#danger serpent girls

[coryosbaby]

Mascara || T. Riddle

Fandom: ‘Harry Potter’

Pairing: Young! Tom Riddle x fem! Ravenclaw! Reader

｡.｡ ♡ Content warning . Public sex, praise & degradation, cum play, sub! Reader, dom! Tom

Notes: set in modern day Hogwarts. I never thought i’d want to fuck Voldemort but here we are.

Your feet patter softly against the tile floors of Hogwarts, a book clutched tightly in your arms as you make your way towards the school’s library. It’s a rainy night, incredibly quiet and empty. The other students are at dinner, and you’ve decided to skip out to study for your OWLs. When you open the big wooden doors to the library, the smell of printed ink and old pages invites you further in.

The first thing you notice, when you close the doors behind you and take sight of the room, is that the librarian, Madam Pince, is no where to be found. She must be on her break.

The second thing you notice is the boy sitting in the darkest corner of the room.

You know of the familiar brunette— of course you do. Who wouldn’t? Tom Riddle is a popular slytherin well known for his cunningness, his intelligence, his ability to speak native tongues— and sometimes, his temper. A ravenclaw yourself, you try to steer clear of him. Slytherins usually don’t take politely to anyone outside of their house. Not to mention the fact that you scored the top of your class, with him coming in close second. You suspect that he hates you for that.

He catches your gaze, brown eyes with the resemblance of a serpent. He looks back down at his book, seeming bored.

You let out a breath of air.

You slide your book into the return bin, timidly moving to the shelf about Potions. Snape has been really hassling you lately on your grades, and you really need to turn your B+ into a perfect A. Your fingertips skim over the leathered binds, reading title after title. A voice behind you makes you jump.

“If you’re studying for Snape’s final, I’d recommend ‘Advanced Potion Making’. It will tell you all you need to know.”

His voice is an angelic lilt, though you know that is not in any way what he resembles. The fact that he’s helping you stumps you into utter confusion, and heat creeps up your neck. You nod to him as you begin searching for the book.

To no avail. Your eyes search every bind, every word, but your focus has been diluted because of Tom speaking to you. He sighs, almost annoyed.

He appears beside you, much to your surprise. You nervously bite your lip as he finds the exact book he recommended and pushes it into your hands.

“Chapter nine. I would’ve thought a girl of your ranking in our class would know this already.”

Your brows furrow, embarrassment coursing through you as he sits back down and resumes his tasks. You nervously fumble with the book.

“Thank you.” You reply, because you had been taught proper manners. He scoffs, flicking through the pages of his book. You can’t read the title, though the cover is quite off put ish and dark. Perhaps he had snuck into the restricted section.

“Don’t.”

You frown, though your mind is peaking with curiosity. He seems rude, but he was trying to help you. Maybe there’s something nice under there, after all. Your body is stiff as you sit across from him at the table, silently pleading to God that the boy across from you won’t put a nasty hex on you.

“You don’t have to be rude, you know.”

It slips out of your lips, quiet and unsure. Tom’s eyes narrow at you.

“And as well as that, you don’t have to sit across from me.”

“Perhaps I want to. Perhaps you need a friend.”

“A friend?” He chuckles dryly, his gaze travelling down to your robes. You try to ignore the heat creeping between your legs. “We aren’t going to be friends.”

His insinuation is thick, dangerous. Your heart pounds out of your chest at this unexpected turn of your study hour. You gulp, looking down at the pages.

“Very well then. But since I’ve already sat down, I might as well continue my book here.”

“Or we could continue this conversation in my dorm room.”

He says it smoothly, with no fear or utmost insecurity.

“What?” You blanch, stuttering on your syllables. Tom smirks.

“A smart girl like you, and you can’t even comprehend a single sentence,” he says, his body beginning to move out of his chair. “‘S pathetic, really…”

You breath hitches as his tall form towers over you. Your fingertips grasp the sides of your chair as he leans in close.

“Tom,” you start, warningly. He quirks a brow.

“No?” He questions, and then after a moment, staring into your doe eyes, it dawns on him. His mouth forms into a grin. “Oh, you want it here, don’t you? You want it right here.”

His lips brush just inches over your pouty lips, and you wonder how in the hell you got into this situation and why this slytherin boy is making such a sudden move on you. But knowing Tom, it’s probably out of boredom. Out of the desire for a hook up.

You don’t mind it. Not really, not anymore, because all your protests are ripped away from you when he presses his lips to yours. It’s not tender or sweet, it’s full of sharp teeth and unfiltered lust. His hands rest on your chin, gripping your head so you can’t escape his kiss— can’t escape him.

Your tongue is about to graze his lips when he pulls away. His fingers grasp your shoulder and pull you up to your feet. You stumble, your legs shaky from just a couple of kisses. You gasp when he spins you around and presses your face against one of the nearest bookshelves. His big hands wrap around your wrists and hold them behind your back.

“I don’t want to hear any complaints from you. Do you understand me?” He whispers, his hands reaching down to lift up your robes. “If I do, I’ll leave you here drenched, your clothes gone, with your holes freshly fucked and on display for the entire school to see. Do you understand me?”

You nod instantly. You know that these aren’t empty threats; when Tom says he’s going to do something, he’ll do it.

When he pulls up your robes, taking in the sight of your pretty pink thong, he lets out a sharp breath.

“Prepared, weren’t you?”

You let out a whine, knowing that no, this wasn’t intentional. Tom just caught you on a specific type of day. But looking on it now, maybe the universe was being in your favor when you decided to pick out the flimsy undergarment.

Tom slips the hem of your robes into your hands.

“Hold it.” He commands, and you’re quick to comply.

His hardness presses against you, clothed still but his robes are lifted so he can rut against you in his briefs. It isn’t long before he’s pulling them down past his thighs, his cock sprinting up into the air as he places himself against you once again. You can’t help but drip with need, canting your hips back against him. His cock presses in between the seam of your ass, and you rub against him like a bitch in heat.

And just like a bitch in heat, you purr.

“Tommy..” you let out, and his grip on your hips tighten. “Please?”

He scoffs at the nickname, though his bottom lip is caught roughly between his teeth and he’s trying to contain himself. He wraps his hand around his awaiting length, parts your thighs with the other, and slides his dick up against your throughly aroused pussy.

He’s warm, sticky. You wish you could’ve seen him before this, seen that thing that feels oh so heavy between your legs, but it’ll have to wait. Hopefully, there will be a next time.

When he slides in, it stretches you obscenely. This isn’t your first time, but there’s a burning sensation as he enters you. He’s got the perfect amount of thickness and length to pull a moan deep from your throat.

He doesn’t start slow. His hips smack against yours at a rapid pace, small grunts leaving his silky lips as he uses you like a common whore. Your hands grip your robes and the bookshelf at the same time, trying to keep steady as Tom fills you to the brim. He noses along your jaw and leaves wet, open kisses there. You mewl when he bites down harshly and sucks a mark into your skin.

“Such a tight little cunt you have,” Tom breathes, his fingertips bruising your hips. “Look at you, such a slut for my cock. Does it feel good? Tell me, tell me how it feels.”

Your thighs squeeze him, your mouth gaping open in utter ecstasy. Your words are caught in your throat, but Tom is quick to force them out of you with a spank to your ass. You moan, your forehead pressing against the bookshelf’s wooden edge.

“Yes! Yes, it feels so good…” you slur, entranced by the spice of his cologne and the feeling of his girthy length splitting you open. He grunts, bucking his hips into you with vigor.

“And I bet it’s the best you’ve had, isn’t it? All those other boys can’t do it for you. I’m the only one that fucks you this good.”

It’s true, and when his cockhead hits a spot deep inside you that has you keening, your legs quiver and your brain turns to jelly. Tom’s fingers place themselves around your neck and squeeze so hard that your vision blurs at the edges, and you’re enthralled by the fear that courses through your veins. He’s playing your life in his hands like it’s a shiny new toy.

He fucks you like a madman as you gasp and beg for air. Tears spill out of your eyes, salty and wet and Tom takes notice.

“Crying?” He sneers, pounding you so hard that you’re sure the bookshelf will leave bruises as it presses against you. “You’re pathetic. A pathetic, filthy little girl.”

“Mmmhhh..” you cry out. Your eyes roll back as you utter incoherent sounds. He growls.

“Do you want me to cum inside you?” And then, with a harsh grip on your hair, “I want to hear you say it. Beg me. Beg me to fill you, whore.”

Your eyes shut tight, and your hands clasp around his wrists as he loosens his grip on your throat.

“Please,” your voice is a gasp as you finally get oxygen unto your system. “Please, Tom, f-fill me up. Cum inside me.”

A small, throaty groan escapes his lips, and with one last desperate thrust he’s spilling balls deep inside your drooling cunt. His cum spills over the cusp of your used entrance, and when he’s done fucking it into you he pulls out with a sharp exhale.

You can feel his cum spill out of your raw fucked hole, the creamy fluid dribbling down your thigh and dripping onto the carpet below. Your clit throbs mercilessly, still devoid of any attention, but Tom is quick to put a stop to that. He drops to his knees, then, and it’s a surprising gesture that you didn’t expect. He doesn’t seem like the type to get on his knees for anyone, let alone you. But his tongue lolls out of his mouth as he spreads your knees and catches his cum into his awaiting mouth. He licks up your hole, circling your clit with practiced precision. You let out a guttural sound when you hear the obscene noises of the cum spilling out of you, along with Tom’s mouth slurping at your cunt vigorously. He works at you over and over, and you clench when you feel yourself nearing your high. It’s almost embarrassingly quick, but you’ve been denied so long that you need to do it and you need to do it now.

“I’m going to…” you gasp out, as he rubs circles into your clit. He lets out a loud grunt against you, his mouth working harder. “I’m cumming—god, I’m cumming!”

Your orgasm washes over you, hits you like a tidal wave in the middle of an incredibly large ocean. Tom works his tongue and lets you ride out your high, and he sighs and pulls away from your pussy when you come down.

He’s gathered enough arousal to fill his mouth generously, and he kisses you flat on the lips. His tongue slides against yours and you can taste your shared arousal on him. You whimper, licking desperately at his salty spend, and it’s messy and sloppy and absolutely depraved. His teeth nip at you as you swallow it all down.

You’re dizzy, on shaky legs. You turn around, finally getting to see Tom’s face coated in your slick and his cum. He grins at you, and something twists in your gut so primal you feel you might burst.

“Better get to studying, Miss Y/L/N,” he says. “It’d be a shame if this missed study session made you fail your OWLs.”

[highinmiamiii]

MONEY POWER GLORY

club owner!joe kessler x exotic dancer

A/N: this piece goes hand in hand with @billybutcherxyou / @foxiewrites and I’s DBF!Butcher series. best to be read alongside their most recent post, so make sure to check that out first. (cw: themes of manipulation, power dynamics, implied threats, and mentions of the adult entertainment industry.) NO USE OF Y/N

summary: Kessler, the sleazy owner of Club Kess, where petal works, dangles promises of fame and fortune, but his intentions are far from pure. Highlighting petal’s willingness to play his game, even as she’s fully aware of the dangers that come with it.

—————

She walks into the dimly lit office at the back of the club, the heavy bass from the music outside thrumming through the walls. Kessler, the club’s owner, sits behind an oversized mahogany desk, a fine Cuban cigar smoldering between his fingers. The air is thick with the scent of smoke and the faint tang of his expensive cologne. His eyes, sharp and calculating, follow her as she approaches, amusement flickering in them.

“Ah, there she is,” Kessler purrs, his voice smooth like honey with an underlying edge that makes your skin crawl if you listen too closely. He leans back in his chair, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he gestures for her to sit. “My favorite girl.”

She offers him a small, confident smile, though there’s a tightness in her chest she can’t quite shake. She’s been working for him for some time now, just barely making enough to have a little extra cash after repaying her father’s debts and getting out of every negative situation. Billy still couldn’t seem to get off her ass. She’s good at what she does, and she’s determined to be more than just another one of Kessler’s showgirls.

Once she had even the slightest taste of financial freedom to splurge on a cute top or take herself out to lunch somewhere nice, she’d never go back to her old life. Her life had been full of losses, wins, failures, and falls.

Kessler’s gaze never wavers as she takes her seat across from him, the leather chair creaking slightly under her weight. He exhales a long plume of smoke, watching her with that same calculated amusement, like a cat playing with a mouse.

“I’ve been watching you,” Kessler continues, his eyes narrowing as he takes a drag from his cigar, the smoke curling around his face like a serpent. “You’ve got something… special. A spark, if you will.”

“You’ve been doing good work, sweetheart,” he says, the endearment slipping from his lips like it’s second nature. His voice carries a certain weight, commanding attention, respect, and maybe even a little fear. “Better than most of the girls who walk through that door.”

Her smile widens just a fraction; the words hit their mark. She’s been craving validation like this—something to tell her that all the hours, the effort, the sacrifices are worth it. The faint praise settles into her bones, stoking the fire she keeps burning inside.

“Well, I aim to please,” she replies smoothly, her voice laced with just the right amount of sultriness. She knows how to play her part, knows what Kessler wants to hear. And she’s more than willing to give it to him if it means getting what she wants in return.

Kessler’s smirk deepens, his eyes glittering with something dark, something dangerous. “That’s why you’re my favorite, baby,” he purrs, leaning forward slightly, his gaze locking onto hers with predatory intensity. “You’ve got the looks, the talent, the drive. Everything a girl needs to make it big. And I’m gonna make sure you do.”

She feels a thrill of anticipation run through her at his words. She’s been chasing this dream for as long as she can remember—the idea of being more than just another face in the crowd, of standing out, of having everything she’s ever wanted. Money, power, glory. The trifecta that’s kept her going through every hardship, every setback.

“A-anything, Mr. Kessler,” she says, her voice almost a whisper, leaning in slightly as if she’s afraid to miss a single word. “Tell me what I need to do.”

Kessler’s smile is almost fatherly as he leans back in his chair, taking another drag from his cigar. He likes this part—the moment they’re fully under his spell, ready to do whatever it takes to make his promises come true. He’s seen it a hundred times before, but there’s something about her that makes it all the more satisfying.

“It’s simple, really,” he says, his tone almost conspiratorial. “You just keep doing what you’re doing, baby—keep turning heads, keep bringing in the crowds. Make them want more of you, make them crave you. And when the time is right, when you’re ready, we’ll take that next step.”

He pauses, letting the words sink in, watching as her eyes widen just a fraction, her breath catching slightly in her throat. He’s got her, and he knows it.

“What next step?” she asks, her voice hushed, almost afraid of the answer.

Kessler’s smirk returns, sharper this time. “Movies, baby. Real stardom. You’ve got a face for the camera, and I’m gonna make sure you get there. But you have to trust me, follow my lead. Do that, and you’ll have everything that pretty little heart o’ yours desires.”

She bites her lower lip, a move she knows he finds irresistible, playing into the moment. It’s all she’s ever wanted to hear—the promise of something more, something bigger than the life she’s been living. Dealing with her asshole of a father and his gambling debts, instead of living the life of a normal girl her age, she was working the pole at Club Kess. She’s come too far to turn back now, and Kessler knows that. He’s got her wrapped around his finger, and she can’t even bring herself to care.

“I trust you,” she says, the words coming out easily, as if they were always meant to be spoken. “I’m a big girl, I can take it,” she adds cheekily.

Kessler chuckles, a low, dark sound that sends a shiver down her spine. He reaches out, brushing a thumb across her cheek, the touch as possessive as it is comforting.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, his voice rich with satisfaction. “Stick with me, baby, and I’ll make sure the whole world knows your name.”

She feels her heart pound with a mix of fear and excitement. She’s heard the rumors, knows what happens to the girls who fall out of Kessler’s favor, but she’s convinced it won’t happen to her. She’s different. She has to be.

He leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk, his gaze locking onto hers with predatory intensity. “You want more than just the dance floor. You want to be a star.”

The word hangs in the air between them, heavy with unspoken promises. She can feel the pull, the allure of everything she’s ever wanted, dangling just out of reach. But there’s a part of her, the smart part, that knows there’s always a catch when someone like Kessler is involved.

“I do,” she admits, keeping her voice soft, almost vulnerable, knowing that’s what he’s looking for. “But I know it’s not easy. I’m willing to work for it.”

Kessler’s grin widens, and for a moment, she can see the wolf behind the businessman. “That’s what I like to hear, sweetheart,” he says, his tone oozing with false sincerity. “You’re different. I see big things in your future. Movies, magazine covers, hell, maybe even your own show one day.”

The flattery is relentless, and she finds herself nodding along, even as a small voice in the back of her mind tells her not to fall for it. But it’s hard not to, especially when he leans in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

The words are intoxicating, and for a moment, she lets herself believe them. But then Kessler’s gaze hardens, just for a split second, and she catches a glimpse of the man behind the mask—the one who’s willing to destroy anyone who doesn’t play by his rules.

“But remember,” he adds, his tone shifting to something colder, more menacing, “this business is tough. It chews up the weak and spits them out. You keep up your end of the bargain, and I’ll keep up mine. But cross me… and, well, I’m sure you know what happens to girls who get on my bad side.”

She forces herself to smile, to play along with his game. “I won’t disappoint you, I promise,” she says, her voice smooth as silk, hiding the unease coiling in her gut.

“Good girl,” he replies, the smirk returning as he leans back in his chair, satisfied. “Now, go out there and show them what you’re made of. Got big plans for you.”

She nods, offering him one last smile before she turns.

As she’s about to leave, Kessler’s voice cuts through the lingering haze of cigar smoke. “Actually—hold on a sec, baby,” he drawls, his tone smooth but with an edge that halts her in her tracks. She looks over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow in silent question.

Kessler reaches into his desk drawer and pulls out an old Polaroid camera, the kind that spits out instant photos with a soft mechanical whirr. He holds it up, a sly grin spreading across his face. “One more thing before you go. Gotta get a picture to go with the others, yeah? Keeps things personal, keeps us close.”

She hesitates for a moment, feeling a strange twist in her gut. This wasn’t part of the usual routine, but then again, Kessler always liked to blur the lines. “A Polaroid?” she asks, forcing a light tone, though she can’t keep the edge of suspicion out of her voice.

Kessler chuckles, but it’s a low, menacing sound that sends a shiver down her spine. “Just for the collection,” he says, as if that explains everything. “A little keepsake for me. Nothing to worry your pretty little head about.”

The unease deepens, but she can see the challenge in his eyes, the unspoken command. He wants her to trust him, to play along. And if she refuses, if she makes a scene, she knows what that might mean for her future here.

So, she swallows her discomfort and flashes him her best smile, the one she reserves for customers she’s trying to impress. “Of course, Mr. Kessler,” she says sweetly, stepping closer to the desk.

Kessler’s grin widens as he raises the camera, the lens glinting in the dim light. “Say cheese, darling.”

She hears the click, followed by the whir of the camera spitting out the photo. Kessler catches it before it hits the desk, holding it by the edges as the image slowly develops.

She forces herself to stay calm, to keep that practiced smile in place, even as Kessler’s gaze flicks between her and the photo with a predatory glint. “Beautiful,” he murmurs, more to himself than to her, before he slips the photo into his desk drawer, locking it away.

“Alright, baby,” he says, his tone returning to that of the smooth-talking club owner. “You go on now. Remember, I’m watching.”

She nods, mutters a soft “thank you,” and finally makes her exit, feeling the weight of his gaze on her until she’s out the door. As she steps back into the dimly lit hallway, the thumping bass from the club outside washing over her like a wave, she can’t shake the feeling that she’s just crossed some invisible line, one she might not be able to step back from.

But she pushes the thought aside. This is what she wanted—what she needed. If playing Kessler’s game was the price she had to pay for her shot at fame and fortune, then so be it. She’d play, and she’d win.

Because she knew one thing for sure: in this world, you either play the game or get played. And she wasn’t about to let herself become just another one of Kessler’s pawns.

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Babysitting Has Its Perks 🖤🐰 (Big Bro!Choso x Big Bro!Dabi x Black!Fem!Reader 18+ One Shot)

Pairing: Choso x Black!Fem!Reader x Touya “Dabi” Todoroki

Synopsis: You’ve been babysitting kids as a side hustle for a while now to get extra money. You have your regulars, one of them being a doctor’s cute little son Yuji. Though the pay is good, you admit that the main reason you come back to babysit the kid is because of his sexy older brother Choso. On Halloween, when Choso gets caught up in a pinch, he hits you up last minute to babysit Yuji and his bandmate’s little brother. You think this will be an easy night…until you meet Choso’s bandmate Dabi…and you decide to wear a bunny costume…and you realize just how much your secret crush and his hot friend love bunny girls.

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS GTFO); Musician!Choso + Dabi; Big Bro/Family AU; Band AU; Nerdy!Reader; Highkey Flirting; Weed + Alcohol Consumption; High + Drunk Sex; Dubcon; R*pe; Threesome; Sex Tape; Facefucking; Cunnilingus; Fingering; Nipple Sucking; Double Deepthroat; Choso + Dabi Got Big Cocks; Degradation/Praise; Dom!Choso + Dabi/sub!Reader; Roleplay; Doggystyle; NO CONDOM; Reader Cums 2x; Facials; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: I’ve had this nasty little idea for a hot minute now tee hee!! 🤭 Originally, it was supposed to be just a Choso one shot, but then I thought “Damn….it’d be so hot if Dabi did this too”. So I made a lil crossover one shot for spooky day. I hope y’all enjoy! -Jazz

***********

“Are you my big bro’s girlfriend?”

This was the first thing little Yuji asked you the first time you showed up to babysit him. You stood on the steps of the white picket-fenced house belonging to Nanami Kento, a busy doctor who sought you out for your babysitting services on your LinkedIn.

It was September then and a mild night that only called for light layers. You were dressed in a cardigan that you paired with a clingy, white baby tee, hip-hugging jeggings, and flats. You wanted to be casual but still mild mannered since you were at a doctor’s home. You had giggled at the boy’s cuteness and replied, “Close. I’m your new babysitter!”

The little pink-haired boy with the rosy cheeks and a gap tooth had grinned happily at you before turning around and yelling, “CHOSO, YOUR GIRLFRIEND IS MY NEW BABYSITTER!”

“YUJI!” someone yelled back. You had giggled at Yuji’s antics until you actually saw Choso for the first time and started thinking that maybe being confused for his girlfriend wasn’t such a bad thing. As soon as he came to the door in his sweats and polo socks, your smile fell.

The man was fine. He had a face straight out of a dream with his black hair in two spiked ponytails that reminded you so much of Garu from your favorite cartoon ‘Pucca’. He was tall and big, much bigger than you thanks to your cursed short stack height, with broad shoulders and big arms roped in tattoo sleeves that started at his shoulders and cascaded down to his wrists. His thick fingers were coated in metal rings and his nails were painted black.

You thought briefly of what they’d feel like wrapped around your throat or…somewhere else.

The man was also shirtless. His porcelain skin looked soft to the touch, only touched by some tattoos here and there that added to his sexiness. There was one of Yuji’s name on his collarbone; a black heart with a knife jutting out of it on his right neck near his pierced nipple, a silver ball glinting back at you from both of the pebbled, pink peaks; a serpent slithering from his narrow left hip bone down, down, down under the waistband of his sweats that sat dangerously low on his hips, revealing his smooth, toned stomach and V-line.

You must’ve been standing there looking like a damn idiot because Yuji tugged on your hand. “Hellooo?” he sang. “Hey, are you okay?”

You blinked, suddenly back in your body after going up and beyond. Choso was also staring at you, his pierced brow raised in confusion.

