smirks. “Wait here, I’ll be right back, my darling.” He gathers your cloak and his together to find a servant. Astarion grumbles under his voice as he walks away about how Wyll wouldn’t have let the Vampire Ascendant put up his own cloak, but his father…

His voice was audible only to your ears, even then, barely. You take in the foyer of the grand Ravenguard estate. Turquoise and blues and golds, the colors of the sea cover every wall and surface. You scan the room, the walls hung with paintings of maritime history. Portraits of the Ravenguard line span out towards the halls. And you think you even see Wyll’s from a distance. It makes you smile, if sadly.

How long had it been since you had seen him… any of them? You sigh. Looking for distraction, you note the strange looking arrangement of flowers on the entryway table. Such curious colors and shapes of blossoms, blues and teals that seem to glow. It brings your memories right back to those days in the Underdark. Thoughts turn wistful; those days on the road when your heart pounded with the thrill of oadventure, the memory of aching for the man you now call yours for eternity. You can’t help it, you cross over to those tantalizing blooms and inhale deeply.

It tingles your nose, deadens your other senses, and something burns at the back of your sinuses and throat.

And then you sneeze.

“Gods bless you, my consort,” Astarion purrs as he takes your arm in his and leads you deeper into the mansion. “I’m so glad you’re here at my side, I know that your smiling face and smoothe wit will undoubtedly leave a good first impression,” he smirks.

Your throat starts to go dry, but you swallow and simper at him. “So glad I can be of such service, Astarion,” you rasp as you wipe your nose on the back of your sleeve.

He places a finger over your lips and draws you to a quick, forceful halt. “Pet,” he chides with a tut of his tongue, “what has slipped your mind?” His eyes narrow with a hint of mischief.

“Sorry, Lord Astarion,” you croon as he nods and gives you that fanged smile in approval.

“Good girl,” he replies, “we have to keep up appearances, you know, put our best foot forward, turn every head in the room.”

Your hand laces into his, and as he leads you into the grand room before you, you realize his hand grows colder and colder by the second.

Or, perhaps you are growing hotter and hotter still.

But Astarion only marches forward with focused determination, his voice pure gold and refinement as he greets the Grand Duke with all his well-practiced pleasantries.

You glide to stand at his side, a smile on your face, but your cheeks are decidedly growing warmer to the touch. Then you hear your name from the Grand Duke. “And you, Lady Ancunìn, I trust you don’t miss your days on the battlefield?”

“Oh no,” you smile after you swallow, “there is far more excitement to my liking now as Consort of the Crimson Palace. And my Lord takes such attentive care to my… every need.”

Was that your voice, dipping into dulcet tones of seduction? It must be you, and Astarion must not approve, his hand gripping yours like a vice. You roll your shoulders and smile. “Those days of adventure and rescue do remain fondly in my heart, like our fortuitous timing when we broke that Iron Prison apart.”

Ulder’s bald brow lifts in good humor. “A fact for which I am forever indebted to you and your Lord.”

You flash him a fanged smile, trying your best to look demure and powerful, but drool collects and drips from the corner of your lips.

“Oh, darling,” Astarion croons, suave as ever, even as he pulls you to face him, eyes dark and brows furrowed in disapproval. “Have we forgotten to feed properly today? I suppose you’ll have to wait for a decent nibble until our affairs here are concluded,” he murmurs, swiping his thumb to clean the streak of drool from your chin. “Apologies for my Consort, Grand Duke, she is still new to the sort of hunger and power that comes from being a vampire, let alone being the creation of the Vampire Ascendant.”

You try not to roll your eyes at the way he says his own title. You barely manage to hold your polite smile. Astarion grabs hold of your upper arm, guiding you to sit next to him on the couch beside the fire, the Grand Duke and some of his associates sit opposite. The conversation turns to politics, to the remaining vestiges of the cults of Bhaal and Bane, to the Guild and the criminal aspects of the City…

But your blood boils, your body keens to be touched. Slowly, you scoot across the velvet upholstery of the couch until your side presses against your love.

Better, your body groans, but not enough.

You slowly bring his hand in yours from his lap to wind his arm behind you, a caress along the top of your shoulder, the heat of his skin through his embroidered silk jacket calling to you.

It’s still not enough. You need to smell him to taste him… the droning of his voice is a siren song, and it pulls you until your face presses against the veins of his neck. At last, your mouth waters as you take a loud and deep inhale.

Sniiiiiiff…. “Ahhhh…” you sigh.

“What in the hells are you doing?” he hisses from his mind into yours. “Ten seconds into public power, and you’re already a freak?”

“It burns, my love,” you reply down your bond. “I burn.”

“From embarrassment, certainly,” he grunts at you, settling you back a space from him on the couch. “My apologies, Grand Duke,” he purrs aloud, “newborn spawn can be utterly voracious. But it’s nothing I can’t handle,” he shifts in his seat, confidently crossing one ankle over his knee, a perfected air of nonchalance.

But for you, all you can see is the way his trousers cling to that outline of his beloved cock, a flawless sack to cradle his manhood so perfectly, a neat little package for his package….

“I need you,” your voice purrs, caressing his mind with your own, “now, I need you now.” Even your inner voice sounds deranged, it makes his crimson eyes flicker at you as Ulder drones on about the cost of the repairs to the City from the Illithid attacks.

“Pull yourself together, my darling. Is this all because we were in a hurry this morning?”

Nerves flood with heat, and sweat gathers on your forehead.

Astarion sniffs loudly, scenting your inexplicable arousal. “What’s gotten into you?”

Moisture pools between your thighs, soaking your small clothes and petticoats. You bite your lip, feeling more gathering as you shift your seat, sliding one foot beneath you as you lounge casually against the couch. The pressure against your folds lets you catch your breath for a moment and think. Only once have you felt something similar, though not nearly this perverse or profound. You close your eyes, instantly recalling the same fever in your blood and crying need in your sex from your travels… you picture blue-glowing mushrooms and pervasive darkness. The Underdark. “Spores…” you whimper into his mind. “Spores,” you repeat, your tongue thick in your mouth with the need to lick and suck and bite.

You look at him with pure, abject longing. Desire incarnate. And then you shift yourself over your foot beneath you. A little grind of your hips on your own appendage only makes you long for more friction…

And you whimper.

“I must apologize, Grand Duke, but my Consort is just not herself. Perhaps politics is too much for her to bear.” Then, he snaps your name at you inwardly. “Get up, and get outside,” he snarls, “now.”

You head back into the hall without further question, though you throw a glance at him, the biggest set of bedroom eyes you can muster.

“I believe she needs some air, Grand Duke, a chance for her to regain control of her hunger. Might you have a garden?” He pauses, turning his head and grimacing, “preferably once a bit more… isolated?”

Ulder quirks a brow. “Back out the doors and to the right,” he replies, “a good idea. It should give you enough privacy. Wouldn’t want blood on the antiques you know.”

Astarion maintains that veneer of politesse just long enough to leave the room, his brown darkens and fangs glint the moment he locks that crimson, predatory gaze on you. You shiver, head to toe, to have his full attention at last. Lips locked shut, you just send him your incoherent babble of need from your mind to his; a string of “please, gods, fuck me,” and “I want that perfect cock inside me,” and “ravish me, my love,” surrounded by pants and whimpers.

His eyes look you up and down. “You’re quivering and shaking, you look rabid, sick, deranged,” he shakes his head, leading you into the darkening light of the sunset as your feet skate along behind him down the pebbled path.

A few turns between the shrubbery and he pulls you up to a wide granite bench. He releases your hand, but the absence of his touch makes you whimper and whine with increasing force, just his name over and over again. “Astarion… please…”

“What in the hells has gotten into you?” he snarls under his breath, pulling out a handkerchief to ball up. “I haven’t seen you this bad off since—”

“Spores!” you mewl, collapsing to your knees at his feet, hands raking up the fine fabric of his trousers.