“O-Oh, yeah!” you squeaked, wincing at your high-pitched voice. Quickly, you fixed your glasses and cleared your throat. “Yeah, sorry, m’fine. I-I’m—"

“The new babysitter,” Choso finished, his lips quirking into a small smile. His bottom lip looked so plump and soft, pierced with a silver ring you wanted to tug on. “Yeah, my dad told me about you. Sorry about…” He motioned down his bare upper torso, his cheeks turning a soft shade of pink.

His blush was so attractive that you nearly melted at his feet. He was so endearing and so sexy. “I was changin’ and wanted to stop this rugrat from answerin’ the door when he’s not supposed to.” He tugged on Yuji’s ear, making the boy giggle and swat at his hand. “Y/N, right?”

Realizing he was asking you your name, your brain stopped short-cuiriting for a moment to answer. “Y-Yeah,” you stammered. “And you’re—“

“Choso,” a deep, firm voice said from inside, prompting Choso to roll his pretty, violet eyes. “What did I tell you about answering the door without a shirt on?”

The older brother turned to the even finer blonde who came to the door in a pristinely clean tailored suit. “I only did that one other time ‘cause of those stupid kids prankin’ us,” he scoffs. “Lock the doors next time so Yuji doesn’t answer.”

Nanami went to argue back, but realizing you were standing there awkwardly, he stopped. “Oh, Y/N, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were here this early.”

“I hope you don’t mind,” you replied as he and Choso let you into their tasteful, cozy home, Choso holding a giggling Yuji under his arm like a puppy. “I know you have a doctors’ dinner to go to, so I figured I’d come early.”

“Not at all,” Nanami sighs, sounding relieved. “I thank you for that. Please come in.” You did so and you were officially introduced to Nanami’s two boys, little Yuji and his big brother Choso before Nanami left for a doctors’ banquet.

Choso was in a rock band as a drummer and songwriter, so he had to leave too for a gig. Yuji had begged and pleaded to go with him to which Choso reminded him that kids aren’t allowed in 21+ spaces. As soon as you discovered that he was in a band, you were way more intrigued to know Yuji’s sexy, 6-foot-something brother.

No wonder he had such big arms! You’d glad let him wrap those guns around you and squeeze your head like a melon, giving it a personal bear hug. However, you kept your deviant thoughts to yourself.

You were professional. You were good. You were…kinda nerdy. You’d like to think your profile pic of you in your glasses was what gave Nanami the final impression to hire you as his personal babysitter. Since he is a busy doctor and Choso is a busier musician, someone had to look after little Yuji.

That night, you and Yuji played games, watched cartoons, and you ordered pizza and French fries for him that you both scarfed down with some orange soda (Yuji’s favorite). When Nanami came home, he paid you handsomely and thanked you again for watching his son.

Since that night a month ago, you’ve been Yuji’s personal babysitter. You watch him most weekdays when everyone is at work or on Saturday nights if no one else is around. Out of all of the kids you currently babysit, he’s your favorite. He is just too stinking cute!

You love babysitting that boy, plus the money is great. As a college girl, you need it. But there is also one more perk to your babysitting service that you refuse to admit. You feel like a pervert even thinking it, but getting an eyeful of Choso every time you walk into his house is more than enough for you to stay.

Your pathetic crush on the drummer has grown since the first night you met him. You can’t help it! Not only is he cute, but he’s also a great brother to Yuji. Seeing him goof around and tickle the tiny boy is enough to make you want to be bred by him and have his babies.

He fills your thoughts at night, prompting you to cum on your fingers and use your trusty rose until you’re sobbing his name into your pillow. You’ve thought so many times about asking him out or attending one of his shows. You want him bad like a habit…

But you won’t dare say anything. This is your job! You could fuck up some good money just because you want to fuck the kid you babysit’s big brother. And you won’t dare do that to yourself or Nanami who trusts you with his child. So you bite back your feelings and admire Choso from afar….until one night.

On a cool Halloween with autumn finally here and the leaves crunching under your feet, you leave a local cafe, your other part time job, and arrive at an empty house. Your mom is working overnight at the hospital as a nurse and has left you to your own devices. You know she’ll be late since it’s Halloween which means endless hours of greasy takeout, reading, spooky movies, and private time with your toy. No Halloween parties for you.

After changing out of your clothes, tying your kinky hair in a quick puff, and taking a hot shower with your cinnamon roll-scented body wash, you wrap yourself in a towel and head to your room to begin your quiet night in when your phone rings.

When you check your phone, you nearly drop it at the caller ID. Choso. He gave you his number along with Nanami for work purposes and to contact him if anything went wrong while you babysat Yuji. You take a deep breath to ease your vigorously pounding heart. ‘Just be cool, bitch. You know him. He’s just the older brother of the kid you babysit.’

After some seconds of mental preparations, you answer and clear your throat. “HHello?” you breathlessly stammer, very clearly affected by Choso’s call.

‘Fuck!’

“Hey, Y/N, it’s me, Choso,” he answers, his voice causing a warm feeling to curl in your core. He has such a sexy voice. “Of course, it’s me. You’ve got my number. Sorry, forget I said that.” He sighs, sounding like he’s fed up with himself the way you are with yourself.

He becomes even more endearing and much more boyfriend material-y right there. “It’s cool,” you giggle, lying back on your bed in your towel. “What’s goin’ on? Is Yuji okay?”

“Yeah, he’s fine,” he replies with a chuckle. “He’s been askin’ about you. I swear the kid’s got a crush on you.” You laugh, taking your hair out of your scrunchie and running a hand through your kinks. “Well, he’s a wonderful kid.” And you mean it. Yuji is so goofy and sweet and listens to everything you say, probably because Nanami made him promise to. Either way, he’s a joy to take care of.

“Listen,” Choso begins, sounding uncertain, “I feel really bad for askin’ you this, but…are you doin’ anythin’ tonight?” Your brain suddenly short circuits and your cool bedroom feels stuffy and hot. “Uh….n-no,” you stammer. “Just at home watchin’ Halloween movies and stuff, but that’s it. I just got off from work at the cafe.” You hope that didn’t sound too lame.

“Oh, I forgot you had another job,” Choso tsks, sounding stressed out. “Shit, I’ll probably just have to cancel then.” You sit up now, concerned. “What? What’s goin’ on?”

Choso sighs once more and you feel bad for the guy. He sounds positively frustrated. “My dad is out of town until tomorrow for a doctor’s conference and I was put in charge of watchin’ Yuji, but I forgot I got a gig for a Halloween show at a bar tonight. One of my bandmates is already here and we need to leave in, like, two hours.”

“Oh, okay!” you immediately perk at the chance to see him and make more money. “I can be over there in, like, twenty minutes.”

He lightly laughs at your eagerness. ”Well, before you say yes, there’s a catch: my bandmate Dabi needs someone to watch his kid brother too. He’s the same age as Yuji but very quiet and chill, won’t give you any trouble. If you’re okay with watchin’ two kids at the same time, we’d really appreciate it and pay you double when we get home from the gig.”

You don’t even have to think it over. “I’ve watched five kids at once before. I can handle two. I’ll be over there in twenty.” Choso exhales in relief. “Fuck, Y/N, you’re a lifesaver,” he sighs. “I could fuckin’ kiss you right now. Oh, and Yuji and Dabi’s brother are goin’ trick-or-treating tonight if you wanna go with ‘em. See you over here soon and thank you!”

He hangs up before you can make a fool out of yourself over the ‘kiss you’ line. When you take the phone away from your ear, your face is flaming. Quickly, you hurry to brush your teeth, slather on some deodorant, and drown yourself in your favorite vanilla coco body mist that makes you smell like a baked goodie.

Then you dig into your closet for a costume for the kids. You find your costume from last year—fluffy, white bunny ears and a cotton tail. Basic, but it’ll do. You pair it with a white, body-con bodysuit, a skirt that stops mid-thigh, some stockings, and Mary Jane shoes. After applying some Fenty Gloss and mascara, you finally feel cute enough. Quickly, you grab your coat, phone, and bag before heading to your car.

Nanami’s house is only a ten-minute drive, so you get there by 7:45 PM. After parking, you hurry to the front door and ring the doorbell, mentally preparing yourself for another shirtless Choso (hopefully). But to your shock, it isn’t Choso who answers the door.

This man is fine if not finer than Choso. He is just as tall and slightly lanky but sinewy with muscle that is exposed underneath his loose-fitted tank top. He is all tattoos—roping up and down his arms, across his chest, on his thick neck.

Piercings, too. You can see two silver balls glinting through the exposed armholes of his tank puncturing his pink nipples. His left eyebrow and bottom lip are pierced too, giving him an almost dangerous look. The jet-black hair, ripped jeans, boots, and piercing blue eyes are the icing on the cake. He is the damn poster child for the guy good girls shouldn’t want.

His eyes lazily trail up and down your form as he leans against the doorframe. “So,” he says in a raspy drawl that nearly steals your panties, “you’re the little babysitter Choso’s been talkin’ ‘bout. Y/N, right?”

You struggle to find your voice. You feel so small and bug-like standing before such a man. You feel uncomfortable yet aroused, your panties tightening beneath your skirt. “Y-Yeah,” you stutter, gulping. “Dabi?”

He nods, the corner of his mouth tilting upward. “The guitarist,” he explains. “Sorry to interrupt your night, but we’re in a pinch. Somebody had to watch our kid brothers and apparently, you fit the bill.” His eyes roam up to your ears before trailing down your body, checking out your outfit. “Clearly.” You don’t know if you should’ve worn your skirt or not now.

“Dabi, stop flirtin’ with my babysitter!” Choso yells from inside before showing himself. Just as you hoped, he is shirtless except for a mesh top that shows off his impressive upper torso and tatted skin, jeans, and boots. His spiked hair is down for tonight and his eyes are rimmed in black liner.

It’s like the universe is playing a cruel joke on you putting you here with two sexy guys despite your awkward ass. “Hey, Y/N,” Choso greets you, flashing those whites at you. “Come in. Yuji is changin’ into his costume and Shoto is right here.”

He practically yanks Dabi out of the way to let you inside. Sitting on the couch is a little boy with multi-colored red and white hair and blue eyes like Dabi dressed in a vampire costume. You nearly swoon from the cuteness. He stares at you mutely as you come into the house.

“Sho, this is Y/N,” Dabi says, nodding at you. “She’s your babysitter for tonight. You say hello?” The little boy mutely looks at you. “Hi,” he says in a soft, bland voice. You wave at him, keeping a bright smile on your face.

“He’s a lil’ shy, but he won’t give you no trouble,” Dabi whispers as Shoto eats some carrot sticks. “Thanks again for doin’ this. I would’ve asked my siblings, but my brother is a big-time athlete and my sis is an overnight nurse.”

“Oh, it’s no problem,” you say, offering a kind smile. “I wasn’t doing much tonight anyways.” Dabi’s brows raise curiously and you immediately know that this was the wrong thing to say. “On Halloween? What, no parties or nothin’?”

You slowly shake your head, nervously smiling. “I just got off work earlier when Choso called…a-and I’m not much of a party person.” It’s so lame, but it’s true. You much prefer your books and solitude to sweaty bodies and drunk messes.

“Really?” Dabi asks, sounding humored. “Then that’s some outfit. You wear that for the kids?” His eyes, as blue as Arctic water, intensely stare at you like he’s attempting to turn you into a puddle.

Before you can think of an answer, footsteps thud down the stairs and you all turn to see Yuji in a Spider-Man costume. “Look, Y/N! I’m your friendly neighborhood Spidey!” He jumps down, lands on the bottom step, and hits a squatting pose.

You clap your hands at his superhero landing. “You look amazing, Yuji!” you squeal. “You and Shoto are gonna get sooo much candy!”

Choso walks up to Yuji with a backpack and a leather jacket, checking his water. “We’ve gotta go, squirt,” he says, ruffling Yuji’s pink hair. “Be good for Y/N and don’t eat all your candy unless you wanna be on the shitter, okay?”

Yuji giggles hysterically, slapping Choso’s arm. “You said a bad word, Chosi!” His big brother puts a finger to his lips before turning to you. “Thanks again for doin’ this. A couple of kids will be over soon to go trick-or-treatin’ with them around the block, so just let ‘em in.”

You nod, sending Choso and Dabi off with a wave from the door along with Yuji and Shoto. Five minutes later, four little kids come walking up to the door wearing costumes—a green-haired, freckle-faced ghost, a platinum-blonde werewolf, a brunette little girl dressed like Gwen Stacy, and a black-haired Venom.

“Well,” you coo, smiling at the group, “look what we have here! Are y’all Yuji and Shoto’s friends?” The ghost and Gwen Stacy nod. “Is Shoto here?” the ghost asks. “We’re here to go trick-or-treating with him!”

“Yuji too,” Gwen Stacy adds. “He’s trying to beat Megumi for the most candy bars.” She nudges Venom—Megumi—who rolls his eyes.

“Well, let me go get ‘em and we’ll go together,” you say before hurrying to scoop up your boys. Once everyone has their candy bags together, you lock the door with the key Choso left for you. “Now, let’s get some candy!” You shout, earning some cheers before Yuji and the werewolf—who you learn is Bakugou—race off to the first house.

For the next two ½ hours, you slowly walk behind the group from house to house, knocking on doors for candy, keeping the kids out of the street, and politely declining pervy men who take interest in your costume.

By the time you get home, you’re exhausted and trick-or-treating kids have long since gone home. Shoto’s brother Natsu comes to pick up Shoto to bring him home while you put Yuji to bed after too much candy. For the rest of your time there before Choso and Dabi return, you clean up wrappers, read your book, scrolling through Pinterest, and watch horror movies.

By midnight, you’ve fallen asleep on the couch in your costume, and the end credits to ‘Coraline’ on the TV. When you hear the door click open, you shoot up in surprise, your bunny ears falling off of your head and drool dripping down your chin.

The door cracks open, revealing Dabi smoking a cigarette. “Oops,” he chuckles, grinning at you. “Looks like we woke the bunny.”

Quickly, you wipe the spit off of your face and fix your bunny ears, blushing in embarrassment. You didn’t realize you fell asleep. Choso walks in the house with him, smelling of cigarette smoke and sweat. He gives you a warm smile as he shuts the door. “Hey, you. How were they?”

You smile and stand, smoothing out your skirt. “Like little angels. Yuji is asleep and Shoto was picked up by his brother.” Dabi rolls his eyes at the mention of Natsu as he stubs his cigarette out in an ashtray on the coffee table near your leg. “Yeah, the asshole called and told me to crash here tonight ‘cause he knows I’m fucked up.”

Now that he’s closer, you can see the slightly unfocused look in his blue eyes that can only be accomplished with alcohol. “I’m guessing the gig went well?” The guitarist nods, moving to sit on the couch where you just once were. “Well, we made a bunch of money and signed some titties, so yeah.”

Choso rolls his eyes, chucking a pillow at him. Dabi catches it with one hand. “Shut up. Speakin’ of money…”

He digs into his bag for his phone and clicks a couple buttons. Seconds later, your phone dings with a CashApp alert for $550. “From Dabi and me to you for your services,” he says, giving you a wink that makes your stomach flip.

“Oh, it was no problem, really!” you say with a reassuring smile, though your body sings with joy over the money.

Choso walks over to the couch and plops down with a tired huff, throwing his boots up on the table with Dabi’s. “So you goin’ home?” he curiously asks. “Y’know, you’re welcome to crash here tonight till tomorrow. The streets are packed tonight and those ears might attract the wrong crowd.”

He gives you a joking smirk, evident that he’s kidding. Dabi snickers as he rises from the couch, passing by you with a glint in his eye that makes you feel as if he isn’t joking. “Like we aren’t?” he asks, his voice causing chills to slither down your spine like a snake.

He walks to the kitchen, his walk lazy and slow like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Choso sits on the couch, arms slung over the back and his thighs pried open as if attempting to convince you to stay. “Thanks, but I couldn’t.” You pause, grabbing your bag. “I don’t wanna overstep or—“

“Please,” he scoffs, cutting you off. “You’ve been watchin’ my kid brother for a month! You’re practically family. Plus, we’ve got beer and some weed if you smoke.” Dabi comes back minutes later with three beer bottles, chilled and appetizing. “We’re celebratin’,” he announces with a crooked smirk as he sits down next to Choso.

“An hour then? Just to wait out the traffic?” Choso suggests as Dabi passes him a bottle. You watch the guitarist slip a baggie of marijuana out of his back pocket along with a pack of papers. “But only if you feel comfortable,” Choso adds as if sensing your apprehension.

The two make it a point to leave a space for you between them. You gnaw on your bottom lip, gripping the strap to your bag. You know if you say yes then a world of trouble could open up for you…but you also don’t want to say no. They haven’t done anything to make you feel uncomfortable or uneasy. “Just an hour,” you decide. “I’ll take a beer.”

You slowly place your bag within arm’s reach and sit between them, keeping your thighs clenched tight together and your hands in your lap. You sit rigidly, unsure of what to do. “I didn’t think you drank,” Dabi comments, sounding interested. “You don’t look the type.”

He pops the cap off of the bottle with his teeth before handing it to you. “Ignore him,” Choso says, smirking at his friend. “He teases, but he’s got a thing for the glasses.” You take a sip of the beer to calm your frazzled nerves, the different scents of the two men—cologne, cigarettes, some kind of spicy-smelling soap—mingling into one intoxicating mixture.

“You mean nerdy girls,” you correct him, cracking a smile. “It’s okay, I know I’m a nerd.” Choso laughs, taking a sip of his beer. “Nothin’ wrong with that. I think it’s cool.”

His cheeks glow with a slight blush that somehow turns you on. Dabi snorts from beside you, gently sprinkling crushed weed into one of the papers on the coffee table. “You mean hot. Don’t try to front.” Choso gives him the finger. “Shut the fuck up and roll the damn blunt, asshole.”

Dabi gives him the bird right back but continues to roll his blunt. You watch his fingers expertly work to pinch, roll, squeeze. You would think he’d be good with his hands since he’s a guitarist. They’d probably feel so good inside of you, curling up against that spot that would make you see stars.

“Wanna hit?” he suddenly asks. You blink, realizing that he’s talking to you. He holds the blunt between his forefinger and thumb, smoke billowing from between his lips. You grow hot suddenly, both out of embarrassment for fading out on him because of your dirty mind and uncertainty. “O-Oh, I’ve never…”

Dabi’s brows raise. “You never had weed before? Not even an eddy?”

It doesn’t take a village idiot to figure out that he means an edible. You slowly shake your head, glowing with embarrassment over your squareness. The guitarist breaks into a humored and interested smile like a wolf who realizes he’s got his prey. “Well, shit, aren’t you proper. We’ve gotta fix that.”

“Dabi, don’t corrupt her,” Choso barks. “She’s still our babysitter.”

The guitarist shoots him a bored look. “And she deserves some relaxation after a long, gruelin’ day.” He turns to you, his blue eyes a sea of sin and hot promises. “Don’t you, bunny?” he whispers before puffing on the blunt.

You watch him wrap his lips around the blunt and his cheeks hollow as he inhales. When he pulls away, he puckers his lips and sends an O-shaped smoke ring floating out from between them as well as releasing a steady stream out of his nostrils. He then turns and hands it to you.

With a gulp, you take it and hold it to your wavering lips. You look at Choso for help who is happy to assist with his words: “Inhale slow, hold, and then exhale.”

You do as he says and wrap your lips around the blunt before slowly inhaling. As soon as the smoke invades your lungs, you hold it and then slowly exhale. Though you cough a bit, making the bandmates laugh, the weed already takes effect and makes you feel light, fuzzy, and warm.

“Good girl,” Dabi draws, watching you with a rather predatory gaze. “So she listens, too.” Choso watches you too, creating a very uncomfortable feeling for you in your stomach that you stupidly try to squash with some more beer.

“S-So…uh, tell me about your show tonight,” you stammer, wanting desperately to change the subject and take this situation somewhere less risky.

They respect your decision and tell you about their night playing in a small, sweat-and-alcohol-soaked bar. They also talk about you, asking you about classes, work, your hobbies. You initially feel uncomfortable talking about yourself, but the more you drink and the more you puff on Dabi’s blunt, the less harder it becomes.

You should’ve stopped at one puff. You should’ve stopped after a few sips of beer too. But it’s too late for you now. The weed and the alcohol work their magic on you before you even realize it.

Everything around you feels fuzzy and your skin feels tingly. Choso and Dabi’s voices are thick in your eardrums which feel as if they are stuffed with cotton. You can’t quite comprehend everything they say because they sound so far away and your brain is processing everything at a glacial pace.

You slump against the couch, your eyes fluttering closed and your head feeling heavy. You want to sleep. You want to shut off the movie playing—some 90s slasher flick that Choso put on—, stick your head under the covers, and be plunged into darkness. “Y/N?” Choso asks. “Baby, you still here with us?” He is suddenly closer to you, his hand on your knee. It feels warm and makes your body tingle…especially one part in particular.

Dabi sounds closer too. He’s actually moved closer to you and you just didn’t realize it. When you open your eyes to stare into his piercing, blue ones, he smiles. “Ooooh, the weed’s got her,” he chuckles. “Look at those eyes. She’s gone.” Choso stares at you worriedly, keeping his hand on your knee.

In contrast, Dabi is more daring and lays his hand on your thigh. The surprise contact causes you to giggle, nervously and shyly. The weed has created a thick fog around you where everything feels good and nice. “You’re both so pretty,” you deliriously say. “So sexy.”

Despite your sluggish mind, you know you weren’t supposed to say that. Choso and Dabi share a look, one that you can’t identify. The guitarist smirks at you, his hand trailing farther up your thigh and giving it a firm squeeze.

“Oh, yeah, baby? We think you’re sexy too.” His other hand moves to cup your chin, emitting a small gasp from you. “And pretty…so goddamn pretty.”

His thumb gently pries your bottom lip down, showing him your teeth. He watches intently as the plump flesh pops back into place, his pupils dilating at the sight. He is so close…too close.

You don’t know what to do. Your heart hammers rapidly against your ribcage as he leans in. Or do you lean in? You can’t remember quite well when his lips are on yours.

You squeak in surprise, your shoulders tensing. It’s the only movement you can make with his hands on you. You’re like a terrified rabbit frozen in place as his hand grips your jaw, keeping you still as his mouth envelops yours. His lips are soft yet rough and demanding, practically bruising your lips as he kisses the lipgloss off of them. His piercing is cool against your tongue which swirls against his, only because he demands it. You felt it swipe against your bottom lip at one point, forcing himself inside of your mouth.

You’ve never been kissed in such a way before. Dabi takes and takes and takes yet forces you to take what he gives you. His hands find your ass, trailing up underneath your skirt, drawing a soft moan out of you. “You like that, baby?” he murmurs against your lips. “I knew you wanted this. It was just a matter of time.”

“Mmm-mmm.” This is all you can say or even utter as his tongue dances with yours, giving you a taste of his piercing dug into the pink muscle. His hands squeeze your ass so hard that it hurts, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. You’re helpless to stop him.

You become even more helpless in the situation when you suddenly feel another set of hands on you caressing your body. “Don’t be fuckin’ greedy, Dabi,” Choso growls. “This is my house, remember?”

Dabi pulls away and gives his friend a cocky smirk just as Choso’s hand presses against your cheek. He turns you to face him and his eyes, hooded from the weed and lust. “C-Choso…”

All you can utter out is a soft exhale of his name before his lips covers yours, swooping you up in a hot, wanton kiss. His kiss is less rough than Dabi’s, but it’s just as sloppy, your tongues hotly swirling with each others. At one point, Choso sucks on your tongue and stares into your eyes as he does it, leaving you a panting, wet mess.

“You taste so good,” he whispers. “I’ve been wantin’ this for so long, baby. You have no idea.”

His hands cup your cheeks, bringing you in for more. You find yourself pressed against him and Dabi both, their bodies like brick walls trapping you between them. “I think she has too. Why else would she wear such a slutty lil’ outfit?” His hands trail up your bodysuit, cupping your tits over the fabric. “I bet you wore this just for us, didn’t you, slutty girl?”

He begins roughly massaging your breasts, causing goose pimples to explode over your skin as Choso kisses your neck. You whimper at Dabi’s degrading words. “I-I’m not a—“

You’re cut off with your own gasp as Dabi pinches each of your nipples through the bodysuit, sending sparks of pain throughout your nerve endings. “Shut the fuck up,” he growls. “That’s what they all fuckin’ say until they’ve got a cock in front of ‘em…and I bet that’s what you really want, ain’t it, bunny?” He leans in and trails his tongue down your neck, creating a line of his saliva on your skin.

A soft moan escapes you as Choso begins playing with your left ear, gently nibbling along your earlobe. Dabi follows suit and plays with your right until both of them are teasing your ears with kisses, licks, nibbles, and moans that have you squirming between them.

Your body feels like it’s overheating and your pussy…you’ve never been so wet before. Is it from the weed? The alcohol? Them?

Choso trails a hand between your thighs, prying them apart to get a feel of your panties. “You look so cute in this costume, baby…so fuckin’ cute.” His index and middle fingers press into your panties, making your toes curl. “Choso, please,” you whine.

He pulls away from your ear, staring deeply into your eyes. “What is it, baby?” he asks. “What do you need? You want us to stop?”

You blink at him, overwhelmed and hornier than you’ve ever been in your life. “I….I….” You don’t know what you want or need. You want to leave, but you also don’t. It feels wrong, but also so right.

Dabi disagrees, yanking the straps to your bodysuit down. You yelp as your tits fall out and are exposed to the two musicians who ogle at them. “Her body ain’t sayin’ no,” he chuckles. “Check out these tits. Look at how hard these nipples are.” He begins to slurp your nipples, his tongue and teeth running over the sensitive peaks.

You gasp, biting your lip as Choso begins stroking you through your panties that continue to secrete moisture. “Fuck, babe, look at you,” he sighs, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “You need attention, don’t you?”

Dabi bites your nipple, sending shocks of pain throughout your body. “Ah!” you cry out. “W-Wait! Yuji might hear us!” Choso chuckles, still stroking, “He won’t. That kid can sleep through a murder.” Dabi tears himself away from you, glaring. “Now shut the fuck up and open your legs for us.”

With your nerves frazzled, you slowly open your legs…with some help. Choso and Dabi’s big hands pry you open to reveal your soaked panties underneath your skirt. “Just as I thought,” the guitarist tuts. “Look at how wet she is for us, bro. She barely knows us and yet, here she is with a soaked fuckin’ pussy.”

He pries your panties to the side, revealing your puffy, pretty, wet cunt to them both. You gasp as the cold air hits your sensitive skin. “Wow, baby,” Choso says in awe, his eyes slightly wide. “You’re so, so wet for us. Good enough to taste.” He sucks on his index and middle fingers before proceeding to gently rub your clit.

Two other fingers do the same, rubbing up and down your slit. “Good enough to eat,” Dabi adds. “You’d love that wouldn’t you, bunny? You want the big, bad wolves to eat you right up, don’t you?” He sinks his fingers into your pussy, just stopping at his fingertips.

You moan, gripping the duo’s big, beefy arms for dear life as the two play with your gushing pussy. “Fuck!” you gasp. What else can you say?

Dabi tsks disappointedly, teasing you further by curling his fingers up. “That ain’t an answer, baby girl.” Combined with his fingers shallowly fucking you and Choso rubbing your clit, you can’t process anything but how good you feel. “Yes! Yes, please!” You whine, your toes curling in your Mary Jane’s.

Like a killer who has caught his next victim, Dabi grins. He slides his digits out of you, sucks your wetness off of them, and slinks off of the couch to kneel in front of you. “Keep these fuckin’ thighs open,” he demands, eyes glaring into Choso’s. “I don’t want her doin’ shit while I’ve got my tongue in her.”

Choso grips your left leg and pins it open while Dabi takes the right until you’re completely open and exposed to Dabi’s pierced tongue. “Look over here, baby. Look at what you’ve done to me.”

Choso turns your face to meet him where he is fumbling to unzip his pants with his other hand. You watch him peel down his briefs to reveal his happy trail and a very hard, very pretty, very much throbbing and dripping cock.

Dabi nips at your thigh, scowling at you. “Well, don’t just leave him like that,” he scolds. “Stroke that dick. Take some fuckin’ accountability.”

With a shaky hand, you wrap your hand around Choso’s cock and begin to stroke it while Dabi begins to sloppily eat your pussy.

You and Choso moan at the same time, both of you overwhelmed by the amount of pleasure you’re receiving. Dabi’s tongue is skilled, teasing your folds as he slides it along your slit and up to your clit. You stroke Choso’s cock in time with his bandmate’s tongue strokes, trying to focus on two things at the same time.

“Shit,” Choso groans. “You’re so good at this, baby girl, fuck…”

His cute face is etched with pleasure, his eyes hooded and his cheeks flushed as he stares at you pumping his cock. Dabi stares too, still slurping away at your cunt. When the silver ball in his tongue hits your clit, you jump and let out a squeak. “You like that tongue piercing, huh?” he cackles. “Such a little slut. You can’t get enough of this.”

As he dives back down and sucks on your clit, he gently begins to finger you, aiming upward as he strokes your walls. You toss your head back at the euphoric feeling, your brain growing fuzzy. “Watch Dabi eat that pussy, baby,” Choso coos. “But don’t get too distracted.”

You don’t know if you can help that. The way Dabi is sloppily eating you out and finger-fucking you is too much for you to not focus on.

You finally cannot take anymore and let every loud, bottled sound inside of you escape as Choso plays with your breasts and Dabi sucks on your clit. “O-Oh, my God!” you cry out. “Fuck, fuck yes!”

The guitarist flinches, scowling up at you. “Plug up that hole, would ya?” He asks Choso, annoyed. He then goes back to fingering you, a slight, wet sound leaving your pussy as he coats his digit in your juices.

You suddenly feel a hand on your head and Choso’s deep, soft eyes are staring into yours. “Open wide, bunny. I’ve gotta keep you quiet.” He gently pushes you down towards his hard dick standing at attention for you. “You wouldn’t want Yuji to come down and find you like this, right?”

Instinctively, you open your mouth and cover your teeth with your pillowy-soft lips to avoid scraping Choso as his cock sinks into your mouth. “No ‘cause you’re a good girl,” he pants. “You’re my good, sweet fuckin’ girl. Fuck, baby, your mouth is so good!”

He proceeds to fuck up into your mouth, using it as just a fleshlight. A toy. And you allow it. Drool drips from your mouth and down his balls as he continues to assault your mouth, soon sinking deeper and deeper into your throat. You gag a few times and nearly feel triggered to throw up, but you just remember to breathe through your nose. Breathe.

Soon, it becomes easier for you to take Choso’s hard cock down your throat. Dabi watches, still fingering you. “Ooooh, she’s good at that,” he chuckles. “Look at her workin’ that mouth.” He hums in arousal to himself, palming himself between your legs, unbeknown to you. “Fuckin’ little cockslut is gettin’ me rock hard.”

Choso chuckles, his laugh breathless as he fucks your mouth like the hole that it is. His hole. Dabi presses a kiss to your clit, emitting a whimper from you. “Does our little bunny need two big carrots tonight?” he smirkingly asks. Choso pulls his cock, wet with your spit, out of your mouth, allowing you to take a proper breath.

“Oh, I think you do,” Dabi answers for you, “and you’re gonna fuckin’ take ‘em.”

He suddenly stands up between your legs, looking down at you as if you’re nothing more than a cock sleeve for his own use. “Get on your knees and look up at us,” he demands. You look at Choso for help, but he looks too lustful and sex-drunk to even begin to think about rescuing you.

On wobbly legs, you get off of the couch and sit on the floor on your knees. You stare up at Choso and Dabi, suddenly staring at two different cocks. Different in length. Different in girth. But still hard and throbbing. In addition, Dabi’s cock is pierced just at the underside of the head which drips in pre-cum for you.

You bite your lip as you stare up at them, kneeling in just your skirt, stockings, and shoes with your tits out, your pussy wet, and your lips coated in spit. The duo look as if they have fallen in love with you. Dabi cocks his head to the side as he slides something out of his back pocket. “Now that’s a sight.”

You close your eyes, humiliated and embarrassed by this moment, but also by how aroused you are. Your pussy has never been wetter than now sitting in front of these two men that you barely know, letting them see you naked and use you like a—

Click!

You open your eyes as a flash goes off and realize in horror that Dabi has his cell phone out. And he’s taking photos of you. “N-No!” you gasp, covering your breasts. “Don’t!”

Click!

Dabi rolls his eyes at you, still keeping the camera on. “Relaaaax. Nobody is seein’ this beauty but me and your little boyfriend.” He nudges Choso who is busy stroking himself at the sight of you, looking like he wants to eat you the fuck up.

He and Dabi get closer to your face, holding their cocks for you. “Nuzzle ‘em,” Dabi orders. “Put those cute little lips on us.”

Feeling like you have no choice, you do as ordered and nuzzle, kiss, and lick up their cocks. You bump your nose against their bulbous heads, run your lips down their shafts, and gently suck on their balls. The two groan in encouragement at your ministrations, hypnotized.

“You look so cute like this, baby,” Choso moans. “I need to see my cock in your mouth.”

He grabs your hair and, without warning, sinks into your mouth to fuck it dumb. “Fuck!” He groans. “You’re so good at suckin’ my cock, baby.” You have no choice but to breathe and let him do as he wants, your eyes watering from the ache in your jaw and your that button in your throat being triggered.

Dabi watches you, his phone in your face and the blinding, white light of his camera in your eyes. “C’mooon, you can fuck her mouth harder than that, can’tcha?”

Choso glares into the lens as he grips your hair harder. “Fuck you,” he growls but ends up fucking your mouth a little rougher anyway. You gag and sloppily gurgle around his dick as he pounds your throat like it’s your pussy, gripping your hair for leverage.

Dabi grins at his bandmate, enjoying the scene before him. “No thanks,” he cackles. “You ain’t my type, but this little doll is.” He taps his cock against your cheek to get your attention. “Look into the camera, bunny. You love bein’ our little toy, don’t you?”

You squint into the blinding light as Choso pulls his cock out of your mouth, leaving a strand of saliva in his wake. “Slutty little thing,” Dabi whistles. “Now it’s my turn. Get it on camera, will ya?” He passes Choso his phone before roughly yanking you towards his cock by your hair.

With a gasp, your mouth falls onto his cock. He is just as rough, aggressive, and desperate as Choso as he fucks your throat, pulling you back and forth like he owns your entire head.

“Deeper,” he growls. “C’mon, slut, take me deeper.” He sinks himself in deeper, nearly touching the back of your throat. Unable to avoid possibly throwing up, you desperately push at his hips to make him stop.

With a sigh, he pulls himself out of you, allowing you to take a breath. You sputter and gulp down air, unable to get it in your lungs fast enough. Figuring you’ve had enough time, the guitarist grabs you again for more throat-fucking.

“D-Dabi, wait!” you cough. “I-I can’t breathe!” But he doesn’t listen to you, instead plunging his cock in balls deep until the heavy things hit your chin. “Bunnies don’t talk, stupid girl. C’mon, you’re embarrassin’ me on video.”

He turns and smirks into the light as Choso records him plowing your mouth, his cock moving in and out of your throat at a fast, rough pace that nearly knocks your brain out of your skull. “You’re doin’ so well, baby,” Choso coos, gently tapping his cock against your soft cheek. “Such a big girl takin’ those big dicks.” He taps it once against your nose too, chuckling to himself.

Dabi wraps a hand around your throat and squeezes, tossing some rough into the mixing pot of sugar that Choso gives you. “Look up at me. Show me your eyes.”

You do so, staring deep into those blue orbs as his cock strokes the walls of your throat. “That’s it, my little bunny. That’s what I like.”

“Just remember to share her, asshole,” Choso hisses. “She likes my dick more anyway.”

Dabi lazily stares at him, squinting at the camera flash. “Oh, really? Then maybe she’ll be able to choose once we’re inside her.” He pulls his cock out of your mouth, using it to slap your cheek. “Turn the fuck over,” he growls.

Nervously swallowing your spit and his pre, you slowly turn around on wobbly limbs only to be hiked into position by an impatient Dabi: all fours. You feel his big hands on your hips, drawing you toward him. When you feel his cock slide against your pussy, you feel immense fear make your stomach turn.

Then he starts to push the head in. “Dabi, wait,” you gasp. “Condom! You need a condom!”

Smack!

His hand comes down to smack you hard on the ass. You flinch at the stinging pain. “I don’t need that shit,” he scoffs. “Now shut up and take this dick, little bunny.”

And then in he goes, sliding his full length into your pussy one inch at a time. Your mouth falls open as you feel him stretching you out, making his place in your cunt one stroke after the other.

He groans, his hips slamming into your ass a little harder and a little faster until he is fucking you onto his cock like you’re his toy, pulling and pushing you by your hips. “Much better than money, right?” he cackles. He leans down to bite your ear, tugging on your earlobe. “Bet it feels good. Bet it’s everything you need, right, bunny?”

You can’t form even one coherent word. Moans and whimpers are all you can manage as his cock drills into your pussy, emitting wet sounds like a moist macaroni and cheese casserole from his dick repeatedly pounding your cunt. Your head feels like mush, your tits jiggle, and you can’t get a grip on yourself.

“Too much!” you sob. “P-Please, Dabi! Slow down!”

He doesn’t, instead gripping whatever he can of yours—your jiggling tits, your stomach, your ass. “Shut her up, Choso,” he irritably grunts. “She’s killin’ my fuckin’ buzz.”

Choso moves in front of you, pushing his erect cock against your plush lips. “Shhh, baby,” he whispers. “Yuji is sleepin’. Just suck on my cock, okay, good girl?”

Before you can answer, his dick is pushing inside of your mouth. With a moan, he begins to fuck the side of your mouth, his head rubbing against the soft, wet wall.

The two begin to fuck you at both ends, using your body for their pleasure. Dabi grips your skirt, nearly tearing the fabric with his aggressively tight hold. “Fuck!” He grunts. “She feels so fuckin’ good! Gonna shoot a load in her soon at this rate.”

Your eyes widen at the terrifying mention of a creampie. Sure, you’ve always had a kink for that and maybe eventually, you’ll want to experience it, but not now. You can’t get pregnant! Luckily, Choso becomes your savior. “Switch with me then. I need my turn.”

Dabi chuckles, the sound sending shivers down your spine. Moaning in unison, the duo pull their cocks out of you before switching spots. Dabi takes your front while Choso takes the back, his hands massaging your ass. He presses soft kisses on your back as he rubs his cock against your soft asscheeks, almost rutting against them.

You look back at him, unintentionally making him harder as you stare at him over your shoulder. “Choso—“

You can’t finish the rest of your sentence because the drummer is already sliding his cock deep inside of you, sinking himself down to the hilt. He begins to fuck you almost immediately, grabbing your ass for leverage. You moan and whine at the feeling, unable to think about anything but how good his cock feels.

Choso uses one hand to fondle your tits while the other stays on your ass, massaging both sensitive zones as his cock massages your walls. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he moans. “Wanted to fuck this pussy for so fuckin’ long. All you do is tease me.” He grips your body to his like it’s his prized position, his hips hammering against your ass again and again and again.

Every time he slams into you, you’re propelled deeper and deeper into a hole of molten pleasure that you can’t crawl out of…and you’re not sure if you want to.

“Choso!” You whine. “Oh, my God, Choso, fuck!” His stroke game draws the loudest, most pathetic sounds out of you, only muffled by Dabi’s cock.

He laughs as he slides into your mouth as you moan around it. “Damn, you’ve got some pipes, girl,” he chuckles, biting his lip as he watches you suck on it. “Might wanna look into bein’ a singer. We might have an opening for ya if you can make us nut.”

He takes his cock out once and taps it against your tongue before sliding back in, proceeding to fuck your throat. Choso laughingly moans, still massaging your insides with his cock. “That won’t be a problem…ssshhhit, her pussy is so tight!” He lets out a shuddery breath as he slows himself down, edging himself inside of you. You can feel him beginning to swell, his cock growing thicker.

Dabi nods at him encouragingly, gripping your hair and forcing you to throat his dick. “Then beat that pussy up, man. Don’t fuckin’ slack—give her what she needs.”

And together, they do just that. They fuck and use your holes until you’re a gagging, whimpering mess, dripping from both ends. Your fake ears fall off and your skirt is ripped so tightly in Choso’s fists that you hear it rip. They fuck you as hard and as fast as they want to, taking you on a bumpy ride.

You feel your core begin to tighten into a knot and your clit swell the more Dabi teases it with his fingers. Your second orgasm is approaching quickly.

Choso must feel it because he focuses heavily on that spot inside of you, fucking it until you’re a puddle. “You gonna cum, bunny?” he whispers. “You gonna cum all over this cock?”

Your mind is blank, the pleasure too numbing. You can feel the urge to cum building, building, building. Choso pinches your nipples while Dabi swirls his fingers around your clit, the sensations getting you closer. “Mmmm!” You scream around Dabi’s cock. “Mmmm, pweeease!”

Dabi nods, pleased with your begging. He grips your hair tighter, forcing you to take his cock deeper. “Go ahead and cum with us, slut. We fuckin’ need it.” Choso nods encouragingly, still pounding your pussy with the intention of making you both cum your brains out. “Do it,” he begs. “Cum on that dick. Give it to me, bunny, please! Cum right fuckin’ now!”

His begging and pleading triggers something inside of you that immediately flips your O switch on. “Ohhh, fuuuuck!” you moan as you finally cum all over Choso’s cock. He keeps fucking you through each intense wave of your orgasm, extending it until you’re writhing and thrashing between him and Dabi.

“Oh, God,” Choso groans as your pussy clenches around him. “I’m ‘bout to cum too.” Dabi shakes his head, pumping his cock in your face. “Unless you want a baby, I suggest you follow my lead.”

Despite the feeling of disappointment as your heavenly cunt leaves him, Choso pulls out and takes his place next to Dabi. The two stand over you—little, pathetic, cum-drunk you—and jerk themselves off in your face.

“Not done yet,” Dabi hisses, damn near feral. “Look up at us, bunny. Show us that pretty face.”

Slowly, you do as he orders and stare at their cocks as they furiously chase their orgasms with their hands. Dabi cums first with a raspy groan that sends warm shivers throughout your body. His creamy, hot cum shoots all over your face and tongue that you slip out of your mouth to catch some droplets.

Choso comes next, his face flush red and looking oh-so pretty as his orgasm peaks. Finally, with a moan, he cums too. “Ohhh, fuck,” he groans as he sprays his load all over your tits. Some of the droplets also splash onto your tongue and on your stomach, coating your skin in the creamy substance.

Their muscles tense and their faces screw in pleasure until finally, the cloud of pleasure fades and they relax. Choso tilts his head back, eyes shut and looking winded. Meanwhile, Dabi takes his phone from the floor and once again puts the camera on you. You squint into the white light, wanting to cover yourself.

“That’s a pretty sight,” he sighs, getting up close and personal. “Now was that good, bunny? Did ya have fun?” He takes his thumb and wipes some cum away from your lips. “Y-Yes,” you softly reply.

The guitarist smirks, pleased with your answer. “Mmm, good girl. You look so nice with my cum all over you.” He makes sure to get all of you—your tits, your stomach, your pretty face all covered in his and Choso’s nut—on his phone. You have no choice but to sit in it…and your embarrassment.

You can’t believe you just got fucked by two men you barely know after babysitting their baby brothers…one of which is sound asleep upstairs.

Dabi finally turns off his phone, chuckling to himself. You don’t ask why. After fetching some tissues, Choso bends down on the floor to wrap his arms around you, using the tissues to dab the cum off of your body. “You did so well, baby,” he sighs. “You were so, so fuckin’ good.”

His big, strong, inked arms wrap around your middle as he drags you into his lap. He then picks you up and walks you over to the couch where he cuddles you, naked and satisfied. He gently strokes your back and kisses your forehead, almost making you forget all about your humiliation….almost.

And then you hear a knock. It is loud and it is abrupt. You gasp, jumping in fear. Someone’s at the door. Could it be Nanami? Is he home early?

Dabi, putting his undies and jeans back on, zips up his fly before sauntering over to the door. He peeks through the peephole and smirks at you. “Relax, girl,” he cackles. “It ain’t no trick-or-treaters.”

Despite the fact that you and Choso are still very naked, Dabi opens the door to reveal two more hot, tatted band members—one with long, wavy white hair and tired gray eyes and the other with spiked pink hair and vermillion eyes.

“Took you long enough,” Dabi scoffs, opening the door further. “Get your asses in here.”

The two strangers walk in, laughing to themselves. When their eyes lock with yours, they each smirk to themselves, menacingly. “Damn,” the pink-haired hottie laughs lightly. “Guess we missed the party.”

“Nah, you guys came just in time,” Dabi chuckles, tossing an arm around his white-haired friend. “We just finished up with her.”

The white-haired man tilts his head to the side, his eyes roaming over your body. “Tiny little thing. You two horn bags corrupt her already?”

Choso squeezes you to him, smiling at his friends. “Baby, this is Tomura and Sukuna, our bassist and one of our other guitarists.”

The two bandmates’ smirks grow wider, causing a twirl of fear and anxiety to appear in your gut.

Choso presses lips to your ear. You can tell he’s smiling. “They’ve got a thing for bunnies too,” he whispers.

THE END.

[littlefreya]

Summary: Whatever madness drove this woman to board a pirate’s ship of her own free will was beyond comprehension. Yet there she was, in velvet and silk, marching toward certain danger and the sinful desires of the monstrous Captain August ‘Blackbeard’ Walker.

Pairing: AU! Pirate August Walker x OFC (no mentions of body type or ethnicity)

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: 18+. No smut, but sexual themes are mentioned, as well as dark themes - he is a pirate. Possible historical inaccuracy. This is not the real Blackbeard. Mentions of kidnapping.

A/N: Not beta’d. Many thanks to @agniavateira @luna-aestas and @wolvesandhoundshowltogether for the support, and thanks to @geralts-yenn because this story started as a 15-minute challenge, and I ended up writing a whole shot. There might be a part 2, and this might turn into a series. We will see after my anxiety runs its course :D

Thanks for reading, and please reblog and comment if you enjoyed :)

Neptune's Snare

The soggy wooden platform creaked beneath her feet as she climbed onto the main deck. Each step eliciting s husky wail - a sorrowful hymn to the lost maidens of the sea - those who would never return, those devoured by the sinful desires of monstrous captain August ‘Blackbeard’ Walker. 

Whatever madness drove women to go there willingly was beyond comprehension. No more than a tomb, the ship alone looked like a carnivorous maw; black iron spikes stood firmly at the bow, and the sheer size of it was enough to strike fear at the heart of even the bravest sailor.

Yet, there she was, draped in a black velvet cloak and an ivory corset dress, willingly marching toward grave danger. 

Dozens of ragged men welcomed her onboard, filthy scoundrels, all drenched in an exotic mixture of sweat and alcohol. Hungry, their eyes gnawed at her tender flesh, but none would dare touch her. If August’s crew knew one thing, it’s that some fates are much, much more worse than death. 