“Precisely, but how could you ever have gotten your nose into Underdark sex spores here?” He shakes his head, “It’s not as if this place is overrun with bright blue glowing mushrooms.”

Lips parting, tongue licking, your eyes are feral and your gaze is wanton as you drop to your knees, your hands on his waist to slam his ass down on the bench. “Hells,” he snaps in pain and surprise. “What the fuck…”

“Yes, yes, fuck,” the word sounds like music on your hungry tongue. “Please, fuck me,” you whine, your hands tugging hard at the fasteners at the side of his hip.

“Easy, easy,” he cajoles you, glancing around once to ensure enough coverage in this spot of the gardens. The bushes are thick, the roses are in bloom, and the fencing here separated the grounds and the manor. A wicked smirk on his full lips, he obliges you, freeing his cock to have you almost swallow it whole. “Gods, darling,” he grunts as he slams into the back of your throat and scrapes against your teeth and fangs. “How in the hells or in this realm did you get like this?”

A valid question, but one that faded mutedly from his mind as you started to suck him more. Logic seemed to elude him, as if drawn out by your lips and tongue until he knew the only way to unravel this puzzle was to fuck some sense back into you both. Wet, lewd sounds come from your lips, your mouth working furiously to consume him, craving his seed, knowing it’ll extinguish the fire in your veins. This suffering has wracked you before, a blind drive to purge the instant swell of lust that dictates your body’s every pulse.

And he’s recognized it, reveling in it as you bob your head with reckless abandon. Until you release him with a loud pop and whine at him from the garden path. “Not enough,” your voice cracks. “I need you, need you…” your hands shake as you scramble to your feet, hiking up your skirts.

“For fucks sake, darling,” Astarion chides you, embarrassed and aroused in equal measure. “Alright, alright,” he blocks your hands from tearing off his clothes… or his face, he’s not quite sure which. “Be a good girl,” he hisses, breath hot down your neck as he backs you up against the fencing, “and hold on tightly.”

He takes your half-bunched skirts from your shaking hands as he hushes you. “It’s going to be alright,” he consoles you. “At least we’ve endured this sort of suffering before. You are in really rough shape, my dear. Thank goodness you have me to fuck it all away, darling?”

You nod, eagerly grinding against him, wrought iron bars pressed into your back, your hand and nails gripped hard into his perfect ass.

“Oh, I’ve missed this, how needy this magic makes you. What a glorious little mishap… although you could have timed it better,” he levels those crimson eyes at you, teasing the flushed, hot head of his cock up and down your entrance. “If we didn’t need to attend to business, I’d draw this out for you, just to teach you when you shouldn’t be sticking that nose of yours into Underdark spore magic.”

Embarrassingly high pitched whimpers flutter at your lips, tears in your eyes at the thought of being left so unsatisfied. “Please, please, I’m being so good. I need you… need you,” you start to keen louder and louder.

Astarion’s warm palm covers your mouth, a laugh in his throat. “A good thing Ulder is an idiot and thinks you’re just hungry for my blood,” he sniggers more to himself than for your benefit.

“Hungry; yes, starving for your cock, my love,” you pant, salivating again, missing its hard length and warm pulse in between your lips.

“It’s alright, I’ll take good care of you… if you can keep quiet.” His hand presses against your neck teasingly as he reaches for the bars above you for leverage. “And if you can’t be quiet, then I have to resort to other measures of silence, you understand, my pet?”

You bite your bottom lip, nodding vigorously, sweat dripping from your brow to feel his cock pressed hard against your belly. Your own hand tears at your neck line, your skin too hot and flushed and needing to be caressed, a single breast loosens from your neckline. Those crimson eyes devour the sight of your swaying breast and its peaked nipple, almost as if he’s the one possessed by magic and lust.

“Gods, you’re so hot again, burning and thrumming, a warm, living body with undead power,” his eyes dilate to nearly black to feel your slit warm once more as he grinds his cock against it. Those dexterous fingers lift your thigh, and he thrusts inside you in one swift shove of his body. The iron gate creaks under the force, but its volume is nothing compared to the way your undead heart thumps in your ears, slow but hard.

“Astarion,” you whine louder, “I need more…”

“Then more you shall have my pet,” he hisses in your ear. He groans at the now unfamiliar warmth, the dripping, blistering heat that rages in your body. “Just like old times,” his voice barely audible, so husky and rough as he slams into you. Every thrust makes the gate behind you rattle, stealing gasp after gasp from your mouth, even as you try to swallow them back into silence.

His hands grip your ass in warning the moment your noises seem to crescendo. “Ah, ah,” he chides. But as those hips snap harder against you, it grows difficult to be good, to be silent and careful as he asked.

The heat is too much, the pulsing fire in your veins too demanding…. “More,” you whine. “I need it, your delicious self.” His hand flies to cover your mouth, muting your pants and stifling your noises.

“That’s it, my love,” he groans right in your ear, feeling your legs beginning to shake and your knee buckle. “Come for me, burn up that magic and purge that heat all… over… me.”

You throw your head back, banging it on the bars, hissing in pain and yet groaning in relief as your orgasm builds to bursting. You bite into his gagging hand, fangs sinking into the sides of his fingers and palm. He hisses in pain, a sound quickly overtaken by the rapid grunts of his own climax. Face pressing against your neck, he mutes the roar of his own shaking bliss, warmth dripping down your one standing leg.

The air feels cool in your lungs, your pulse slowing back to its undead dirge of a tempo in your chest. You taste blood on your tongue, and you sweep its tip to lap along the edge of his hands where it protrudes into your mouth.

Astarion musters enough strength to lift his head, his curls looking a bit well-tossed. “How’s that, my darling? Are you decent enough to make it home?” He purrs the questions in your ear, his voice partly laced with concern, equally rippling with hope to the contrary.

You give a more steady smile, master of yourself once more, for now. Your thoughts still elude you, but your body doesn’t burn with boiling lust, more of a simmer. A whine escapes as he slips from your folds, his hands adjusting your dress and stuffing his cock back inside his own trousers. “What, for the life of me, brought this on you? What have you been sticking your nose into, darling?”

“Spores,” you repeat as before. “Blue!” You add. Muttering the words again, thighs starting to clench and rub on themselves already.

“I’ll get you out of here,” his mind racing, “image is everything, and right now this… image… isn’t quite our best foot forward.” A scan of you both, and he pauses, less than satisfied. “You need more blood,” he assesses, “or they’ll never believe you were just feeding…” A swift bite to his own wrist, and he smears your chin, your lips in his scarlet essence.

Hustling you into the mansion again, he practically carries you, arm threaded behind your back. “I’m dreadfully sorry, but my newborn Consort must retire…” he stops you both in the entrance hall, his voice muted as your mind pounds, the magic in your bloodstream calling to its source as you stand near the door.

Astarions wraps your cloak around you, feeling your skin flushing again under his touch. He follows your gaze, honed in like an eagle on those blue flowers, a soft glow beginning to emanate from them as the shadows lengthen in the day…

“My dearest Consort, why don’t you wait for me in the carriage,” he bids you.

You nod, meeting Ulder’s dark eyes, wide in shock at the state of your blood streaked face. He mumbles some prayers, probably wards against the undead, such as yourself. You hear his deep voice speaking with Astarion once more.

“Oh, these flowers? Just a gift from the Myconid colony’s ambassador, a token for me and my wife…”

A low chuckle sounds from your lover’s throat. “Oh, no doubt it is, I have never seen such rare blossoms, though they do make me recall some rather fond memories of the Underdark…” your love’s voice trails off the further you walk, his purr drowned out by the increasing thumping of your cold heart against your ribs. Waves of need build once more, rapid and consuming, and you groan to haul yourself into the carriage so you can wait for more…

By the time you make it home, you’re aching… sore… and you’ve had him on almost every surface between your carriage and your bed at last. But that was yesterday. Now, knowing yourself once more, you wake to a new day. Sunlight warms your bed, your skin absorbing it now that you are corpse cold again.