It didn’t stop them from taunting. Suckling their lips, they followed the girl on her march toward the captain’s cabin. Cheer and chortle in their voice as they imagined the obscenities their captain was about to perform on this naive girl. 

“Pity, he never let us look…” whined one of the pirates while the other bood.

“Aye, you mad to come ‘er tonight. The cap’n hasn’t had his fill in weeks, lass. He would sure pillage each of you’ holes tonight.”

“He gonna paint her full of his sea foam!”

The entire ship roared with their laughter. The girl, however, kept a blank face and, without spending any minute longer, opened the door to the captain's cabin.                                                                                                                                                

Bright, golden luminance blinded Lizette’s sight as she entered the cabin. The walls were plated by ornaments made of gold, reflecting the sparkle of the hundred candles that burnt at the decorated candelabras and crystal chandelier. Fine works of art hung from each wall, and on a vast lacquered table stood a plethora of delicacies that made Lizette’s belly gurgle. 

She stared at the table momentarily, almost fooled by the obvious seduction. In complete opposite to the murky exterior of the ship, the captain’s chamber was a room fit for kings, sputtering style, elegance and riches. Perhaps this was how he lured them. The poor naive girls truly believed he would give them a better life. But Blackbeard was no king, nor was he a gentleman. He was the deadliest man the world has ever known - a serpent, nightshade - all he could give a woman was death. 

“Take off your cowl.”  

A deep voice called from behind, dark and mysterious as the ocean. It struck like an icy shard through her spine, making her shoulders jerk and stiffen. It was odd to know someone by hundred of myths and stories spun around them and have men mimic their voice in an attempt to portray them but never know what they truly sounded like. 

As it turned out, August sounds like a man one doesn’t refuse. 

Obedient, Lizette pulled the cowl from her head - slow as she would unwrap a much-anticipated present. Her gaze kept to the floor still, continuing to play the coy virgin the Captain wanted her to be, though if she had to be honest - she was terrified of whatever hideous monster she would soon have to face. 

There must have been a reason why the women who came here never left. Lizette was willing to bet every dime in her pocket that August was the most gruesome, repulsive creature, and the only way for him to keep people from knowing was by murdering each woman he bedded!    

“Shy, aren’t we?” Blackbeard murmured with a dry chuckle and began to circle her, observing his bounty from side to side.

“I quite enjoy shy,” he chuckled once more, his voice almost a groan. 

She forced herself not to flinch too much. She could sense his glare upon her, stripping her garment by garment, weighing what he earned tonight and considering all the ways in which he would pillage her body. It made her feel like she was one of the delicacies that rested on his table rather than a person. 

After gyrating around her and inspecting each crease of her body, August finally returned to his starting spot behind her and, in a low, delighted groan, demanded, “Turn around.” 

Doing as he commanded, she turned to him, still keeping her glance plastered to the floor, her breathing now shallow as the air in the room grew magically stuffy. She could spot his blurry silhouette from the corner of her eye; a tall and fit man, rather broad. It seemed that he was doing a loose white cotton shirt and dark trousers, and from his waistband - a gleam of silver winked back. 

“Are you a mute?” 

Another chill shot through her as he spoke. Absentminded, she swallowed. “No…”  embarrassingly, her voice cracked; she took a deep breath and reprimanded, “No, sir. Just nervous.”

“Captain,” he corrected. 

Lizette nodded but did not repeat him. She couldn’t. Words died on her tongue as the Captain made a bold step toward her, drawing dangerously near. He paused for a shy second, fingers laced together, contemplating, before he reached a fist beneath her chin and, in a ceremonious tenderness, lifted her chin.  

The air drained from her completely. Her lips parted in a mixture of fear and astonishment. 

It couldn’t be.

Perhaps she had the wrong man?

Grey, ocean-eyes peered at her through a face that women and men would damn themselves for. No! Even angels would. His jaw was sharp and profound, statuesque like cut marble - dashed with dark stubble and a thick raven-black moustache. His lips, though chafed from the salty sea breeze, were plumped and shaped to be kissed, and while some of his curls were streaked with silver, he still had a healthy mane of hair on his head. 

‘He could have been a decent man,’ she thought, ‘and yet he chose this?!’

There was an obscure attractive melancholy to his looks - almost tragic. 

August took another moment to study her face, a frown slowly forming on his ridged brow. “You look familiar…”

“I work the docks,” she answered almost immediately.

His stare deepened, eyes dropping to her cleavage momentarily before returning to pierce back into the back of her skull, “Skin too soft. Too shy to be a prostitute.” 

His fingers wrapped around her chin, caging it between his thumb and his index in a tight grip, making it hurt. He tilted his head, daring her to come up with another lie.  

“The tavern,” Lizette answered, firm and steadfast. She did not flinch from his touch, even though every instinct begged her to.

“And you came to me. Why?”

“What girl wouldn’t give everything for a night with the notorious Captain Blackbeard? The living legend… the king of pirates.” She softened her eyes as much as possible and offered a shy pout to reconcile him. 

August chewed on the inside of his cheek; storm clouds gathered on his pale eyes as he contemplated. They both knew she was flattering him to gain his trust and save her pretty little neck. It wasn’t a situation he hadn’t encountered in the past. They both also knew that he was stronger, bigger and armed and could snap said pretty little neck in less than a split second. 

“Are you a virgin?” He proceeded. 

She nodded, her throat clenching. 

August lingered on her response and, after what felt like an eternity, offered a small grin and pinched her chin sweetly as if to praise her before moving a step closer. Lizette smiled back nervously. She could sense his rum-drenched breath on her face. The scent was so pungent it made her moan invulnerably. 

Or perhaps it was the anxiety that was eating into her heart. 

“Ever sucked a cock, pet?” 

His question was answered by a small click that echoed through the quarter and the press of hard, cold metal against the bare parts of his chest. 

Not stepping back, he slowly, almost theatrically, spread his arms into a gesture of defeat while peering at the girl. No rage nor fear painted his face, and as he spoke, there was neither surprise in his voice. 

“Heh. So you ARE a whore.”

Lizette held the pistol determined, not saying a word.

“What is it that I do, pet?” 

Offering a sly grin, the pirate pressed against the barrel; the oceans in his glare darkened. As Lizette stared back, she could have sworn the many shades of blue in his sights shifted and swayed like angry waves. Quickly brushing the thought away, she cocked the gun in a warning, her little thumb grazing the trigger.

But to August, it was clear that the girl had never killed anyone before, and the longer she stalled, the more shaky her hand became. Taunting, he moved further into the barrel, which forced her to take a step back. 

“Do not move closer!” She finally spoke. 

August brushed her warning away, moving forward instead. He had been so nimble in his movement, fluid, like a sea creature himself. Only now she realised that his hands were no longer in the air. 

“Was it your dear mother?” He suggested. “Father? Sister?” He paused and offered a vicious smirk, “Ah… I see, A lover. Well, to that, I surely deserve to die. Go ahead, pet, pull the trigger.” 

His slender, heavily ringed fingers reached to envelop the barrel, holding the pistol steady for the girl. Every breath he took pressed the metal harder against his sternum. Lizette could sense his heartbeat pulsating through the barrel, the thrum of his blood nearly mingling with her own. No longer steady, her digit quivered around the trigger and in her throat, she felt the strenuous hold of anger, guilt and hatred. 

“You have taken everything from me!” She simply answered. 

Soon her sight became blurry, and wetness gathered beneath her eyes.  

‘Do it, do it now.’ 

Another click sounded in the room. Louder than the cocking of a gun. 

Lizette’s eyes flared in shock, and before she could pull the trigger, August had carefully veered the gun from his chest and, in a tenderness that was accustomed to lovers, snatched it from her hand. His other hand laid still on her neck, fastening the iron collar he granted her.

“Good girl,” he teased and then leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the forehead of the girl who was too struck by her own misfortune and stupidity to react. 

With the pistol safely placed in his waistband, the pirate stepped back, face alighted, eyes sparkling with starlight cascade, like a child who had just earned a new toy.  He clasped his hands together, ecstatic; thick silver rings chiming as they collided.

 “I haven’t taken everything from you, pet. but I am going to…”

With one last slanted grin, the pirate turned on his heels and marched toward the door, not bothering to bid farewell as he left and locked the door behind him.

Panicked, Lizette reached her hands to the iron collar, desperately trying to pry it off her neck despite knowing there was no logic in pulling at the heavy metal. 

“Please!” Tears trickled down her cheeks and chin, “no! No! No! Please!”

Through the open window, she could hear the captain's voice barking orders, commanding his men to lift anchor and set sail. 

****

Chapter Two

[thechekhov]

Dungeon Meshi Quick Reacts

CH. 33 Sea Serpent (Part II)

Ah, so we're taking a little intermission break from the main team I see. That's just gonna keep being a thing. Alright... keep your secrets...

This is so...normal. I'm not used to it at all.

Feeling a bit of pride for our girl Marcille rn

.....now that I know he's a little bit fucked up, that reaction does not inspire good feelings.

Last name drop?????

They're gay, K.... K..... Kaios?

I've forgotten his name.

Alright, Sherlock, we get it. Cellphone chargers, etc, etc.

Dwarf stinky.

But let's be real, Senshi probably smells like cooking oil.

is..... is the Japanese guy not human by virtue of being 'eastern'? What?????? 😂 I hope it's just this translation....

Hmmm.. so Namari's family got a bad rep, and Laios and Falin took her in, but that means that no one would be willing to take her place? I mean, it's not as if they NEED a dwarf.... it's not as in the dwarf would know anything about previous dynamics... especially if he had been living off of dungeon monsters.........

Senshi is only dangerous to food, chill out bud.

The dynamic here is..... sure something.

The fact that they're fully mispronouncing his name makes so much more sense now.

this boy straight up isekai'd himself to what. have his little DBZ plotline? Is that it?

ah yes. the other type of Guy.

...y.....ya good?

So Laios and Falin got swindled. You're saying they got swindled out of their money because they were trying to be kind. That's what you're saying? Just so that we're all on the same page.

Guy Who Has HyperFixated on Reading People's Intentions Takes the Biggest L.

I mean, to be fair, I don't think Laios cares about people as much as he cares about Falin. But FALIN. come ON. FALIN!

Actually no, Laios agreed to return to the surface for his team instead of following Falin. He's a good egg. SLANDER!! THIS IS SLANDER!!!!!

yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyikes on spikes.

"This whole dungeon system is fucked up, am I right? Anyway. I'm going to buy Twitter take over, that will definitely fix things."

GASP!! A BABY!!!

Oh, the one this and the PREVIOUS chapter was named for? I'm glad it finally showed up!

I cast STRENGTH SAVE! It's TERRIBLE! 😂

👁👁

"her"....

specced poorly, my man. It's a skill issue.

who are you? I would die for you.

This is.......a lot to take in at once. But that's definitely... that's the guy whose name they kept butchering, right? Right? He looks like he partook of the sake a bit too much recently but that's him, right? Why does he have a fangroup now?

Yeah, this is what losing Falin does to people.

Although... this is also a skill issue. Marcile just used the pain to become a stronger, more fucked up version of herself. This guy needs to up his game.

[thecreaturecodex]

Great Old One, Mormo

Image © @chimeride, accessed at his tumblr here

[Monster Number 1900! And, in honor of that milestone, I am finally, finally, posting the statistics for Mormo, Goddess of Predators. She's been haunting this blog for about a year now, being one of the prime movers and shakers in the Age of Monsters campaign seed I sewed back last May, and have been teasing with NPCs and articles. She was intended to have been posted as a capstone to the "Monster Girl Summer" theme last year, but life got in the way.

She is also written in tribute to @abominationimperatrix. Of all of the people who I have met through my writing, she is the one who is most dear to me, and the Age of Monsters was inspired by us going from friends and confidants to lovers and soulmates last April. The Age of Monsters is intended to be a campaign that ties into our shared love of thinking with monsters, about deep ecology, weird creatures and world mythology, and of the importance of love and trust in a time of global chaos and destruction. I love you, Goddess, my Dearest Friend.]

Mormo CR 28 N Outsider This titan is a reptilian humanoid the size of a giant. She has a nest of writhing serpents for hair and six arms, each ending in long sickle claws. She is a serpent from the waist down, although a mass of scar tissue reveals she once had two tails that grew like legs from a pair of hips. Her remaining tail ends in a bushel of thorny spines. A pair of wings like those of a primeval reptile grow from her back.

Mormo The First Medusa, Goddess of Predators N Great Old One of ecology, reptiles and terror Domains Knowledge, Scalykind, Strength, Trickery Subdomains Competition, Fear*, Thought, Venom Worshipers druids, goblins, gnolls, naturalists Minions monsters of all kinds (especially hybrids) Holy Symbol a medusa’s head in profile Favored Weapon claw (or sickle) *clerics of Mormo can use the Fear subdomain to modify the Trickery domain

Mormo is the Goddess of Predators. She was born from the fear felt by the first animal with enough imagination to see a shadow and think it a predator. For millions of years, she was bestial, primordial, little more than a serpentine shadow, but as sapience developed and the gods began to take interest in souls, her mind sharpened, and she became as dangerous for her strategies as her teeth and claws. Mormo views the natural world as one to be studied in order to best determine what to hunt and how to hunt it, with the unblinking patience of a snake. Her hunts, and those of her followers, are focused to maintain the active equilibrium of ecological balance—reducing overpopulated species, controlling trophic cascades, and taking out species that consume more than their fair share of resources.

Mormo was once called the Mother of Monsters, and many species of monster found throughout the planes are her descendants. Mormo’s descendants tend to be creatures that combine mammalian and reptilian or avian features; griffons, medusae, chimeras and dragonnes are among her creations. In the past, she had many lovers and created new species with their lineages. The most notorious of these collaborators was Typhon, a Lord of Hell and former asura rana, created from the divine mistake of allowing dragons to proliferate. Despite his evil nature, Typhon truly loved Mormo, and spread cults of her under the alias “Echidna”. Mormo cared little for her humanoid followers, preferring the worship of the powerful individual monsters who hunted by her side. But Mormo also had enemies. And she was gazed upon with hungry eyes by Lamashtu, then a demon of infanticide who sought to become the Lord of Beasts and Queen of Demons. And Mother of Monsters.

Lamashtu ambushed Mormo, and was victorious after a battle that lasted for a full day. Lamashtu ripped the baby from Mormo’s womb and raised him as her own; this is Typhon’s last son, Abraxas. Lamashtu tore off one of Mormo’s twin tails, which regenerated into a cancerous creature on its own right. This was the origin of Geryon, who spread treacherous lies suggesting that Typhon and Lamashtu were lovers. This got Typhon demoted and murdered by Asmodeus; Geryon took Typhon’s place as a Lord of Hell and spent millennia erasing his predecessor from history. The blood that spilled from both combatant’s wounds grew into creatures with serpentine and humanoid traits; Mormo’s blood became the first nagas, and Lamashtu’s the first mariliths. And Mormo was slain, reborn as a mundane snake to regenerate in the First World for centuries, and maintaining her cosmic sulk for millennia more

But now Mormo stirs in her slumber. And she is ready to take her revenge.

As befits a Goddess of Predators, Mormo is a terror in combat. Millennia of dormancy and a closer tie to the natural world than other Great Old Ones has stripped her of an unnatural presence, but her fourfould gaze can petrify, paralyze, terrorize or merely strike enemies dead. She is extremely venomous, and those that have survived her venom report, chillingly, that it induces euphoria even as it breaks down tissue into a bloody mess. She uses her fangs (both in her own mouth and those in her serpentine hair) and claws in melee, and can fire the spines from her tail like arrows. One of Mormo’s most recently developed talents is witchcraft. She has made an arcane bond with the phouka Gigi, and Gigi treats Mormo as a patron even as Mormo treats Gigi as a familiar for storing spells. Gigi spends most of her days separate from Mormo on the Material Plane, and so Mormo usually maintains a small spell selection through Spell Mastery. If she is encountered with Gigi, Mormo has access to a much wider variety of spells (all witch spells from the Core Rulebook at least).

The cult of Mormo is small and scattered, but the First Medusa pays it much more heed than she did in her youth. Religious rituals include studying nature and monsters (either through texts or in the field), hunting for food, and mock chases and hunts among the congregation. Supplicants often use makeup, costumes, and illusion and transmutation magic to appear as different types of predators and prey for these hunts. Once someone is “caught”, the result is play fighting, sex or both instead of actual killing or consumption. Mormo’s worshippers value diversity of all kinds, and are often allies of other divinities with portfolios involving nature, scholarship and hedonism. As goblin and gnoll societies break free of Lamashtu’s influence, they often find Mormo, and her cult is growing fastest among these two species.

Mormo CR 28 XP 4,915,200 N Huge outsider (Great Old One) Init +22; Senses all-around vision, darkvision 60 ft., low-light vision, Perception +42, scent

Defense AC 45, touch 26, flat-footed 37 (-2 size, +8 Dex, +10 insight, +19 natural) hp 688 (32d10+512); fast healing 20 Fort +26, Ref +26, Will +27 DR 20/epic; Immune ability damage, ability drain, aging, cold, death effects, disease, energy drain, flanking, mind-influencing effects, paralysis, petrification; Resist acid 30, electricity 30, fire 30; SR 39 Defensive Abilities freedom of movement, immortality, insanity (DC 38), otherworldly insight

Offense Speed 30 ft., climb 30 ft., swim 30 ft. fly 60 ft. (average) Melee 2 bites +44 (2d6+14 plus poison), 6 claws +44 (1d12+14/19-20), tail slap +39 (3d8+21 plus grab) Ranged 6 spines +38 (1d8+14) Space 15 ft.; Reach 15 ft. Special Attacks constrict (2d8+21),devolutionary nightmare, favored enemy (+6, +4, +4, +2, +2), fourfold gaze, poison, powerful blows (tail slap), rend (2 claws, 1d12+21) Spell-like Abilities CL 28th, concentration +40 Constant—freedom of movement, true seeing At will—cloudkill (DC 27), dream, fear (DC 26), greater animal aspect, greater scrying (DC 26), greater teleport (self plus 50 lbs objects only), nightmare (DC 27), pernicious poison 3/day—quickened baleful polymorph (DC 27), quickened bloody claws, finger of death (DC 29), polymorph any object (DC 30), reincarnate, stone to flesh 1/day—discern location, maze, moment of prescience, plane shift (DC 29), shapechange

Spells CL 20th, concentration +32 9th—quickened cure critical wounds (x2, DC 27), dominate monster (DC 31), shapechange (x2) 8th—quickened divine power (x2), quickened enervation, horrid wilting (x2, DC 30), mind blank 7th—extended greater heroism, heal (DC 29, x2), quickened vampiric touch (x2), waves of ecstasy (DC 29) 6th—quickened bull’s strength, greater dispel magic (x3), greater heroism (x2) 5th—cure critical wounds (DC 27, x2), extended divine power, feeblemind (DC 27, x2), quickened mage armor 4th—extended arcane sight, divine power (x2), enervation (x3), neutralize poison (DC 26) 3rd—arcane sight, ray of exhaustion (x3, DC 25), vampiric touch (x2) 2nd—bull’s strength (x2), cure moderate wounds (DC 24, x3), perceive cues (x2) 1st—comprehend languages (x3), divine favor (x3), mage armor 0th—detect magic, read magic

Statistics Str 39, Dex 27, Con 42, Int 34, Wis 24, Cha 35 Base Atk +32; CMB +48 (+52 grapple); CMD 66 (cannot be tripped) Feats Combat Reflexes, Deadly Aim,Extend Spell, Greater Sunder, Improved Critical (claw), Improved Initiative, Improved Sunder, Iron Will, Point Blank Shot, Power Attack, Precise Shot, Quicken SLA (baleful polymorph, bloody claws), Quicken Spell, Spell Mastery (x2) Skills Acrobatics +44, Bluff +47, Diplomacy +44, Fly +38, Intimidate +47, Knowledge (arcana, dungeoneering, geography, local, religion) +44, Knowledge (nature, planes) +47, Perception +46, Sense Motive +42, Spellcraft +44, Stealth +35, Survival +45, Use Magic Device +44; Racial Modifiers +4 Perception Languages Aklo, Draconic, Infernal, Sylvan, telepathy 100 ft. SQ no breath, planar acclimation, swift tracking, thagomizer

Ecology Environment any land or underground (First World) Organization unique Treasure double standard

Special Abilities Devolutionary Nightmare (Sp) Any creature affected by Mormo’s nightmare spell like ability must succeed a DC 38 Will save or be affected by a primal regression spell for the next 24 hours. Favored Enemy (Ex) Mormo gains the favored enemy ability of a 20th level ranger, except that she can change what creature types and subtypes count as her favored enemies after resting for 8 hours. Fourfold Gaze (Su) Mormo has a gaze attack with a range of 60 feet. She may change the effects of her gaze, or suppress it, as a free action once per turn. The possible effects are: 1. panicked 1 minute (Will DC 38) 2. paralyzed 1 round (Will DC 38) 3. petrification (Fort DC 38) 4. 200 points of damage (Fort DC 38 negates) This is a mind-influencing effect, and the saving throw is Charisma based. Immortality (Ex) If Mormo is slain, she is reborn as a viper on the First World. Every 100 years, Mormo gains a size category until she reaches Huge size, whereupon she molts her skin and is reborn in her true form. Planar Acclimation (Ex) Mormo is always considered to be on her home plane, regardless of what plane she finds herself upon. She never gains the extraplanar subtype. Poison (Ex) Bite—injury; save Fort DC 42; duration 1/round for 6 rounds; effect 2d4 Con damage and stunned 1d4 rounds; cure 2 consecutive saves. The save DC is Constitution based. Spells Mormo can cast spells as a 20th level witch with the Strength patron. The spells listed above are the ones Mormo has taken Spell Mastery feats to prepare. Spines (Ex) As a standard action, Mormo can fire six spines from her tail. Treat each spine as a ranged attack roll with a thrown weapon with a range increment of 100 feet. Each spine deals 1d8 damage plus Mormo’s Strength modifier on a successful hit. Swift Tracking (Ex) Mormo does not suffer a penalty to Survival checks made to follow tracks at her normal speed, and only takes a -10 penalty for following tracks at double speed. Thagomizer (Ex) Mormo’s tail slap attack deals bludgeoning and piercing damage.

[onceupre]

Chapter 2: A Decisive Choice! The End of Cure Hoodie?!

(Author's note: Thanks so much for the recent support! I hope y'all enjoy chapter 2! ^^)

Hoodie stood resilient and on the ready against the dangerous looking serpent woman who stood before her. She felt Operetta’s scarlet eyes filling with hatred at the sight of her. The atmosphere was so silent you could hear the wind blowing gently as the two had a silent standoff, waiting for the other to move first.

The fairies floated on the side of the stand off, in awe of the newly born Precure. But there was also suspense in the air, of what would unfold between the two intense figures that were standing before them.

Operetta screeched, grabbed her scythe and charged at Hoodie, who ducked down backwards to narrowly dodge her advance. Operetta then clawed at the girl, who swiftly slapped her claws away with a quick motion, grabbing her wrist and tossing Operetta behind into a nearby tree with a snap sounding impact. Hoodie looked at her hand, impressed with this newfound strength.

The serpent woman grunted as she brushed off the debris of the tree she was thrown into. Some dead leaves and twigs were caught in her hair, infuriating Operetta even moreso. She suddenly froze, and frantically looked at her hands, inspecting each and every finger out of worry. She sighed and used the snath of her scythe to help her up

“You’ll pay for almost ruining my nails, pest.” Operetta hissed 

“You’re clearly nuts! Ya REALLY think I care about some dumb gussied up nails??” Hoodie scoffed in response, this monster clearly has odd priorities…

Operetta huffed, and charged again. Hoodie simply jumped up, but overestimated the new power she was bestowed, as she was high up in the air. The feeling was almost freeing, while nervous, she also felt light and serene being up so high. She could see so much scenery also. She spotted the woodlands below, beyond that was a nearby academy, Meruhen Village, and-

Her eyes locked with the familiar sight of her family’s bakery. She felt a pit slowly forming, remembering the events from this morning between her and her parents. And for a moment, she snapped out of her adrenaline high as she plummeted to the ground. She barely stuck a landing but before she could turn, Operetta jabbed the snath of her weapon into Hoodie’s stomach, launching her back into a tree.

“THAT is for earlier!” Operetta snickered “And THIS is to end things!”

Operetta slithered up to the currently down Precure and she raised her scythe. Hoodie looked up defenseless, realizing the danger she was truly in. Memories of this morning flashed before her eyes once again. The arguing, the discord at home, her wanting to escape. She was helpless in so many aspects, even with such an awesome power, she still felt hopeless….

“LUUULUUUUUUUUUU!” Lupo screeched as he attacked and grabbed onto Operetta’s face, throwing her off balance.

“Let’s get you UPPP ~LELE!” The swan said, flapping her wings as she used her clawed feet to help lift Hoodie up by her red hood.

“Don’t give up please, miss ~lili!” the cub pleaded while pushing Hoodie up from her upper back.

Hoodie got up, and realized she needed to think, and act fast. She thought about her next move, when once again she felt an uneasy feeling growing. Phrases said by her father and mother flooded her mind, she never really could feel a moment’s peace could she? And now she has to face this monstrous woman, and on top of that help these poor defenseless creatures!

Help…Under attack…Arguments .... Those three topics swirled around Hoodie’s head and she lightly tapped her cranium with the palm of her hand, trying to focus and decide on her next move. Among all the noise going on inside of her mind, the struggles of Operetta trying to rip Lupo off her face wasn’t helping much either. Quiet, she needed quiet desperately. 

So she made a decision.

She grabbed the two fairies that helped her up moments ago, and swiftly jumped at Operetta who was struggling to detach Lupo from her face. She ripped the wolf from her enemy’s head, and jumped onto Operetta’s shoulders. She swiftly used a powerful jump off of her enemy and far into the emptied sky above, causing Operetta to be pushed forcibly into the dirty woodland ground below.

A comical moment passed by as Operetta processed what had just happened.

“Wh-WHAT?!” Operetta exclaimed, her face still in the dirt, before snapping her head upwards “Precure….ran away?”

She had a look of disbelief until she realized the girl made off with the fairies. Her face morphed into a look of pure anger, her sharp teeth practically grinding against each other before letting out a gut-wrenching screech.

“Grrrr… PREEEECURREEEEEEEEE!”

-----

Farther away from the previous battleground, Hoodie let go of the fairies she held onto, allowing them to float freely themselves. The three were confused at Cure Hoodie’s choice to flee the fight. They all swarmed around the girl who was now panting, trying to catch her breath.

“What the heck~ lulu?! You just. RAN AWAY?!?” 

“She’s gonna trail our tail feathers ~lele!!”

“My stomach hurts ~lili”

“EVERYONE JUST. SHADDUP!!!!” Akane screamed desperately.

Some birds flew away as Hoodie’s voice echoed across the emptied woods around them. The three fairies were startled at the girl’s response.

“Get this froufrou mess offa me. NOW!” Akane exclaimed, practically grabbing her outfit and with a ripping motion, dispelled the magical attire off of her body spontaneously.

 She was shocked that it worked, and grabbed at her twin braids to assure her suspicions; she was back to her civilian self again!

“That’s more like it!” she stretched her arms out and moved onto her legs, squatting down from side to side, feeling freed a bit from the constricting clothes she had on just a moment earlier. She also took a moment to just breathe, she felt a bit more at ease as she rolled her shoulders back to crack them and relieve some stress she held there just moments prior.

Lupo looked stern, then closed his eyes with a frustrated huff.

“You…you’re nothing but a coward ~lulu...” he muttered, loud enough for Akane to just barely hear what he said.

“HUH?! What do you mean?? I SAVED you!!” Akane replied defensively.

“You only DELAYED that beastly woman from getting us ~lulu!”

“LISTEN! I DIDN'T HAFTA DO NOTHING FOR YOU, YOU FUZZBALLS!”

Akane grit her teeth together at the wolven fairy, as the other two floated on the sidelines. The swan put a wing to her chest and exaggeratedly gasped.

“Well I’d NEVER ~lele!” the swan turned her head at the girl with scorn, taking offense to the comment from the brunette girl.

“Please stop yelling ~lili!! Everyone please-” The cub was cut off with a loud grumbling sound from his stomach.

It grew quiet, comedically quiet. Akane then sighed with a hint of amusement, and zipped open her  wolf themed pouch from her crossbody bag. She took out a dessert she had been saving, a cookie, and handed it to the cub, who looked happy to finally have gotten some food in his paws.

“Thank you ~lili!” The cub cheerfully said while shoving the cookie into its maw.

“Whatever. Here” she said, holding out the Precure Storybook to Lupo, who returned her gesture with a look of shock and confusion.

“What are you-”

“I can’t be involved with this ‘Pretty Cute’ junk” she spat out hastily, her eyes slightly looking away from her recipient.

-----

Meanwhile an angered Operetta was wandering through the trees. She was angrily swiping her weapon at each tree she passed, knocking them over and clearing the view bit by bit. She was trying to find her lost prey, or rather, her prey that were taken from her.

“Damned girl, making things more complicated than they need to be… I’ll kill her if I find her-”

*snap*

Operetta hastily turned in the direction of the sudden noise, her scythe in hand and pointed in the same direction blade first. She turned to the view of a scared boy who wore a sleeveless red hoodie and blue shorts, who looked terrified at the sight of her.

“Oh eww, children, gross” she said in a disgusted tone, which made the boy cry for his mother. 

His tears angered her, but with such a strong emotion she felt from him…. A feeling of being lost? Utter abandonment, with a hint of saddened memories of a paternal figure now lost. Perfect for her to initiate her backup plan.

She chuckled as she slammed the snath of her scythe against the ground, causing the boy to freeze, a look of terror painted his face.

“Reveal yourself! Nostalight!” She said sensually.

 As if on instinct a glowing orb with wings flew out from the boy’s chest, radiating a faint yellow hue. The orb flapped its wings in an attempt to escape its newfound predator, but to no avail.

Operetta grinned as she drove her weapon into the soil below. The red crystal at the base of her weapon glowed, causing  black sludge like ooze to dispense onto the ground. From there the ooze rose upwards from the earth’s floor, trickling drops of sludge as it shot upwards at the Nostalight orb. It enveloped the orb with its paste-like embrace, tainting it, and trapping it within a red diamond shaped crystal. Two scythes crossed behind it, locking it in place as the ink-like substance overflowed, into the shape of a wolven-like monster.

“POISONINKKKKKK!!!” the Poisonink screeched with a blood curdling growl, echoing far across the forest, scaring away the animals that were residing nearby.

“Hmm~ Time to end this, Cure Hoodie~” Operetta purred, feeling more confident with her newfound pawn.

-----

“Firstly! It’s ‘Precure’! Secondly, WHAT ~LULU?!?!?!” Lupo responded to Akane, who still held her Precure Storybook toward the dumbfounded fairy.

“IM AKANE, NOT ‘LULU’!” she responded angrily.

Lupo sighed and closed his eyes.

“That’s just how us fairies speak ~lulu I know your name, Akane ~lulu!”

Akane huffed and crossed her arms, her arm felt sore from holding out the item the fairy still refused to take back.

“Listen. I can’t be gettin’ myself into all this mess. I already have a lot goin’ on at home as is! It’s just….better if ya found someone else…” she said, turning away in embarrassment. 

“Well you won’t have to worry about home once The Grimm Empire plunges this world into an eternal bad end ~lulu!” Lupo growled.

Akane turned around, confused at what the fairy said. Did he insinuate the world could potentially END?!

“Eternal ...bad end? What are ya yappin’ about now?” she cautiously asked.

Lupo closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and exhaled.

“We…I can’t tell you much Akane ~lulu” Lupo said as his ears fell downwards, clearly ashamed of his inability to speak further on the subject.

“Then I’m outta here” she said, walking off disappointed at the conversation’s outcome.

“HOW DARE YOU~ LELE!” the bird huffed and flapped her way to the front of Akane’s direction, halting her in her tracks.

“Lebed please be rational ~lili” the cub whispered, trying to calm the bird.

“NO LIONCEAU! This girl is being naive and petty~lele!”

“Lebed? Lionceau? What kinda names are those?” Akane muttered to herself.

Lupo flew up to Akane, determined to convince her with the best of his ability.

“Akane ~lulu,  I don’t know why you changed your mind suddenly but please reconsider-”

“WHY?! So I can be told ONCE AGAIN how to live my life?? I get that enough from my parents! And now suddenly by flying talking animals?? I’m losin’ it!!” Akane exclaimed with her hands on her head.

Lupo and the others exchanged a look of worry, then Lupo turned back and spoke.

“Akane ~lulu… I don’t know much about you, and I’m sorry for forcing this all on you suddenly….”

‘Sorry’ resonated in Akane’s mind. She wasn’t used to hearing that word, the only other person who ever apologized to her was her mother on rare occasions…

“...but I NEED you to understand the danger the world is in if you can’t help us ~lulu!” Lupo pleaded desperately.

Akane closed her eyes for a moment, letting those words resonate in her mind for a bit.

“...ya mentioned an eternal bad end?” she responded, turning towards the fairies.

“Yes ~lulu The Grimm Empire is planning on plunging this world into an eternal bad end! A world filled with despair and woes ~lulu!”

“One where everyone is sad, not able to feel any happy emotions ~lili...” Lionceau added.

“A world where you can’t decide your own happily ever after ~lele” Lebed admitted defeatedly 

“Happily ever after?” Akane made a confused expression at that phrasing.

“It’s what us fairies from Everafter Garden refer to what you humans may call ‘dreams’ ~lulu” Lupo explained, hoping he made a correct comparison for Akane to understand.

Akane paused. Her dream. What IS her dream? Once again she stood dumbfounded, she was surrounded by so much work and chaos of  family related fights, she still had no clue what her ‘dream’ could be…or even how to go about figuring something like that out.

“...Even still… what am I supposed to do??” she questioned.

“We…can’t disclose much about our mission, unless we have a team of at least THREE Precure ~lulu.... It’d be too risky to our mission,  But PLEASE trust we have you and your world’s best interest at heart ~lulu” 

Akane stood there, about to respond when suddenly the ground shook, and a huge beast made of black goopy ink stood before her. Its large elongated arms hung down and attached to two giant paws that had sharp claws out. The monster had its sharp teeth snarling, black ooze dripping down like saliva from its maw.

Operetta stood on it’s shoulders looking pleased at the sight of the once again terrified prey in front of her.

“Oh there you are! And already detransformed? My what a treat to me~” she playfully exclaimed putting her hands together.

Akane stood her ground as best she could,visibly trembling at the much more terrifying beast in front of her. It had to have been about 10 feet taller than her! The three fairies followed behind her, trembling at the foes in front of them.

“My Poisonink here will now be ending your lives for me. I cannot be bothered to put another hair out of place, beside…” she looked at Akane who was buckling at the knees, visibly horrified.

 “...Watching this beast kill you and those pesky fairies will be a sight I wanna see in full~” she giggled sadistically.

“Poisonink?” Akane turned her head to ask the small fairies behind her.

“A creature used by tainting a human’s Nostalight, inner memories of things they’re fond of. ~lulu” Lupo answered practically whispering out of fear of being heard.

“...Pasta WHAT?” Akane questioned, having a hard time hearing the small fairy’s hushed tone.

“Anyways, Poisonink, end them now.” Operetta exclaims, hopping off the beast and landing soundly on the ground off to the side of the newly found battle arena.

“POISONNNNINK!” the monster cried out, the sound reverberating through the woodland area, causing some birds to caw and fly away in fear.

The beast lunged its elongated paws at the four prey, but Akane whipped around and group hug-tackled the fairies and herself to safety. But only for a moment before the beast swung its elongated claws again, and again, each time getting dangerously closer to the quartet.

Akane noticed their disadvantage, and she knew she had to make a choice. She already had so much going on at home. She has no idea what her dream isor what will come in the future for her, but if she doesn't help now she won’t have much of a dream or future to look forward to. When she looked down to the fairies she held in her arms, Lupo caught her eye particularly.

Lupo stared at her, she took notice of this, and he gave her a look. A look of understanding. Something she’s alien to, almost as if he’s beckoning her to realize whatever she chooses this time around, it’s HER choice. Her choice… her decision…nobody else has a say…only her!

“Lupo!” she called out, making her choice as clear as day to the now smiling wolf fairy.

As Akane let the fairies float freely, the wolf nodded in understanding, and handed her the wolf-shaped charm he had stored in his brooch. She took it and made a sharp pose with the charm in one hand, and The Precure Storybook in her other, facing the opponent.

“It’s about time I make my own decisions! Startin’ with defeating you monsters!” she said proudly.

“Precure! Curetime Everafter!”

As quick as a flash, Akane transforms into Cure Hoodie!

“Hooded in red, journeying towards victory! Cure Hoodie!”

“KILL THEM ALL NOW!” Operetta screeched, disgusted at the sight of Cure Hoodie once again. She was set on crushing this vile worm while she had her chance.

Hoodie was ready this time, and stood her ground as the monster once again plunged its huge paws atop of her, seemingly crushing her. Operetta had a sickening grin until she realized the paw was… shaking? 

From beneath, Cure Hoodie slowly lifted the paw up with shaking knees. She found some footing, grasped the foe’s paw tightly, and swung the beast overhead, plunging it into the ground and into the nearby treeline.

“NO!” screamed Operetta in shock of Hoodie’s strength and anger of her pawn’s incompetence. 

Hoodie brushed her shoulders off, and stretched out her shoulders with a crackling noise. She then charged at the beast with a sprint, and ran along up its back and to its head. As she approached its muzzle she hopped up to its nose and then jumped far up into the sky. Cure Hoodie stopped herself mid-air and swiftly positioned her leg outward and flew back down, successfuly landing a sharp kick. Doing so, she jabbed her scarlet heels into the beast’s snout.

She took notice of the red diamond-shaped  jewel adorned on the Poisonink’s chest, and had a feeling that was its weak spot.

“Hoodie! ~lulu! Use the Precure Storybook and purify the Poisonink ~lulu! It’ll purify and return the Nostalight to the proper owner! Hurry, while it’s down ~lulu!” Lupo screamed from the sidelines, the other two fairies screaming their support as well.

Hoodie nodded in understanding, and opened up the storybook. The slot where the wolf charm was inserted was glowing, and she pressed it down lightly twice. This activates a symbol to trace on the left side’s mirror. She took the quill pen and followed the dotted line, which in turn simultaneously drew the emblem with raw energy in front of her.

Once finished, the wolf shaped emblem that stood in front of her glowed, and she touched it with the tip of her quill pen, absorbing the filling of raw energy of the emblem to the inside of her pen. This left the emblem’s outline visible still while her pen lit up with a sparkling red energy, ready to burst.

“Precure!” She made a swift motion, as if to charge up “Exciting Resolution!”

She pulled back, and pierced the glowing outline with a resounding ‘HA’, while simultaneously shoving her opposing leg forward for an added oomph factor. This action released the energy from within the pen at the Posionink in the form of a wild wolf. It charged valiantly towards its darker counterpart. Once it made contact with the monster, the beast was purified with a relaxing “Happily ever after~!” 

As Hoodie closed her Precure Storybook in triumph, the monster exploded, shattering the red diamond gem it one wore. With that, the Nostalight appeared to be purified with its normal yellow hue glowing softly like it once did before.

“Tch. I’ll remember this, Precure.” Operetta grumbled before vanishing into thin air, returning the surroundings back to normal as the fairies celebrated around a proud Cure Hoodie. 

She took notice of the floating ball of light, it intrigued her.

“So…that’s a Pasta-Light?” she questioned at the expense of the fairies looking embarrassed of her mispronunciation. 

“It’s NOSTALIGHT!~lulu That ball of light holds memories a person holds dear to something. It usually resides within a human’s heart.~lulu” retorted Lupo.

Cure Hoodie held her hand around the flapping ball of light, she took notice of a mother and her son joyfully playing. She smiled, both out of compassion, but a bit out of envy as well.

“We simply cannot let The Grimm Empire taint and harvest these lights!~ lele” Lebed squaked.

Hoodie looked inquisitively at the fairies, beckoning them to continue.

“I promise we’ll tell you Cure Hoodie, in due time.~lulu” Lupo reassured as Hoodie nodded in understanding.

With that, the Nostalight flew back to its normal vessel with small flaps of its wings.

Cure Hoodie smiled at its departure, as for once, she took control of things in her life. And it felt good!

-----

Within Akane’s room the four lay on her bed, seemingly exhausted from their journey. 

Akane sighed with relief, both from being victorious, but also for successfully lying to her parents that the fairies were actually a gift from the patron she delivered to earlier that day. Although it seemed easy once their scoldings of her arriving home so late were over, they seemed more attentive to that detail above all else.

“Very smart of you to pass us off as gifts from your delivery. ~lulu You’re more intelligent than I thought!~ lulu” Lupo jested at the girl who clearly was unimpressed with his remark.

“I’m just good at explaining my way outta trouble at this point hehe” she replied gleefully.

“Now ~lulu, tomorrow we search for any potential new Precure! ~lulu” the wolf said with resolve.

-----

 A docile figure approaches a black landline phone, dials some numbers, and makes a call.

“....Hello? Yes I’d like to place an order to the Izumi Ballet Hall please...Yes, a dozen blueberry muffins please…Yes, that’s correct...a name for the order? Hakuchou Junko…Thank you, have a lovely day!”

The girl smiled softly and hung up the phone.

-End Chapter 2-

[moonsandmobilityaids]

Fraud

Pairings: Poly!marauders x disabled!reader Summary: Amycus Carrow wants to prove that you can walk. Warnings: Ableism, bullying Series Masterlist

The echo of your wheels against the stone floor is a steady rhythm in your ears, emphasising the silence that fills the vast corridors. It's a quiet day at Hogwarts; the castle's usual cacophony is subdued to a hushed murmur, almost peaceful.

You're humming a little tune under your breath, the melody weaving through your thoughts like a comforting friend. The Gryffindor common room waits for you at the end of this journey, a sanctuary filled with laughter and warmth. You can already see James' eyes lighting up as he recounts his latest Quidditch manoeuvre, Sirius' infectious laugh bouncing off the ancient walls, and Remus' soft smile as he listens, content.

But before you reach the familiar portrait of the Fat Lady, you sense a change in the air, a shift that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. A presence, unseen but palpable, looms behind you, the slow, deliberate footsteps growing louder.

You stop, your heart pounding against your ribcage, and look over your shoulder.

There, standing tall and menacing, is Amycus Carrow. He's a seventh-year Slytherin, known not for academic prowess or sporting achievement, but for the cruelty that seems to radiate from him like a dark aura. His eyes are cold, devoid of empathy, and his lips curl into a sneer that sends shivers down your spine.

"Well, well," he drawls, his voice slithering through the corridor like a serpent stalking its prey. "If it isn't the Gryffindor girl who plays the perfect damsel in distress."

His footsteps draw closer, deliberate and menacing, blocking your path to freedom. Your heart pounds in your chest, a rabbit caught in a snare. He shouldn't know this. Only the boys have seen you walk, and you trust them implicitly—they wouldn't betray you.

You keep your face smooth, knowing that any sign of fear will only fuel his sadistic pleasure. "Out of my way, Carrow."

He doesn't move. Instead, he steps closer, a dark cloud casting shadow over your world. His hand twitches at his side, and you notice the wand loosely held between his fingers. The air around him feels charged, like a storm ready to break. "I've been hearing rumours. Interesting ones. That our little Gryffindor here can stand up just fine. Walk, even."

You swallow hard, a knot forming in your stomach. "I don't know what you've heard, but it's none of your business."

Carrow's smirk widens, and he twirls his wand lazily between his fingers. "Oh, I think it is my business. I don't like liars or people pretending to be something they're not. So why don't we find out the truth?"

You grip the armrests of your wheelchair, feeling the tension build in your body. You've dealt with people like him before—those who don't understand or care about the complexities of disability and see it as something to challenge. But this feels different. More dangerous.

"Let's see what happens when I remove the chair from under you," Carrow proposes, a sly grin creeping onto his face. "Perhaps your legs will remember their purpose."

Suddenly, the sensation of being lifted from the ground fills your senses. It's not right. Your body is still, yet it feels as if invisible hands are tugging at your limbs, pulling you upward. Panic seizes you, and your fingers dig into the armrests, knuckles white with strain.

"Stop!" you shout, your voice echoing off the stone walls. "You have no idea what you're doing!"

"Oh, but I think I do," Carrow retorts, the corners of his mouth twisting into a cruel smile. "I'm testing the validity of your claim. We'll see if the 'crippled' Gryffindor is as helpless as she says."

The pressure increases, insistent, and you feel your body rise ever so slightly from the chair. Your legs dangle uselessly, a stark reminder of their betrayal. You will yourself to remain calm, to think, but fear is a wildfire, spreading through your veins, consuming all rational thought.

Then you hear it—a sound that pierces through your terror. Voices, familiar and strong.

"Put her down."

It's Sirius's voice, sharp as a blade, cutting through the haze of your fear. You twist your head towards the sound, and for a moment, your heart dares to hope. There, just steps away, stand James, Remus, and Sirius, their faces twisted in anger, their wands raised and ready.

Carrow seems taken aback by the sudden interruption, his grip on your arm faltering ever so slightly. But he recovers quickly, his sneer returning as he keeps his wand trained on you. He tilts his head, his eyes gleaming with malice. "Well, well, what have we here? The brave Gryffindors come to play? I was just seeing if your little pet here is as helpless as she seems."

James is the first to move, stepping forward. His face is a mask of fury, but his voice remains steady, laced with an authority that belies his age. "Put her down, Carrow. Now."

Sirius follows suit, wand already drawn, pointed directly at the older boy. The threat in his eyes is as palpable as the magic crackling at his fingertips. "Touch her again, and you won't be walking for a long time."

Carrow's wand wavers ever so slightly, the beginnings of uncertainty creeping into the edges of his resolve. He glances from James to Sirius, then back to you, clearly weighing the risks of pressing on.

Then Remus steps up, placing himself between you and Carrow, his usual calm demeanour hardened by the situation unfolding before them. His voice cuts through the tense silence, carrying a note of danger seldom heard from the quiet Marauder. "If you want to hurt her, you'll have to get through us first."

Carrow's eyes flicker between the three of them, his grip on his wand flexing. There's a change in him, a falter that speaks more of caution than bravado. He's outnumbered, outflanked by their united front.

Before of your floating form, they stand like sentinels, each bristling with an energy that pulsates through the room. Their faces are masks of determination, hard lines and narrowed eyes speaking volumes of their readiness to defend. The air shimmers with tension, and for a moment, it seems that Carrow might push back against the tide rising against him.

Then, abruptly, the levitation spell is released, and you're falling. A gasp escapes your lips as you land heavily back in your chair, jarring your already bruised body. Carrow's wand lowers, the sneer on his face deepening into something even more unpleasant.