As cold as the rest of your sheets, you realize. He’s gone already, smug bastard, probably with his hair extra curled from your rigorous activities and a satisfied smirk on his full lips.

Groggy and cursing, you manage to sit yourself up against the pillows, and you ring for your maid. She enters quickly, hands outstretched with a message from the Master, she tells you, who left that morning to resume acquaintances with the Grand Duke.

Your cheeks would flame red if they still drew on the heat of that aphrodisiac magic. The note is penned in his immaculate hand: “Ulder was far too easy to convince you were merely a victim of sanguine hunger. And he was far too eager to agree to my offer of coin in exchange for your gift. Don’t indulge or inhale too deeply without me.”

His signature was almost as elegant and impressive as he himself.

“A gift?” you ask, warrily, knowing all too well the sorts of gifts Astarion tends to bestow.

With a snap of her fingers, your servant calls in another, a scarf tied tightly over her nose and mouth, a silver tray between her hands. Adorning the silver lies a beautiful bouquet of glowing sapphire flowers. The very same from the Grand Duke’s manor. The source of your follies and cause for all your most embarrassing thoughts to ponder when you can’t sleep.

“My Lord is so…. Thoughtful,” you reply, abstaining from adding, ‘and selfish and arousing and cheeky and…’ You pinch your nose, just in case. “Set it carefully over there,” you flail your exhausted arm in the direction of a table and groan, seeking the rest you will inevitably require. And you smile.

[feyhunter78]

Among The Sun

Description: The Conqueror, the Ravager of Lands, He who deals in blood and war. Emperor Miguel and his armies have scoured the land, and now they have set their sights on your kingdom. Will you fall to the Demonborn's blade, or will a strange connection between you and Miguel turn the tides of fate? Ch 2

The castle is abuzz with gossip and fear, words passed along in secret, gates closed, doors bolted. You press your back to the wall, the heavy curtain hiding you from the servants passing by. No one will tell you anything, simply bid you to dress and make yourself presentable as if there was to be a banquet, or a ball, not a potential siege.

“I’ve heard he’s coming from the West, that he set fire to the River Atraites, that his men—his armies of demons marched upon the flames.” One says, her voice hushed and filled with fear.

“No, he is coming from the East, the mountains bowed to him and allowed him passage through.” Another whispers, stronger but still afraid.

The Conqueror, the Ravager of Lands, He who deals in blood and war. He would be arriving soon if the rumors were to be believed, and you are no fool, you believe them.

You don’t know much about the Conqueror, your only information comes from rumors or war reports, neither of which are helpful. The rumors come from pleasurehouses, fanciful tales of the emperor storming in, scouring the establishment and searching for a woman with y/h/c hair and y/e/c eyes. If one cannot be found, he is said to destroy the place, leaving terrifying claw marks and scorched bodies in his wake. If one can be found, the rumors say her cries of pleasure can be heard throughout the town and that she emerges from the encounter with only faint pleasant memories.

The war reports tell a different tale. They speak of him as merciless, tearing through men as if they are parchment, his armies moving as a perfect unit, no breaks, no faults, only skilled, relentless ruin. He is said to have claws and fangs, some say he has horns like a ram, and his eyes glow crimson. He is a terrifying sight to behold, half monster, half man, an abomination that has set half the continent ablaze.

You wait until their footsteps pass then slip from behind the curtain, hurrying down the hall to the throne room where your father, mother, and three brothers are set to gather. Instead, you stumble upon a horrid scene. Your father and brothers lie on the marble floor, bloodied and unmoving, your mother is draped over your eldest brother’s body, wailing wretchedly.

“Traitors to the crown, they have done this.” She shrieks, clinging to his body.

You’re frozen, staring at the carnage before you. True, you had no real fondness for your eldest brother, the gap between your ages was too far to bridge, but the others at least made an effort.

“What—what are we to do? Mother, you are queen, the Conqueror will be here, he will offer you what he offers every other window, you must be prepared.” You tell her, rushing to her side and attempting to pull her from your brother’s body.

She refuses to budge, shrugging you off. “I will not, he will not come here, we have nothing to offer.”

Your kingdom is not small, in fact it’s quite large, a port town, but your mother is right, it holds nothing that the Conqueror doesn’t already have. He has already captured the agricultural kingdoms, the larger trade kingdoms, and those who boast their stores of wealth and gems. His own lands that far-flung empire that declared him ruler after a bloody and horrid event, is rich in resources, the soil, and cities still boasting the remnants of Arcana. It is a wealthy and powerful force, wielded like an obsidian sword by the Conqueror.

“You do not know that, please, either we stay, and you take up your crown, or we flee to the ships.” You’re tugging on her arm, already formulating an escape route. But would you make it in time?

Your mother says nothing, only continues to weep and holds out her hand for her fallen crown. She has made her choice; she will doom you both to die here.

Your kingdom has fallen, the gates forced open, the crowns of your father and brothers thrown to the ground, their bodies lying beside them. There is no time to clean the throne room, you’ve received the reports, the Conqueror is mere minutes away.

The emperor is cruel, monstrous, a vile, wicked man who care only for conquest. You have heard the rumors, the whispers as his armies march across the lands, leaving death and destruction in their wake. And now he would be coming here, to give your mother the very same choice he gave to each former queen. Bend the knee, pay tribute, or watch your kingdom burn. Dozens of kingdoms have refused and burned, but your mother is not a warrior, she weeps over your father and brothers, laments their loss as your kingdom crumbles around you.

When the Conqueror comes, you fear the choice she will make, fear the rumors of the horrors that await those kingdoms gifted to the murderous emperor. You do not wish for your land to become a territory of the ravager, a sacrifice to the blood-soaked demon, Miguel the Conqueror, the Relentless, the Merciless, but you fear your mother will have no choice.

Miguel is bored, his fingers tangled in the hair of another whore as she moans, her face shoved into the pillows as she helplessly tries to fuck back on him. He has her bent over the bed, thrusting mindlessly as he starts out the window at this kingdom’s castle.

She is skilled, he will not deny it, but Miguel doesn’t simply desire skill, he desires the woman from his memories and dreams.

He lets out a long sigh and closes his eyes trying to picture you, his soulmate, his horizon, with your soft skin and stunning smile, the lilt of your voice, your tantalizing smell. He groans as the image forms, crystalline fractured fantasies, flashes of you, snatches of memories.

“Fuck, mi vida, you feel so good, wonderful, you are wonderful, my empress.” He sighs, his free hand settling on your—the whore’s hip, steadying himself before he pounds into her, picturing how pretty you’d look, grasping at the silken sheets he’s procured for you, whining as he smooths a hand down your spine.

You’d be so sweet for him, clinging to him as he fucks you, your pretty eyes fluttering closed, your lips parted so perfectly. He misses when he would see you in his dreams, when he would hold you for a moment before you disappeared like sand slipping through his fingers. Now all he sees when he sleeps is darkness, exhaustion hitting him like a horse.

“Please, Your Majesty, harder.” She begs, lifting her head from the mattress.

Her voice rips him from his fantasy, and he pulls out, tucking himself back into his breeches. “I asked you not to speak.”

She looks back at him, and he regrets not compelling her. She looks so much like you, the closest he’s found, but he shouldn’t have taken the chance.

He grabs her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. “You will remember none of this, only that you did your job and was paid handsomely for it.”

She nods, her shoulders drooping, eyes glazing over as his spell takes hold.

Miguel sighs and arranges her comfortably on the bed before leaving more than enough gold for her rudimentary services.

As he trudges down the stairs of the brothel, he’s met by his advisor, Lyla. She’s still in full armor except for those oddly shaped glasses that cover her eyes.