"Very well," he says, his voice dripping with disdain. "Keep your secrets for now. But don't think the others won't start asking questions about what you're hiding."

James steps forward, wand raised higher, his stance unyielding. There's a new hardness in his eyes, a promise of action should Carrow overstep his bounds. "Leave, Carrow. Before I make you."

Carrow's lip curls into a sneer, but he remains silent, weighing his options. He casts one last glance at you, a look that speaks volumes of unfinished business, before turning on his heel and marching down the corridor. His footsteps echo off the stone walls, a fading reminder of the threat he poses.

As soon as Carrow is out of sight, you release a shaky breath you didn't know you were holding, fingers still clenching the armrests with white-knuckled force. The boys are instantly at your side—Sirius drops to his knees in front of you, hands resting lightly on your own, while James and Remus hover nearby, their concern etched into every line of their tense bodies.

"Are you all right?" Sirius's inquiry is softer now, though the anger hasn't entirely left his voice.

You give a small nod, even as your pulse continues to race. "Yes, I'm fine. He didn't... he didn't harm me."

James's fingers tighten around yours, offering silent reassurance. "We should've hexed him on the spot. The nerve of him—"

A pause hangs in the air, long and heavy, before Remus speaks again. His hand remains steady on your shoulder, but there's a flicker behind his normally calm eyes—a hint of the storm raging beneath the surface. "If he so much as looks at you wrong, we'll deal with him."

"I could have handled it," you insist, your voice barely above a whisper. You force a smile, but it wavers, unconvincing. "I just didn't want to... escalate things."

Sirius shakes his head, his hands still resting on your shoulders as if to shield you from the world outside this quiet corner. "You shouldn't be dealing with this alone, Y/N," he says, voice rough with unspoken emotion. "We're here. We've got your back, always."

James leans forward, his forehead pressing against yours for a moment—a silent promise of solidarity. His breath is warm and steady against your skin, a stark contrast to the chill that has settled in your bones. "No one has the right to treat you like that," he whispers fervently, his words laced with an anger not directed at you, but fiercely protective of you. "Especially not some bloody Slytherin."

Your lip worries between your teeth, and you glance at the three men who have formed a protective barrier around you. In their eyes, you see not only concern but also a fierce determination to keep you safe. "I didn't think it would be this bad," you admit, voice barely a whisper. "I didn't tell anyone I could walk."

Remus's gaze softens even as his brow furrows deeper. "We didn't breathe a word of it either," he assures you, his tone gentle yet firm. "Carrow must have suspected or deduced it on his own. It doesn't matter now. He won't get another chance to harm you."

Sirius rises from his chair, crossing the room in long strides until he stands before you. His hand lifts, hovering for a moment before finally settling on your cheek—a touch as light as a feather yet grounding in its familiarity. "You don't owe anyone an explanation," he says, his voice a low rumble that reverberates with the promise of protection. "Especially not him."

A lump forms in your throat, but you manage to choke out a response. "I just... I didn't want anyone to think I was pretending."

James's lips press against the top of your head, his voice a low rumble that resonates with the steadiness you've come to associate with him. "No one who matters would think that. You're not pretending. You're just being you, and that's all we could ever ask for."

Sirius nods, his hand coming to rest on your shoulder, a silent pledge of solidarity. Remus continues to rub soothing circles into your back, his touch a grounding presence amid the tempest of your thoughts.

They are here—standing guard, standing with you, ready to face whatever may come. With them, you know you won't have to face it alone.

[sinful-lanterns]

I have an idea for our baby girl Cinnabar

Basically she's a centour. Not a surprise since that's the only thing I think of. As her background she's adopted by Serpent eye who are like knights/escorts etc. Researcher hired Cinnabar to escort or protect her since her next stop is on the cold mountains or land. Cinnabar knowing the environment well help researcher to get to their destination, all the while Cinnabar slowly fall for researcher who ask questions about her and ignoring the fact that the researcher 'mate' is tailing behind her or Cinnabar is aware that they are being followed but with an agreement and explanation everything went well.

Looks like two of my anons had the same monster idea for Cinnabar!

Anyways, I find it interesting that the Researcher hires Centaur! Cinnabar to protect her on the next trip to the mountains. This makes me think that centaurs are one of the few monsters in this AU that are tolerable to humans, as they aren’t really dangerous and are actually quite useful in providing humans with their services.

Imagine that not only is Cinnabar an escort for the Researcher, but she also lets her ride on her horse torso whenever her legs get too tired (or when the terrain is too rough and Cinnabar doesn’t want her to get hurt). All the Researcher has to do is cling onto Cinnabar’s back, and let her do all the walking to the next destination 🥺

The other monster girls can handle themselves 😅

[pxnsneverland]

Ruthless Grace | Austin Butler x OC (part 3)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

plot summary: Amidst the grime and squalor of Victorian England's winding cobblestone alleys, a young woman's life hangs precariously in the balance. Violet, a poor peasant girl with long raven locks and piercing gray eyes, possesses a haunting beauty that belies the harsh realities of her existence. Tragedy struck two years prior when Violet's mother succumbed to illness, leaving her to fend for herself and her father – a cruel, selfish man consumed by vices of alcohol and gambling. On one fateful night, Violet's father drags her unwillingly to that very den of iniquity, and there she learns a horrifying truth from the club's greedy, perverted owner: to repay his mounting gambling debts, her father has sold her into sexual servitude. Violet's vehement protests fall on deaf ears, until an unlikely savior emerges from the shadows. Lord Austin Butler intervenes with a bargain of his own. This dangerous man offers to pay off Violet's father's debts in exchange for her accompaniment, and Violet is torn from the only life she has known. While Austin's demeanor remains shrouded in mystery and detachment at first, Violet gradually glimpses his softer, even playful side as time passes within the manor's walls and an unexpected connection blossoms between the unlikely pair.

pairings: austin butler x oc

word count: 2,714

warnings/notes: n/a

Chapter 3: From the Gamble to the Carriage

Lord Austin Butler rose, his height casting a long shadow over the dimly lit room, the light catching the icy determination in his eyes. "You owe me nothing," he said with measured calmness, though there was an undercurrent of danger in his voice that made even Rat’s hardened associates shift uncomfortably in their seats. "However, you owe Miss Everly here the courtesy of not treating her as chattel."

Violet's heart skipped a beat at his words. The notorious Lord Butler, known equally for his ruthless dealings and his unexpected bouts of benevolence, was intervening on her behalf? She dared not let hope flicker too brightly, for fear it would be snuffed out just as quickly.

Rat's gaze flickered between Violet and Lord Butler, assessing the situation with a serpent's calculating eyes. "And why would you care about this girl, my lord?" Rat asked, his tone dripping with disdain. "What is she to you?"

Austin’s lips curled into a slight smile that did not reach his cold blue eyes. "Let's just say I dislike debts being settled through such... unsavory means," he replied smoothly. "Release her from your clutches or find yourself with an enemy you do not want."

Rat hesitated, weighing his options. He knew better than to cross the Butler family, and the debt he was owed, as large as it was, paled in comparison to the weight of their ire. Reluctantly, he let go of Violet's wrist. "Fine," Rat spat out.

"But don't think this is the end of it, Butler. I'll remember this."

Violet felt her wrist freed from Rat's greasy grip, her skin burning where his fingers had clung. She rubbed at the red marks silently, not daring to meet anyone's eyes. The ominous echo of Rat’s threat hung heavy in the air, a dark cloud promising a storm yet to come.

Austin didn't respond to Rat's parting shot; instead, he turned his attention to Violet. Violet's throat tightened. What could Lord Butler possibly want with someone like her? Was this another form of debt, one more personal and potentially perilous? Yet, what choice did she have but to accept his offer? The alternative—remaining under Rat's watchful and undoubtedly vengeful eye—was far worse. As the ruckus of the club resumed, a cacophony of raucous laughter and clinking glasses attempting to mask the tension that had just unfolded, Lord Butler's hand extended towards Violet.

"Come," he said, his voice a low command that brooked no argument. "Let us leave this place."

Violet hesitated, her mind racing with the possible consequences of trusting this enigmatic man. Yet as she glanced back at her father, who was now engrossed in a heated dice game, oblivious to her plight, she knew she had little choice. Swallowing hard, she placed her trembling hand in his. Lord Butler led her through the throng of bodies, his presence parting the crowd like a ship cleaving through dark waters. They stepped out into the cool night air, and Violet drew a deep breath, feeling as if she could breathe for the first time in hours. As they walked down the dimly lit cobblestone street, the cold night wrapping around them like an unwelcome cloak, Violet's mind swirled with a mixture of relief and trepidation. Lord Butler's steps were sure and silent, a stark contrast to the chaotic drumming of her own heart.

"Why did you help me?" she finally mustered the courage to ask, her voice barely above a whisper. She could not rid herself of the notion that every kindness must have its price, especially from someone of Lord Butler’s known reputation.

Austin paused, turning to face her under the faint glow of a street lamp. His features softened somewhat in the dim light, yet his eyes remained inscrutable. "You looked like you needed a way out.”

His reply, simple as it was, carried a weight that hung between them in the cool night air. Violet's eyes searched his, looking for any hint of deceit or malice, but found none that she could discern. She was not naive enough to think this marked the end of her troubles, but for a fleeting moment under the flickering streetlamp, she allowed herself to feel a semblance of safety.

"Where are we going?" Violet asked after a moment, her voice steadier than she felt.

"To my estate," Austin stated, his tone suggesting that further questions might not be welcome. "It’s safer there—for now."

The word 'safe' echoed in her mind like a promise too precious to trust. But what choice did she have? Going back was not an option; moving forward with this enigmatic lord was the only path left open to her. As they continued to walk, Austin's silence enveloped them as effectively as the fog that began to roll in from the river. The fog seemed to cloak their movements, a spectral shroud that masked the uncertainty of their destination. Violet's thoughts churned as violently as the river beside which they walked, each step taking her further away from a life of misery yet potentially closer to a new kind of danger. Lord Butler's stride was purposeful, his posture erect with an authority that commanded respect—even fear—but his silence was a puzzle she could not solve.

The fog seemed to cloak their movements, a spectral shroud that masked the uncertainty of their destination. Violet's thoughts churned as violently as the river beside which they walked, each step taking her further away from a life of misery yet potentially closer to a new kind of danger. Lord Butler's stride was purposeful, his posture erect with an authority that commanded respect—even fear—but his silence was a puzzle she could not solve. Every so often, he glanced over his shoulder, as if to ensure she was still there or to check that they were not being followed. The tightness of his jaw and the occasional narrowing of his eyes spoke of concerns he did not voice, adding another layer to his already enigmatic persona.

Violet's mind raced with questions about this man who had appeared so unexpectedly in her life. What drove him to intervene on her behalf? Was it merely distaste for the unsavory dealings of men like Rat, or was there something deeper, more personal at stake for him? His world was one of power and privilege, so far removed from her own experiences that she found it hard to believe their paths were meant to cross in any meaningful way. Yet here she was, following him into the unknown, driven by a desperation that made her cling to the fragile hope he offered.

As they approached a carriage waiting at the end of the street, its doors opened as if by magic, revealing a plush interior lit by soft lanterns. Violet paused, her heart pounding anew—not from fear this time, but from the sheer otherworldliness of the scene before her. Austin, noticing her hesitation, offered his hand once again, his expression unreadable.

"Trust me," he murmured, the words barely audible above the distant rumble of the city nightlife. The invitation was simple, yet it carried the weight of an unspoken promise—a promise that Violet found herself inexplically wanting to believe, despite every reason she had to doubt. Tentatively, Violet placed her hand in his once more, stepping into the carriage while trying to suppress the fluttering in her chest. The soft cushions enveloped her as she settled into a seat opposite Austin. The door shut with a definitive thud, sealing them together in this moving sanctuary from the outside world.

As the carriage lurched forward, Austin leaned back against the upholstery, his gaze fixed out of the window, lost in thoughts he did not share. Violet watched him covertly, studying his profile—the sharp jawline, the furrow between his brows that spoke of concentration or concern. He seemed both part of this opulent world and yet isolated from it. Her curiosity deepened, entwining with the threads of apprehension that wove through her mind. What lay at the end of this unexpected journey? What awaited her at Lord Butler’s estate? These questions spun in her mind like a whirlwind, leaving her dizzy with uncertainty.

The carriage wheels rhythmically hit against the cobblestones, a steady and hypnotic sound that seemed to echo the pulsing of her own heart. As they traveled further away from the life she knew, the streetlights became scarcer, plunging the carriage into periods of shadow interspersed with bursts of light.

Breaking the silence, Austin finally turned to face her, his expression unreadable. "You must have many questions," he said, his voice calm and somehow reassuring despite the situation.

Violet nodded, her throat tight with nervousness. "Yes, sir. I assume you bought me for your own…personal uses.”

Austin raised a brow trying to keep a smirk off his lips. “Personal uses?”

Violet narrowed her eyes. She didn’t enjoy him acting sly. She was not stupid. “Personal pleasure, my lord. That is what my father sold me to Rat for.”

He could no longer hold back his chuckle which made Violet even more angry. “You are rather blunt, Miss Everly.” Austin moved his gaze directly to hers. There was a teasing nature in his eyes that made Violet lean away from him slowly. “My intentions are my own. But I can assure you, they are not what you think.”

The assurance did little to quell the tempest inside her. Violet's eyes flitted away from his, focusing on the darkened landscape rolling past the carriage windows. Each word he spoke seemed layered with meaning she couldn't quite decipher. She was painfully aware of the close quarters, the way his presence seemed to fill up every inch of the space.

"If not for your pleasure, then what?" Violet's voice was steady now, edged with a quiet defiance. She needed to understand the web she was being drawn into, regardless of how tangled it appeared.

Austin paused, regarding her with a look that mixed amusement with a hint of admiration. "You're full of fire, aren't you?" he remarked, his tone lighter than the heavy atmosphere that filled the carriage.

Austin's smile faded as he considered her words, and for a moment, the playful spark in his eyes gave way to something more somber. "Fair enough," he conceded. "I am not in the business of buying souls, Miss Everly. Nor am I interested in such mundane transactions as those suggested." He leaned forward slightly, his eyes holding hers with an intensity that made her breath catch. "I needed to remove you from a dangerous situation."

Violet remained silent, her mind racing as she processed his words. The carriage rolled onwards, the sound of the horses’ hooves a steady beat against the cobblestone, mirroring the tumultuous rhythm of her thoughts.

"Why me?" she found herself asking again. The question had been burning inside her since the moment he'd intervened between her and her father.

Austin's gaze softened. "Sometimes," he started, pausing as if choosing his words carefully, "we find ourselves in positions to make changes in others' lives. And sometimes, we are compelled to act upon it."

"But why? What is in it for you?" Violet couldn’t help but press further. Her life had taught her that nothing was done without some gain sought.

Austin looked out of the window for a long moment before turning back to face her. His expression was unreadable. "Let’s just say I am settling a debt of my own," he confessed softly. His cryptic admission hung in the air, dense as the fog that crept silently around the carriage wheels. Violet felt the weight of his words, each one laden with hidden meanings she could not yet decipher. She sat back against the plush seat, her mind awhirl with possibilities and fears.

"What kind of debt can be settled by involving a stranger?" Violet asked, her voice low, almost swallowed by the creaking of the carriage and the distant calls of night creatures.

Austin's face remained impassive for a long moment as he pondered her question. Finally, he turned to her, his blue eyes piercing in their intensity. "The kind that weighs heavily on a man's conscience," he replied, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Sometimes our pasts are riddled with decisions we wish we could undo. Helping you might be a step towards redemption for me."

Violet absorbed his words, turning them over in her mind like stones pulled from a riverbed, smooth and opaque. Redemption. The concept was foreign to her — a luxury far beyond her reach. In Violet's world, survival was the only moral code, and every day was a battle against despair. Yet looking into Austin's eyes, she saw a flicker of something relatable — a shared understanding of pain and regret. Perhaps, in his own tangled web of guilt and redemption, there was a thread she could hold onto, a thread that could lead them both towards something resembling salvation.

The carriage rolled on, enveloping them in the cocoon of its silent progress through the night. Violet found herself drawn into the rhythm of their journey, the steady beat of hooves syncing with her own tumultuous thoughts. Austin was an enigma—a man cloaked in privilege yet burdened by unseen chains. Could she trust him? Trust was a luxury scarcely afforded in her world, and yet, as the miles unfurled behind them like a ribbon in the wind, she sensed an inexplicable bond forming—an invisible thread pulled tight by circumstances.

"Lord Butler," Violet ventured cautiously, her voice a tentative whisper against the thrum of movement. "If redemption is what you seek, what role am I to play in it? Am I merely a pawn in your path to absolution?"

Austin turned his head slowly, fixing her with a look that melded wariness with an odd sense of respect. "Not a pawn," he said softly, correcting her with a firm tone. "Consider yourself more…an unexpected ally."

Violet processed this label, rolling it around her mind like a puzzle piece searching for its perfect fit. Ally—not captive nor servant, but a co-conspirator in a game the rules of which were still unclear to her. The shift in perspective was both empowering and daunting.

A small smile played at the corners of Austin's lips—an expression that transformed his usually stern features into something unexpectedly tender. "I promise all will be made clear in time," he assured her. "For now, rest and gather your strength.”

Violet nodded, though the concept of rest felt as elusive as the changing shadows outside the carriage window. She was too wound up with a mix of caution and curiosity. Every fiber of her being vibrated with the need to decipher Austin Butler, to understand his angles and anticipate his moves. As the carriage dipped into another shadow, Violet glanced back towards Austin. He was looking out the window, the profile of his face caught intermittently in the flickers of light that breached their isolation. There was a ruggedness to him that she hadn't noticed before—a weary battle scar here, a tightness around his eyes there—marks of a man acquainted with troubles she could only guess at. She found herself wondering about the demons that haunted him, about what grievous past actions could drive a man of his stature to seek redemption through the aid of someone as inconsequential as herself. It seemed implausible and yet, here they were, wrapped in layers of dark secrets and moonlit confessions.

The carriage creaked on, and Violet felt her eyelids grow heavy against her will. The rhythm of their travel lulled her into a reluctant drowsiness. Before she succumbed completely to sleep, she made herself a promise—not to let her guard down, not even in the comfort of this luxurious carriage or the intriguing company of Lord Butler. No matter how gentle his tone or how sincere his words might seem, Violet knew that survival meant never fully exposing her vulnerabilities.

As sleep claimed her, her mind spun with a collage of fears and fragmented dreams. She dreamt of dark corridors and whispered promises, of escaping shadows that morphed into comforting arms, and always, always, there was Austin—his piercing blue eyes offering both salvation and sorrow.

Stay tuned for part 4!! Click HERE to view!

Taglist: @buckysteveloki-me

[pastshadows]

Shadows of the Past

Chapter 16: Ruins

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

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

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

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

Setting: Post End-Game. Mostly canon compliant.

Word Count: 6.9K

Content: Explicit 18+ - intended for mature audiences.

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

Spoilers. Mentions of in-game missable content. Violence. Sexual Assault [Implied/attempted sexual assault: Chapter 7]. Past Trauma. Murder. Death. Longing. Sexual themes. Smut. Blood drinking. Angst. Innuendos. High use of sarcasm. Completely fabricated camp interactions. Panic attacks. Anxiety.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” You ask, glancing at Shadowheart. 

Her eyebrows pinch, and she studies the map in her hands with Gale looking over her shoulder. 

“This is the correct location, according to the map.” Gale says, with his fingers cradling his chin. 

You walk through a grand wrought-iron archway toward the two-story manor with a facade of azure tiles that gleam in the sunlight. A marble staircase leads to the portico, lined with stately round columns and a double door with intricate carvings of mermaids and sea serpents. 

“You look perplexed, Gale,” you say, as he comes up beside you with his arms crossed. “Something wrong?” 

“Just lost in thought." Gale cants his head. "I cannot recall ever seeing this building before, and something with this much grandeur stands out.” 

"So, are we just going to spend the day outside or are we going to discover what treasures this puppy has inside?" Hecat prompts with her voice high with excitement. 

You barely manage to stifle the groan that tries to cow its way from your throat, but your face deforms into a disgruntled scowl despite your intentions to remain impassive. 

Why did I insist on bringing her again? Ah-yes, because it was either this or leaving her alone with Astarion.  

“We cannot just go barging into homes,” you conclude with an authoritative edge. It’s been a while since you had to take this tone with anyone, and it feels strange to be playing the role of the fearless leader again. “Gale grew up here. If he says he hasn’t seen this building before, then something is up, and we must proceed carefully.” 

Hecat purses her lips with her hands on her hips, and then she laughs like an overly energetic child. “Of course, dragon girl. Whatever you say.” 

“Well, it’s possible I missed it.” Gale says, trying to ease the tension. “Though, unlikely.” 

“No.” Shadowheart hisses with distain. She looks at you with a mischievous smile. “Kamena is right, Gale. You wouldn’t miss a bright blue building in your hometown.” 

You make a mental note to hug Shadowheart later. There’s a peculiar feeling rife in the air, and you glance around and study the environment. Though it looks picturesque, no birds fly in the sky above, no insects hover above the vivid yellow and blue flowers that line the gardens, and the salty breeze doesn’t rustle the trees or grass. 

An illusion, and a sloppy one at that.  

The Weave suffuses you, infusing every pore of your being, until the essence emanates from you in a blushing radiance. Reaching out, you project vines of power to twist and penetrate into the illusion and expel the magic that holds it in place. 

The mirage flutters and dissolves away like paint on a canvas left out in the rain, revealing a forsaken structure with thorny, sunburnt vines that run up cracked walls of dirt-stained limestone.

“Someone went through a lot of trouble to hide this,” you mutter, drawing your quarterstaff, Markoheshkir. “Be on your guard.” 

Gale fills himself with the Weave, Shadowheart brandishes her spear, and Hecat unholsters the sword she procured from the prison as you approach. The door squeaks on its hinges as you push it open and enter the grand vestibule. A discarded chandelier lays sprawled on the floor, which is layered with dust and rubble that grinds under your boots. 

It doesn’t look like anything aside from rodents and insects has resided here in a long time as you search the forgotten manor. Clothing is strewn with holy moth-eaten rags hanging from wardrobes and chests as if the drawers were retching the clothing, indicating whoever lived here fled quickly. Jewellery of all kinds still sits on tarnished silver platters in the bed chambers. 

“Don’t mind if I do!” Hecat yammers with a wide smile as she fills her pockets. 

You roll your eyes as you flip through the embrittled pages of what looks to be an old journal, but the pigment in the ink has faded with age and become nearly unreadable. 

Leaving Hecat to her ransacking, you meander through the upper-floor bedrooms and libraries, trying to imagine what this place would have looked like without the mould eagerly crawling up the walls, spreading its tendrils of decay, and the dreary, dirt-clad flooring. The ceiling was once frescoed to depict epic scenes of something that's no longer discernible through the fractures and decayed patches. 

Shadowheart trots up beside you and whispers. “Hecat is going to need someone to carry her out of here if she keeps stuffing her pockets.” 

“Good.” You lean close to Shadowheart, putting your arm around her shoulder. “I will happily leave her and her overstuffed pockets here.” 

Shadowheart chuckles under her breath. “Me too, but I imagine we will have to drag Gale away.” 

You wiggle your glowing fingers with a devious grin. “What do you think Sleep spells are for?” 

Ducking into a bed chamber, you use the sleeve of your robe to wipe the grime from the window, allowing some light into the dim space. Shadowheart follows you, pulling out drawers and opening containers, analyzing everything with a quizzical furrow pinching her brow. 

Your boots thud off a floor plank with a hollow plunk, making you stop in your tracks. Crouching, you brush away the debris and rap your knuckles against various boards until you find the source. It’s barely perceptible, but you can see the scratches where the beam has been moved. 

“Shadowheart. Do you think you can pry this up with the tip of your spear?” 

Shadowheart wedges the point of her blade between the board and pops it out to reveal a small compartment full of the silky remains of spider webs, and you cringe. 

Shadowheart laughs. “Don’t tell me you’re still afraid of spiders.” 

“Oh, don’t you start to!” You huff theatrically. “I take enough shit from Astarion over this.” 

“Well, you did throw rocks at him that one time.” Shadowheart goads, trying to stifle her chuckling. 

“Once! I did it once! Gods above. I’m about to throw rocks at you too!” 

“Spiders, huh?” Hecat simpers, leaning against the doorframe with a smarmy grin. “Don’t worry. We all have our weaknesses. I’ve got you, dragon girl.” 

You and Shadowheart glance at each other with palpable caution. Hecat has never been quiet, always stomping around Gale’s manor with footsteps so loud that it’s like her feet are made of lead. Yet here she is sneaking up and eavesdropping on your conversations. This one was innocent, but if she is capable of moving that quietly when she wants to, you will have to be more vigilant. 

Hecat reaches into the hole, shooting you a smile that looks genuine but doesn’t reach her eyes, and produces a small diary with leather straps, keeping it tied shut. She hands the item off, probably unhappy that it’s not another gem or golden necklace for her to stuff in her already plump pack. 

You open it carefully. The pages feel weak, as if they might fall to pieces like a dried leaf. The ink is dull, but there are passages that are legible, and you scan them. It’s written in an old dialect of common and speaks of meeting a handsome man in a tavern with eyes red like the sunset and skin pale and impossibly smooth like a pearl’s surface. 

Several pages have to be flipped before you find another passage clear enough to read. It talks about sneaking out to meet the unnamed man in the rose gardens bordering the estate every night, how he seemed oddly cold when they embraced, and how his smiles were only ever tight-lipped. 

Another excerpt speaks about sneaking him into the basement of the manor, falling in love, and how he spoke in sweet promises of eternity. 

The rest of the words are illegible until the last page, which reads, “I am dead. I am dead. I am dead.” 

By the time you look back up, Gale is standing with Hecat while Shadowheart reads over your shoulder. 

Shadowheart shakes her head. “Poor fool.” 

“I didn’t see a basement in this place.” You glance between Shadowheart and Gale, who both shrug. 

You meticulously search the main floor for anything that looks out of place. Hecat and you move overturned furniture, Shadowheart tosses books off shelves, and Gale uses the Weave to look for any illusion that may be still at play, but all you get for it is dirt-streaked faces and grimy hands. 

“You could just break the walls,” Hecat muses, looking around. “You’re powerful enough to do that, aren’t you?” 

“What a bright idea!” You cannot keep the poisonous sarcasm out of your voice. “I will just bring the entire place down on our heads. That will surely do it!” 

Hecat scoffs, but before she can lash you with a clever counter, Gale shouts, “My friends! I think I found something!” 

Shadowheart pats your back as you trail behind Hecat with a fearsome frown. You really would like to melt her eyes from her sockets. She’s been eyeballing Astarion ever since you returned, and try as you might, letting go, or growing up, as Astarion so harshly put it, has been a challenge. 

You’re trying, but insecurity is a rabid beast, and it hasn’t quite had its fill of you yet. 

Gale points to an unremarkable shelf built into a wall. “Seek, and you shall find! There’s a draft from the cracks in the wood.” Gale grabs your hand, sticking it close. “Feel it?” 

Although it’s barely perceivable, the air coming from behind the cracks is cooler than that of the ambient room. Your fingers trace around the edges. If there were any scratches or marks to indicate a way to open this, they’ve been hidden by peeling paint and swollen, cracking wood. 

You fill yourself with the Weave making your eyes burn pink, and Shadowheart and Gale move away habitually, an old habit from your adventures. Hecat, on the other hand, stands close, tapping her foot impatiently. You’re very tempted to let her get caught in your destruction — an unfortunate accident — but Gale guides her away before you can make up your mind. 

“Detono!” 

The wood boards are thrown inward, hailing splinters with a loud boom. The dank, mildewed air fans your sweaty face as you peer into a dark corridor. Shadowheart casts Light on her spear, and you hold fire in your palm as you make your way through the cramped alley with mindful steps until you come to a stone staircase that winds down. 

The shadows seem to stretch and distort along the stone walls ominously, and your footsteps echo throughout. It takes minutes to reach the bottom, where it finally opens up into a room with a dirt floor. There are dirty, hay-stuffed mattresses strewn about, but the room extends too far to see properly. 

You crouch as Shadowheart stops by your side. You hold your arm out to halt her and scan the earthy ground. “Traps.”  

Astarion taught you many things — identifying traps was one of them — but he laughed boisterously until tears shone in his eyes when you asked him to teach you how to disarm them. 

“Ah-no.” Astarion giggles mirthfully. The harder you scowl, the funnier he thinks it is.

“What?” You pout and shoot him the puppy eyes that you know he has a hard time refusing. “Please?”

Astarion smirks, leaning back in his chair with his hands laced behind his head. “You can look at me with your sad puppy eyes and precious pout all you like, darling. The answer is still no."

“Why not?” You snort. “Don’t you think it would be prudent for me to know? What if I get myself trapped somewhere?”

“Well, since I go where you go, I don’t see that being a problem.” Astarion grins handsomely, fangs peeking out from the perfect bow of his lips.

“You’re scared I’m going to blow myself up, aren’t you?”

“Scared?” He chuckles with a highly arched brow and a slight shake of his head. “No. I have no doubt you will blow yourself up. If you die, who is going to light the fire for me? Gods forbid I would have to return to doing it the old-fashioned way. With these nails? Truly a travesty."

“You know that I am well aware you can cast Fire Bolt, right? I mean, you don’t cast it well, but well enough to light the fire."

“Don’t cast it well? Hells below.” Astarion groans. “It’s a cantrip; there’s hardly any skill needed for such child's play. The same cannot be said about disarming traps. If you fuck that up, you die, and your dexterity is atrocious. I’ll leave the magic to you, and you leave the traps to me, yes?”

“Fine!” You relent, giving your foot a stomp because you know it will earn you another lilting giggle from him, and it’s somehow the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard. “I didn’t hear any complaints about my dexterity last night.”

"Sassy tonight, are we?" Astarion smiles, patting his lap. “Do you ever stop thinking about sex?”

“With you?” You settle with your legs at his hips and his hands around your waist. “Never.”

“Well, stop thinking and start doing, my sweet.” 

Returning at night is a dangerous prospect. You’ve been doing most of your scouting during the day and making sure you’re well within the safety of the manor long before twilight blankets the city. 

You sigh. “We will need to return with Astarion before we can proceed any further.” 

“Oh, goody!” Hecat squeals. “I cannot wait to see the vampire in action. That must truly be a real pleasure to see.” 

You close your eyes tightly, scrunching up your entire face with a white-knuckled grip on Markoheshkir. 

It would be so terrible if she tripped and fell into the traps. Wouldn't it? 

“That vampire has a name,” Shadowheart scolds with a surly intonation. “And you would do well to mind your tongue, or you’ll find yourself on the streets.” 

“Now, now,” Gale mewls in his too-cordial, assuaging intonation. “I’m sure Hecat didn’t mean to offend.” 

“I—“ Hecat trips over her own words. She tries to keep her voice steady, but you catch the faintest tremble of dread braided with embarrassment. The Tiefling doesn’t want to be left on the streets, it seems, but you cannot help but wonder if it’s all an act. “I didn’t mean to antagonize anyone. I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me.” Hecat grabs your arm, forcing you to turn and look at her. She pleads, “Especially you. Truly. My mouth can run a little brainlessly. I’m sorry.” 

She sounds sincere, and her eyes don’t radiate any ill-will. Guilt sneaks up on you like a shadowed figure, unnoticed until it’s standing behind you and smothering your conscience in its dark silhouette. This woman has been decent to you. In prison, she protected you from the riffraff and was essential to your escape; outside of it, she’s done nothing more than make obtuse comments and salivate over Astarion, but most people do the same when in his presence. 

You wonder idly if there is anything you can do to make him slightly less earth-shatteringly handsome — a moronic contemplation. Your best idea is that you could polymorph him into a sheep, but knowing him, he would find a way to make even that look good. 

Ridiculous, bafflingly beautiful man. 

With a lungful of musty air, you acquiesce and try to gag the mistrustfulness that has made its home in your bone marrow. “It's alright. Let's return home, and we can think about if we want to return here at night. We could be walking straight into a trap.” 

Astarion greets you, standing just shy of the sun flooding in from the door, having heard your approach. “Gods. You’re positively filthy. What in the Hells were you up to? You look like you’ve been rolling in dirt.” 

“What? Not going to give me a welcome back hug, lover?” You tease. 

“Bloody Hells no,” he taunts, quirking a brow at you with a mock disdainful grin. “You seriously cannot expect me to sully all of this with all of that.” He gestures wildly toward you. 

“I’m certain I recall you enjoying a little roll in the dirt once in a while.” You taunt, shimming your shoulders with a whimsical smile. 

“Good Gods, you two really haven’t changed a bit, have you?” Shadowheart chuckles, placing her spear on the weapon rack. “At least take it upstairs, will you?” 

Astarion smirks with a dangerous gleam in his eyes. “Gladly.” 

Hecat strolls past Astarion without even glancing his way, and you wonder if the woman has finally — fucking finally — taken the hint, but there is still a slight sway to her hips and the tip of her tail ghosts over his upper thigh. Whether it was done on purpose or by accident, there’s no way to tell. 

Astarion darts to the side at the unexpected contact, and his features contort in a knee-jerk response. He swallows hard, making his Adam’s apple bob, and you see it written in his eyes. 

Disgust. Loathing. All those feelings he tries so hard to forget. 

You seethe, your skin worming over your frame in a sea of flames, and you step forward with magic braced on your fingertips. Astarion slips in front of you and shakes his head in a silent plea to overlook it. It makes you physically ill, but you yield and stalk upstairs to your room to change into something less covered in muck. 

“Thank you,” Astarion murmurs. 

“For?” 

“I do love it when you act pig-headed,” he grunts, currying his fingers through his hair. “Hecat. I know you saw it, and I know you saw my reaction to it.” 

“She made you uncomfortable,” you hiss under your breath, tossing your dirty robe and trousers away aggressively. You want to say she is lucky to still have her life, and that is a godsdamned truth. Relax, you think. Astarion is capable of taking care of himself. He needs my support, not my ire. You take a deep breath and say, “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“There’s nothing to talk about, really,” Astarion laments, sitting on the bed with his hand on his forehead. “Not that you’re not aware of anyway. It was a spontaneous response to being touched in a way I wasn’t expecting, and perhaps a little too close to home, if you catch my drift, but I am not convinced it was purposeful.” 

Sometimes you wonder if you pushed him too hard in the Shadowlands when he confessed. Should you have backed off and been his friend instead of his lover? Is that what would’ve been better for him? In the moment, it felt right to hug him, but sometimes you look back and see it as a selfish thing to do when he was telling you he didn’t enjoy intimacy. 

Oh? Intimacy brings up feelings of disgust and loathing? Well, let me press my body right up against yours without asking!

Foolish fucking woman.

You cannot help but worry that you cause the same discomfort on occasion when you touch him unexpectedly. Though his issues surrounding affection are difficult for him to navigate, they are also undeniably demanding of you. Where you find solace in his touch, regardless of whether it’s expected or sudden, the same cannot be said about him, and it’s all too easy to misplace the mindfulness of that fact. 

How often do you touch him out of reflex and cause the same feelings to crop up? How many times has he ignored it and simply let it happen without saying a word? 

“Don’t.” Astarion pleads suddenly right in front of you, taking your hand and pressing it to his chest in the way he knows soothes you. His face and voice are a ledger to his anxiety. He blurts frantically. “Don’t pull away from me now. Don’t run from me. Please.”

In another lifetime, you would’ve asked the questions plaguing your mind without hesitation. You have memories of when communication was harmonious and uncomplicated. He would tell you when you were being an obstinate, pigheaded child, and you would tell him when he was being a haughty, old prick. 

And then he left me, you think, in the dead of night. 

That time is dead, buried in a graveyard of uncertainty and doubt. You’re beginning to trust him; day by day, it gets easier and a little less daunting, but will you ever be that confident in your relationship again? 

Astarion’s crimson eyes don’t leave yours, and his thumb sweeps across the back of your hand, the picture of patience. You allow your body to lean into him slowly so that he knows your intention — a gesture of comfort and reassurance that you aren’t going to race out the door like you’ve done on so many occasions. His response is unforced and natural, wrapping his arms around you and holding you tight. 

“Tell me what’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours, my love.” He coos, soft and gentle, in that whisky-warm voice that allays your turbulent thoughts. “You can talk to me about anything.” 

You mull it over in your head, not completely sure that you can handle starting down this particular road. Quiet minutes stretch out between you. Astarion’s hand rubs slow circles across your back, but he does not press you further. 

“Do I ever make you feel like that?” You mutter against his chest, sheltered in his arms from whatever painful truths this ends with. “I forget sometimes to make my intentions to touch you obvious or known. I need you to remind me when I lapse.”  

“Oh, love, no.” Astarion smiles as you venture a glance up at him. He leans forward but halts inches above your lips, making you meet him halfway. You kiss him, your hand caressing his cheek. “When it’s just us, you needn’t be heedful of when or where you touch me, Kamena. You haven’t made me feel that way in some time, but if you ever do, I will tell you. I do not intend to keep anything from you again.” He reassures. 

“Okay.” You exhale heavily through your nose and try to relax the rigidity in your body. “I still get scared sometimes that you’re going to leave again, that I’ll wake up one morning and you’ll be gone.” 

“I know,” Astarion sighs, kissing your forehead. He takes your arms and gently guides them around his waist, encouraging you to touch his back with a steady gaze. When you hug him, you rarely wrap yourself around his waist, ever mindful of his back and scars. It is a show of how much he trusts you and how your touch does not bother him. “I know it will take time, and I will never stop trying, but do you think you will ever be able to trust me again?” 

“I’m trying,” you reply truthfully, even though it’s far more complex than that. You bury your face in his chest, finding it easier to confess when he isn’t staring at you with those eyes that impair your ability to speak honestly. “It just... it still hurts.” 

“I’m well aware. You mutter in your trance sometimes, begging me not to go or to come back.”

A flush of embarrassment tidal waves through you, pricking across your skin all the way to the tips of your ears. Hells. You knew you often woke up screaming, but you didn’t realize you were also talking during your rest.  

You wave it off, trying to play it as insignificant and something you can easily disregard. 

Astarion grabs your arm. His touch is gentle, but his expression is grave. “No. Don’t pretend it’s nothing when it is anything but.” 

You ground yourself and attempt to persuade him. “They are just dreams, Astarion. It’s really not— “ 

“Serious?” Astarion retorts, clearly a little irritated that you think you can manipulate him into believing this little white lie. “It is significant, Kamena. Those fears, the ones I caused, do not just infect your dreams; they bleed into the waking world as well. I see them on your face; endeavour to catch them before they latch on and take root; keep them at bay as much as I can.  

“I do not begrudge you, but don’t discount your residual pain.” Astarion looks askance, his eyes darkening like cloudy skies. “If you minimize it, then you also discard the effort I am putting in to dispel them and prove that I am here and I’m not going anywhere.” 

“I--" you stutter, trying to govern the impulse to keep cementing your suffering behind a wall and hope he doesn’t see it. Your throat feels dry all of a sudden. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I know this has been difficult for you as well. I didn’t mean to undervalue your efforts.”

Astarion’s eyes return to yours, full of hope and appreciation for acknowledging that you know he’s trying. “Thank you. Now, quit leaving me in this dreadful suspense. Did you find anything on your little expedition today?” 

You dig through your bag and hand him the diary. “Not much, but the place was glamoured like the bog, if you remember.” 

“Do you think my memory really that fickle?” Astarion scoffs while he pours over the pages. “I may not remember everything from two centuries ago, darling, but I vividly remember a couple years ago, especially your sun-kissed skin, rosy cheeks, and eyes that could slow galaxies. Though, I would have preferred if you had left that illusion in place.” 

“Perhaps it would have been more pleasant, but it was pretty funny to “Baaa” at the Redcaps, no?” 

Astarion laughs. “You surprised me that day.” 

“Really?” 

“Oh yes,” Astarion simpers with a smug grin. “I did not expect you to bleat like a sheep so well — a flawless performance, truly.” 

“A flawless performance, truly,” you repeat, doing your best to imitate him with a mocking flair. 

“Sorceress.” His eyes swing up from the journal with a handsomely quirked brow. “Not half bad! You’re improving.” 

You giggle at his praise. “Do you still have armour and weapons, Rogue? Or do we need to go on a thieving spree?” 

That gets his full attention, and Astarion’s head jerks up. “I would never say no to a night of splendid depravity, but I do indeed still have my armour and weapons. Why?” 

“There’s a basement positively brimming with traps that need disarming.” 

“Hm, well, now I kind of wish I picked the thieving spree.” Astarion pouts. “Disarming traps all night sounds like much less fun.” 

“You could always teach me how,” you taunt. 

“This again? Gods.” Astarion groans, smoothing his hand down his face, exasperated. “The answer will be no until the end of time, sweetheart, but nice try.” 

“You suck sometimes.” 

Astarion laughs, saunters over, and folds his arms around you. He presses the sculpted muscles of his chest against your back and kisses your neck, tracing his lips up the column. “I am a man of many talents. I suck, bite, and lick, if you ask nicely enough, love.” 

“Please.” 

“Good girl,” he purrs. 

Approaching the derelict estate slowly, Astarion’s eyes flit about the shadows as he methodically scans every concealed corner. He holds out a hand, halting you and Shadowheart at the archway, and listens. You and Shadowheart know this routine well, and you stand muted and motionless until Astarion indicates otherwise. 

“I don’t hear or smell anything out of the ordinary, but that doesn’t mean they are not waiting downwind or out of sight.” 

“You don’t say.” Shadowheart snickers satirically. “I would never have guessed that. Thank you, Astarion, for your impressive observations.” 

“You’re very welcome, flower.” Astarion drawls with a boyish grin. 

It feels like old times watching Astarion in his strikingly etched, black leather armour with gold stitching and buckles. Shadowheart still wears the Adamantine armour from your travels, but it’s been dyed sky blue, white, and gold. You adorn Wavemother’s robe, dyed deep lilac, orange, and black. The chains have been altered to include dragons that appear to soar up your chest.  

It is, unsurprisingly, Astarion’s favourite among your robes. 

Brandishing Markoheshkir with a flourish, you keep the Weave poised at your fingertips as you make your way inside. 

“Do you think I could have a little look around?” Astarion asks, looking at you for permission as if you were still the leader of the ragtag group of misfits. “Perhaps I will find something you… overlooked.” 

“Missed,” you grunt. “You want to look for things we might have missed. Be my guest, but if you’re looking for valuables to steal, Hecat already pocketed them all.” 

Astarion nods, strolling off to pick through the ruins of someone’s life long since dead and turned to bone dust. Your fingers pass over dainty figurines that are chipped, dulled, and antiquated. 

“How did you get Hecat to stay behind?” Shadowheart asks. 

“I don’t know if you remember, but I can be exceptionally persuasive, and if that fails, intimidating.” 

“Oh,” Shadowheart picks up a tattered book, tossing it aside. “How could I ever forget your silver tongue? It got us into and out of so many situations.” 

“Didn’t it?”  

“Who do you think these people were?” Shadowheart’s brows furrow. “They were obviously affluent and left in a hurry, but people with this type of money don’t tend to just go missing without notice.” 

“Left, taken, or were killed.” You cast Light on your quarterstaff to illuminate the gloomy space and peer around. 

“Killed,” Astarion concludes, descending the stairs with silent but rapid steps. “Massacred really.” 

“How do you know?” Shadowheart frowns. 

“Come now. Need I remind you that I’m a vampire?” Astarion crouches, sweeping away the layers of grime to reveal tenebrous, old floorboards. He twitches his fingers at you, and you toss him your glowing quarterstaff. He hovers it above the cleared patch and gestures toward an almost invisible discoloration. “Blood,” he concludes. “Very, very old, but blood nonetheless. It’s positively hither and yon in this place.” 

“Hither and yon?” Shadowheart giggles. “Hells below. I do forget how old you are.” 

“Curious.” Astarion arches a brow at her with a dastardly gleam in his nebulously red eyes. “I never forget how much of a child you are.” 

Shadowheart scoffs indignantly, her arms crossing with a scowl. 

Astarion chuckles, spinning Markoheshkir like he would his daggers, and then handing it to you. “Well, shall we head down into whatever horrors await us? You’ve only paid for my services until dawn, sorceress. It will cost you extra if I have to make an additional visit to this hellhole.” 

“I don’t know if I can afford your fee, Rogue.” 

Astarion pivots on his heel, tugging you by the waist into a chaste kiss with a knavish grin. “I am positive we can work something out, love.” 

Shadowheart grunts her displeasure, making Astarion smile against your lips. You give him a playful shove away and point. “I’m not paying you to stand around.” 

“Oh,” Astarion murmurs with a wink. “I do like it when you take charge and boss me around.” 

Descending the stairs is even more imposing with the knowledge that you could be walking straight into a trap. The drum of your heartbeat spikes, and your breathing starts to quicken. Astarion glances back with a nod that tells you he still hasn’t detected anything unusual lurking in the abyssal depths. He offers you his hand, and you take it gladly. 

At the bottom, you, Shadowheart, and Astarion all shuffle into the minimal space that Astarion indicates as a safe zone. Each of you tries peering into the nethermost bowels of the basement, but the shadows are far too thick. Even the Light emanating from Markoheshkir is hardly enough to brighten the vicinity around the three of you. 

Shadowheart stares at the ground with a mix of trepidation and hesitancy. “Can you disarm traps in such low light, Astarion? Safely, I mean. I rather like my limbs attached to my body.”

“Not all traps are bombs, my dear.” He drawls nonchalantly, taking your staff and holding it out over the ground. “And these are an invigorating mix between acid and explosives. Hmm. If the acid is combustible, we would be in for quite the show. Not to worry. I can defuse these in my sleep. However, I’ll need some light, so Kamena, you need to stick close to me and step only where I indicate, understand?” 

“Are you sure?” You ask, gripping his arm. 

“If I was not sure, I would not have you follow me. I would never put you in danger.” Astarion assures with his eyes anchored on you, covering your hand with his own. “Do you trust me, Kamena?” 

A nod to your earlier conversation where you admitted you’re still afraid he’s going to leave. You meet his gaze resolutely. “I trust you. Lead on.” 

Astarion leads you through the tangle of traps, pointing where to place your feet. With Markoheshkir gleaming and slung across your back, you let fire hover in your palm at a distance Astarion deems safe and impel the element to burn white-hot. It is, admittedly, an excessive expenditure of your sorcery. 

Even with Astarion’s mastery, it’s a slow-going process. There are far more traps than you were able to perceive at first glance, and the room extends further back than you anticipated. It seems every time Astarion has you proceed, you get naught more than a couple of shuffling steps before he’s crouching over another trap lying in wait for a careless foot. You glance back at Shadowheart, who has cast her own weapon with Light and call back to make sure she’s safe. 

“Tell Astarion to bloody hurry up!” She grunts. “I think he’s out of practice.” 