“It’s time.” She says, nodding towards the door.

Another kingdom to burn or capture, another fruitless search. Have the gods not dammed him enough? Have they not stricken him with this unholy visage, with these demonic powers, with a life of misery and death? You, you are the one he searches for, in your arms he will finally find rest, and if not, he will ensure it is so. There will be no kingdom for you to run to, no lands untouched by him, no bounty great enough to pull you from him, no powers beyond the divine will separate you, and even then, he has always desired to fight the gods.

He will offer this kingdom’s queen the choice he offers all others, waiting as they cower in fear, his eyes searching their court for you. But you are never there, and his anger only grows.

Perhaps this time will be different? Gabi would be fond of this land, would enjoy the flowers and streams. He prays that is a good sign.

TL: @not-aya, @belos-simp69, @deputy-videogamer, @sxnasbitch, @maxi-ride, @minimari415, @syndrlla97, @gejo333, @lady-necromancer

[devilsmenu]

"I'm not going to judge you or anything like it. Are you okay?" WALL-E asked worried about the other injury. He chuckle a bit. "It happens to the best of us".

open starter. // @hiddenstarters

" No, I promise I'm not always this clumsy," she assured the other person as they placed a bandage over her knee. It was just a scrape but she was still grateful that someone had stopped to help her. "I guess I just didn't realize how lost I was in my daydreams," she admitted with a wistful smile.

[alvinflavored]

MADE TO CONQUER THE STARS

→ WILLIAM JAMES MORIARTY x F!READER FANTASY ROYAL AU

CW!/##: misogyny

"no matter what anyone might say to you, (name), understand this; you were made to escape these earthly bounds and to claim your rightful throne alongside the celestial titans—"

"—you were made to conquer the stars."

✦ CH 1: A Vow To The Heir

as constant and stagnant the cycle of death and life is, the eon old war also continues on and on; forever and ever. an emperor rises, he serves his purpose against the enemy empire as long as his breath will allow him to, and in the end, falls into the great deep.

the hellish, almost eternal cycle went on for centuries. that was, at least, until you were born.

"hear me, all nobles. she is a woman! firstborn as she might be — you most definitely cannot appoint her as the next heir to the throne!"

"blasphemous, grand duke! lady (name) was prophesized to bring an end to the eon long war by the gods! how dare you try and refute the divine?!"

"and yet you refuse to call her the crown princess, marquis! how hypocritical can one truly be?"

"SILENCE!"

you hear the old emperor's voice booming. and though he has become weary with age and his voice has grown hoarse, he is still the emperor—a hush falls over the high nobles that had been arguing in the meeting hall. you wince, fingers tightening around your dress as you trudge away through the hallway, not wanting to eavesdrop further than you have.

you did not want to hover over the fact that a debate in the house of nobles has begun once again, due to your birth and existence — a cruel thing life could be.

"having a pleasant evening, sister?"

your fourth brother speaks wittily, appearing out of the blue when you turn a corner. "i found a pet for you. or rather," he grins. "a 'knight' to protect you."

you are met with a man of an imposing height yet falling on the slimmer and weaker side, hair as golden as the sun and eyes as scarlet as blood. blood that has been countlessly spilled on the battlegrounds.

(e/c) pupils fall to his clothes; ornamented in expensive jewellery, scarlet clothes. a finely decorated man. in other words; like master like servant — your fourth brother was poorly trying to convey that you were nothing but a mere decoration.

you flinch when those lifeless eyes, defiant eyes that says his heart doesn't have a place for anybody, meet with yours and it was clear that your brother was insulting you.

"your royal highness." the blond's upper body falls into a deep bow, his gloved hand over his beating heart. his lashes too, you realise, are golden in colour. "it is my greatest honour to serve and protect you."

you clear your throat, lift your chin high, make an effort to seem composed — as anybody of your stature should be at all times. "lift your head." you speak, and he does. you turn to your fourth brother. "and pray tell, brother, does our father agree to this?"

"of course." he scoffs. "i found this guy," he slings a shoulder around the blond. the blond stiffens. "but father is the one who recommended him to take the position of your knight. after all, his word is absolute."

this was just a snide way of the old emperor implying that he was indifferent towards you; his daughter. perhaps he was trying to kill you off but his severe, deep rooted fear of angering the gods was holding him back — that is why he resorted to sending you such a weak looking man to 'protect' you, as he says.

✦ ₊ ♡ . ₊ ✦ . ♡ . ✦ ₊ ♡ . ₊ ✦ . ♡

"if you are uncomfortable with me, your highness, would you prefer i call upon the maids instead?" the blond speaks as his back is turned towards you; facing the wall with his hands behind his back.

it's been a few weeks since this blond has become your knight. the two of you are very much in your own worlds entirely—an odd match. everytime you try and converse with him, he finds every chance to run away—as if he doesn't want to be in the same room as you, as if it is a pain, as if it is a chore.

serving a female master surely might be.

"no, i'm-" you suck in a deep breath, trying to make the chain armour fit on your body. a woman's body was not suited for it since they were made for and used by men in war or sparring practice. "-ugh. fine."

the blond can hear you struggle from the way you're breathing hard. "you are the heir to the throne, are you not? why do you not leave the fighting and the physical combat to the knights instead?"

that strikes a nerve somewhere inside you.

clatter.

"you are my knight, are you not? why do you not leave the advising & nagging to the advisors instead?"

your knight turns to look at the dagger between his index and middle finger that you threw at him with incredible speed, and which he caught with ease.

"....forgive this fool's insolence."

william never seems to truly respect you. even when being insulted by your siblings or ministers while you're on your walks, he stays on the sidelines, takes on the role of a chameleon and stays utterly quiet.

"you have quick reflexes." your eyes shoot up, straightening yourself. the knight looks down to observe the dagger in his hand; ornamented with fine jewels and designs emblazoned onto the blade. "how much have you trained?" you question him.

"as much training as any knight was allowed to have, your royal highness." william murmurs quietly. dull, you think. he doesn't seem to have his own personality. a ragdoll or a puppet, of sorts.

"but you agree you are talented than most peers."

he hesitates. speaks: "i am proud of my capabilities."

that makes you smile, makes you think there's something there—not just this large wall he's put up.

willam watches as your body spins around, grabbing something long and sharp. it's only when you turn back that he understands what that object in your hand is, and what you're implying. "catch."

his gloved fist wraps around the metal of the sword. "..your royal highness," were you insinuating what he thought you were? surely you weren't.

"spar with me."

the blond winces at that, shaking his head furiously. "how could i? a lowly knight like me should never-" his body tenses up when he feels the sword's cool metal against his throat — right over his adam's apple.

"afraid you'll lose?" you arch an eyebrow.

william sighs. "my head, yes." he sucks in air. "i'm afraid i may accidentally hurt you, your grace."

"i thought you were proud of your skills."

"not at the cost of drawing your grace's blood."

a noise makes it's way out of you, something between a chortle and an unbelieving scoff. "you will draw blood from me either way, directly or indirectly, if you are too weak to protect me when i need you."

william has his eyebrows furrowed, but is silent. his gaze is as empty as always, always dead, never truly on you, never meeting your eyes. he looks somewhere far, far away. a place only he can see.

"..as you say, your grace."

✦ ₊ ♡ . ₊ ✦ . ♡ . ✦ ₊ ♡ . ₊ ✦ . ♡

you grip the hilt of your sword tightly. a thin line of sweat trickles down your brow, and you can feel a dull ache in your muscles from your relentless training. as the firstborn child and heir to the throne, you've pushed yourself to the limit, determined to prove your worth alongside the male knights.

william circles you warily, his keen eyes scanning for any openings, but he's hesitant in his movements. "i don't wish to hurt you, your grace," he says, his brows creased in concern. "perhaps we should call it off?"

you feel a flash of irritation at his words, you've worked hard every day, harder than any male knight so you can be acknowledged — even if by the slightest. "do not treat me as if i am a delicate wallflower. i am your equal right now; your opponent."

a fresh cut on his cheek oozes blood, and his sleeve is ripped, exposing a nasty bruise on his forearm. he winces when he feels a particularly strong pang of pain on each of them. he's also panting, just as you are. good, you think to yourself. he's getting tired.

"hff..haa.."

you can feel a slight sting on your own skin where william's blade had grazed you earlier. with a huff and a sudden flurry of movement, he lunges forward, sword slicing through the air. you parry the blow, the clash of steel ringing out across the training yard.

there was no doubt about this; he was strong. you could feel it when his blade clashed against yours and he pushed against you with an almost inhuman strength. your lips curve upwards. pushing back, you counterattack, raining a flurry of blows upon him.

"you seem.. exhausted, your grace." william observes. sweat pours down your face, and your muscles scream in protest, but you refuse to give an inch.

"not as much as—" you grunt. "—you, though."

william struggles to keep up, his brow furrowed in concentration as he desperately blocks your strikes. seizing an opening, you lunge forward and sweep his legs out from under him, sending him falling to the ground. he tries to get back up, tries to search for his sword beside him but is too panicked to actually calm himself down and find it. he freezes when he feels the tip of your blade stop just shy of his throat.

and his eyes go wide.

"yield," you command, your voice firm and unyielding.

william stares up at you, his expression a mix of admiration and begrudging respect. you truly are on a level of your own. his breath is ragged and his chest is heaving up and down. from his perspective down here you look almost ethereal. divine. to him, the sun behind you and you yourself seem and are the same.

no wonder the gods chose you from every other being, no wonder you are their favourite daughter.

"i yield." he mutters.

the training ground is basked in a hue of golden. the trees rustle with the winds. "your grace," his voice is trembling as he speaks. he had underestimated you and that lead to his loss. no—even if he had been as cautious as one can be, he would have still lost, he would have still been overpowered to this extent.

you let your sword drop with trembling hands, only now realising how much of a fierce opponent he himself was now that the adrenaline has left your body. "speak."

william shakily drops to his knees, his head bowed deep. his fingers only now find his sword and he raises it past his head, holding each side. "i pledge my eternal devotion to you," he declares, his voice ringing with conviction. "i shall be your sword, your shield, your most steadfast protector. wherever your path may lead, to the heavens or to hell; i will follow you."

william's gaze lifts, and you are struck by the unwavering adoration in his eyes — a reverence that borders on the divine. for the first time you see his eyes glow. he would not just die for you; he would conquer kingdoms, he would lay waste to armies, he would move mountains to ensure your victory.

"i will follow you to the very edges of the known and the unknown worlds, if you will have me. for your breath is the very reason for my own, and your triumph is the only salvation i seek."

a knight's pledge.

"..." you can only watch in silence. it's almost beautiful the way he speaks, the loyalty that finally blooms in his gaze and his mannerisms when he looks at you.

your heart is drumming — how long you've yearned to hear this; to have your own willing knight, to serve you even if having a woman as a master is considered shameful and looked down upon by others.

slowly, you reach out and grasp the dagger, your fingers closing around the ornate hilt.

"i accept your vow, sir william," you say, your voice infused with the same reverence that shines in his eyes. william realizes that it's the first time you've spoken his name, and what a blissful thing it is, to finally serve someone worthy. "i will gladly have you at my side, as my most trusted knight.. and friend."

he smiles almost triumphantly and brings the back of your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss onto it.

in that moment, you know that with william by your side, there is nothing you cannot accomplish. for in his eyes, you are not just a mere princess, but a goddess, his goddess. a saviour — one to worship.

"thank you."

[tinfoil-jones]

Gravity Falls: A Few Minutes Won't Hurt

Summary: Alternative Title: Repressed Baptist Seduces Menace to Society. I said I would post the smut chapter in CH.13 of For Your Own Good if that chapter got 10 reviews, and I got those within like 2 hours. Well, I'm an author of my word(s), so here's your NSFW Fiddlestan content. Cross-posted on AO3 Here.

One shot from my other work, "For Your Own Good", but you don't necessarily need to read it first to read this.

Rating: E for language and sexual content. Also this whole thing is just smut with some plot and feelings.

WARNING: TW/ Mentioned past sexual abuse.

Of all the things Fiddleford thought he was willing to do to help his dear friend and colleague Stanford, seducing his identical twin brother to buy time while he fixed the houses power grid was not one of them.

While Stanford didn't ask him to do this specifically, he had asked him to distract Stan just long enough for him to get the power back up. And what else was he to do?

Drugging him was an option, but keeping him here against his will was already morally objectionable, he didn't want to add drugging him against his will (again) too. He had at least some standards here compared to Ford. Plus, Stan had an alarmingly high tolerance to substances anyways. He still shivered in remembrance of the crushed Ambien incident.

Brute force was also an option, but Fiddleford had no weapons on him. Hand-to-hand combat? Fiddleford was a lot stronger than his willowy build would lead others to believe. He grew up on a farm with hogs, and he had the strength to back it up. But Stan was a fighter - not just a fighter, but someone who's lived the past decade having to fight to survive. Fiddleford has personally seen what a rat in a corner can turn into, and he wasn't going to see what happened when the same thing happened with an adult man who was bigger than him. Not to mention, on the way downstairs, Fiddleford saw the man had already grabbed the items Ford had confiscated from him when he was brought in the first time, which included a switchblade and pair of knuckle dusters. It didn’t matter how strong Fiddleford was, when he was completely unarmed and Stan was most definitely not.

Reasoning with him?

There was no reasoning with him - and what could Fiddleford possibly tell him? That he needed to be held captive against his will in some mad scientist's basement in the middle of the woods? Stan couldn't even be convinced Stanford was really his twin and they looked almost exactly the same.

So that left, as Stan so eloquently put it, a 'honey trap'. Stan had been flirting with him relentlessly since they met and Fiddleford had to bet all of his chips on the chance that Stan was actually attracted to him, and not just doing it to mess with him. Although not a betting man, Fiddleford must have made the right bet because now he was pinned against the wall, chest-to-chest with one wrist being held over his head, and a chapped pair of lips against his own.

Maybe, just maybe, Fiddleford was just looking for an excuse…

Given Stan's initial aggression, Fiddleford had fully expected the vagabond to go all-in on this encounter - with tongue, teeth, groping, and all. Yet, Stan was only kissing him - firm, but not rough, and no tongue. The grip on his wrist wasn't even hard, almost like it was a suggestion or invitation. With the power out, most of the lights in the basement laboratory were also out, but there were just enough autonomously-powered machines down there to keep them out of the pitch dark.

Stan put his remaining hand on Fiddlefords shoulder and lightly pushed it down, exposing more of his neck. He withdrew from the kiss and started instead planting butterfly kisses on the engineer's neck and throat. Just enough pressure to make Fiddleford feel hot under the collar, but not enough to leave marks.

Flustered at this almost romantic treatment, Fiddleford wrapped his free arm around Stan's waist, pulling him closer- close enough to rub their crotches together. Fiddleford had already undone his belt and zipper, leaving his trousers halfway down his thighs with only his briefs covering him, while Stan was still fully dressed save for his hoodie which he'd slid off earlier.

He noted Stan stiffened up for a second, but then relaxed again. Curious. He was so eager about this, and yet he was showing some signs of what seemed to be apprehension. Fiddleford would have to keep an eye on that, he wasn't going to do this if Stan actually didn't want to.

Stan nuzzled his chin and then moved onto trailing kisses along his jaw.

Fiddleford chuckled and turned his head to peck his lips "Stan," he teased with a heavy breath "I didn't realize you were such a gentleman."

Stan didn't respond, instead letting go of Fiddlefords wrist, which quickly moved down to hold the other man's hip.