Astarion rolls his eyes, groaning under his breath as he fiddles with the device before him. You watch the deftness of his fingers as he makes short work of the mechanisms. It’s obvious why he refuses to teach you this particular skill. You wouldn’t possess enough patience or adroitness to perform this task. How Astarion knows which wires to cut, levers to adjust, or shells to remove is a mystery to you. They all appear different visually. 

“She knows I can hear her, yes?” Astarion grumbles, wiping the sweat from his brow. 

“She knows. Are you getting tired? We could take a break.” 

“Tired?” Astarion quirks a brow at you with a frown. “What gives you that impression?” 

“You’re sweating,” you reply bluntly. 

“Yes,” he says snidely. “You are hovering a white-hot orb of flame over my head.” 

“Why didn’t you just say something?” You scold him, trying to hide embarrassment. You know you’re being overzealous with the brightness. “I think I can coerce it to burn cooler.” 

It’s an utter certainty that you can; fire is in your blood, and it bows to you, but it will require more endurance. As adept as you are, power is not limitless. 

“I didn’t say anything because it’s kind of like being in the sun again, Solicallor.” He smiles authentically, but there is a sadness behind it that he doesn’t try to hide. 

He misses the sun.  

You nod your understanding, but still focus on marginally reducing the heat. 

“How did you learn this?” You blurt out the question that’s been whirring around your mind since you started watching him. 

You can’t imagine a magistrate would have much use for this, even a crooked one. Picking locks, absolutely, but this?  

“Books at first.” 

“Books?” 

“Yes, darling, books. You know those things with paper and words all bound together? Books.” He teases. 

“Ha-ha.” You say flatly. “I meant it more like you can learn this from books?” 

“The basic principles of it anyway.” Astarion nods. “The application of them requires a little more hands-on experience.” 

“There is not much to do during the day when you’re a vampire, besides trance, so I would read.” He glances up at you. “At night, after my orders were completed, I would peruse the city and disarm every trap I found. I blew myself up, poisoned myself, and had my skin eaten away by acid plenty of times before I got it right. Cazador would get positively peeved when I returned injured. It was good fun. Looking back at it now, I think I was trying to get myself killed, either by the traps themselves or Cazador.” 

He seems bemused by the whole reminiscence, and you’re trying to decide whether to be horrified or not.

“Vampire spawn are obnoxiously hard to kill.” He muses thoughtfully. “I think that’s the last of them.” He stands, eyeing the ground and looking for anything he might have missed. He reaches for the quarterstaff draped across your back. “May I?” 

You nod, and he takes it. He instructs briskly. “Stay here. I’m going to double check.” 

“Astarion…” 

Astarion squeezes your shoulder comfortingly. “If one of these things blows up on me, I will survive — a little blood and I’ll be right as rain — but if one blows up on you, it could kill you, and I would never be able to forgive myself. Please don’t be mulish for once. I will be right back, and you’re more than welcome to continue scowling at me.” 

You huff, rubbing your forehead. “Fine.” 

Astarion strolls off confidently while you mutter under your breath, keeping the fire in your palm animated mostly for the solace it provides. You observe Astarion’s movements only by the lambency of Markoheshkir bobbing around in the dark like a dancing spectre. 

He returns, calling out to Shadowheart to let her know it’s safe to move about. 

“Should we spread out and search, or should we stick together?” Shadowheart asks, directed at you. “How big is this place?” 

“I’m not sure.” Spreading out doesn’t sit well with you when you don’t know what could be skulking around in the darkness, but time is also of the essence, and it would be more efficient. You find yourself giving instructions, falling back into the leader role you so loathed. “Spread out, but always keep each other in sight. We can work our way down systematically.” 

You recast Light on one of Astarion’s daggers, making the spell keeping Markoheshkir aglow fade. Astarion opens his mouth to protest, but you cut him off. “I have fire. I don’t need it.” 

It surprises you when Astarion merely nods and concedes. He knows well enough that there’s nothing he can say to change your mind, and it’s a pointless venture to try. 

You can veritably hear him in your head calling you pig-headed, and you smirk to yourself as you start combing through the space. Mattresses litter the ground, stained and soiled. Pieces of loose paper, utensils, cracked or broken dinnerware, and sometimes stuffed animals are scattered around chaotically. 

When you finally get to a wall, it’s just plain bedrock. This place is more of a cavern than a basement. Droplets of water dribble down the stone, and gnarled roots reach out from the ceiling like spindly fingers. You swallow hard when you come across sets of rusty shackles and bindings affixed to the walls, nailed straight into the stone. A shiver runs down your spine; whether it’s from being cold or your increasing disquietude, you’re unsure. 

It may have been prudent to wear a thicker robe.  

You, Shadowheart, and Astarion don’t need to communicate much as you work your way through foot by foot. It takes little more than a glance or a curt nod for any of you to indicate you’ve found nothing and it’s time to proceed.

The nostalgia is equal parts wonderful and unnerving. You cannot deny that you enjoy having a clear goal — the danger and exhilaration of peril — but the small voice of reason affirms that this, too, is another way of running from yourself.

Barrelling headfirst into hazards gives you something to focus on instead of facing the fact that something within you is broken, perhaps beyond repair, and you don’t have to admit to yourself the thing you fear most — that you will never be able to trust Astarion again and any chance of a real relationship is fated to fail. 

Can you go to bed every night terrified that when you wake, he will not be there? Can you spend the rest of your days wondering if today is the day he disappears? 

Furthermore, is it fair to keep him with you if you’ll always doubt him? 

Your inability to let your fears go and move forward affects him just as much as it affects you. Would he be better off finding someone else — someone who can be with him without reservations, someone who can love him completely and utterly without worry. 

He deserves that, the kind of love you had for him before, and you’re not sure you will ever be able to get back to it. 

“Kamena!” Astarion hollers with a too-high, almost panicked timbre that rips you from your contemplations. 

You lunge into a sprint, Shadowheart following closely behind, both of you with spells already sparking on your fingertips, and Markoheshkir poised by your side. In your alarm, your mastery of your dragon Hellfire slips, and flames writhe over your body like a nest of molten serpents wrestling to escape.

Astarion is standing by a dilapidated desk, with moss growing over the surface and up the tottery legs. He holds a piece of wet parchment in his hands that he’s inspecting with a dismayed look. 

He hands it to you when the flames around you wane. “Recognize these?” 

The red ink has been smudged and streaks down the parchment like crimson tears, but you would know these markings anywhere. You’ve been trailing your fingers over similar ones every night. 

Infernal script.

Thank you to all those who read/like/comment/follow/reblog/etc. I'm forever thankful for the support. I love reading your comments ❤️

Chapters Master List - Shadows of the Past

AO3: Crossposted

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

Small Notes:

Shadowheart is the best ❤️

Infernal script - rarely a good sign.

Still wanna know your thoughts on Hecat!

[lmk-oc-competition]

LMK OC COMPETITION - ROUND 3

click to see full image

Xuè Shé belongs to @yingjiaoyue

Xiāo Lixúe belongs to @keykittygirl

Learn more about them below the cut!

Xuè Shé:

A dangerous serpent who hunts for human blood. He rarely shows himself to the village as he lives in his own cave. Though, once in a while, he goes out and hunts for human and drink their blood. Thanks to his snake-features, he's able to move fast and can easily capture his prey. He's around 700 years old.

Xiāo Lixúe:

Real name : Lóng Lixúe Name after being adopted : Xiāo Lixúe Species : Ice dragon Age : 6 years old (120 mortal years old)

The ice dragon is supposed to be the river guardian, that will interogated and won't hesitant to attack the person that they claim to be a threat. The purpose that every dragon received is to be the guardian of the river of fog and memory...

But as time goes by, and more threat come into view while weapon has got more powerful from the new technology and stuff. A couple of an ice dragon have been captured to be exploited and to be take advantage from, they didn't have the chance to inform the other dragons clan about it. But later the dragon of the East Sea Ao Guang was decided to visit the ice dragon only to find none in view, this make him reported it toward the jade emperor and later those hunter will be punished and executed from the middle realm.

A couple of decades later after those incident, an egg that survieve from the whole ordeal that have been being taken care by a villager that found them not long ago has started to hatch, revealing the probably last and only ice dragon that left.

The said caretaker love the baby dragon with their hearts, but for safety they managed to placed some glamour and seal on the infant to seal her power away and hide her real appearance from the world.

As times go, she'll start to age on a demon/celestial age, luckily the caretaker is also a demon that age the same way as the little girl.

The little girl will grow up with love and care, and growing up while loving the nature they are living in.

But the secret remains untold...

Will Lixúe ever find out? Or things will remain a secret?

[whencyclopedia]

The Mórrigan

The Mórrigan (also Morrighan, Môr-Riogain or Morrigu), usually referred to with the definite article, was a great warrior-queen goddess in Irish-Celtic mythology. She was most associated with inciting war, then stirring up the fury and frenzy of battle, and finally, as the bringer of death. The goddess was able to take any form of living creature she wished and she helped bring about the demise of the hero-warrior Cú Chulainn after he spurned her many attempts to seduce him as different animals. Her coupling with the Dagda, another major warrior-god, was an important part of the Samhain festival which the Celts celebrated to mark the beginning of a new year.

Names & Associations

The name Mórrigan, which may have several variations of spelling, means 'great queen', 'phantom queen', 'queen of nightmares' or, more literally, 'mare-queen'. She may have evolved from the ancient territorial goddess Mór Muman who was associated with the sun and kingship in southern Ireland. She is a war-goddess, and she is particularly associated with the fury of war, hence her 'demonic' nature and another name by which she is sometimes known, the 'queen of demons'.

Mórrigan is closely associated with two other war-goddesses: Badb and Macha (or alternatively Nemain). This trio is collectively known as the Mórrigna. Some scholars suggest that the trio of goddesses are simply different aspects of the Mórrigan as the triple aspect of gods is a common theme in Celtic religion which emphasises the potency of deities. Appropriately, then, all three goddesses are the daughters of Ernmas, the great mother deity, and their father is, in some tales, the sorcerer god Cailitin. The Mórrigan has one son, the evil figure Mechi, who has three hearts, each of which contains a serpent. Mechi's father is not named.

The Mórrigan has a terrible appearance, and it is this and her aggression which have a strong psychological effect on whoever she chooses during a battle. At the same time, the goddess can be sexually attractive. Consequently, the Mórrigan is both a symbol of destruction and fertility. The goddess has certain powers such as being able to predict the future and to cast spells. Even more impressive, she can change her form at will and become a beautiful young girl, the wind, or any animal, fish or bird. The creature she is most connected with is the crow or raven, which the Celts associated with war, death, and inciting conflict. This aspect of the Mórrigan may well be the origin of the banshee, a female fairy that figures in later Irish and Scottish mythology. The banshee foretells death in a household by letting out a loud plaintive wail and, though she is rarely seen in physical form, when she is, she is an old woman with long white hair.

Another figure from Celtic folklore (in Ireland, Scotland, and Brittany) associated with the Mórrigan is the 'washer at the ford'. This figure, sometimes envisaged as a young and weeping female, at others, an old and ugly woman, was considered an omen of death as she would make certain clothes being washed in a river ford the colour of blood. Whoever's clothes were thus marked was thought to be in imminent danger.

When dwelling in this world, the Mórrigan's home was thought to be a cave in County Roscommon in northwest Ireland. This cave was known as the cave of Cruachan and the 'Hell's Gate of Ireland' since it was believed to be a passage to the Otherworld. In one myth, the Mórrigan lures the woman Odras to her cave by having one of her cows stray inside. The goddess then changes the hapless mortal into a pool of water. Cruachan was regarded as the seat of ancient kings of Connacht and has been identified as part of the group of archaeological sites at Rathcroghan in County Roscommon.

Continue reading...

[lethalchiralium]

Not sure if you have, but have you written anything about Simon’s and Missus’ wedding? Did they elope w/ Winnie, have a small private wedding? Or did they go down to the county office and sign the marriage certificates? Were there the classic gold wedding bands or something simpler? Or no rings needed?? Now I’m imagining flower girl Winnie or hell even ring bearer Winnie with Soap and Gaz flower boys 😭

Keep it up with the happiness series!! ❤️

EEEE WEDDING! ELOPEMENT!

side note, missus definitely wanted a wedding but compromised for elopement. you are always so kind to your lovely simon 🤍

happiness canon!

There was a dress you used to love when you were a teenager. You had loved it so dearly, it being one your late grandmother bought you when you turn seventeen - it was flowy, beautiful, and looked perfect on you. It was your favorite dress.

Unfortunately, you had lost it when you moved to England to work for Simon. You had told Simon long ago, before your engagement, that you were looking for an exact copy of said dress. And because he’s going to be your perfect husband, he spent almost the entire engagement scouring the internet for that dress - not for you to wear for your elopement, but as a gift for being his wife.

The dress was folded in a box, sat in the back seat of the car that was going to drive you to the little cabin up in Scotland that Simon had rented. Gaz had made sure the car was locked several times, Simon had reiterated to both him and Soap that if that dress disappears, so do they.

Winnie was on Soap’s shoulder in a beautiful dark green dress - it matched both Soap and Gaz’s ties. The girl was quiet, watching the sun rise as Soap waited for Gaz at the entrance of the small garden.

“Locked up?”

Gaz nodded.

“A'richt, let's git th' flower girl ready.”

•••

Simon wrung his hands beside the priest, a short man who was all too cheerful for Simon’s liking. He hated this suit, even though it was the best one he owned - spent thousands on it. He wanted to look good enough for you, wanted to meet the imaginary standards you had set for him in his head.

You had agreed to an elopement instead of a wedding, since he wanted to marry you without the mask and a large amount of people seeing his face was not a great choice for safety. He knew that not having a wedding disappointed you, but you still kept a happy smile - but he couldn’t wait to marry you, when it could be years before his family is safe when he keeps the mask off in public.

His shoes felt too tight, even though they were perfect. His dark green tie felt suffocating, the feeling of his balaclava missing from his body was making his chest coil like a venomous serpent, ready to attack at any sign of danger. Yet, there was no danger.

He was waiting for you.

Winnie was chaperoned down the aisle, throwing down handfuls of petals aggressively as Soap and Gaz snickered beside her. With every handful she threw to the ground, her smile only grew bigger. She sat beside Gaz and Soap in the only row of chairs.

There was only the wind as your music when you walked down the aisle, your arm around your father’s. He smiled proudly at your fiancé, he truly could not think of a man better suited for you than Simon. In your hand was a bouquet of white flowers, your hair done perfectly and makeup precise. Your smile was as big as the ocean, your hands kept your bouquet low in front of your dress. It was one of those 1950s era dresses, the edge hitting below the knee with a round neckline - a variation of your great-grandmother’s wedding dress. Small kitten heels that weren’t too tall; Simon intimately knew how much you hated being in high heels for a long time, a beautiful sapphire bracelet hung from your wrist - a gift from your father. The diamond necklace Simon gifted you yesterday sat perfectly on your collarbone, a piece from his mother that was intended to be given to Winnie when she is eighteen. And as he gazed at you, he forgot all about the wedding present he had for you in the car.

You two were married by a priest, with your friends, your father, and your daughter laying witness to you taking Simon’s warm hand, sliding on a gold band with a smile that rivaled the beauty of the moon. He held your hand softly as he slid on your gold wedding band, it locked perfectly with your engagement ring.

On some quiet shore of Ireland, you married Simon Riley - a man who cared for you more than he could ever for himself. And as he kissed you as your husband, he forgot about the entire world because now, he was a part of you.

Copyright © 2023 lethalchiralium. All rights reserved.

[natsuyuki-w]

Fiery

Fandom delicious in dangeon Kabru of Utaya x gn!reader

Synopsis Kabru's gut feeling screams for him to run from the mysterious fire caster, but he can't pinpoint the exact reason.

899 words

In that horrific moment, where traumas of his childhood resurfaced, another truth shook Kabru to the core.

The enormous harpy that Falin had transformed into was decimating his companions, and now it was his turn.

As its sharp claws closed in, the air suddenly turned scorching hot, and a wall of searing flames erupted between him and the creature.

Tears welled from the heat’s sting, and the smell of burnt flesh reached his nose, making him recoil in disgust.

- Wow! You have eyes scarier than mine. -

Slit pupils gazed far too closely into his. Kabru fought to maintain his composure, but the intensity of this stare almost made him falter.

The owner of the sharp gaze shifted their attention to the samurai leading the group. - Sir, I understand you're infatuated with this girl, but please don't get "blinded by love".-

Perched casually on the samurai's shoulder was a figure Kabru had only noticed earlier for their fire spells. Now, he truly saw them. Tall, elegant, their posture and attire somehow still refined despite the chaos of battle.

Something unsettling felt about their presence but he couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t just their height—though they stood taller than the "tall men" at present—it was something more primal that crawled beneath his skin.

- I’ll take any help I can get. - the samurai grumbled, clearly agitated. - They claim to know something about Falin. -

- I don't doubt your judgment, Master, but we should be wary. - stepped forward the woman in white and threw a sharp glance at the stranger who just intimidated the souldier.

Kabru’s lips curved into a practiced smile, a charming mask that rarely failed him. - My apologies if I came across as intense, - he said, chuckling lightly to ease the tension - I only wish to repay your kindness. Please, allow me to be of use in finding the Touden sister. - and pressing a fist to his chest, he bowed slightly, the curls on his head bouncing as he lowered his head.

Other then the red cheeks of the rest of the party, when he raised his eyes, he found himself facing that unnerving gaze once more. Their expression calm, almost bored, yet his instincts screamed danger. Every muscle in his body tensed, fight or flight hammering in his veins.

- Terrific...- They whispered, their voice dark and unsettling enough to make even the samurai beside them shiver. - Unlucky day for you, handsome. Takes a liar to know one.- A lazy grin stretched across their lips, and the air around them grew stifling with heat, like the flames they commanded.

- Master Shuro, we only need to keep moving deeper into the dungeon. No guide is necessary. - their gaze narrowed with barely contained irritation. - What was your name captain? -

The boy swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. - K-Kabru. -

- Well, Kabru - they leaned closer, their breath hot against his skin. - If you care about your companions at all, you'll leave this place. Mermen and sea serpents are nothing compared to what lies below—dragons don’t care how many times your cleric resurrects you. Either your body or their magic will run dry first.- Their eyes bored into him with a fierceness that twisted his stomach into knots.

Before he could respond, the woman with dark hair tugged the stranger back by the ear, like a mother scolding a mischievous child. - Could’ve gotten your point across with kinder words, don’t you think?-

Kabru stood frozen, still gripped by a sense of dread he couldn’t shake. His mind raced, trying to reconcile the cold fear he felt with the strange attraction pulling at him, like two opposing forces battling within. He clenched his fists, desperate to keep his thoughts in check, but his body betrayed him unable to choke out more words.

A string of cries from the firm tag broke the tension and once freed the stranger gave a disinterested shrug. - Do whatever. Just stay out of my way, or I might roast you with the enemy. - The shift was disarming. Their voice was suddenly calm again, as if they hadn’t just threatened his life.

But at least he had secured what he wanted.

The memory of the encounter burned in his mind as flames flickered across his skin, bringing him back to the present. The dust from the current battle was settling, and shapes began to form in the clearing smoke.

He had been saved, yet the scene before him was anything but reassuring.

Instinctively, he threw himself backward, his gaze darting between the figures ahead. The puzzle he had tried to solve for days now seemed painfully clear. His eyes, sharp and observant, had missed none of their moves. He had suspected something, but now the truth was unmistakable.

They had fooled him with their disguise.

A melodic whistle of a flute broke through the chaos, and new features sprouted from their body. Fox-like ears, a tail, a monster. Kabru's chest filled with dread and hatred, a deep urge to destroy them rising with his every heartbeat. But before he could act, the giant harpy lunged toward him, claws slicing through the air, forcing him to the ground.

What a joke, dying like this. Blood filled his vision as the Inari, their face twisted in sorrow, sent another burst of fire at the creature crushing him. He watched helplessly and the pain in his body finally overtook him.

Agonizingly, everything went black once again.

To be continued...

file cabinet | bookshelf originals

[talonabraxas]

Babylonian prayer to the Gods of the Night pullulū rubû wašrū sikkūrū šīrētum šaknā ḫabrātum nišū šaqummā petûtum uddulū bābū ilī mātim ištarāt mātim Šamaš Sîn Adad Ištar īterbū ana utul šamê ul idinnū dīnam ul iparrasū awātim pussumat mušītim ēkallum šaḫūrša kummu adrū ālik urḫim ilam išassi u ša dīnim ušteberre šittam dayyān kinātim abi ekiātim Šamaš īterub ana kummīšu rabûtum ilī mušītim nawrum Girra qurādum Erra qaštum nīrum šitaddarum mušḫuššum ereqqum inzum kusarikkum bašmum lizzizū-ma ina têrti eppušu ina puḫād akarrabu kittam šuknān šumūšu ikrib mušītim (TRANSLATION) The princes are closely guarded, The locking-bolts lowered, the locking rings placed, (Though previously) noisy, the people are silent, (Though previously) open, the doors are locked. The gods of the land (and) the goddesses of the land, Shamash, Sin, Adad and Ishtar Have entered into the lap of heaven. They do not render judgment, they do not decide a case. The night is veiled. The palace, its chapel, the cella are obscured. The traveler invokes god, but the one (who offers) a decision remains asleep. The judge of truth, father of the impoverished girl, Shamash has entered his cella. The great ones, the gods of the night, Bright Girra, Warrior Erra, The Bow, the Yoke, Orion, the Furious Serpent, The Wagon, the Goat, The Bison, the Horned Serpent, May they stand by so that, In the extispicy I am performing, In the lamb I am offering, You may place the truth Alan Lenzi. Reading Akkadian Prayers & Hymns: an Introduction. Society of Biblical Literature. pp. 71-82. Plate with Cuneiform Script: Pray to the Night Gods. Place of origin: Ancient East, Babylonia Date: Early 2nd millennium B.C. Medium: Clay

This is an extispicy prayer that used to be recited when performing divination at night. Its logic follows that, as the city’s activity declines for the night, the main gods retire as well, which makes sense as nighttime was probably very dangerous in ancient times. So instead one ought to seek the guidance of the ilī mušītim “gods of the night”. Here the term refers to the stars and constellations, plus fire god Girra (also called Gibil) and the fierce war-and-plague god Erra (syncretized with Nergal).

The constellation the Babylonians called the Bow, qaštum, is probably part of Canis Major, and the Yoke is Boötes. Orion was called Šitadarrum, Šitadallum or Šidallum, often spelled using the Sumerian logograms SIPA.ZI.AN.AN, meaning “the true shepherd of heaven”. The serpent is Mušḫuššum, one of the 11 chaos monsters reared by Tiamat, but tamed by Marduk and made into his pet in the Enuma Elish. It possibly referred to the Hydra constellation. The Wagon is famously Ursa Major and the Goat is Lyra. The Bison and Bašmum, “horned serpent”, however, are still unidentified.

The appellation “gods of the night” also appears in another prayer as part of the Maqlû (burning) rituals, a series of exorcisms and uncrossings performed in the small hours all the way until dawn.

This prayer unfortunately isn’t that useful for the modern pagan, as it’s a bit too specific, but one may find some use still in the lines rabûtum ilī mušītim / nawrum Girra / qurādum Erra / qaštum nīrum / šitaddarum mušḫuššum / ereqqum inzum / kusarikkum bašmum/ lizzizū (“The great ones” down to “may they stand by”) in nightly stellar invocations for whatever maybe-not-quite-licit matters you may want to perform.

(If you plan on singing or reciting this, please remember that “š” sounds like the English “sh” and “ḫ” is guttural)

May the gods be praised!