"May I?" Fiddleford asked, thumbing the hem of his jeans - Stan didn't wear a belt, likely because of his thicker gut. Stan nodded, and took a step back.

Fiddleford turned them around so Stan's back was against the wall instead, and he was in front of him. Licking his lips a bit, Fiddleford undid the button and zipper of Stan's jeans before kneeling down and yanking both his jeans and boxers down to his knees.

A slight, full-body tremour ran through Stan's body and he almost seemed to back up even more against the wall as he was exposed. He wasn't completely hard yet, but his tip had a generous bead of precum already forming.

Fiddleford licked his lips again- usually this wasn't something he did, because his throat was sensitive, but given Stan's other actions so far he doubted he was going to try to face fuck him like so many other guys tended to do.

Fiddleford licked him from base to tip, before eagerly engulfing just the head. He didn't want to start off with too much all at once, he wanted to savour this a little bit. He heard Stan gasp aloud but abruptly stop.

He looked up as he slowly took in more of his length- he was surprised to see Stan had slapped his hand over his mouth, presumably to keep quiet. He was looking down at Fiddleford however, and when their eyes met his face turned an interesting shade of red and his eyes rounded out just slightly, almost like he didn't expect Fiddleford to look at him at all.

Fiddleford took in about half of him - that was enough to ease his throat for a moment, and he could feel the appendage swell and stiffen under his ministrations, giving him a perverted sense of pride.

He felt Stan place a hand on top of his head, and he quickly exhaled through his nose as he mentally prepared himself to be fucked in the throat and his hair to be yanked. Which was always fun, but he preferred taking his time.

However, that isn't what happened. Thick, calloused fingers tangled into his sandy blond locks, but not enough to pull at his scalp, and instead began stroking his hair back. Hesitant at first, before finding a clear rhythm to follow.

It was Fiddlefords turn to blush. All of this gentleness was the exact opposite of what he expected from Stan and he almost felt guilty for even assuming the vagabond would be rough or demanding. Fiddleford shoved his free hand down his briefs and gripped his own member, palming himself best he could in his current position.

Humming, he started to bob his head - slowly at first, but picking up pace after a few tests on his throat. He internally pouted that the only response he was receiving was well-muffled noises he had to strain to hear.

Fiddleford pulled his mouth off of Stan's dick, leaving an obscene string of saliva between himself and the weeping tip. "Stan," he said, looking up at the other man, who seemed confused, "I want to hear you." When a look of uncertainty crossed the vagabond's eyes, he added "There isn't anyone down here besides you and me, and the cameras don’t work right now, it's okay."

Stan slowly removed his hand from covering his mouth, and Fiddleford flashed him a small approving smile before quickly swallowing down most of his length in one movement.

"Fuck-!" Stan gasped, his tone so surprised and lewd it made it worth Fiddlefords now stimulated gag reflex. Fiddleford felt himself harden up even more and he jerked himself with even more vigor. It'd be a good time now to switch to the main act, but it sure would be a shame if he didn't get a taste... especially with that deep, pretty moaning egging him on like this.

Though his hand movements stayed light and affectionate, Stan began to shake and stutter "-F, g-gonna-... I-Im close."

Fiddleford used the hand on Stan's hip to press him against the wall as far as he could, while taking his entire member, gag reflex be damned. Stan practically cried out as he cummed, and Fiddleford swallowed it all eagerly even if he had to cough a bit because of his now angry throat. It took a few strokes for Fiddleford to follow him in release, and his hand was cramping because he hadn't pulled himself out of his underwear to do so but he couldn't force himself to care about that right now.

Fiddleford slowly pulled off, feeling Stan's fingers continue to stroke his hair, albeit a bit clumsily with the aftershocks still wracking his body. "Y-You're pretty good at that, stretch." The brunet chuckled breathily, and Fiddleford felt his own face go hot "What else are you good at?"

Swiftly wiping his mouth with his lab coat sleeve, Fiddleford stood up again and cupped Stan's cheek with his hand, lightly rubbing his jaw with his thumb, which Stan leaned into almost unconsciously, his pupils dilating even further.

Fiddleford brought his face close to Stan's, close enough to feel each other's heavy breaths. "You're just the sweetest thing - like a summer peach. How about I show what else I can do?"  He offered, boldly moving his hand from Stan's hip down to his ass.

Stan breathed out a small laugh "Think you could handle me?"

"Only if you want me to."

Stan relaxed a bit more at that "All yours, specs... You got a condom?"

"Yes-" Fiddleford hastily felt around his jeans for his wallet, and after fumbling a moment Stan got a thoughtful look in his eye before reaching down to his own discarded jeans and sheepishly handing the engineer the wallet. "You stole my wallet while I was-"

"Force of habit. Sorry." Stan apologized, though Fiddleford doubted this would hinder him from doing it again in the future.

Rolling his eyes, Fiddleford rifled through it for a condom, which he quickly produced "Do you have lube?" He asked thoughtfully, though he doubted it. He personally wasn't against using spit but he knew it wasn't that effective.

"Don't need it." Stan answered a bit too quickly. When Fiddleford gave him a curious look, he added "I had some fun in the bathroom while you guys were gone."

"Is that all you do when you're left to your devices?" Fiddleford teased, even as felt his lower regions twitch back to life at the implication. "I must say I'm almost intimidated to be entertaining someone so... voracious."

"Did you eat a dictionary for breakfast this morning, specs?" Stan teased back, rolling his eyes "I don't exactly have a lot of stuff I can do down here… bathroom’s the only private place."

Fiddleford leaned his head against Stan's shoulder and gave himself a few tugs to harden up again- just enough to properly apply the condom. Through the contact he could feel and hear the other man's breath hitch, and his heart rate increasing further. But he also started to... shiver? Just a little, subtle enough Fiddleford wouldn't have been able to see it, but enough he could feel it while being so physically close.

"Wait." Stan said as he abruptly put his hands on Fiddlefords shoulders just as Fiddleford finished applying the condom, not to push him away, just to get his attention. Fiddleford glanced back up at him to see his eyebrows knitted together in concern.

"What's wrong darlin?" He asked.

"Nothings 'wrong'," Stan insisted, but paused "you... You're nice, right? You'll be nice?"

"Nice...?" Fiddleford blinked in confusion.

"You're not going to try to fuck me so hard I'll bleed?" Stan clarified, and there was a grim edge to his tone, like asking Fiddleford to not hurt him was an exception and not a rule "You'll... stop if I asked you to?" There was hesitation when he asked, as if he was overstepping and asking for a favour.

Fiddlefords eyes widened "Of course- Stan of course I would stop if you wanted to stop! Why would you think..." He trailed off when Stan's eyes almost seemed to dull, and grew a bit shiny, a hint of tears.

"I was in prison, Fiddleford." He explained, slowly, strained, "The guys there aren't like you... they don't ask. They're not nice."

"..." In spite of the compromising position and state of undress they were in, Fiddleford straightened up and pulled Stan into a tight hug, which surprised Stan but he didn't push him away "Oh Stan," he said, kissing his cheek lightly "I'm so sorry. You didn't deserve that. No one deserves that."

Breath slightly shaky, Stan didn’t return the embrace, but hid his face against Fiddlefords hair. Considering Stan’s tendency to talk about various traumatic experiances as if it were a joke or a point of pride, this must have been the first true moment of vulnerability the vagabond had allowed himself in who knows how long. At least, the first one that Fiddleford had seen himself.

"We don't have to do this, we can stop here." Fiddleford assured him, but Stan shook his head.

"I want to- I want you. I like you a lot. I just... I don't want it to be like the other times..."

Fiddleford nodded and pecked his cheek again. "Okay... I'm going to pick you up and we can do this against the wall, is that alright with you?"

Stan quirked a brow "I'm fine with that position, but are you sure? I'm not light." True, not only was Fiddleford considerably thinner, but despite one of Stan's nicknames for him being ‘stretch’, he was also a touch shorter than both of the Stan twins.

“Saddle up, city boy.” Fiddleford said with a wink, before abruptly grabbing Stan by the hips and lifting him straight off of his feet, balancing him between the leaning forward of his own hips and the wall.

“Woah- ah.” Stan briefly gasped in surprise before quickly throwing his arms over Fiddlefords neck, and his legs around his hips, clinging for what he perceived to be dear life. But Fiddleford didn’t seem to struggle holding him up at all, as though he were as light as a feather. “I-if you fucking drop me…”

“I won’t, don’t you worry none.” Fiddleford assured. When he was sure Stan was holding onto him tightly enough, and leaned forward so he could have him more properly pinned between himself and a wall, he let go of him with one hand - pausing to make sure Stan wasn’t unbalanced - and reached down to grasp onto his own cock. He was still a bit sensitive and flaccid from his recent orgasm, but that was going to change very soon. “Are you ready? This might sting a little.”

Stan just nodded, still keeping his arms over Fiddlefords neck but leaning back slightly, trying to keep his body as slack as possible, allowing the engineer to slip inside of him with little resistance, though Stan did still hiss slightly through his teeth.

“Lord have- mphh.” Fiddleford moaned as he pushed up, pulling Stan down enough to where he could be fully hilted. He felt very soft inside- and so, so warm. He could tell from the few times they’d physically interacted before this that Stan ran a bit hot, but nothing like this. It was enough to make his head dizzy, enough for a rare swear word to slip out of him “Fuck, you feel good.”

“You too.” Stan muttered next to his ear, before burying his face into Fiddlefords neck. For a moment they both just stayed like that so Stan could adjust to the intrusion properly. After a few moments, Fiddleford rolled his hips upward, softly, experimentally, and when Stan gave him a slight hum of approval, he continued to do so with more vigor.

Gravity did most of the work for him, he could push Stan upward as softly as he wanted but he always came down much harder and that was the friction that was driving the engineer insane. It didn’t take long for Fiddleford to start snapping his hips up in tandem with the other man coming down on him. He would have started pulling him down if he didn’t remember Stan’s anxiety about being treated rough.

Stan shifted his arms from over Fiddlefords neck so he could cup his face with his hands- his eyes were still as impish as ever, but they were hazed over, Fiddleford could only register that fog as lust before Stan pulled his face in so they could kiss again. Fiddleford fluttered his eyes closed and breathed heavily through his nose as he daringly introduced tongue- something which Stan allowed this time around.

As sweet as Stan;s more romantic inclinations were, Fiddleford was honestly very pent up. Yes, he’ll admit privately to himself at this moment - might as well, he was balls deep in the other man - that yes, he had been using the honey trap as an excuse. Stan had been so relentless with his attention and flirting that it’d been increasingly difficult to not feel a certain way about it in these past weeks.

Stan was crude and used dark humour to cover his multitude of trauma’s, and he made it no secret he was an unabashed scoundrel who would jump right back into criminal mischief the minute he could. And his uncanny resemblance to Stanford had made Fiddleford a bit uneasy at first - how could he possibly be attracted to someone who looked exactly like his best friend? What did that say about Fiddleford? And there was the most glaring issue of Fiddleford being an accomplice to Stanford holding Stan prisoner against his will.

Wanting to have sex with your best friends identical twin? That was bad enough. Wanting to have sex with someone you were holding captive in a basement in the middle of the woods? That was just immoral, unethical, and illegal. 

Those issues didn’t go away, per se, with this encounter. But there wasn’t anything Fiddleford could do to physically keep Stan from tossing him aside like a tumbleweed and just leaving, so Stan had only agreed to a quickie because he wanted to. If that really wasn’t the case, Fiddleford didn’t think he could forgive himself.

But it was really difficult for the sinner to hate the sin when said sin was this tight and hot around his dick, stimulating the nerves in his groin so much that shocks of pleasure shot up and clouded any thoughts Fiddleford had involving logic and ethics.

“Hey, you.” A flick against his temple brought him back out of his head, he could see that Stan had separated from the kiss and they were just panting each others hot breaths again “Pay attention to me, won’t cha?”

When all Fiddleford could do was nod dumbly and snap his hips up and not respond with actual words because absolutely no blood was going to his brain, Stan let out a shaky laugh - pretty close to a yelp given its timing with a particularly steep thrust - before grabbing his shoulders and pushing at them slightly to get his attention.

“Y-You’re pretty tightly wound, huh? Lemme do some of the work here.” Stan offered, and motioned behind both of them “Sit in that chair and I’ll ride you.” Fiddleford nodded and made sure he had a tight grip over him before walking a few feet backwards - Stan was not a fan of this - until he was seated in the chair.

“You coulda just put me down…” Stan huffed, although this didn’t deter him from scooting up a bit before sinking back down, letting out a pleased sigh as he took in all of Fiddleford, and pausing. Fiddleford gripped Stan’s hips with both of his hands, tempted to start moving him himself but deciding to instead watch what the other man would do. 

Stan at first grinded his hips down in a small, circular motion, before beginning to lift himself up, and then dropping back down while tightening around him, making them both moan in unison. Keeping one hand on Fiddlefords shoulder, he moved his other hand down to stroke himself in time with his movements.

“Was this- hhah- what you were thinkin’ bout earlier?” Fiddleford began, voice straining to stay even “When you were diddlin yourself?”

Stan paused abruptly and really seemed to consider stopping entirely before continuing his current movements, jolting slightly in pleasure when Fiddleford thrusted upward into him just as he was moving down “Th-that country accent is cute and all, but if you say that word again I’m out.” He chided gruffly, still actively palming his wet and swollen member.

“Not answering my question, darlin.” Fiddleford teased a bit, though he knew he was pushing his luck against Stan’s patience, so he didn’t tease any further when Stan didn’t answer. Maybe after the fact.

Pressure built up in his lower abdomen, good pressure, and Fiddleford felt like a knot being pulled as taut as possible, about to snap-

“Oh f-fuck I’m gonna fucking cum.” Stan practically whined out, unknowingly voicing his partners thoughts. His movements on Fiddleford became uneven and frantic and as did his hand around his dick, his eyes rounding out but his pupils constricting as he became wholly focused on reaching that peak. Tightening his non dominant hand on Stan’s hip. Fiddleford reached over with his other hand to replace Stan’s, taking over his rough jerking with a firm but more delicate touch, much easier with all of the precum he was leaking out.

“Loooord, Stan-. L-like that, just like that-.” Fiddleford rambled, his entire body and especially his face burning “You’re doin so good- you feel so good, I don’t wanna stop-.” If he weren’t so busy pitching woo, Fiddleford might have noted how strange it was that Stan had dug his hands into his hoodie pockets and taking them out just as quickly, but it was so quick he might not have noticed anyways. 

Fiddleford was the first to cum this time, causing him to tighten his grip over Stan's length as he impulsively rolled his hips for friction to ride out his orgasm, it sent Stan down the same cascade of release; Fiddleford coming with almost a shout, and Stan with a moan similar to a deep sigh.

Fiddleford hadn’t even started coming down from the high of peaking before Stan abruptly shoved his mouth against him, while also grabbing his wrists and pinning them down on the armrests on either side of the chair. The roughness surprised Fiddleford, but maybe this is just how Stan got right before the afterglow? Regardless, Fiddleford wasn’t complaining, he simply fluttered his eyelids closed and returned the kiss; despite the aggressive entrance, the kiss itself was as gentle and almost chaste as the ones they’d started with. 

Riiip

"Uh-? Huh?” Fiddleford broke away from the kiss at the strange, sharp sound he heard to his left; he looked over to his left to see that his hand on that side was now zip-tied to the armrest, before he could react properly he heard the same ripping sound as before and looked over bewildered to see Stan had just finished securing another ziptie on his other wrist, rending Fiddleford stuck to the chair and unable to free either of his wrists.

“I’m really sorry about this.” Stan muttered as he pulled off of him; he kneeled down to reach over to tuck Fiddleford’s now flaccid cock back into his pants, and quickly re-doing his fly and belt for him. Once he finished with that, he walked over to his own discarded pair of boxers and jeans and yanked them both back onto himself.

“Wait.” Fiddleford almost stammered “Did you just-? Why?”

“I gotta say, I didn’t think you had it in you specs.” Stan said as he dressed himself again, and in spite of what they’d just been doing less than a minute before, Fiddleford felt himself flush. “You’re more devious than I thought you were. Unfortunately, you weren’t going to out-scheme me.” With the nearby sink, Stan quickly washed his hands and wetted some paper towels, and briskly walked back to wipe up the cum he’d practically sprayed onto Fiddlefords chest. 

 “Did you plan this?”

“I probably woulda fought you if you tried stopping me in other ways.” Stan admitted “But I told ya, honey traps are one of the oldest tricks in the book. A reverse honey trap? People don't see that one coming, not even smart ones like you.”

Fiddleford huffed to himself - on one hand, he did feel some humiliation for his own plan backfiring against him; on the other hand, it was Stan's cleverness and gile that had endeared him to the vagabond in the first place. “So what was that to you, then?”

Stan was still kneeling in front of him, pausing right after he tossed the dirty paper towels into the nearby wastebasket. For his part, he did look conflicted. “I meant what I said earlier, Fiddleford.” He told him, standing up just enough to lean over and kiss his cheek “I like you a lot. And I had a great time with you just now. But I didn’t break out of five prisons just to rot in some mad scientist's basement, no matter how hot his assistant is.”

Fiddleford felt his heart skip a beat. The whole time Stan had been down here, he went out of his way to not use his or Stanford’s names, he went out of his way to exclusively refer to them by nicknames. But one particular behavioral quirk Fiddleford noticed in Stan was that he did know their names, but he would only use them if he was being sincere. Given his unscrupulous disposition, that wasn’t often. 

“I like you too, Stan. I’m not saying that to trick you or keep you here.” Fiddleford replied, Stan nodded and briefly pecked his temple before standing fully upright and taking a few steps back.

“I wish we coulda met some other way, but I’m glad I did meet you. In the future, if you ever make friends who aren’t insane, and I’m not dead in a ditch somewhere, we should meet up again. If you want to.” Stan turned heel and started his way up the stairs and out of the basement.

Fiddleford didn’t have a response; what could he possibly say? He’d played a game and lost because he underestimated the other player. 

He waited for Stan to be out of earshot, before muttering out loud to himself. “Stanford owes me after this… He owes me big time.”

Just as he finished that sentiment, all of the lights flickered on, and many machines whirred back to life. The power was restored.

The End… Go Home.

[fanon-canon-idfk]

your BEAST Daza fanfic was truly amazing will there be a part 2 cuz like if there's a part 2 I kinda wanna see like the reader dating chuuya and beast dazai reaction to this

OMG I LOVE YOU

THERE WASNT GONNA BE A PART 2 BUT NOW THERE IS BC THIS IS TOO GOOD

BEAST Dazai Osamu x Male Reader x Nakahara Chuuya pt 2

You had just got off your late Night Shift, leaving home the same time as everyone else. That’s when Nakahara came up to you as you walked out of the building.

You assumed Dazai was asking for your presence again, “Isn’t it a bit late for him to want me right now?” You complained, yet still began turning around to walk back to the building.

But then, Nakahara grabbed your arm and held you back “He’s not askin’ for you. I just want to talk.” He mumbled the last bit.

“Oh um.. what is it?” You turn towards him fully.

He looks around for a bit then asks “You wanna grab a bite to eat? I know a good place.” You could’ve sworn you saw a slight tint of red on his face as he spoke.

You thought for a moment. While Dazai kept you out of his personal life, he was sure well versed in your own.

But it was just grabbing a bite right? You supposed the boss wouldn’t really mind you just having a friendly interaction.

Nakahara waited anxiously for your response, about to just say never mind and walk away until you finally answered.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that” you smiled, Nakahara smiled back in relief.

And that’s how the two of you began seeing each other.

He’d find you after work and take you out. Then you finally asked for his number so you could talk outside of work as well.

All the while, you were still having your “meetings” with Dazai.

And he could tell your mind was somewhere else, always drifting at some point, and this was getting annoying.

So he began having a few lackeys follow you around and see what was going on in your life.

At first what they reported to him was harmless, he really didn’t care that you were hanging out with Chuuya, to him it was just one more eye to keep on you.

However, he didn’t tell Chuuya he had been watching the both of you. Y’know, just in case.

He had no reason to worry.

Chuuya was nothing to worry about.

Until he was.

Dazai had called you up for yet another “meeting”, these days they had been getting more and more frequent.

As Chuuya left the room, he gave you a smile in passing.

Things went as usual, small talk not lasting too long before his hands were on you.

He held your face so tenderly, kissed you gently, comfortably laid himself in your arms, all like a real lover.

And you kissed him back so carefully, softly traced circles in his back as you held his waist, and looked into his dark eyes, all like your heart belonged to him alone.

And then again, it was over, and he was your boss and you, his subordinate who had given up on anything real with him.

You walk out of his office and just as you walk out the door and begin to turn to the corridor, Chuuya is there leaning against the wall.

“Oh Chuuya, you can go ahead back in now. We’re.. done.” You feel your face heat up slightly at the mention of what just happened.

“I’ll go.. in a sec.” He replies blankly, not looking at you once.

“Is something the matter?” You place a hand on his shoulder, only for him to grab your wrist tightly.

“I can’t take it anymore..” he seethed, you thought he could’ve broke your wrist if he gripped any tighter.

Before anything like that could happen, he just released your wrist completely before letting himself fall into your chest.

“Chuuya..?” You looked down at him worriedly.

“I hate him.. why does he get to kiss you..? To love you..?” His fists clenched and shook as he spoke.

“What are you saying..?” You asked worriedly.

He lifted his head slightly and looked up at you, opening his mouth to speak.

But then he caught a glimpse of Dazai’s lackey’s walking toward the both of you.

He pushed away from you and walked right back to Dazai’s office without a word.

You stood in shock, what the hell just happened? What is Chuuya saying? He hates the boss for kissing you..?

Then your phone buzzes in your pocket, a message from Chuuya.

It’s an address, a bar out of town?

“We’ll talk later.”

After work you drove straight to the location Chuuya sent you, pulling up to a small bar in between two larger buildings.

You walked in and scanned the area until you saw your coworker sitting hunched over the bar, hat removed and placed on a seat by his side.

Chuuya was a bit tipsy by now, not drunk though, he was well aware of your hesitant frame and worried eyes approaching him.

He looks over and nods at you, removing his hate from the seat so you could sit.

You sat down quietly, then you spoke.

“What’s going on Chuuya?” You questioned, turning to face him.

“I.. I like you, a lot. I might as well be fucking in love with you.” He groaned, dropping his face between his hands.

You watched as his ears turn red, even his gloves weren’t hiding the trembling of his hands.

“Chuuya?” You called for his attention but he just grumbled.

“Chuuya, look at me. Please..?” Your tone was soft.

He slowly turned his head to you, only one eye look toward you.

You scooted in closer, tilting your head to get a better view of his eye.

“I love you too.” You smiled, his eye widened and Chuuya jolted up completely and looked you in the eyes to be sure you were genuine.

He exhaled shakily, moving toward you quickly and wrapping his arms around your neck tightly.

You returned the hug just as tight, smiling widely.

After a long while, you both laughed lightly as you separated.

And that’s how you became the loving boyfriend of Nakahara Chuuya.

And that’s also how Chuuya put a large target on his own back.